We’ve turned our tiny home into a dog infirmary. Our little cocker spaniels both had some surgery.
We’ve got drain tubes to take care of and stitches to be healed. The inside of our home looks like a battlefield.
Gauze and tape and sizzors litter counters, chairs and floors. Those cones to stop the licking? They won’t wear them anymore.
Our new German Pointer has been good beyond belief. That is until she realized she’s not commander in chief.
Don’t even get me started on the real queen of the house. I’m sure she’d turn her nose up if she ever saw a mouse.
If she comes walking toward me I don’t make eye contact. You see she’s very needy and that’s a well-known fact.
She likes to have her ears scratched and she’s a real lap cat. She insists she has her treats on time which makes her a fat cat.
We’re wearing ourselves out making sure they all get well. Then the McNinch infirmary will be the McNinch Hotel.
Those 70ish Girls 