Doctored Pepper

Pepper the new puppy had his first vet visit on Monday. Farmer H tossed him in a big box on the seat of SilverRedO. I was skeptical about the travel arrangements. Pretty sure Pepper would jump on the side of the box and tip it, and might get under Farmer H's feet while driving. 

My recommendation of using the pet carrier was scoffed at. I don't know how they made it, but Farmer H said Pepper vomited in the box, and chewed on his hand the whole way there. Thank the Gummi Mary, it's only five miles and 10 minutes. Just past Mick the Mechanic's shop, by the bowling alley.

This vet bill was not as expensive as I expected. "Only" $80.

Farmer H asked about getting Pepper chipped. It's not that he's valuable, or that we expect him to be anywhere that has capability to scan a chip. But we've had several dogs disappear. It's disconcerting. Heartbreaking. If somebody would abscond with Pepper, and he got loose, he COULD end up at the city pound. They scan.

Anyhoo... the vet people said that Pepper can't be chipped until his very special operation later in the summer, when he's six months old. That's because the needle to insert the chip is too big right now for little Pepper. He goes back in three weeks for more shots.

And now I must have a fit of outrage. PEPPER WAS MIS-BREEDED! The thing these days is to get your nose out of joint when something like this happens, right? I don't get it, but that's what these younger generations do. 

Here's the issue:

It's at the top of the bill. I agree that Pepper is a canine. I can believe that Pepper weighed 9.8 pounds. I CANNOT fathom why they called our dear sweet Pepper a GERMAN SHEPHERD MIX!

Our little guy is quite obviously a HEELER MIX! Or Australian Cattle Dog mix, if they want to sound all scientific-y (even though it's an American breed, nothing to do with Australia).

I hope Farmer H will ask them to change it when Pepper goes back to the vet. Just for accuracy. As accurate as you can be, guessing a mixed breed's heritage. I don't expect Pepper to grow as large as a German Shepherd, nor have the same temperament. It's quite possible that Farmer H gave the wrong information when he called to make the appointment, or that he was misunderstood with bad phone reception.

Anyhoo... Pepper is fine after his first shots and pills.

Old Mother Hubbard Must Be The New Manager

On Saturday, I went to Save A Lot with a specific purpose. As opposed to just using their lottery machine and browsing. My goal was to get the mini Drumstick ice cream treats. Farmer H likes the regular size, at over 300 calories apiece. I just like a small sweet, and the minis are 100 calories. They still have the ice cream, nuts, and a crunchy cone, but are tiny.

Anyhoo... I was happy to see that the store was not busy. I got my scratchers. Looked for their store-brand steak sauce, which I add to chili and soup, and like with chicken. They didn't have any! In fact, there was not even a space or label for it on the shelf. All they had was brand-name A-1 Sauce. Which I like just fine. It's thicker, with a similar taste. But it comes in a glass bottle rather than plastic. 

Anyhoo... I went over to the far end of the store, to the freezer cases, for my ice cream treat, which is not carried by 10Box. I don't know about Country Mart. That's too far to drive ice cream home anyway.

I was in shock when I came across the back aisle and saw the freezer:

It wasn't just the ice cream/dessert section. The meat section was also bare.

When I showed Farmer H the pictures, he said, "Huh. Their cooler broke, and they had to throw away all that food!"

Yes. I could imagine that happening. I sure didn't want ice cream that had melted and re-frozen. But dang it! I really was looking forward to my mini Drumsticks. 

Now it's Monday afternoon. I'm giving it another try. Surely they wouldn't want to lose out on all that business. I'd imagine they have a cooler guy to call for emergencies.

A Sinking Feeling

The very AUDACITY! I'm supposed to believe my lyin' husband over my truthful eyes!

For the past couple days, my kitchen sink has been draining slowly. I couldn't imagine why. At first I thought it was because I still had the faucet running water in the sink, after I'd pulled the plug, rinsing off the last of the silverware. But no. I was also slow without the faucet running. So took the plug/strainer all the way out, and found something unpleasant.

Pieces of food stuck down in my drain, too big to run down the pipe. I knew exactly what it was! Pieces of flat noodle and mushrooms, from the Hamburger Helper Stroganoff that Farmer H had been eating for supper the past three days.

I wondered why the containers I'd stored them in, the round plastic Chinese takeout containers that I fed him in, were so clean when I went to wash them. He'd had biscuits with the meals. I just figured he must have used the biscuits to wipe out the remaining particles and sauce in the container. Looks like he DIDN'T!

Of course I had to holler at Farmer H.

"Hey! When you bring your plate in here tonight, DO NOT rinse it in the sink! You clogged it with your other leftovers, and I had to pick out the pieces with the end of a paring knife!"

"I don't know how. I wiped out them bowls. Into the wastebasket. With my paper towel. Before I rinsed them."

"THAT didn't happen! I sure didn't eat that stuff, or run my food down the sink. It didn't jump over from the wastebasket! Funny how all those pieces ended up clogging my sink!"

When Farmer H brought back his plate (baked chicken, stuffing, and baby carrots with ranch dip), he didn't even make a pretense of wiping it out with a paper towel. He set it on the counter, a blob of dip still on the plate. But THEN he used his paper towel to clean up the pieces of previous food that I had left in the sink. As evidence. But mainly to shame him.

"I still don't know how them got there. I wiped out my bowl."

Denial is strong in that one.

The Pony Finds A Bargain

Neither of us had much to shop for on Errand Day, but The Pony found a bargain! 

"I can't decide what to have for supper. I usually just grab an apple with peanut butter for breakfast, and then eat one meal. I don't know if to have a frozen dinner from the freezer, or make something. I think I'll go back and look at the steaks."

That was a good decision. The Pony found a Kansas City Strip Steak on special, because it was the day after the Sell By date.

"Look Mom. I'm pretty sure it's okay. It's only one day, and it looks fine. It doesn't smell."

That's an 8 oz steak for $4.32. Which is half price from the original amount. It normally sells for $17.99 a pound!

The steak still smelled fine when The Pony unwrapped it at home. Just a bit of discoloration from where the tag was. But the whole thing would turn that color anyway past the date. Sometimes before, from my experience. I'm pretty sure the stores put some kind of coloring in the meat! Aha! I just looked it up, and they use carbon monoxide. Which is apparently banned in Europe.

Anyhoo... The Pony said that steak looked like a FOOT! Heh, heh! I can see it.

The Pony's one meal was substantial:

That's homemade garlic toast, and some tortellini, not homemade. Along with some wine, and that Kansas City Strip. With the ambience of laptop keyboard lights!

Looks good enough to eat! And it certainly was a bargain.

Farmer H Feeds Some Pig To Speckled Pepper

Sweet Gummi Mary! I don't know what Farmer H was thinking! Yesterday was Glazed Ham for lunch at the Senior Center. I suppose they gave extra to Farmer H. He IS their pet, you know. And he didn't buy an extra dinner to bring home.

When I got back from town, there was a styrofoam container lying open on the side porch. It wasn't chewed up or anything. Then Jack came around from the front porch, looking quite portly. I recall Farmer H saying he was dragging a deer leg around the front porch, so I attributed his girth to snacking on spoiled wildlife appendages.

Anyhoo... the truth came to light later in the evening. I was concerned about Pepper having enough food. He'd been kind of wild that afternoon, trying to get in the laundry room door. His food pan was empty. I thought maybe he was hungry, and knows his food comes out that door.

"He has plenty of food. I fed him already. And earlier, he had some ham I brought home. Jack had two pieces, and Pepper had one."

"You gave Pepper some HAM? I don't know if that's good for a puppy. He just learned how to eat solid food."

"He was fine. He really liked it."

Flash forward to this morning at 6:00 a.m. I was sitting on the short couch, with Pepper snuggled next to me, chewing on his blue towel while I petted him. Pepper grew restless. He stood up. But instead of looking over the side of the couch, or across at Farmer H... he stood looking at the back of the couch, and started HEAVING!

"Oh, no. Something is wrong with Pepper. He looks like he might throw up!"

"He's fine." Said Farmer H, watching Pepper's little body convulse and shake as he opened his mouth. Farmer H jumped up and grabbed Pepper with both hands and ran to the laundry room. "Here, let's go back outside!"

I heard the door open and close. It took a few minutes for Farmer H to return.

"Is Pepper okay? Did he get sick?"

"No. He didn't get sick. I was picking up the stuffing from that toy. Don't get him any more stuffed toys. It's all over the place." Said the man who had left a paper plate of moist food in Pepper's enclosure, which has been chewed to bits, with pieces in front of the laundry room door.

"It was a pet toy. I didn't think it would be that easy for a pup to destroy it!"

So not only did Pepper have a slice of ham, he might have eaten parts of a stuffed pig!

Pepper DID enjoy biting that pig. But I never thought he'd rip it apart.

No wonder the little guy's tummy was upset! I will make sure to get the next toy made of hard plastic or rubber. Pepper does not need to be full of stuffing. And Farmer H needs to quit giving Pepper people food until he's a little older.

The Pickling Of Mrs. HM

I found a new snack on the shelves of 10Box last Saturday. Of course I bought a bag to try. I offered to share with The Pony, who was not at all adventurous, took a single bite, and declared it a no. Too bad, so sad! That meant more for ME!

It's a new snack made by Pringles. That's why I was at that aisle anyway, getting Sour Cream and Onion Pringles for The Pony's snack while helping me install TurboTax on my new two-Christmases-ago laptop. These are called MINGLES. I suppose because it's two flavors in one. These are Dill Pickle and Ranch.

They are shaped differently, but the same consistency of those Vlasic Pickle Balls that I had a while back. The same consistency of Planter's Cheese Balls. Very airy.

I like the Mingles because a serving is 37 pieces (as seen above) for 150 calories. They go well with a Shasta Zero Sugar Cola. In fact, because of their bow-tie shape, I bite them in half. So that's like having 74 pieces, heh, heh! 

I have a gripe about false advertising again! The back says there are "about 6" servings per bag. After meticulously counting them out for the past five days, I discovered that this bag only had five servings, and nine pieces left. That's 5 and 1/4 servings. Liars!

Anyhoo... the Mingles also come in Cheddar Sour Cream flavor, and White Cheddar and Ranch. I was in 10Box again, and got myself another Dill Pickle and Ranch, along with the Cheddar Sour Cream, and two bags of the White Cheddar and Ranch. The Pony is getting one of those, since the White Cheddar and Ranch sounded appetizing.

While checking out, the checker said, "Oh. YOU are the one buying these!" As if I am the only person depleting their stash! It had been 5 days! I was just getting more to have on hand.

"Yes. I've only had the pickle version, and it's a little too much Ranch and not enough Pickle. But they're pretty good. I figured I'd try the other flavors, too."

"Yeah, they're a little heavy on the Ranch. [So obviously, SHE had tried them, too!] You know, we used to have those Pickle Balls..."

"I know! I really liked them. I came back for more, but they were all gone!"

"Anything in a bin will disappear. It's just a one-time thing."

"That's why I'm stocking up on these! So I have some on hand if they're discontinued."

I have to finish my Pickle version before I open another bag. I'm leaning towards the Cheddar and Sour Cream.

I Crowed Because I Won $75, And Then I Met A Woman Who...

Monday had temps in the 40s, but the wind was gusting to 39 mph, and I didn't like the thought of the windchill. Have I mentioned that I'm always cold? And that I hate wind?

Anyhoo... I decided to stay home, and called Farmer H to ask if he'd bring me some scratchers. Specifically, some $5 crosswords, and some $3 crosswords. He did good! 

I won $6 and $12 on the little crosswords, and my last big crossword won $75!

I was really happy, because lately I haven't been getting many winners, and if they are, it's only the ticket value, or maybe double. I can't really complain, because my casino luck was good. 

Anyhoo... there's a checker at 10Box who always asks me if I've been doing any good with the scratchers. So I was happy on Tuesday to inform her: 

"I won $75 on a $5 crossword yesterday!"

"That's great. I won $1000."

"WHAT??? Which kind of ticket?"

"That newest $20 ticket. The 40th anniversary ticket. Out of the right machine."

"Congratulations! I'll be sure not to buy that ticket here, heh, heh!"

I was really happy for her. I don't play that $20 ticket, but The Pony does every now and then. This gal doesn't play the crosswords. So our wins can coexist without jealousy.

So sad that I had to rely on FARMER H to get a decent winner...

Sweet Snoozing Pepper

The Pony was here on Sunday to download my TurboTax on the new computer he got me a couple Christmases ago. It has Windows 11, which I've been avoiding. HIPPIE runs Windows10, which is no longer an option to use for this year's TurboTax. I swear, they're in cahoots with Microsoft!

Anyhoo... we brought Pepper in the house to be near us while we were computing and visiting. Pepper is not allowed the run of the Mansion. No siree, Bob! The Mansion is not puppy-proof. Pepper escaped one morning while Farmer H was putting him back on the porch. He had neglected to close the laundry room door. Pepper was roaming the kitchen, looking at himself in the oven door reflection. At least he didn't get to the basement steps. I would not have been able to get up fast enough to stop him.

Anyhoo... we had Pepper in the big box Farmer H used when bringing him home in SilverRedO. Pepper is getting almost too big to be contained by the box. He has learned that jumping against the side will tip it over. Also, he finds it particularly tasty.

We wrassled around a bit to wear Pepper out. Played tug-o-war with his blue towel. The Pony used Pepper's pink squeaky pig to distract him from tipping over the box. After about an hour of such play, Pepper grew drowsy. He was like a toddler fighting off a nap.

Just before his eyes closed for the nap. Looks like Pink Squeaky Pig was also tired out, lying face down with his ears drooping. Pepper slept on and off for an hour. He'd raise his head or sit up when one of us moved. Followed the sounds of us leaving the kitchen for the bathroom. He'd try to rally and play-bite if petted.

The Pony would hum a lullaby for Pepper. This was a magical sleep aid! He'd go right back to snoozing. Once he woke, refreshed, we played for about another hour. We had just put Pepper back into his porch pen when Farmer H came home.

Not that he would have cared. Farmer H seems to be allowing Pepper many privileges not afforded to my little Jack.

Such Deceptive Advertising

Sunday was spent with The Pony, downloading TurboTax on my new laptop, and just hanging out. We ate frozen Chinese dinners for lunch. I didn't really want to cook by the time Farmer H came home from his SUS2.5, so I'd told him in advance he was getting a frozen Hungry Man dinner. I asked what kind he wanted. He said Salisbury Steak, or Meat Loaf.

The selection in Country Mart did not include a Salisbury Steak. But it DID have a Grilled Beef Patty, which looked better than the Meat Loaf. They had the same side dishes. So I took the Grilled Beef Patty dinner, because that was the first kind Farmer H mentioned. 

I took out the box to read the directions. It could be microwaved or put in the oven. I figured that it was easier to put it in the oven while Farmer H was driving The Pony home. It would be done right as he returned.

It looked like just what Farmer H wanted. Hamburgers in gravy, with mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables. He had even seen the box, and according to The Pony, who showed it to him, he said, "Yum."

Well. Little did he know what was inside. I almost felt sorry for him!

Where's the BEEF? Those are the tiniest patties I have ever seen! They are the size of breakfast sausage patties! Nowhere near the depiction on the package! I don't think the brand Hungry Man is supposed to mean the man will still be HUNGRY after eating it! 

At least there was a plentiful amount of the mixed vegetables. And mashed potatoes. Farmer H said the patties were pretty thick. So there's that. He also said it tasted good. 

I did not ask if he would choose this meal again.

The Universe Smites The Pony

Alas, poor Pony! The Universe has leveled a severe blow. It happened on Thursday, our casino day. I checked my phone around 5:30 a.m., waiting for Farmer H to come out at his regular time and bring Pepper in to play. 

Huh. There was an email. From The Pony! That was unusual.

"Well. As of now, my phone appears to be completely dead. I'm not sure if it'll even ring, but right now it doesn't even open. I'll try to be there on time."

At 6:00, I called The Pony. I had intended to do so, as a wakeup call. The Pony answered, surprised that the phone rang. Still. It was NOT miraculously fixed.

Yeah. That's not normal. While I DO like the color, heh, heh, I wouldn't want that to be MY phone screen. You can't get into anything. Can't send or receive texts. Can't call out. Can't set alarms. Thankfully, it will ring and let The Pony answer.

We still have The Pony's phone on our account, for the unlimited internet. The Pony pays us every month. This phone is still not paid for from when it was bought last year. It's a monthly payment, not an outright purchase. Luckily, Farmer H and The Pony have a protection plan. They are hard on phones.

Anyhoo... The Pony was planning to take the phone to the T-Mobile store over in Bill-Paying Town, to see where to take it for fixing. But upon searching about it on the laptop, discovered that now they usually give a replacement phone (refurbished) for $99, rather than fixing them on site. Last time Hick and The Pony had to take the broken phone to a St. Louis facility for fixing.

Anyhoo... the plan was for The Pony to file the claim online for the damage [it fell in the sink a couple weeks ago but was fine until now] and the replacement. Except that the account needed a one-step verification to get in (which had been set that way by The Pony) consisting of a code number sent by text. Which The Pony can't receive on the broken phone! It's set specific to the phone number. So doing it on mine or Farmer H's wouldn't work. No wonder The Pony had a migraine on Friday.

But wait! On Saturday morning at 5:33, I got a text. From The Pony!!! 

"Holy sh!t I woke up after an alarm went off and the screen worked just long enough to connect it to my computer so I can get the texts and everything. Literally the second I got it linked the screen glitched out again. It already stopped working again but I can get one time passwords and everything from it now on my computer. My heart is pounding from the rush to set that up."

Anyhoo... The Pony got the claim filed. Paid the deductible and the tax. It was approved automatically, and now The Pony has a shipping number to track it with UPS. The "new" phone is expected on Monday or Tuesday.

It seems like The Universe had a change of heart.

More Not Listening, And Incriminating Embellishment

On Friday, I picked up a few items at the store, and got home just before Farmer H arrived. Meaning I had to carry in the frozen stuff by myself. I was expecting him to get there at the same time, from our phone conversation. Turns out he forgot to pick up his medicine, and had to go back to the pharmacy. 

Anyhoo... I was standing around the kitchen, waiting on him, to see how soon he wanted supper. He takes Pepper outside for a while when he gets home. I either want to have some time with my scratchers, or get his supper over with first so I don't have to stop.

"Do you want a drink first, or just supper?"

"I'm taking the little dog out."

"That's not the question. I was going to get it ready before I change clothes. Do you want a drink first, or just supper?"

"Supper is fine. I can just microwave it when I'm ready. I have to go to the bathroom!"

Off he went, to the master bathroom. I waited. And waited. Until finally Farmer H returned to the kitchen.

"So do you want a drink first, or just supper?"

"I told you, I'm taking out the little dog!"

"I know that! That's not the question! You always take Pepper out when you get home. I'm trying to find out when I should put your sausages in the oven. If you want it when you come in, or if you're having a drink first and I can scratch some tickets."

"I'm taking out the dog!"

"THAT'S NOT THE QUESTION! Look at me! Do you want supper or a drink?"

"A drink! I'll have a drink!"

"You just said supper before you ran to the bathroom! I'm trying to figure out how much time I have before starting it!"

"I want a drink. And supper! I can have a drink with supper!"

"Fine! I'll put it in the oven before I change, and I'll pour the drink for you to add soda."

Why should a simple question be so hard? You notice that it's to his benefit to answer. I'm doing something for HIM. I only want to know how to budget my time. I put his sausages in the oven at 250, figuring he'd be outside for a while with Pepper and Jack. I poured his Wild Turkey and added some ice, with it sitting on the cutting block so he could add the soda.

I went to get my other clothes, and change in the boys' bathroom. I was still in there when I heard Farmer H return. That was quick. I heard the pop of the soda can opening. I figured he was getting his drink and going to sit in the recliner until supper was ready. I came out of the bathroom to see nobody in the recliner.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my buns."

"Your food isn't warm yet! It's on a low temperature. You were only out there 10 minutes!"

"Well, Pepper seemed like he enjoyed it, and was ready to come in."

"Your buns will get stale."

"They're fine. I imagine the sausages are warm enough. I can smell them."

Farmer H was closing up the package of buns. Dipping his hand into a big bag of Ruffles potato chips.

"Did you even wash your hands? I don't think so. And you just carried the dog back in."

"I washed them!"

"When?"

"Just now. When I came back. In my bathroom."

"You did not! No way did you walk all the way into the bathroom to wash your hands. And there's no paper towel here from you washing them at the sink."

"Whatever..."

Yeah. No way. I did not hear Farmer H walking to the other bathroom. I just heard the kitchen door, and the laundry room door. Then the soda opening. And came out and caught him with the buns. I might have believed him if he said he washed them at the kitchen sink, and dried his hands on his pants. But he didn't plan ahead with a logical lie.

That's how to catch a liar. Too much embellishment upon interrogation.

The Auto Miser

We went to the casino on Thursday, with Farmer H behind the wheel of A-Cad. Riding with Farmer H is always an adventure. His sweaving was tolerable this time. Only a few strays into the wake-up bumps on the highway, only a few drifts into the other lane.

My main issue this trip was FREEZING. It was an overcast day, 46 degrees when we left the Mansion. Temps would be climbing into the 70s, but I know the casino is always cold, so I wore a sweatshirt over my regular gambling uniform pink plaid shirt. The temp on both dual controls in A-Cad were set at 74. This would probably be fine, IF there was any air blowing that heat around.

I tried to hold my tongue, for The Pony's sake, who doesn't like listening to our squabbles. You'd think a simple request for heat would be met with the blower being turned on. Problem solved. But no. Not when the driver is Farmer H, Auto Miser.

We traveled the county blacktop highway for about 30 miles. Got our McDonald's breakfast at the drive-thru, and got on the interstate highway. After Farmer H had consumed his Sausage, Egg, and Cheese McMuffin, I dared mention that I was cold. Farmer H reached over and set my control to 80 degrees.

"That might work, if any air was flowing. It's not."

Farmer H put his hand up to my center vent. "It's blowing."

I put my hand up to my side vent. Nothing. I turned the dial. Nothing.

"That vent is closed. No wonder you're not getting anything."

"I just closed it. Trying to see if it had been closed, and I could open it."

"It's on."

"No. It's NOT on. I could turn my side up to 100, and I still wouldn't get any warm air. Because you always put it on AUTO, and say it works automatically. That's all you ever talk about! AUTO, AUTO, AUTO! If the fan isn't on, the air doesn't move!"

Farmer H reached over and tried to set my contol on 100. The highest it went was 90. He left it there, and held his hand to my center vent again. There was no change. Farmer H cranked the dial on the fan, to put it on the highest setting. Warm air started blowing out the vent. I turned my control back down to 80. 

"You don't have to crank it up so much. My point is that you never want to turn on the fan. You think AUTO is actually doing something, but it's not!"

Farmer H turned it down to medium. "You're a big girl. You can operate the heat."

Yeah, right. In the past, this results with a heavy sigh, or vocal objection from Farmer H. About AUTO! AUTO will keep the temperature at what it's set for! Miraculously! Without any air moving at all!

Anyhoo... at least I was finally warm. But then we entered a brief shower. Light rain. Farmer H finally turned on the windshield wipers. On the lowest setting. So I endured a watery windshield with a distorted view, then a swipe that smeared dust. I didn't even bother to give my opinion of THAT situation. Nor when we got back home, and I saw how deflated A-Cad's tires were.

I don't know what the deal is with Farmer H. He acts like it costs money to turn on the fan to blow the heat, and to run the windshield wipers faster, and to put air in the tires so they're at the proper inflation! AND like such an imagined charge would come out of HIS pocket!

As If He Thought This Was A Good Defense

You are about to get a peek into why Mrs. HM lives in a state of incense-ation. As you might suppose, it involves Farmer H.

Yesterday morning, we were preparing to leave for the casino. Farmer H had been to town to gas up A-Cad (and most likely have a clandestine donut). I had asked him to get some scratchers for me, because I knew we'd get back around 5:00, and I didn't want to go to town then. I gave him three losing tickets as examples of what I wanted, and the money.

You know where this is headed, right? Farmer H returned home with my tickets. Except he had bought two extra, because Casey's was out of the one that I wanted. Then he went to Orb K and got that one. Oh, and he told me the extras were the Tetris ticket that I like, but they were totally NOT Tetris, but a green color rather than red, purple, or blue, with a money theme and a back-scratch playing area that is not on Tetris. Yet he STILL swore they were Tetris, because that's what he'd asked for, so the girl messed up, or they have their tickets in the wrong slots.

Heh, heh! That's not even what got me incensed. I was kind of expecting something like that to happen, given how Casey's always seems to have their tickets in the wrong slots every time Farmer H goes there to buy some for me.

Because he had spent an extra $10 on tickets, I went to my purse and extracted a ten. I took it to the living room on my way for a last bathroom break before the 90-minute trip. I was leaning on the back of the couch. I dropped the ten on the TV table beside the remote.

"Here's your ten."

The bill fell down on the table surface. Farmer H reached for it. And...

PICKED UP AN INK PEN AND HELD IT OUT TO ME!

"What are you doing? Why would I want that?"

"You said you wanted a pen."

"No. I gave you your money. And said, 'Here's your ten.' This is what causes all the problems around here. You can't hear, and you make up stuff you claim that I say. Then when I talk louder, you accuse me of yelling."

"I can hear! I hear you, HM. I just don't listen to you."

SWEET GUMMI MARY! WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

As if such a statement would be acceptable. A man telling his wife that he can hear her, but he chooses not to listen to her. 

I might as well tell him that I cook his supper, but I don't care if the food is done or expired. 

Pepper Is Hazardous To Our Health

This is the 7th day of new puppiness. Pepper has been here one week. He is settling into life at the Mansion. He hardly barks at all now. I was thrilled on Tuesday when I saw that he had eaten all of his moist puppy food. He had been just nibbling at it here and there. But Tuesday, it was all gone at 3:00. 

I told Farmer H to put some more food out. He argued that the can said a small dog only needs about 1/3 of the can a day. NO! If Pepper is eating it all gone, he needs to have the option of more. He's a growing puppy! Farmer H put out more last night, which he ate, and more this morning, which is now gone at 1:00. It's not like Pepper has to watch his figure to become a supermodel.

I go out several times a day for petting. Pepper gets into the laundry room, because I can't step in and close the door fast enough. He sniffs around, and finds things to chew on. NO! I have to help him back out on the porch by the nape of the neck. It takes three or four tries before success is achieved. In fact, yesterday I almost gave myself a concussion. In my haste to close the door behind Pepper, I slammed the doorknob into my bent-over noggin! That smarted. It left a knot. There might be a bruise by now. 

Farmer H says he gets Pepper out of the laundry room by throwing him!!! "Well. I don't actually THROW him. I scoop him up with my hand under his belly, and give him a toss out the door. He lands on his feet. He's fine. He turns around to come right back."

Pepper has razor-sharp toenails. And his teeth are nothing to sneeze at, either. Both Farmer H and I have scabbed arms from the maulings we get while picking up and petting Pepper. He's a little chewer, and must be told NO! He's pretty smart. When I say NO! and stop petting after a nip, he will sit down and look up at me. Before starting to nip again. It takes patience, but I think Pepper is learning.

Farmer H brings Pepper in the Mansion at 5:30 a.m. I hold him until he's too rambunctious. He settles down when Farmer H comes back into sight. Then I set him down on the floor, and he sniffs around, and tries to chew on our feet or pants legs. No accidents in the house.

Farmer H takes Pepper back to the porch before he leaves, and feeds him. Our biggest concern is when Pepper is old enough to run free. Farmer H is certain he will run after SilverRedO when he starts to town. The plan is for me to bring him in the Mansion, or feed treats to him and Jack on the back porch.

In the evenings, Farmer H takes Pepper out by the carport, where he sits on the toolbox he took out of SilverRedO, and watches Pepper explore. Farmer H pets Jack to let him know he's still special. Jack only growls when Pepper pounces on him and nips. I consider that fair warning. Pepper will have to learn canine manners.

A Hot Time In The Old Mansion Last Night

It's HERE! Our new heat pump. Which replaces the new heat pump we paid $8,500 for on September 9th. The Mansion has been running on Auxiliary Heat all through the frigid January cold snap. Now that it's about to hit 75 degrees on Wednesday, we have our new(est) heat pump installed.

I was a bit surprised when Farmer H said it was coming on Monday. That's President's Day. A holiday for many businesses. But Hick said the HVAC Guy was supposed to be here with it between 8:00 and 8:15 on Monday morning. 

"You'll be here, won't you? So I don't have to deal with it?"

"There ain't gonna be no dealing with it. He just has to connect it outside. I'll be here. All I'll have to do is switch over the thermostat off the Auxiliary Heat."

I believed Farmer H. Which is my own fault. I should have known better.

The HVAC Guy got here at 7:40. That's A.M.! In the morning! I was sitting on the short couch, shrouded in a fleece throw, because I'm always cold. Even though the Auxiliary Heat has been working just fine, keeping the Mansion at 70 degrees. Farmer H had just opened the shades to watch for his arrival, and exclaimed: "There he comes now!"

Farmer H grabbed a jacket and went out. I continued watching TV. Then I heard Jack, and saw him running along the trees in the front yard, looking over his shoulder. That was odd. You'd think he'd be looking at the driveway. Then I saw Farmer H come tooling along on his green tractor. Down along the trees, having gone up through the BARn field with it, then back down through our yard. He went around to the back of the Mansion.

About 15 minutes later, Farmer H came up the basement steps (13 rail-less). I thought he was going to adjust the thermostat, but he was only there for a warmer jacket.

"Why were you on the tractor? To help unload it?"

"No, to move it around to the back of the house. He's got the van parked out here on the gravel by my sheds (Shackytown Boulevard). He can't get it around the back because of the mud. And I might have to pull his van if he cain't get across the yard to leave. He's hooking it up now."

About an hour went by. I was snug under my fleece throw. Farmer H came up to set the thermostat for turning on the heat pump. I heard the Auxiliary Heat go off. Then nothing else kicked on. About five minutes later, 

A STRANGE MAN CAME UP THE BASEMENT STEPS!

He walked past me to the thermostat on the wall behind me. Farmer H huffed up the steps after him. If looks could kill, Farmer H would have expired in his tracks. He just gave a shrug. Good thing I was not in the bathroom with the door open! Good thing I was wrapped in a fleece throw.

"Yeah, it's set to run automatically," said HVAC Guy. "I'm not going to do anything just yet. Let's give it a few minutes. Sometimes these heat pumps just need a hard reset. You start taking them apart, but then they start running after about five minutes. Let's wait and see."

Back they went down those steps. A couple minutes later, I heard the heat kick on. I didn't know if it was Auxiliary Heat or the heat pump. But I heard it. And then I saw HVAC Guy's van go across the yard and up the driveway. Farmer H returned to the living room.

The new new heat pump has been running ever since. I can't tell a bit of difference, other than a different sound when it kicks on. Monday night, I was huddled on the short couch again, under the fleece throw, shivering as usual. Farmer H asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. I'm just cold. It's 70 degrees in here."

"I'm sweating!"

Well, no wonder. He was still wearing his town clothes, and not just tighty-whities.

It's About Time

T-Hoe has new tires! Four! You would expect that many, but then again, we're relying on Farmer H to get them... It's only been four or five months since he declared that he was getting tires for SilverRedO, and that T-Hoe definitely needed tires by December.

I can definitely tell a difference. I noticed it when I walked into the garage. As someone who agonizes over climbing into a vehicle, I'm attuned to such things. I swear that T-Hoe sits at least two inches taller now. Which is in addition to the two inches he gained when the suspension system was finally repaired. 

Farmer H says they are the same size tires as before. I don't think so. Even from outside, before stepping up on the running board, these tires seemed bigger. They filled more of the wheel well. The Pony couldn't tell a difference on Errand Day. That's traitor behavior! I needed VALidation. 

It's possible that the extra nine lbs of air pressure makes a two-inch difference, I suppose. Having the regulation 35 lbs of air as opposed to 26 lbs will make a car sit higher. It's not just hoisting myself in that makes me notice. It's also when I slide out. I feel like my feet aren't going to hit the ground!

The engine puttering noise was also supposedly "fixed." But Mick the Mechanic told Farmer H that he wasn't sure if that was it. That we'd just have to see if it worked. It seemed to, until yesterday, when I thought I heard the puttering upon starting. Farmer H stands by his story that it could be a lot of things.

Anyhoo... that little two-day sojourn at the shop cost us over $2000! Labor was $625. We used the money that was paid back for Farmer H's replacement of his wrecked trailer. Plus the rest from my miscellaneous fund that I add to every week.

At least T-Hoe is rolling on good tires. He even seems to drive better, though Farmer H says the tires were just put on, and not balanced or anything. Which seems odd. I thought that was part of the procedure for putting on tires. Farmer H probably didn't hear my question, and just made up an answer.

Looks Like We've Been FIRED!

I was surprised to find our gas bill on the kitchen table Thursday. That was 10 days before it was due! There might have even been time to mail the payment, but with the President's Day no-mail holiday on Monday, I didn't want to take a chance. I used the Guest Pay option online. 

I'm not sure why this bill was actually on time. It was twice the amount of the last bill, but we attribute that to the 10 days of below-zero weather during that billing period. Not a big deal. It was still only $150, even with Farmer H and Old Buddy working at Bargain House, and running the furnace.

Here's the most puzzling thing about this bill. It said the amount due was based on the ACTUAL READING! Right there on the bill! Read Type: Actual.

You may recall that the previous few bills included a form instructing us to READ OUR OWN METER. And then to go online and report the numbers within five days of the self-reading.

This time there was no form. No self-reading. Farmer H and I have been FIRED by the gas company! We are no longer meter-readers! Can't say I'll miss the monthly grind of such ungainful employment.

Farmer H Picks Up Picked-Out Pepper

Thank the Gummi Mary, Farmer H chose the right pup when he went to pick him up Thursday afternoon. I don't know if he was smart enough to show the picture on his phone, as I insisted. More likely, Giver knows her pups, and remembered the one I asked for. She even gave him a bath!

They arrived at the Mansion around 3:00, as I was leaving for town. Of course I had to delay my trip by 20 minutes to hold Pepper. He smelled so fresh! Like shampoo. He snuggled right in, but was shaking. Not from the cold, because we were in the laundry room, and it was 60 degrees outside.

"He's just scared. He whimpered all the way here. I had him in that box on the front seat of my truck."

"Well, no wonder. It's like he's been kidnapped. He doesn't know where he is, and we're holding him captive. He was calling for his momma to come find him."

"Yeah. He'll get used to it."

Farmer H was going to get the pet carrier and put it in the laundry room, for Pepper to spend the night. Then he decided against it. The temperature wasn't going down much overnight. Pepper was surprisingly quiet. I expected more whimpering. I went out to pick him up and pet him when I got home from town. Farmer H checked on him a couple times. When it got dark, he took out Pepper's blanket that Giver had sent with him. Said he snuggled in on it inside his dog house.

Friday morning, I had Farmer H bring Pepper inside so I could hold him for the half hour before Farmer H left. Pepper was quite feisty! Like he didn't want to snuggle with me on the couch! I held him on my chest, one arm wrapped around him. He was very squirmy! And started yipping and howling. Which is just the cutest thing. Not sure if he was hollering for him momma, or excited to be inside. When Farmer H talked, it got Pepper's attention. He might be bonding with his "kidnapper," and come to adore Farmer H like Scarlett did. At least he knew Farmer H from a couple visits before he was taken. And Farmer H is the one who feeds him.

That's kind of a problem. It's like Pepper doesn't want to eat. Farmer H had gotten him puppy kibble. I thought he was getting some canned food as well, but he did not. He said Giver had been giving Pepper the dry food with a little water sprinkled on it, mixed with wet food.

I visited Pepper throughout the day on Friday. Every couple of hours. Petting and picking up and putting down and wrestling a bit. Pepper has sharp puppy claws! My arms were dripping blood. It was hard going back inside, because by the time I got through the door, Pepper was inside. There's no shooing a puppy. I had to get a neck-nape grip and coax him across the threshold, then be quick with the door, taking care not to slam his puppy head into the jamb.

Intermittently, Pepper would take five minutes to have a howling fit. I did not go check at that time, because it would be rewarding his howls. I swear, Pepper might really have some beagle in him, from sound of his voice. When I'd sneak in for the next visit, I'd see Pepper sitting in front of the door. Or nowhere, which meant he was in his house napping. He would run to me when I called him. Wanting to be picked up, then wanting to be put down.

When Farmer H got home, I told him I didn't think Pepper was eating. The kibble was still in the food pan. 

"I'm not sure he understands how to eat. Maybe he's just hungry."

"She said he was eatin' the dry food. Do we have anything else?"

"Just a hot dog. Or sandwich meat. I'm sure 10Box sells puppy food. They have a pet aisle."

"I'll get some tomorrow. Maybe cut up some of that hot dog real little. Or do we have milk?"

"There's a little. Not sure if it's still good."

Farmer H took out some diced hot dog. Put some in Pepper's mouth. SAID he ate it, but I'm doubtful. Looks like all of it is still in the food pan. Farmer H took out a bowl of milk. Said Pepper drank a little. Saturday morning, I tried some shredded turkey lunch meat. Pepper was not interested. When I tried to put it in his mouth, he clamped his lips shut. At least it stopped the howling!

I'm hoping Pepper will like the canned food. I figure a pup will eat before it will starve to death with food right in front of it.

Introducing, The Cutest Little Pupper Named Pepper

THE PUPPY HAS ARRIVED!

If you are hoping for adorable puppy pictures, I apologize. I don't have them. It's not for a lack of trying. Capturing a half-heeler pup on the back porch is like catching lightning in a bottle. Difficult. It's easier to capture the actual puppy than the picture.

There's Pepper. In his back-porch pen this morning around 9:30. There's his house in the background, with the bacon-scented chew toy in front like a just-delivered morning paper. And the brown dog statue from the side porch that Farmer H put there to keep Pepper company. He said Pepper was licking it. Well. Every animal that comes across the porch stops to pee on it. So that's not really something I want to think about.

Pepper has no respect for personal boundaries! And tries to squeeze through narrow spaces intened to keep him out! I picked up Pepper for petting purposes. Then set him down. He was all over the place, though I had to lure him out of his house at first. Pepper got into the laundry room, which was fine, because I had the door to the kitchen closed. After a bit of investigation, I finally shooed him out. 

This does not look like Pepper at all, but since there was no other puppy on the porch, it has to be him! He was howling to be let into the Mansion, heh, heh. Or for Farmer H to come rescue him.

More picking up and petting ensued. Jack came around the kitchen to investigate.

Jack did not seem at all impressed when I held out Pepper over the barrier, like a low-level Lion King proffering, for his inspection.

Tomorrow, I'll tell a little about Pepper's first day and night.

The Universe Sends Genius A Super Bowl Memo

While I sit here awaiting the arrival of my PUPPY, there's a brief update on Genius. 

Aside from my weekly letter, and an occasional text, we don't communicate a lot. Genius is busy working on driverless trucks, and I am busy doing pretty much nothing. Genius called to wish me a happy birthday, and we caught up on things not in my letters.

"The Pony came out for the Super Bowl. We made a batch of Chex Mix, and had a variety of snacks. We had potato skins, and nobody burned their hand on the oven coil!" [In reference to Genius branding himself with the upper coil many Super Bowls ago.]

"We hosted our first big party at our new house. We had 25 people over for the Super Bowl. We have a big projection TV downstairs, and a regular TV upstairs. I was in the kitchen getting the last-minute things done for the food. I made hot wing dip, and everybody brought stuff. I know you won't want to hear this, but I was slicing some focaccia bread, down to the last heel. The knife slipped and sliced through the second knuckle on my left index finger. 

"NOOO! That's terrible! You're right. I don't like to hear that!"

I knew it was pretty bad. But I stayed calm. I put pressure on it, and turned to rinse it. Someone was standing in front of the sink, and I said, 'Could you move over for a minute? I need to get to the sink.' I ran water on it, and called Friend to come get the bloody heel and wipe up blood from the floor. Then I went upstairs to the bathroom to get it cleaned up. I was pretty sure I needed stitches, but with the pressure, the bleeding slowed. I got it bandaged, and went back to enjoy the party. I still don't want to bend it yet, and it interferes with my writing."

Let the record show that Genius is left-handed. Why he was slicing bread with the knife in his right hand, I'll never know. I hate to think about his injury, even now. It's like I can feel the knife sliding through the skin!

It today's letter, I told Genius that The Universe is sending a message. That maybe he should lay off the Super Bowl snacks, and confine himself to mixing the drinks. Somebody else can deal with the food. Or he can order out. A burn and a cut might just be the beginning. He doesn't need a broken bone or a concussion!

Mrs. HM Buys A Puppy Kit

I had to do a little puppy shopping on Tuesday. Just the necessities. Well, except for the food, which Farmer H was getting, and some cedar shavings, which he already has in the garage. The puppy has been eating moist food, with a little bit of dry food, just to try it. I'm not sure what Farmer H got. We used canned food for our other pups when they were tiny. Much to the jealousy of the bigger dogs, who had to be shooed away during the meal.

Anyhoo... I knew we didn't have a collar small enough. And Farmer H "thought" he had a leash from when Lucky was here for a week. I think he gave away Scarlett's leash when he gave away Scarlett. And of course a puppy needs toys!

That's a medium leash, 6 feet. The collar is the smallest they had. I think even with adjustment, it will be too big right now. But our puppy won't be going anywhere but the yard for a while. I think Farmer H said he has to be at least 4 months old before he can have his very special operation. By then, he might grow into that small collar.

The real fun was in picking out the toys! It took me a while. I discarded a round rubber gorilla head with crazy eyes and rope attached. And a flat three-pointed fabric thingy. I know puppies love to chew, so I got the Tuff Bone. I don't particularly care if it cleans his teeth. I think it would be satisfying to chew on, and it seems durable. 

The pig has a squeaker inside, but you have to pinch it in just the right place. It's a softer chew, with a tough fabric finish. The flip-flop is very squeaky! I think the puppy will like that one. He should have enough choices here to keep him from chewing the porch rails. But you never know.

I'm looking forward to our new pet. But I'm sure a lot of worry will come with him!

Just Add Puppy

No more worries about our puppy deal falling through. Farmer H got a call from the puppy-giver a few days ago, assuring him that the promise was still good, despite a brief falling-out. AND, with the puppy's availability moved up a week, Farmer H got right to work making a secure little "pen" for him on the back porch. Of course he did it by coming home early, while I was lying down for my afternoon nap. Which was directly on the other side of the wall where Farmer H was grinding screws into wood until his drill screamed in protest.

Here's the view out the laundry room door:

Looks like Jack is getting the heated water bowl, on the other side of that board. This blue bowl will need to be dumped and rinsed. In fact, it was ICE until mid-morning. We're getting up to 78 degrees today! I might ask Farmer H about that electrical plug. Puppies CHEW! The water will probably be okay from now on, as long as Farmer H fills it each morning. Temps are supposed to stay in the 50s for the daytime.

Farmer H blocked off the openings under the rails, where a puppy might try to squeeze through. Can't have him falling 12 feet to the ground. Or even six feet onto Poolio's deck. I will for sure tell Farmer H to remove that saw blade from the old school desk. Don't want my puppy decapitated if he gets rambunctious!

At first I was worried that there were gaps along the bottom of the rail.

Further investigation revealed that there are rail boards blocking those openings. Part of Farmer H's barricade involves pegboard. Which he says is so Jack and the pup can see and smell each other while the puppy is in captivity.

The house Farmer H was preparing turns out to be just a roof!

It's not real pretty, having been exposed to the weather for many years. But it's a hidey hole, and will have cedar shavings underneath for bedding. It's not the best of puppy prisons, but it will do for a couple of weeks. 

I will be checking on the pup every couple of hours, for picking up and petting. I don't dare take him out on the porch, lest he fall down the steps, or get through the unblocked rails. I'm in no shape to catch a loose puppy!

I'm hoping to lure Jack through the kitchen, into the laundry room, where I can make a proper introduction. Of course Jack will get treats, so he associates the puppy with good times! And by closing the laundry room door behind me, Jack can just chill out in there if he doesn't want to greet the puppy at first. I won't have to worry about him roaming through the Mansion.

This afternoon, I plan to look for some puppy toys at 10Box.

A Super Feast

The Pony came out Sunday, so we could make food for the Super Bowl. We are not football fanatics. Farmer H and I both enjoy watching the occasional game. The Pony has absolutely no interest. But it's the Super Bowl, you know. The name is right there. It's something special. An occasion we can use to prepare a feast of snacks. Farmer H even came home from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) a half-hour early, in time to fill his tray before kickoff at 5:30.

We started working just before noon, since a batch of Chex Mix was in order. Not specifically for the Super Bowl, but because we all like Chex Mix, and the majority of my yearly four batches are given away. The Pony was a great stirrer! I put it all together, and then it was in The Pony's hooves, stirring every 15 minutes for two hours. Nothing stuck to the pans! Great job! Of course half of it was packaged up for The Pony to take home.

Our meal-time snacks were nothing elaborate. Mostly storebought stuff that only needed warming. We had quite the variety. Taquitos and Scoops tortilla chips, for which I made a dipping sauce with salsa and Velveeta cheese. Toasted ravioli and mozzarella cheese sticks, with marinara sauce for dipping. Wedge fries with ketchup or ranch dip (which I made with Hidden Valley powder and sour cream). Potato skins, to which I added some extra shredded cheddar. Little sandwiches of turkey and ham on Hawaiian Rolls, with an assortment of cheeses: cheddar, swiss, muenster, pepper jack, provolone. A frozen Bloomin' Onion, though it was called Petals, and was just the battered pieces. And Little Smokies in BBQ sauce, to which I had added some grape jelly for slow simmering.

Dessert was cheesecake, with assorted varieties, pre-sliced. Brownies and donuts, both storebought. The Pony took home half for later consumption.

We all loaded a big cafeteria-style tray. Of course with so much, I could only have one or two of everything. The Pony took a lot home. We will be feasting on sandwiches this week, after Farmer H finishes off the Little Smokies. I'll add one or two of the other sides, but not the entire feast for regular suppers.

The game itself was not very interesting. A bit one-sided, but the team I picked won. I didn't really care, because my dream team (the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, quarterbacked by Baker Mayfield, who was a star at OU while The Pony was in school there) was knocked out of the playoffs. No Super Bowl for them! Anyhoo... I picked my team at the opening kickoff, solely based upon my preference for the color of the uniform!

At halftime, we switched to watch the Puppy Bowl. Farmer H has not watched a Super Bowl halftime show since Janet Jackson had her wardrobe malfunction. That might be his criteria. If there's not a chance he might see something titillating, he has no desire to sit through a musical performance. I'm pretty sure this year's artist had nothing Farmer H wanted to see accidentally exposed!

I suppose our next feasting opportunity will be Easter. 

Puppy Prepping

The anticipation of a new puppy has everyone excited. Jack has a spring in his step, almost as if he understood when Farmer H and I told him he would be getting a puppy. I think about getting some toys from the pet section of 10Box, and making sure that Farmer H will get puppy food. Farmer H is planning on where to put New Pup.

"I think I'll block off part of the back porch, like I did when we got Grizzly."

"Yeah, that would be better than putting him out on a lead in the side yard. But make sure he can't get through the rail and fall! I don't think puppies understand depth like that."

"He won't fall through the rail! Grizzly didn't."

"And what about the water? If you block the back porch, Jack can't get to the water."

"There's two water dishes. I'll set the old one on the other side."

"That will work, as long as it doesn't freeze. Because the puppy will have the heated water bowl on his side."

"It will be fine."

"What about a house? You built that little box for Grizzly. But we used it for the cats, and the other pups, and it fell apart."

"I'll bring one of them doghouses from the other end of the porch."

"Those are HUGE! It's too big for a puppy."

"No. They're in sections. I can take a section out, and set the roof down lower. Then he can stay warm in a smaller house. I have a bag of cedar shavings in the garage."

"You'll have to clean up his poop! And he'll think it's okay to poop and pee on the porch. So you can't get mad at him if he does it when you let him free."

"He'll learn. Jack will teach him."

I really think Farmer H is the most excited of us all.

My Hoped-For Puppy's Kin

I suppose this pup was meant to come live with us. When Farmer H left the Mansion on Wednesday morning, I had no inkling that his travels might lead to a puppy! He got a call about a relative matter, and went to speak to that person. Who just happened to have FOUR PUPPIES!

I don't know if Farmer H asked for one, or if one was offered. He sent me the text asking, when he knew all along that I've been seeking a companion for Jack. Farmer H has always wanted a puppy. I think that's because he was quite sad when Lucky the rescue dog disappeared after a week (under mysterious circumstances!), and he wants one without a previous life to go (or be taken) back to.

Anyhoo... Farmer H initially told me that these pups were a mix of heeler and beagle. I am skeptical. Their heeler heritage is obvious. At least in three of them. When I saw the mom-dog, I began to doubt the beagle part.

I don't know all my dog breeds, but I don't see much beagle in her. Maybe the shape of the head. Or the the body. The legs look thin. The coloring is off. She may have SOME beagle in her, but I see black and tan, or maybe a mini-pinscher, though she's not quite svelte enough for that, with a coarser coat, and not the stand-up ears. The main thing is, I don't see PIT.

Here's the first pup Farmer H showed me:

I first thought that's the one I wanted. Then came the next picture. 

They are quite adorable. The one we're supposed to get is on the right. I said he looked sad, but Farmer H, who was sitting right there watching them run around, said, "No, he's happy." Then he sent a picture of the last pup.

That's the runt. I have nothing against runts. One of our best dogs, Grizzly, was the runt of a litter of eight pups. I chose him specifically, looking into their pen at the dog pound. He was a beagle/lab mix, midsize, colored like a chocolate lab, but shaped like a beagle. This little guy here is just not the one I prefer, because I like a speckled pup. He seems to take after his mother. 

Nothing special about these pups. They're mixed breed. Might have 57 varieties in there. But I know I want one, and Jack will have a companion. Whether he likes it or not!

Two weeks to go until my new doggie can leave its momma.