hello gentle readers. this is the beautiful trixie again, with the sad news that the pathological person decided not to tell me good things today. the nasty thing in my intestine is not what we were hoping it was. it is something called a sarcoma, which i guess is an especially nasty kind of nasty thing. and the other nasty thing on my adrenal gland is apparently shooting out harmony that is seeding other parts of me with nasty things. or maybe that was hormones. anyhow it’s all very rude behavior if you ask me.
unfortunately the medicines will not help stop these evil perpetrators. the only thing that can do that is to cut me open and remove them. i’m not sure i want to have part of my intestine removed. it’s something i use every day, and being cut open at my age seems like such an indignity. but luckily i don’t have to worry about things like that or make difficult decisions. in spite of everything i can just snooze in dada’s office like i always did, and let mama and dada figure it out.
hello nice reederz its dennis the vizsla dog hay wel i hav sekyoord the vakyoom kleener to the doghowse of justiss and now i just need to sekyoor the doghowse of justiss to doc browns delorean and then with the kombined power of both time macheens and the spayse travel capabiliteez of the doghowse i wil be aybel to sayv the wurld frum tuckers flatchoolense chek it owt!!!
hello nice reederz its dennis the vizsla dog hay wel if yoo wer heer yesterday then yoo no that the noo owner of my blog calld us all to his offiss for a big meeting i wunder wot he wants!!! lets find owt!!!
As you may recall, on Sunday we had about a two-hour daylight visit from a skunk that was mostly just lying there like a lump, but that occasionally stirred itself to stumble around a bit. By the time we got someone to come out to collect it — or more accurately, to explain that he was not under contract to collect it — it had disappeared. Monday we had torrential rain and howling wind all day, and the skunk did not put in a reappearance. Yesterday it turned up again. To quote Monty Python, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it — it’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it.”