OT

I feel obsessed with bodily functions at the moment. Not only is my work constantly mentioning the bowel habits of people I've never met, but we are housebreaking the Jack Russel Terror. I thought we were doing so well over the past few days, but then when I took the laundry down to the basement, I learned exactly how wrong I had been. There was shit All Over The Basement Floor.

Not a sight anyone wants to deal with before breakfast. I can guarantee you will Not want breakfast afterwards.

To top it all off, I've been fretting over my own. Actaully nerved up to go see the doc about it and she really wants to send me to the gastroenterologist to shove a camera where the sun don't shine. Joy. This leaves me with extra energy to deal with the bouncy beast, not. I told her I'd think about it, and see her next month, unless I keep showing nasty symptoms. She did tell me what symptoms need to be seen in the emergency room, and urged me to go as soon as possible if I get those. I do have the fairly typical reaction to taking care of my health... it's just me. Why bother? And that's a terrible way to think.

We are near the end of week 1 with the little Monster. He simply isn't meshing with us at all, or with our cats. He tries to mount both Spider and Sassy in dominant behavior mode, and neither of them will tolerate it. At least he won't do it to our dog. They still have a dust-up once a day, but fortunately short. There has been no blood drawn, but I worry it's just a matter of time. He is setting off my allergies, which is a rare thing to me. Yet I have a lot of pity for the poor thing. He's only being what he was bred to be. Temperamentally, he's a pure JRT.  ¶ 3:30 PM