Ruffly Speaking

Clue has spent the last ten minutes on her back asleep and now everything’s getting taped back up so it can be sent back to Arkansas. And I get to resume real life, where everything isn’t centered on when the FedEx truck arrives or how many nanograms of progesterone are in the latest sample. Clue gets to be the pampered couch dog (Ginny is furious already), not because there’s any veterinary reason to do so but because I am always paranoid about hopefully pregnant bitches. If she wants to run around she can, of course, but I won’t be throwing her outside into the rain with a “Have fun, be tough, see you in an hour!” the way I do with the other dogs.

We’ll know if it worked in four weeks!