Meet the Rexs and the Fidos

While watching Joe adorably hammer away at some posts and chicken wire like John Henry's Italian cousin, I suddenly realized how much this new place is already starting to not only look like home, but feel like it too.

It's not just the actual townhouse. It's got to be partly due to how friendly our neighbors are. But then again, I might not have even had the guts to strike up a conversation with them if little Georgia wasn't around. I had no idea how dogs (among fellow dog lovers) really can bring people together.

Joe did a great job already introducing our little bean to anyone who walked by while I was away. So much so in fact, that a few nights ago while taking her out to do her business one last time before bed (at around 10 or 11) two separate people came up to the yard and called out Georgia's name. I was pleased but surprised as well. These people didn't even know who I was, yet they remembered Georgia. I was a tad anxious, still unsure how she reacts to strangers. But fortunately, she just wags her curly-cue tail and flattens her ears to be petted. I would normally think it would just be the novelty of seeing a dog that would bring people forward, but truthfully, I have met all these people's dogs as well: there's Raven, the Boston terrier across the street, Buddy the cavalier spaniel, Cedric the pug, and Cocoa Bean, a border collie mix. And those are just the dogs that have walked by here to stop and say hello. There are tons of dogs (and ironically, hardly any children), but the worst part is while I seem to remember the dogs I can not remember the owners names to save me.

I was especially thrilled to come home from work one day and see Georgia playing with Raven in our yard while Joe and Raven's owner sipped beer on the lawn chairs. For one I was happy to see Joe bonding with a neighbor already but also I hadn't been able to see her really interact with another dog ever, so to see her hopping and chasing Raven, I dunno, made me feel like I was watching a kid walk for the first time. Awww really? Yes really, go ahead and call me obsessed and ridiculous, it's TRUE.

But I don't think I realized how lucky we were to have these kinds of neighbors until some recent drama took place. Now, because the yard is (almost) completely enclosed I felt fine letting her out the door to play without a leash on, figuring she wouldn't try to escape....let me say again, I FELT that she wouldn't escape.

After work one day I called Joe and found out Georgia had gotten out. "What? What do you mean?" I said frantically. "It's ok, a neighbor found her and brought her back," Joe said calmly.

Apparently he had nodded off on the couch and she just slipped right through the small gap between the gate and the gate door. He hadn't even realized she was gone until the neighbor returned her.

A couple of days later, the same neighbor was walking by, said hello to Georgia and informed me that she had been the rescuer. I thanked her profusely and was genuinely touched that a perfect stranger would not only let us know she was loose but actually try and rescue her.

We vowed to make sure we were more cautious with her, hence Joe's chicken wire barricade. But it's still comforting knowing that you have neighbors who care. It's weird having neighbors at all, at least the kind that you actually meet and not duck eye contact with while scurrying into your apartment.

But the dog definitely helps as an ice-breaker, as well as the nice big yard we have now. Anyone who's shown any interest in us has been thoroughly invited to participate in the many barbecues we intend to have. So who knows if they will really like us. Maybe we'll just keep luring them in with our dog and yard. Either way, it feels good to be neighborly.

Tat too?

God, I am freaking starving right now. I've been trying to be healthier by packing a banana and a small package of carrots for lunch, but really it's not cutting it. I find myself downing a huge cup of coffee just to stifle the pangs of hunger. It was especially interesting today when a couple of coworkers and I went for a walk outside in the brisk 87 degrees (actually it really didn't feel too hot, but for the sake of this rant let's just say it was), and I found myself wanting to keel over and vomit a little bit...nice huh? Yeah yeah I know, I should stop being an idiot and actually pack a freaking lunch, but I'm so lazy in the morning (and usually rushing around anyway cuz I'm never organized) I don't have the time to make anything. I mean come on, what am I, a freaking magician? Who has time to swipe a slab of peanut butter on two pieces of bread! And if that weren't enough, I'd also require a baggy of pretzels to accompany my sandwich and fruit...and of course, a cookie or two. So really when you factor all that in, I'm better off grabbing the damn banana and suffering the pain of my stomach trying to digest itself.

But anyway.

I don't think I talked enough about my trip home yet, which was both pretty relaxing and uneventful, yet at the same time had moments of revelation. Probably the biggest is the fact that my cousin, Beck, is engaged. Yeah, I'd say that would fall under the category of "Big News", so again, congrats to Beck and Anth!

But another surprising event happened, seamlessly enough, while in the car with my family. Now I should preface this by saying, I really hate, HATE, being one of those people who says they're going to do something but then rarely actually does it. Yes, along with my self-proclaimed laziness, cheapness, and pathetic addiction to television-watching, my procrastination (or probably more aptly, my never-actually-doing-it-tion) is one of my crappiest attributes. Let's be honest, we all do it sometimes but we all have at least one friend who does it ALL the time...and if you don't know of the person, it's probably you.

Anyway, ever since last year's birthday I've been seriously considering getting a tattoo. I regret not getting one at the same time my girlfriends all went together to get theirs, but I couldn't think of anything that permanent or life-altering at the time. Now that I think I have a reason for one, I think I'm ready to make (maybe) the biggest mistake of my life (of course, it could be a tie to the time back in 8th grade when I insisted on chopping off my hair only to end up looking like a mix between Pat Benatar and a brunette Herbie the Elf from the Rudolph the Reindeer clay-mation special).

So after some hemming and hawing, and some suggestions from tattoo-aficionados, I think I settled on the ideal representation for me...a single feather quill. Not only to represent my attempt at written adventures, but also because it symbolizes my lack of direction and how I seem to move along however the wind pushes me. Once I figured that out, the next big issue was where to put it. I kept thinking someplace easily hidden, like low on my hip or back, but for some reason I always felt I should put it on my shoulder. I even considered the back of my neck, but then I worried that by the time I was 80 I'd have to explain why granny's got a wilted string-bean looking thing on her. I was pretty undecided, so I really felt like I had no choice but wait until I figured it out.

Back in the car, jumbling around the back seat with my sister and mom, while my brother, Drew, and my dad were up front, we got on the subject of tattoos somehow. Now, had I gone through with it I fully intended to keep it from my parents as long as possible...at least until the holidays rolled around, being the season of forgiveness. When I couldn't contain it any longer, I said casually, "I was thinking about getting a tattoo." I waited for the bomb to explode.

"What were you thinking about getting?" my mother said.

Ok, that was a surprising response. When I told them a feather quill, my sister retorted with a less than encouraging reply. A few brief seconds passed before my mother responded.

"Oh I could see that. That would be pretty."

What? She basically said she wouldn't hate me for doing it, and she actually thought it sounded pretty? Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't the original thought behind tattoos to show you are rebelling from the norm? How am I supposed to be considered a rebel now, when my mother thinks my tattoo would be "darling"?

Actually, it made me more relieved. I always sought my parents approval with everything I did (and still do). So now that they seem to be ok with, it's almost like I have to do it now.

But who knows...maybe I'll wait till next year....

Scratchin' the Itch

I'm a little uncomfortable today people. I think I've got about 23 bug bites all over me. And this is a problem for me, as a person whose sleeping pattern requires sticking a foot (one, not both) outside the covers, which leaves any exposed flesh like a freaking Vegas buffet to these damn mosquitoes. And why do these damn bugs bite you in the absolutely most uncomfortable spots? I got two right over the bone of my foot, the BONE I tell you! Ugh. Plus I got one on my ankle, so it feels really good whenever my foot shifts in my shoe and rubs right against it, igniting the itch-craze all over again. Merde!

Anyway, onto the update...

**UPDATE**The Living Year

I feel a little bit guilty. I didn't cheat! But because we got the puppy (who is requiring more and more watching, it turns out) I feel like I can't really even read. And this is my trashy-romance novel season! So because of that (and because I still had an unused gift certificate to Amazon all the way from Christmas) I figured I'd purchase a couple of DVDs.

This is NOT cheating. As I have stated before, I am allowed to watch television-DVDs provided they are shows not normally readily available or that I've watched to an obsessive amount.

The first one was Insomniac with Dave Attel, Vol. 1, and Jim Gaffigan's "Beyond the Pale". Insomniac was a show that I did love years ago, and lasted for a few seasons but then just disappeared. I really don't know why, it really was a genius concept- combine a travelling show with a drunken comedian. It's like chocolate and peanut butter, some things are just meant to go together. Plus Dave Attel is pretty funny anyway, I would probably watch him clip his toenails and find it humorous. I guess the Stop n' Shot thing (and if you don't know about that let me know) is kinda my homage to that show, though I lack the humor (and liver) to really capture that exact formula. Hence my need for a couple of hosts that I can just direct- and force to take shots FOR me.

"Beyond the Pale" was actually a last second thing. Amazon LOVES to get you this way--they dangle free shipping in your face provided you spend a certain amount of money, which is pure evil genius, b/c even if you think you are getting something for free you end up eating up the savings but purchasing extra crap you didn't even want! But I just wanted to spend this damn gift certificate before I lost it all together. Besides, I love Jim Gaffigan alot anyway, so I didn't mind. Does anyone else enjoy him? He always struck me as a highly underrated comedian. My only complaint that I have is as I watched the DVD I realized he told a few jokes that I really think I heard told by Kevin James or Adam Ferrera, but then again I can't be sure who did them first....and besides, how many different "Moses in the Desert" or "The Unhealthy Diet of Americans" jokes can you create?

I still enjoyed both, laughed my ass off in fact. But just for you naysayers I also ordered a book to read too...the Weird NJ-Vol 2, so suck on that!

Well, I gotta slip out now. See you tomorrow!

Moving Women

No, I didn't die or get lost in the bowels of New Jersey. I got sorta caught up in my own crap on Thursday and Friday, and then when I finally got home (to the NEW home), I realized our internet was still not existent-and won't until Friday. So here I am, leeching onto whatever internet I can siphon off, but finally happy to be back and ready to bring smiles (or at least good-humored smirks) to you, the wonderful readers. So let's get to it.

First of all, I enjoyed spending time with my family, although I couldn't help but think about how spending time away from them makes me turn around and look back at my life. They've never made me felt that it wasn't good enough...well, except for my car. You know your car might be ready for retirement when people start fights over who gets stuck riding IN your car.

Now I'll admit it, my car is hardly a Rolls, but then again it's not exactly a total lemon. And you want to know why? Because, even though the air conditioning doesn't work, even though my driver window doesn't work (at least not without nearly breaking the bones of your left middle finger pulling the button up), even though the antennae struggles to go up or down (and sounds like an umbrella getting mangled in a garbage disposal), the overhead fabric flutters, the driver visor has broken off so I have to drive around like I'm either looking out to sea or giving a half assed Nazi salute in order to keep the sun from my eyes, and the dozens of dings and scratches...that sucker still STARTS! And really that's all I need a car to do- start, and get me from A to B.

Maybe I can look into getting a different car, once this townhouse stuff has settled. And speaking of the townhouse...

So I drove home, soaked both from sweat and the downpour of rain (really that AC thing is prob the worst part of my car, because I HAVE to keep the windows down at all times, otherwise you suffocate), and finally arrived at the new place. My heart broke for a second because as I pulled up and saw Joe playing with Georgia outside, she didn't seem to recognize me. But once I started talking I think she finally remembered my voice.

Meanwhile Joe and I began moving more stuff back and forth from the old apartment to the townhouse. As we watched (with white knuckles) the mattress and box spring lurch and sag in the back of Joe's truck, he recieved a call from our friends Dylan and Heather who said they were going to stop by. They showed up only a few moments after we did, with a few bottles of wine in tow. The boys attempted to haul the box spring up our teeny stair case while Heather and I stood by. When they decided to give up and just head back to the old apartment for a second load, Heather and I decided to give it a try.

With a healthy swig of wine, we each took a side and began working the box spring up. In a matter of seconds the box spring finally moved up the hallway and we managed to get it into the smaller bedroom. Extremely pleased with ourselves, we waited for the boys to get home to notice what we had done.

Unfortunately neither one said anything so we finally had to prod them along.

"There's something missing from this room," Heather said, coyly. They looked around confused until finally we said, "The box spring!"

So it was a little anti-climactic, but still, we were both beaming with pride at accomplishing what the two boys couldn't.

My high fell a bit later on, however, when Joe mentioned the next day that we probably wouldn't be able to fit a queen-sized mattress, let alone box spring, up the stairs. So now my mission is to find a "split" box spring for a queen at an affordable price. I know it probably makes me sound, ironically, a little queeny to insist on a larger size mattress. I guess because this is the first place I've lived on my own that actually resembles a house, I want to feel as adult as possible. And besides, we need a new mattress anyway, so why not just upgrade? I dunno, if anyone out there has tips on where to find this elusive "split" box spring, but any ideas are welcome.

Meanwhile Joe is at it trying to resurface the tub in the bathroom with some spray he bought. I'm pretty optimistic about it, and if it works we will have saved a bunch. The only negative is we have to let it dry for over 3 days (!) so are going back and forth to the old place to bathe.

But other than these small bumps, the place is looking better and better. I'm trying to not be a Debbie Downer about the lack of counter space or dirty spots, especially since Joe has been busting his ass getting the place ready while I was sunbathing in New Jersey or escaping to work.

Guess this is that whole teamwork thing they talk about in relationships, huh? Or at least that whole, keep-your-negativity-to-yourself craze that I need to catch on.

Anyway, tomorrow, maybe an update on the No TV Challenge or anything else that comes along. Happy Tuesday!

Fix Visits

Ok, this time i REALLY mean it. It's gonna be a short-er one. I am totally exhausted, and really what I want to write about isn't all that funny (like how I'm giving you the hard sell?) so bear with me, and we should all come out of this alive.

I don't know why really I am so tired. I pretty much had a whole day that consisted of sitting. Sitting at my desk for 8 hours and then sitting in my car driving for 3. God, what level of lazy are you when SITTING is exhausting.

Or maybe it's just the fact that I can loosen up a little finally. I took off a few days of work to come back up to the Jerz and visit with family, hit the beach, eat some clams, and have an all-around mini-vaca. It's also the first time I'm going to be away from Georgia, and while I already miss my little butter-bean, it's nice not to have to sleep with one ear open waiting for the sound of whining and dashing out to door to make sure she doesn't pee on the carpet again. Plus my friend Lauren KICKS ASS (I mean she did already before anyway, but now she kicks even MORE ass) because she can watch the puppy while Joe has a show and a filming gig. So Lauren, if you are reading this, you are my hetero-life partner.

But anyway, like I said, I'm tired because I worked the whole day, came home for about an hour, went back out to get us dinner, packed, and then headed back on the road. Now, I can understand why sitting at a computer all day can be exhausting: your back, your eyes, your hands all have to be in-sync and focused. When you first start driving, you don't think you would ever get sick of it, and it could never be tiring. But then again, I guess it's the same thing- all parts have to be at attention for an extended period of time.

Plus, the trip home can be a tedious one. Aside from the occasional town, it's pretty much just a tree-lined highway. But I made a promise to my mom that I would come up. And since it's also my cousin's grad party, I really had a reason to escape the stagnant heat of Baltimore.

Speaking of mothers, I think mine has a addiction- to her kids. You ever notice how parents, even grandparents sometimes, treat their children like they are little poppers or something? My mother will call me at the oddest times, always asking when I'm going to come around again. I have to tell her that I'll try, but I know what happens. She's thrilled to see me, gets all excited and relieved. And then soon enough, the high wears off, and I know it's time to hit the road again. She'll wait a few days, and then the calls for the next visit happen. I feel like a damn drug-dealer. I swear it's a terrible cycle, I should really check her in somewhere...do they have a department for that at Betty Ford?

Anyway, short story even shorter, I made it home in one piece but unfortunately it looks like I'm getting kicked to the couch. I forget that here I am in the land of the TV-Watchers. My sister Hillary (SHOUT-OUT) got here earlier and was already asleep in the one bed, while the only other spare was in my brother's room (who can't sleep without a tv being on).

But I think it'll be alright. I got a blanket, some water, and a trashy romance novel to keep me company. And I also have you, my little literates. On that note, I will bid you good night.

How I Met Your Mother's Two and a Half Men's Big Bang Theory- Episode 2

Hey folks, hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July. I did as well, visited with some friends at a cookout. But damn, this weekend was probably anything less than relaxing.

For those who didn't hear, we welcomed home little Georgia on Friday. We walked down the wooden ramp of the SPCA, waiting for them to open so we could see her again. When the employees/volunteers finally opened the door we strode in, walking directly towards her kennel. Joe stopped me for a second and pulled me over to see another dog...it was a puggle! At least that's what I assumed. And for those of you who didn't know this either, it was a puggle (beagle-pug) that we were originally looking for. We glanced at her info: female, year old. She sat on her bed looking fresh from the Sarah McLaughlin commercial- big sad eyes. We noticed too that it said she had just had her spaying, which helped to explain her lifeless demeanor.

Still I walked ahead, and there she was. Little Coco, as she was named there, lay on her bed too, but as soon as we neared she gently walked off and came to lick our hands. Suddenly the other dogs began barking loudly, and Coco looked terrified. My heart went out to the puggle, but with how popular they are now, I felt convinced she wouldn't have to stay there long. But little Coco, with those big bat ears and curly tail...I couldn't let her stay a second longer in that kennel. I felt sick just thinking about leaving her there, even overnight. So, in about an hour of paperwork and meeting with the adoption counselor, she was ours, and renamed Georgia.

Things were going pretty well. She was mostly quiet, slept on her newly purchased bed, nibbled on her brand new toys, and even the housebreaking seemed to be going ok. But soon we realized how very clingy she was, especially with me. I couldn't go to the bathroom without her whining at the door. Of course there was a part of me that found it adorable, but more so I was terrified. Joe and I had all these plans and ideas of things to do with the dog, like traveling or going to outdoor cafes. But I didn't really think about the little things, like, oh say, work, running errands, going for a jog, etc.

Not to mention the long nights. No wonder Joe and I didn't feel like we had any energy this weekend. All night we would listen for her waking up and taking turns walking her outside to go to the bathroom. One night I swore I heard her vomiting, and like a zombie I stumbled for her leash to take her out while Joe cleaned up what little she did yak up. I came back in and realized it was 4 in the morning.

But really it hasn't been all bad. She really is a sweet funny little dog. And she is still a puppy. Besides, anytime I get worried we bit off more than we could chew, I looked down at those big ears and funny expression and I just want to kiss her sweet face. I guess this is sorta what parents experience with their kids- sure there are frustrating times when they are young, but those are also the precious times before they grow up and become independent. (And I can already hear the parents out there chuckling sarcastically as if to say, "Yeah...THAT'S the same". Well, maybe not, but it's the closest comparison I can make).

So anyway, that's primarily why this is gonna be a short entry- 1. because I'm already tired and 2. because tomorrow is going to be an even LONGER day (see tomorrow's entry for more info on that).

I had another one of those small my-life-as-a-sitcom moments today (hence the title). I was driving to work and as I was about to turn into the parking lot I noticed this big dead deer lying lifeless on the corner. Trying to avoid staring at it I parked by the trees (that never give shade, btw). When I went upstairs and turned on the morning show I heard that the temperature today was supposed to reach 103. Fuck, I thought. I parked out of the garage, thinking it might be cool (for some reason I have no idea).

I quietly snuck out back downstairs to RE-park my car, and began cursing it. I was worried the only spot I'd find would be right near the dead deer. And by the end of the day, that thing wouldn't just be drying in the sun, it would start to saute (and not emanating the best smell, I'm sure). Of course, that wouldn't be a problem...if I had air conditioning in my car and had no choice but to leave my windows open, inviting the smell (along with bugs, leaves, and anything else) to infiltrate my car.

I drove around a bit, getting pissed off and jealous at all the other cars that DID have functioning air conditioning. Couldn't THEY park outside? What did they care for a little deer carcass if their could have their windows up the whole time ANYWAY? Finally, I did spy a spot, half covered by the garage and half shaded by some trees. It would have to do.

When the end of the day arrived I got into my oven of a car and breathed in the stiff unmoving air. I drove to the exit and to my surprise, the deer was gone. I figured someone had come to remove it, which was always another thing I often thought about. You ever noticed a truck or something in the actual process of clearing dead carcasses? I know I never have. It must be some special operative by the county, but they do it so swiftly, it's almost as if the animal was never there. Weird isn't it? Something for you to chew on.

Anyway, that's it for me tonight. See you all back here tomorrow.

Georgia's On My Mind

Hey folks, sorry I've been a little m.i.a., but you see, time seems to pass so quickly...especially when you are in LOVE...

Yes, and don't worry, Joe is well aware. In fact, he practically introduced us.

Ok, I'll leave the euphemism behind and just come out with it....

Meet Georgia- or at least for now, Coco. And we met last Sunday on a fateful trip to the SPCA in Baltimore. But that's no way to tell a story, so let me paint the picture of this Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan romantic comedy (but much cuter and with less sappy dialogue).

I've been gunning for a dog for as long as I can remember. We had our family dog, Abby, when I was a kid, and after she passed on and we all left home I was determined to find a connection to another furbuddy. I waited patiently through four years of college and then I was too busy trying to piece a life together for myself afterwards that I knew there was no way I could take on a dog.

Then when Joe and I came together, I reopened the "Dog Files". Joe was definitely the more level-headed one, while I was just like a woman desperate for a child...I took notice of every dog that passed by, watched anything about dogs on TV, even sometimes found myself wandering into PetsMarts to look at the leashes and food bowls. I was a woman possessed. Fortunately Joe kept me sane and grounded. He insisted we wait till we had a yard- a fair compromise.

So a few weeks ago, when we happened to find the townhouse (complete with hard wood, a massive yard, even a Doggy Door!) I took it as a sign. This would be where we'd bring home a wriggly-bundle of joy. We signed the lease, and the search was on.

Now I had been looking at Petfinder for months now, so as soon as Joe said he was ready I passed along any dogs that met our criteria: female, a year old or less, smallish, quiet, and sweet. It wasn't long before I had clogged his email full of dogs but surprisingly few of those dogs were within an hour's drive. But when we found ourselves with nothing to do on a Sunday...in the summer (who has nothing to do on a Sunday in the summer? Especially Joe. Another sign??), we decided to visit the Baltimore SPCA.

We walked into the SPCA, and once we figured out how to make our way to the back, we walked into the kennels. I'm not gonna lie, you need to have some resilience when you walk into those places. As happy as they try to make, you still walk in and feel a little heartbroken and guilty. We walked among all these pit bulls, some looking hopeful and playful, others that looked broken and desperate. I wondered if all places in the country have as much of a surplus of pit bulls as we do here in Baltimore. And really, it is so sad that these dogs get such a bad rep- they're not mean or bad dogs, they just need to be treated well. I briefly considered suggesting we adopt one of those, but their size and energy level would honestly be too much for us.

As I looked around Joe went over to another dog and knelt down. It was this little plucky dog with a curly-ish tail and huge bat ears. She tucked her ears back, licked Joe's hand excitedly and wagged her tail so hard her butt started shaking. I joined him and she also began licking my hand adorably. I tried to remember everything I read about how to choose the right kind of dog, especially a more submissive type. Her ears were back and she seemed to cower a bit. Not terribly, but definitely showing the signs I wanted.

I stood up to look at her file hung outside her cage. Name: Coco. Age: 6 Mos. Breed: Dachshund cross. She was hitting all the right marks. I read her meager background and she had been assessed and dubbed a "Waltzing Matilda". I had no idea what that meant so while Joe kept her company I went to look for a volunteer/employee to ask if we could take her out. While I waited for one to become available I noticed where we had come in there was a sign describing the three levels they use to categorize. Underneath the one titled "Waltzing Matilda" read that the dogs in this category are perfect snuggle-buddies: low energy, yet still playful and sweet. This dog was getting better and better.

Finally we spoke to a woman who got the dog and took her out to meet us. We watched how Coco managed on a leash and then the woman opened the wide fenced area to let her play and get to know us. Every now and then I would get down to see if she would come to me, and happily she did a bit. She let me pet her and get near her, and remained very submissive. Joe tried to see how she'd interact with the ball but for the most part, Coco didn't seem too interested. Then another volunteer brought out another dog and led it to the area directly next to ours. We watched to see how she handled being near other dogs, and again, I was relieved to see her show signs of playfulness and not aggression.

I was getting sold by the minute, and so I began asking the woman what kind of "hold" program they did. I was disappointed when she informed us that they usually only hold a dog for a day (SOMETIMES 48 hours).

"And," she continued, "these little dogs usually go fast. Chances are she won't be here very long."

Joe and I looked at each other. Our current apartment is small as it is, but we still needed to get all the packing done. We didn't think there was any way we could take her yet.

Sadly, we left her there. And I became even sadder when we visited two other shelters and didn't find a dog that even came close to what we needed. Joe tried to keep my spirits up, but all I could think of was that little dog with the curly tail.

I promised I'd stop bringing it up, and on Wednesday when I looked at the SPCA website and didn't see her there, I figured we had missed our chance.

And then, yesterday, for some reason, I checked out the website one more time...and there she was, as happy and funny-looking as she was when we first saw her. I texted Joe immediately and when I got home we discussed that it must be fate.

We agreed that today, after work, we would triumphantly return and take our little lady home.

Of course, this is pending she is still there. So wish us luck!