Oh crap

Literally.

Mid-make-out earlier this week, my foot roused a sleeping pig and his mouth frightfully lunged at its fleshiest part. I shouted my empty wish to get rid of the dogs, regretting it the second my childish mouth closed. He barely broke the skin, but the reminder of this little incident was ironically still visible when karma paid me a visit last night in the form of diabolical diarrhea from our five year old Jack Russel. A solo midnight trip to the emergency vet reaffirmed that he probably just ate something he shouldn't have... but your welcome for the $300 bill just to tell me that!!

The good news is that he has medication and will likely recover; it is snowing gloriously hard (with tiny flakes for longevity too!); I am about to bake some yummies for my Sweep's return later this morning.

Even crap can't crap on my parade.