Well, we met Pink Grandma's dog. I call him Tiger. That was also the name of my mother's beloved orange tabby, but it still feels right for the little guy. For a dog, he's pretty cool. Very soft. Very sweet. Likes to let his tongue hang out, yet there's a minimal disgust factor, but I missed the part where Cathy had to clean shit off him after Pinky let him "hang out" in the car all day.
The sad thing is that the boys love him. But Chas is allergic, and therefore I don't see how we can do anything but visit a dog. At least for now. Apparently Tiger licked Chas' forehead today, and Chas popped a hive. Dammit.
That's what's frustrating about allergies. If all he was ever going to get was the occasional hive, well, that's not that big a deal. But we never know what's around the bend. I hope we go through life without ever using an Epi-Pen, but I need to make sure I never get too complacent about it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment