Well, things are rapidly returning to normal here. Bob didn't get much sleep last night because he camped out with Mei-Mei on the floor in his office and she kept pushing him off the cushions. This is the bed of cushions roughly the size of a double bed that Miss Thing didn't want anything to do with yesterday. Apparently when Bob is trying to
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Oh, man, tramadol is some good stuff. Most painkillers do not work on me, so when I need to take the edge off of a Big Pain, tramadol it is. That stuff is just... well, "throws her for a loop" is right!!
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And poor Preston is probably having some PTSD, remembering his surgery! Poor boo.
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My Wolfhound lived to be 10. His mother, though, died at 4.
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And that is so cool about Dr. House. I miss St. Croix. Love to the pack and their masters.
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