Mammal Mondays: Be Careful What You Wish For

Mondays seem to arrive more frequently than other days of the week, certainly more than the excellent days, like Saturday. Before I know it, it seems another Monday is wheezing its stale breath in my face, and I’m both back to work and looking for something to write about for my weekly Mammal Monday post.

Tonight, I had an appointment with my chiropractor that was as close to an emergency as a doctor who doesn’t do sutures or ruptured organs will treat. After my fourth day living with a head that only turned one direction, I made a call early this morning to get myself straightened out. The Electrician and I decided that my six p.m. appointment meant going out for dinner made more sense than eating either really late or really early, and Monday is a good excuse to avoid the kitchen anyway.

By the time we got home from our pasta, I was really floundering around in the wading pool of my own brain, trying to think of something to write about for today’s post. There are weeks when I have to sift through ideas, where I need to narrow down my options to decide on a blog topic. Then there are Mondays like today, where I can’t come up with anything.

Luckily for me, this guy had my back this week:

That, friends, is the face of deep and lasting shame.
That, friends, is the face of deep and lasting shame. 

Based on forensic evidence, about the time my chiropractor coaxed my skull back to its factory setting Sherman was awash in an intense wave of intestinal crisis. As near as I can figure, Sherman completely lost control of his innards roughly when I paid for my treatment. By the time we finally returned to the dollhouse, the mess had been sitting for a good two hours, and our bedroom smelled like the third level of hell, with a top note of despair.

I’ve cooked Sherman some white rice in chicken stock, ready to be mixed with canned pumpkin for his breakfast tomorrow. I feel sorry for the poor guy, since diarrhea is embarrassing enough without being caught in the middle of a sea of self-made carnage. We have no idea what caused the situation, and Sherman typically has guts of steel, so hopefully whatever is behind this has run its course. It was certainly runny, at any rate.

Next Monday, if my mammals give me nothing new to share with you, I won’t be complaining. With any luck, I’ll be so desperate for pet-related news that I’ll post a couple of puppy photos and be thrilled to tell you it’s business as usual in the dollhouse.

I guess it was providential I stumbled on a sale at Bath and Body Works this weekend and stocked up on scented candles. Sigh.

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