In the past few days I have started fostering puppies from the animal shelter and wearing an ace bandage. (These sorts of things always happen when Christian goes out of town. I don't know why.) I am fully cognizant as I take these steps into quirky eccentricity. I am telling you this so you can have a better understanding of those kind of weird people who have foster animals and wrap their joints--people I have undoubtedly made fun of in the past. In my rational mind, both of these situations are temporary or, at least, occasional. I'm still totally in control of myself, although I can't guarantee that the next time you see me I will not have fully evolved into a brace-wearing, cane yielding woman with a ferret on my shoulder.
While performing my cat towel duties, I became aware of fostering opportunities for the dogs of Lost Paws. You take a dog for a week in between adoption events. This seems especially nice for puppies, as they need a little more attention. My kids understand the deal completely, and we are bathing and teaching our puppies to behave with the hope that they will be the best and first dogs adopted next Saturday. I love having pets, but they don't always work out and are almost never convenient. Puppies on a weekly basis are just the ticket! Our puppies are purebred Border Collies, born on a charming farm, and too young to have any annoying habits. They are puffy and cute. We call them Max Perry and Charlie Bosley. They are yours for the taking if you show up at Petsmart in American Fork this Saturday at 1pm. One seems to be the runt and is slightly more anxious, but I highly recommend them both and fully endorse them.
Just so you know, if I were in a beauty pageant and had to pick a platform or if I were a rich celebrity and had money to donate to a cause (which is least likely? Don't answer that), I doubt I would choose animal issues. I eat meat and wear leather. (But I wouldn't eat puppy meat, tender though it may be.) I would choose to support a cause that helps humans. I just want you to know that.
As for my wrist, it just hurts whenever it moves--probably from lugging and twisting and placating 25 lbs of Ellen all day without a break which, I guess, is a testament to how much Christian does when he is here. Or maybe I'm just embarrassed to pull out the ace bandage when he is here.
I will post pictures of the puppies later today and maybe even a picture of my wrist if I get 100 comments--No! A thousand comments! Come on guys--do it for my wrist! DO IT FOR MY WRIST. DO IT FOR MY WRIST. . .