My Misc. Day

Last night was another one of Willy’s dog training classes. It was a two-hour seminar of Q and A from all of the current classes. I learned that you shouldn’t put Bitter Apple on a dog’s genitalia. I learned that Russell (the Jack Russell) is apparently regurgitating from eating too fast, and then he proceeds to eat it. I learned that someone’s dog wasn’t actually just licking itself, but was slowly consuming it’s own urine. I learned that hearing about dogs eating cat poop isn’t nearly as disturbing as realizing that some couples aren’t mortified beyond words that their dog poops and pees in their house. Most importantly, I’ve learned that I’ll never get those two hours of my life back.
The parking lot at the Ballard Market was absolutely slammed again this afternoon when Mary and I did some grocery shopping, which is an impressive testament to their history of customer service. Since January, the store’s appearance has gradually transformed to resemble a demilitarized zone, as they undergo a major remodel. Locating familiar items from day to day is always a new adventure, but their customer base has proven both loyal and patient.
While shopping, I was directly approached by that same employee who had told me about Paul’s condition. He was very happy to report that his original information had proven significantly inaccurate. He went on to explain that Paul was not only in the care of his parents, but that he had visited the Ballard Market just this last Saturday, accompanied by his parents. Apparently, the hugs that were exchanged were a little awkward, as Paul didn’t seem to recognize people. Regardless, I am very happy for this good report.
Of course, I just had to stop by The O.P. to share the news (as if I really needed a reason to stop by). We visited with Sara and Dean and Johnny for a couple of hours. When I noticed the shift about to change I played some rap. It’s pretty easy to tell, too