It hailed last week here in Pacifica. It was rainy and weird and then – hail. Yes, I did eat some of it. And it was delicious until the Big Guy pointed out all the dirt on the car where the hail stones had been. Then, it was not so yummy, but up until that time, it was better than ice cream.
Still bummed about Woody because he’s still dead, and unless he’s Jesus Dog, he’s going to remain dead. His brother, Ziggy, came over to the house a couple of times. He’s very different than Woody. He’s all dog. Woody was not. He was in a dog’s body but he was something very special. Anyway, Ziggy had his nose to the ground, and went all over the house until he found the place Woody had had a little accident. After that, he went to the front door and cried. Which made me cry. So, I took him back to his mom at the vets. Still heartbroken over the little Woody. It’s going to be like that for a while.
Then, to break the monotony around here, the Big Guy wrecked the car. No one was hurt. The other car looks worse than ours. We are waiting on the accident report, and the final word from the adjuster, but I can imagine what it’s all going to be. In the mean time, we are driving this Grand Marquis pictured here from the rental company. The only good thing I can say about this car is that it has 4 wheels and goes down the road. It has something crazy on its side like “Limited Edition.” I can only hope because no one else should have to suffer through a bucket of bolts like that Grand Marquis. It has the weirdest suspension. You will be in your lane and suddenly start “floating” into another.
Plus, the Big Guy and I were looking for an MP3 connection in the Less Than Grand Marquis when we found the prior renter’s bills in the glove box. All of them for one month. And yes, his cell phone bill was opened and yes, I looked at it. SCARED THE BEJESUS OUT OF ME the places that dude was calling. 700 texts to places no one should be texting. So now, the Big Guy is taking the bills back to the car rental company this evening and telling them – “Here. It’s your problem now.” And I told the Big Guy – “Do NOT open the door for anyone.” I don’t know if this prior renter can somehow get our name and address but I don’t want to take the chance. If was die mysteriously, you’ll know who did it – the prior renter of the Less Than Grand Marquis.
Finally, here’s a picture of the Little Dog. I don’t even know what to say about the dear little one. She’s falling apart in bits. She has a cyst on her asshole (no delicate way to put that) that is now bleeding. We have some weird powder to puff on her boo boo, but the Little Dog is a persnickety animal. You don’t touch her personal parts, and you certainly don’t puff a pad of powder on it. She gets very insulted and works a long time to clean up what she thinks is the mess you have caused. On top of the bleeding, she has had an awful time with her stomach. She is mostly refusing to eat. I am cooking so many chicken parts for her, the whole house smells like a fried chicken shack. Poor Little Dog.