Molly in da house

The first week settling in to SD was a little Molly-centric. Mother of the year, I ain’t. The past week was replete with proud pet ownership moments.

• I made a very Nicolaesque gesture and took Molly to the local vet for an introductory meeting. Once there, however, I couldn’t answer a single question after “what’s your pet’s name?”:
  “Is she on heartworm medicine?”
  “When is she due for her next flea & tick treatment?”
  “What brand of prescription dog food was it?”
  Geez – who does the vet think she is…Katie Couric? Can I use a lifeline?? She finally just said…”You aren’t the primary care-giver, are you?” what does that make me…Molly’s dad??
• Rita has like 18 sets of doors in her house… french doors, garage doors, screen doors. I can’t be expected to lock them ALL. [uh, WAIT….this just in…ummm – I CAN…clearly can…be expected to lock them all]. But on my second night “home” – I headed out to meet friends for dinner when I [shockingly] forgot to bring the good cheap wine. Upon turning back up the driveway, I was greeted by Molly trotting around the side of the house - having ingeniously escaped from the wide open French doors. Not only forgot to lock the door…straight out forgot to close it. [mother of the year]
• Ooooohh Molly…I forgot to tell you about those early morning sprinklers, eh?
• Wow…know what tears up a $7,000 rug? A rousing game of fetch.

=)