Seriously...

Look. She's cute. See? It's not TOO hard to understand why I'm so obsessed with her. Can you understand now?

Oh, and in other news: There isn't just ONE tomato. There's 3. Seriously. 3.

So--the cute cute dog got into the fridge two days ago. Yeah, she's smart like that, too. So, yeah. Fridge. She ate a whole bunch of mac-n-cheese, and some girl scout cookies, a loaf of bread, some flat bread and some corn tortillas (Um, yeah--we're OBVIOUSLY not on the Atkins diet!). Well, she's already been having some issues--and I've dropped over a grand at the vet to possibly identify some pancreatic problems. Possibly. So yesterday, I wake up, and the sweet, cute dog CAN'T move. She can't walk, she can't stand, she can't get off my freakin' bed. I completely panic. Cry, hyperventilate, pull my hair out, bang my head against the wall (okay, I'm exaggerating, but only a little). I call my wonderful VP, sobbing, and then the awesome woman a ride to work with as well, to tell them I'm taking Daisy in, and then cry some more. Turns out--after $300--they tell me she has gas. Well no shit. I knew that! Half my tears were because of her foul arse! Anyhoo--the vet also said she had some unresolved pancreatic issues and was suffering a pancreatitus (or something). Great. He wants me to come in today for more ($) tests. UGh. On the bright side--she's walking again--Yesterday, at 3:30, she stood up on her own, and walked outside. This morning, she tried to play with Ziggy.

Oh, and poor Ziggy! He just doesn't get it. He keeps TRYING to play with her, but she can't, and you can see he's confused. He's like: "What? She could do this yesterday! What's wrong with her? Is she broken? Let me try to attack her again--then maybe she'll play." Poor Zig. I think he needs a puppy.