Blood

The day before yesterday I woke up and there was blood on the bed.  It was not from me.  Here is the exact conversation I had:

Me:  (to Clark) I can't look at you because I'm going to start crying.
Clark:
Me: (to Clark) Really, don't look at me because I will start crying and I haven't cried one day this week.
Clark:
Me:  (to Clark) Please (sob) don't (sob) die! (sob).

So despite my super busy week of furnishing a mini-toddler room/nursery in anticipation of over night stays this week while my parents celebrate their anniversary, baby- proofing the house for the same reason, scheduling the handymen to come and fix the leaking washer and to put together the crib, I had to take one Puppy Clark to the vet this afternoon so I would know if he was knocking at death's door.

Clark hasn't been in a car since me and him and Sarah Warah moved in a whirlwind day from our ghetto house in Victorville to a nicer house in Apple Valley when I came home and found the notice on the door saying that the ghetto house in Victorville was going to be auctioned off because the owners were in foreclosure.  Today though, I  dutifully came home did a little switcher-oonie with the dogs so Randi and Earl had no idea Clark and I were off for an adventure and then put Clark in the car where I covered everything up with blankets so his fur wouldn't get on anything.  Clark is not a very relaxed dog and he was on high high alert for several hours.  He was on particular high alert when they used the catheter to get a urine sample.  Give me 40 sophomores and the passé composé any day over that.  Two hours and $99 later we found out that there is nothing wrong with Clark.  He's fine.  He looks great for 13 years old.  Fabulous.

In other great news I sold my road bike to Cesar, Clark's arch nemesis.  I haven't told Clark because I didn't want him to be even more unsettled since the transaction will undoubtedly involve Cesar coming here.  We've settled on a price, but I told Cesar I would take $20 off for each single fireman he brought by the house and $30 if they were shirtless.  Who knows, maybe I'll end up paying him.  We can only hope.