Pickle launched himself at Ira with full commitment. Ira caught him in her mouth, assessed the situation, and put him back. He regrouped, reconsidered nothing, and tried again.
Same outcome. Pickle is fine. Ira has returned to her normal position. We are not sure what Pickle was hoping to accomplish but he appears undeterred.
Her resume previously described, in detail, how to physically restrain people and administer Narcan. We reworded it. The experience is still there. It is now framed as compassionate public service, which is accurate.
She is qualified. The congregation does not know what they are getting. We think they will be fine.
It involves sitting in the hallway during lessons. His teacher assures us this is structured support and not a punishment, and we assured her we are aligned. Disruptive behavior at school becomes a conversation at home. That is the deal.
He is eight. He is testing every edge he can find. We are not surprised. We are, however, keeping score.
The chicks are in. Six of them. They are small. They are loud. The existing flock is unimpressed. Gunner attempted to introduce himself through the fence three times and was rejected all three times.
The operation continues to scale.
I brought it home from work. It needed somewhere safe. It has a name now. I'm not telling anyone the name because then it becomes more real.
It's fine. Everything is fine.
He is a Great Dane. He is enormous. He sat on the couch next to Ali tonight in a way that left her approximately six inches of space. He looked very comfortable. She did not say anything because she knows the rules.
Smooth-brained but loveable. We keep him.
We don't know where he's going. He doesn't know where he's going. The chickens scattered. Diesel tried to keep up and could not. This is the third time today.
He seems happy. We are monitoring.
it's loud here. nothing has changed. Diesel sat on my feet for two hours. Ira acknowledged my existence which means she respects me. Ali screamed my name from the other room for 20 minutes straight.
good to be back i guess
He's a tank with one brain cell and his entire mission today was to claim the couch. Mission accomplished. Fully merged with the cushions. Not moving. Will not move. Has never moved faster than a slow trot in his entire life except that one time with the squirrel.
Good boy. Absolutely not useful but a good boy.
She spent three days deciding whether it was acceptable. She has now decided it is acceptable. She sits there and judges whoever walks by. She judged the mail carrier. She judged JD. She judged a cloud.
Princess of shadows and mischief. We do not deserve her.