somniloquence

Today I had to walk up to the store to pick up a few things--I live about four blocks down off the main north-south drag through the part of the city I live in, which is a long peninsula along Puget Sound's Elliott Bay called West Seattle, because we're cut off from the main part of Seattle proper by the sound and by a long waterway called the Duwamish. Back in March, right after everything was closed down for the pandemic, they announced the sudden closure of the West Seattle Bridge, a high-rise span that was put up in the '80s after the one direct to Seattle bridge in and out of here was ruined when a drunk ship captain rammed a boat into it when the bridge was open. (If you ever want to read an INSANE story, this story about Rolf Neslund and his subsequent murder by his wife is a fucking wild ride, I tell you what.)

Then, after they built the new big bridge, they replaced that lower bridge with a new type of span, so for a while we've had the high bridge and the low one, until they (stupidly, belatedly) realized that cracks they were monitoring on the high bridge were expanding far too rapidly and it was unsafe. It will be closed for a few more years, and people are only allowed to drive cars on the low bridge (because it's only two lanes and a bike lane wide) after 9 pm (to keep it clear for emergencies, because we have no hospitals here), except freight, emergency, or buses.

I say all that because it's made people who are assholes even more assholey than ever--tempers are constantly frayed in my otherwise pleasant little corner of Seattle, getting out of here is an ordeal and getting into here is sometimes even worse, because we have to drive south quite a bit and then take one of two bridges over the Duwamish to get anywhere north, and those bridges are always up. Like, I have had to go north more than a few times, and it never fails that as soon as I get on the highway going across the bridge, it goes up, which is at least twenty minutes, and it's often so some rich assface can sail their goddamn sailboat to the marina, and fuck them. It's really not fun when you're baking in the sun in summer. Then you get to sit in crawling traffic on the large street that takes you to the entrance to the major freeway, and everyone is driving like the worst jerks because we're all so tired and cranky and worried about making it to appointments. It's only going to get worse once things ease up in the pandemic, and people return to the beaches here even more than they did this summer when they were flouting the laws.

Anyway, as you can tell if you've read this far, people aren't always as...friendly as they used to be and they have a reason. So I was really touched today when on my way to the store, I was at the corner of the main drag and the next street south of me (it's like four blocks up, and then three down to the store and Starbucks and Pet Elements, the three places I go the most), and I saw this young woman crouched down in front of a truck, trying to lure something out. I stopped and yelled across the street to ask if she was trying to get a kitty cat out, and she said it looked like a puppy or little dog, and it had darted across the street in front of her. I put my mask on and went over. We neither of us could get under the truck, and were scared of frightening it, because it was shaking with terror, and the intersection there is really busy now that using that arterial to get to the main drag and points south so we can get out of West Seattle is more important than ever. I have walked this route for decades and it never, ever was this busy, and the light there is incredibly long because it's a residential area, to an arterial, to a main street.

We were crawling around and trying to lure it out, but he wasn't budging, and just shaking so bad. Eventually this older man stopped with his poodle and asked what we were doing, and we were so excited because the dog came out for his dog, and was really excited but still scared, and neither one of us could grab him when he did. The man went into the townhouses and came back with an extra leash--we could tell this dog was loved, he had a plaid harness on and tags and we hoped we could clip the harness with the leash, but he wouldn't come back out and I just missed grabbing him when he came back out for the poodle.

Another woman had come over, who worked at one of the nearby businesses and had seen the dog dart under the truck when the first woman tried to catch it, and she had some treats, but he still wouldn't come out or express interest in the treats. I'd been trying to crawl a little underneath, but so many cars were turning there and had no room to move at all with the cars heading in the other direction waiting for that loooong light, and I almost got hit a couple times by people who couldn't see me kneeling down. So I just decided to stand there near where the dog was at the wheel well, so that the cars would have to slow down and scoot around me. With the traffic being so bad there now, huge trucks and loud cars and motorcycles use it all the time (it's not designed for that, either) and it was probably amping his terror up; I felt useless but at least I am tall and visible.

The woman with treats didn't have any luck either, but she thought she could get low enough to get a picture of his tag, because she'd noticed it was facing outward. So this was about a half hour at this point, and I'd checked the local newsblog for lost dogs but didn't find him, and sent an email to the editor hoping someone might be looking. It was clear he was loved. Finally, she got a pic of the tag, and she said his name was Rahim and she waited and then eventually got the phone number off the tag and called--fortunately, she got through! We were overjoyed that someone had answered.

Another guy had come by while she was trying to get a snap with the phone number, and he almost got Rahim out with cheese from his sandwich from the sub shop across the street. I think people were trying to figure out why this collection of people were standing or kneeling around this giant truck for so long. Everyone kept asking if it was my truck, which I thought was hilarious, but I just told them, no, I'm trying to force cars away from the truck so he'll be a little less scared.

Rahim's person was only a couple minutes away, and he showed up and got him right out, and the poodle was as overjoyed as we all were, jumping around and whining. I said, "Man, it really does take a village!" and everyone agreed, and the guy was talking about how he was staying with his fiance's family nearby, and they didn't know that there were gaps in the fence, and that he'd escaped when they let him out and were doing something else. We were all like, "Yay!" and applauding, and he seemed so grateful; poor little Rahim was still shaking like a leaf. I thanked the young woman for coming to Rahim's aid in the first place--if she hadn't, we'd never have even seen him, and I hate to think what would have happened. Rahim's person had been out combing the block, but he was such a little guy that you could not have seen him under a car at all. He was still shaking when I left to head to the store.

It's been a kind of crappy week, which isn't helped by our miserable weather, and it was just so uplifting to see all these people--one young Black woman, one older white man, one older white woman, one younger white guy, and one young Latina woman--come together to try to help this scared little doggo in this area that has kind of become a challenge to live in. (It didn't hurt at all that Rahim's owner was easy on the eyes and looked ike Larenz Tate. Shut up, I'm shallow.) I felt like we were all starring in our own Hope for Paws video or something. My heart grew two sizes.

It snowed last night, but while I was up it was "wintry mix" snrain, mostly, and I'm so used to the snow they keep promising us not appearing, but nope, when I got up to take care of the terrors and nightmare mum, there was lots more white stuff, and when I woke up there was about three inches--a rarity in Seattle. We do get snow, sometimes lots of it, but then we'll have a couple years like these past ones where nothing happens. It's still coming down in fluffy wet flakes. All my bamboo is bent over, and I just made a perimeter check to make sure nothing looked like it would snap any lines.

I took mama out in a little jacket, just to show her the snow and see if she'd go under the trees to potty, but she didn't like it and went under the deck. If she peed there, I don't know, but then she came out and whined because she didn't want to walk through it to get to the stairs.

The babies are getting so big, and they are strong enough now to pull the potty pads out from under the pen, and then eat them. I'm afraid one of them will get an obstruction in their belly. The rescue group has pretty much abandoned me--tough shit, I guess, if they need to be split up and I'm overwhelmed. There's a potential the mama had ringworm, which means a lot of people won't take the babies, but the culture takes TWO FUCKING WEEKS and so here I am, in this nightmare scenario with potentially ringwormy babies no one will want. The other foster fell through because of that. They need to be split up badly, they are overwhelming at this point--they're awake a lot more, playing and fighting, and being seriously desctructive. They also should stop nursing, but they haven't, and that's a problem in its own right.

And now with snow I'm even more a prisoner in my own house. I'm so depressed sometimes I with I could just walk out and leave and never come back. But all the animals need me, so here I am.

Anyway. It's pretty outside.




ETA: This is what happens when we get snow or windstorms, or super heavy rain, especially in my area where there is tons of old-growth parkland or greenbelts--this is the street over from me, heading downhill toward the water, which is my primary walking route when I have time to do that.

I don't have a lot of joy today, much as I'm trying to feel the spirit. But I do have something to share that I think a lot of people will enjoy--I'm fostering a litter of four-week-old chihuahua puppies and their mum for Motley Zoo Animal Rescue, the group I sometimes foster dogs with. This is the first time as an adult I've been around puppies full time and let me tell you, it is…not as much fun as it seems. :-D There's the wonderful stuff: snuggling little babies as big as you palm and that have that delish puppy smell, and having them mouthing on your fingers and hands is a trip. But there is also a lot of pee and tons of poop now that they're eating puppy mush, and they are indiscriminate about where they go.

So is mum, to a certain degree, as she isn't really housetrained and has a lot of issues, which is typical for rescue dogs. She's been through a lot--emergency c-section, shelter, and may have come from a hoarder so of course has a skin condition and other serious problems. She's terrified of me because I had to give her a medicated bath first thing. And I need to bathe the pups too, but haven't yet.

Still--there is cuteness! And it might give you Joy!

I can never figure out how to put anything up on DW (this is still my biggest grrrr about the site), so I'm linking here:

Minute long video of no-holds-barred puppy fight at 3:30 a.m. : http://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/156135774205/for-more-joy-day-i-give-you-a-minute-of-wild

Short video of snuggles plus Mom: http://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/156056355785/im-fostering-a-litter-of-four-week-old-puppies

Sleepytimes pic: http://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/156103318125/post-prandial-sleepytimes-puppies-pupsters

My instagram and my tumblr are both under "teatotally" and I'm sure I will be posting more puppy and mom related joy in the near future. I am going to try to avoid the pics of me having poo and barf and pee related meltdowns or things like my pounding headaches and severe lack of sleep. Oh, wait…I guess I did. :-D

If you're in the Seattle area and would like to meet them, they will need socializing. I can't let them come in contact with other dogs until they get their vaccines in a couple weeks, but they are snugglable and need the socialization!

ETA: I keep forgetting to add: the best part of this is that it's the Supergirl litter! Mum is Cat Grant, and the babies are "Males = Tan male (Winn Schott) and black male (James Olsen) Females = Tan female (Kara Danvers), black and white female (Lucy Lane), black female with little white (Lena Luthor)"

The past couple days have been rough, man. Monday evening, mrs. laugh track and belmanoir came for a visit and to watch something I'd DVRed for them, and Billy just flipped the fuck out. We'd had a really good day, because it was utterly beautiful weather unlike anything we normally get in April here, and I took him to Lincoln Park, where we strolled the old-growth woodland trails and went down to the beach -- his first beach! He really liked it!

I just don't know what it was that made him flip out about them, if it was the fact there were two people instead of the one we've had before (this isn't the first time we've had visitors), but he never stopped quaking and hiding, and then after they were gone he got worse. He kept hiding under the bed, and in the morning when I let him out to pee, he hid under the deck and wouldn't come out. I finally lured him out by sitting down and weeding, but it took over an hour. I went off to my physical therapy appointment, which was deeply painful in a really unusual way (something I'll write about later), and stopped to get something to eat, so I hoped that by being alone for a while, perhaps he'd chill a bit when I got home.

He seemed quieter, so I took him for a walk because that seems to make him more confident, only we got attacked by a German shepherd. There is this house being rebuilt a few streets over, and the contractors were (illegally) parked in the driveway and completely blocking the sidewalk. I could go into the street or I could walk around behind it, and I chose behind because I thought I'd seen someone get in the van before and I didn't want to get hit (there have been more than a few times walking a dog when I nearly got hit crossing someone's driveway). I heard someone yell "Better get your dog" to I assume the owner, but before I could understand what was happening, the dog was on Billy and trying to kill him. I turned, kicked at the dog, and then basically yanked him up by his collar, which was harsh but I figured a momentary strangulation was better than a puncture wound to an artery or a crushed neck.

I fucking hate German shepherds. They're the one dog I can't stand, I'm afraid of them generally, and I've been bitten by one and terrorized by them before, so I come by my hatred from experience. I was screaming, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" at the guys who'd come to pull the dog off. And one of the guys got all shirty with me, so I started yelling at him about parking his fucking truck in the fucking sidewalk -- basically my entire sentences devolved into "fuck" variations. So he started yelling back at me, and I was like, OK douchebag, it's on, I can call SPD and have them bring you a ticket for blocking the sidewalk. But then the owner came over and was apologizing like crazy, saying his dog had never done anything like that and he didn't mean to have her running around but he'd just got back from lunch or something. I wasn't interested.

Billy fear pees and so I was covered with stinking pee and trying to check him for wounds but it was impossible because he was flipping around like a landed fish. The guy asked me if I wanted his name and number and I said, "Uh, yeah." I mean, what, everything was OK? Geez. I don't think he was a shitty guy, but I can't stand people letting dangerous dogs run around like that where there's no fence or a flimsy fence. You can't ever assume that just because a dog hasn't hurt someone, they won't hurt them ever. That's not how dogs work, especially protective dogs like those. It probably saw us coming around the van, and decided to take us on. I didn't realize until I got home that something had bruised my hand (I don't know if I was bitten but didn't get a wound or what) and I'd pulled my calf muscle. The walk home was really hard, he was terrified. I had to take him to the vet and that terrified him more.

He has two abrasions on his lower belly near his penis, and a larger one on his side. Fortunately it was minor and just a bit of blood. But they gave him fluid for shock and of course antibiotics. I don't know if the other dog has had its rabies shots. I talked to animal control today and the guy was going to investigate but I don't know what he's found, if anything, and he left a report to be filled out at my house. The worst part was that Billy went back under the deck last night and wouldn't come out. I spent three hours in the backyard trying to trick him and lure him while having this horrible conversation with one of the rescue group people that kept dropping, over and over. I finally remembered I had one hamburger left from cooking a batch the other night, and so I heated it up and wafted it around the shrubbery in front of the deck. I didn't think he'd come out, but he must have smelled it, because when I went to the garage to get my kneeling pad so I could sit there and wave it around, he actually came out and I was finally able to grab his collar.

My friend thought I wouldn't want to go see Captain America: Winter Soldier as we'd planned but I was like, please, I need a break. I'm so glad we got to go. ( ALL THE FEELS )

Man, what the everloving fuck is the matter with the person who posts things to the OTW news feed? At least three times recently, she's posted these insanely long records of chats that have completely borked my friends page, and I and many other people have repeatedly asked her to use a cut tag and she just keeps posting them in one piece. Has never responded to our requests, either. So many people have unsubbed from the feed, and I guess I'm going to have to, too. I like reading the OTW news, but fuck that -- if someone's so cavalier about borking people's friends page, I'm not staying signed up.

Reading things handled badly seems to be the order of the week for me. I'm finishing up the last pages of a really badly written book (this is a perfect example of the downside of the self-publishing revolution) that has not been helped by the copyeditor, a woman I've actually known for many years in a way through an editors' organization I belong to. I'm kind of shocked at how bad of a job she's done, particularly with punctuation. It's as if she really doesn't understand the basics of grammar. I've never read behind her as a proofer before, but it's been kind of an eye-opener. I suppose the good thing about being a proofreader in this case is that I can at least fix the most glaring errors, like the misuse of appositive commas, and no one will be the wiser. The sad part is that she'll continue to make that mistake. I wish I could feel like it's worth talking to the folks handling the business end of these, but I hate tattling as a general rule, and I'm not sure they'll want to hear it.

I saw on Tumblr recently that apparently the Finns call people like me comma fuckers rather than the really awful term we most often use here, grammar Nazi. I much, much prefer that and have decided to embrace that.

I have a new foster dog, called Billy Gibbons (yes, after the ZZ Top guitarist), who is kind of at cuteness turned up to 11. He has pneumonia, though, so I have to keep inside as much as possible, which is tough because he's young and energetic. He was not socialized to either people or other dogs, but he's seriously clever (well, he's a cairn terrier and poodle mix, so you can imagine how smart he is) so he's picking things up very fast. Like, he didn't know what to do at all about other dogs, but when I took him to meet black_bird_777's dogs Ocean and Buffy, he had a ball playing with Ocean. And he didn't know what to do with toys, but now we play fetch in the house and he's even figured out that he needs to bring the ball toward me so I can throw it.

The downside is that he's a very destructive chewer. I've bought him tons of things to chew on, but he destroyed the USB cable to my Wacom tablet, which I can't replace, so I had to buy another tablet altogether and they don't make the kind of model I want anymore. I found something on ebay, but the prices are high. He also completely destroyed a set of RF cables, but at least I didn't need those; it's when he keeps trying to chew on my electrical cords for my laptop and my back relax chair that I freak out. I can't hide or protect them, so. He also has rather a thing for shoes and carries them around, picks up those and other things and brings them to make a nest in his bed. He chews on them, but at least a little less intensely than other things. He also likes to gnaw on my office chair legs. I've never had a foster who chews like this. I'm tempted to keep him because he's really fucking adorable, but the chewing thing... arg.

Obligatory pic:


In fannish news, I've been watching quite a few things I mean to write about, if I ever get time. Mostly I'm just dying until I can see Winter Soldier. I've read all but one of the book compilations, and I'm so utterly consumed with Steve and Bucky feels I'm going to explode. I wish I could see it opening weekend, but it's more likely it'll be the following Monday or Tuesday. ::sobs::

sdwolfpup asked: your favorite and least favorite William Fichtner roles!

I thought this would be easy, but it's turned out to be very difficult! I mean, he's just my faaaavorite, and even when I hate something he's done, I can still find something to like just because he's so awesome.

I think for least favorite, I'd have to go with hair roles: while I really cringe and curl into a ball at the violent racists roles like in Switchback and that one where he plays an old-timey sheriff or something, it's the ones where he has weird horrible hair that I think I hate the most: The Longest Yard, What's the Worst That Could Happen, Drowning Mona. I can't handle the hair, man. At least Longest Yard, he's wearing muscle shirts a lot of the time or tight football pants, so there's that. And then there's the bad teeth roles, like Pearl Harbor, which give me the willies.

I could, though, possibly say The Lone Ranger, because that's sort of a horribleness trifecta: bad teeth, bad hair, and bad facial scars, all wrapped up in a terrible, execrably bad movie that should never have been made. And no I still haven't seen it, because I can't bear to. The clips have been enough.

But for favorite, wow, that is hard. That is really, really hard. How do you choose from Kent in Contact, Sanderson in Black Hawk Down, Alex Mahone in Prison Break, the "dad" in Blades of Glory, Andrew in Nine Lives, the hilariously creepy cop in Strange Days, to Ryan Sparks in Grace Under Fire, and my beloved Bruce Kellerman in the little-known MDs? I can't! I can't choose! They all have something wonderful I love, and he's just such a good actor that he leaves me fascinated by even the most reprehensible characters, and when he plays good guys, I'm over the moon. I also adore him in the horrible movie Drive Angry, because his character, The Accountant, is one of the most delightfully funny nasty pieces of work you'll ever see.

But there are still many roles of his I haven't seen, because they haven't been released either on DVD or aired on TV or shown in theatres. I hope at some point I can see them, because I wonder if there might be a new favorite in there somewhere.
____

In other news, Ginny left today for her adoption tomorrow. A woman fell in love with her at an adoption event last weekend, and somehow talked her macho husband who seems to think real men only have big dogs into adopting her. I'm so happy for her, but I cried when she left. I should post the pic I got of her with Santa. She's the longest-residing foster dog I've ever had, and we've been through a lot of changes. I'm a little worried about her transition to a family with kids, but I'll keep my fingers crossed. I miss her already, but the cats are very happy.

I'd been told in passing that they had an approved application for Ginny's adoption and the adopter was coming to the event on Saturday. So I bundled her up with all her stuff and drove over to Redmond, which is far away, and I didn't know that the Viaduct, which is a major highway in my area, was closed for the weekend, which makes it almost impossible to get off the peninsula I live on. My back was just so bad after the whole crisis mode this week, and I was in so much pain when we got there. No one seemed to know anything about the adopter coming and if it was confirmed.

It's as hard to stand as it is to sit, and the adoption events are basically us just standing around for four or five hours with the animals. I finally had to go get something to eat, and left Ginny in a crate for a while, poor kid -- she hates it when I do that, she's so heavily imprinted on me. Finally quitting time rolled around, and as much as I love petting the bunnies and the kittens and holding the little dogs -- there's a sort of almost bald little min-pin called Bettie Paige whom I adore and love to cuddle, who's been waiting to be adopted longer than even Ginny has -- and smelling the puppies, it's hard on me at these things. And hard on Ginny since she hates standing around and also has to endure a lot of people coming up to her making high-pitched noises and grabbing her because she's so cute.

Anyway, as I was leaving, the rescue group person came up to me and apologized for the adopter -- it turned out he decided to adopt a puppy while he was there, and no one bothered to tell me. I asked if it was the guy who lived in the retirement center who'd told me he was going to get her, but she said no, it was a gay guy and he and his partner were the ones who were coming to adopt her. That would have been lovely for her because a couple would be so much nicer than a single person. I was so bitter and angry -- I was like, DIAF random gay guy, but then of course I felt bad thinking that because I mean, he at least adopted A dog even if it wasn't Ginny.

It's hard when it's like this. She's been with me longer than any dog I've had, and I just do not understand why she hasn't been adopted. She's fucking adorable. And she's also imprinted on me so much by now that it will be a lot harder on her to move somewhere else. It's always an adjustment for them, but pretty rough when they've lived somewhere else for so long, especially after coming from a really bad situation. Not that I would stop doing it, but this has been the roughest situation I've ever had -- first the stress with the cats resulting in the bite, her health problems, my health problems, blah blah. I just want her to get a home and be loved and happy.

Sometimes I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. Well, actually, I wonder that all the time, but specifically, I started a story for the Idyll Challenge mentioned in my last post, and I'm at 2,900 words and I've only just begun. The longest story posted to the challenge so far is 1,400 words or so. Why is it so hard for me to write anything short? Why can't I just get to the fucking point (or the point of fucking, since let's face it, what's an idyll without some sexing going on)?

Also, I really need to get some icons for Pacific Rim.

I've been remiss in posting pics of my newest foster dog, Ginny. She's kind of a handful. Really cute and super, super sweet, but she keeps going after my cats and not in a "just chasing" way. She kind of loses her rag when she seems them move around, especially in the yard. She's getting slightly better about it in the house, but it's making life very difficult for me and stressing me out a bit, not to mention stressing the cats out, who are living in the kitchen on the table and counter. Olive is getting a little better about moving around in the house, but she's still pretty wary -- usually she's like "come at me bro" whenever a dog is uppity, but she's really scared about Ginny. (Possibly because of the screeching and hysterical barking.)

I have to keep her on the leash at all times, and watch her. Yesterday at the adoption event, I bought a 20 foot cable lead so I could tie her up outside, since she likes to be outside and hang out on the porch in the sun. This way if she goes after the cats, she can only go so far and then she'll bounce back, and she can't escape -- which she's done four or five times so far, not something you really want with a foster dog. But she's the exact opposite of what they told me -- she loves kids, she loves meeting new people, she is fine with other dogs, and she chases my cats. That's the thing about fostering -- it's like roulette.

Anyways. Time to get back to writing. Will try to get something meaningful up at some point here. (Christ, I still haven't done my pics of Boston and England.)

I have a new foster dog. Things are not...great, actually, and I'm having a lot of problems with her. But fortunately for her, she's really effing cute -- a Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix named Panda Bear (she and her pups are named in honor of the Build a Bear foundation grant our group received when she was taken in). I know some of the trouble stems from her coming here and leaving her babies -- she was preggers when they got her, and her pups are being adopted out, so she went to a new foster home after weaning, which is lucky me. I've never had a dog who whines like this, all the freaking time. It isn't even whining, it's more like shrieking. And there are all sorts of other behavior issues. Lucky me.

But hey, like I said, cute:






The good thing is that she's a bundle of energy, which means I have to walk fast and far with her. The bad thing is...well, everything else. Know anyone in the Pacific NW looking for a really cute, young small dog who loves to play and cuddle?

I'm trying to take Greg Lake's Christmas song's line to heart this year. I've been really battling the sads this year. The other day was the anniversary of Dad's death, and I am really missing him this year, more than last year because I was still trying to process his death and working on a big book. Now I'm realizing how alone and lonely I feel and I can't call him and wish him either a Merry Christmas or a happy birthday, which comes 2 days after Christmas.

And I was telling someone yesterday how big of a deal Christmas always was in my house. My sister, especially, made it quite the deal, and extravagant gift-giving was her raison d'etre, so we were always competing with each other to see who could lavish the other twin with the best gifts. It's so weird to have an empty tree that a couple years ago I wrapped up empty boxes because I couldn't stand it. Hey, it works for retail, right? And the few friends I do have don't do gifts, so there's not that excitement level I always had with my family about having something to open. It's not the getting so much as the opening.

We had out little whacky white elephant gift game at the local fan bash Saturday and I came away empty-handed. For some reason, that made me feel even worse than I already did -- like, shit, I don't even deserve white elephants. I'm trying to deserve a better holiday by donating and doing things for other people, the one thing that does always make me feel better, but it doesn't seem to be working this year.

The holidays are really not that joyous an occasion for most people. It seems like amost everyone I know just dreads them.

I hope Yuletide will cheer me up -- it will if my recipient is happy, I think. Hope. That always gives me the most glee -- when someone gets a story they feel really fit the bill. I have all my fingers crossed that it does.

One good piece of news, though -- black_bird_777 is going to adopt Buffy! I have been getting increasingly depressed about her chances to find a forever home because so many people act like they're going to do it, but then they don't. She's such a sweetheart, and has so much love to give, that it's hard to see her passed over. She fell totally in love with black_bird and her partner when she stayed with them one day I had to be away the whole day, and I think this will be awesome. I get to see her whenever I want to! I never get to see my foster dogs, so now having my last dog down the street and my current dog at my friend's house -- that will just be truly wonderful.

Speaking of which, I think it's time for her evening walk and to go look at the holiday lights around the neighborhood.