We took all three of our pups to the vet at the same time.

And we made it back home with no casualties. #Survivor

This past Saturday was certainly eventful. I had called on friday to make an appointment to get all of our pups into the vet for their shots and to try and get something for fleas. Luckily, they were able to accomodate me very quickly and not only did they give me an appointment for the next day, but they were able to see them all at once, that way we didn't have to come back and forth or split them into different days.

And while it was hectic, to say the least, it was also awesome to get all of my babies taken care of at the same time.

We've had a real problem with fleas this year, and no matter how hard we try and how many baths they get, and no matter how much over the counter medicine we've given them, nothing has seemed to work. Fortunately, they gave all of our boys shots to help with their skin irritation and good meds to take care of the fleas.

My little Tayder has dermatitis. By good fortune, we caught it in time so that it didn't become a serious "problem", but they still gave me antibiotics for him, just in case. Which is helpful, since he also needed antibiotics for his little tooth.

All three of them are also on steroids for precautionary measures to help with their skin. (And all of their shots are up to date).

We took them home, gave all three baths, mediated them, cleaned (I clean basically every day, but we felt that another good cleaning couldn't hurt), and even took the rug out of our living room for good measure. They are all officially feeling much better and are sleeping better than they have in weeks. (Even though Spart is sick, but because he ate something that didn't agree with his belly.... hopefully he'll feel 100% much sooner).

And guess what? They're still the cutest pups in all the land. ❤

My arch nemesis.

(Just because I forgot for a minute doesn't make it less true).

Momma and I were talking yesterday evening on our way home and I remembered something pretty hilarious. I mean, it wasn't hilarious then (yes it was, I was just very mad), but it is thinking back on it now. It all started when Momma mentioned- "It's been so long since I've seen your hair as long as it is, how long has it been?" And of course I was all- "How am I supposed to remember? I can't even remember what I did Tuesday" She said- "It is Tuesday" And I was like- "SEE?!"

But I digress.

Because after we got home and I was cleaning our living room, I remembered. I remembered when the last time my hair was this long. I immediately ran to her and exclaimed- "I remember!!" She was way less enthused than I was (it usually happens like this), but decided to pacify me by asking- "Ok, when?"

Here's my recollection of events:

When I was in third grade there was a boy in my class, that shall remain nameless (but YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, SIR), that was in every way my arch nemesis. Quit laughing, it's true. He was the Joker to my Batman, the Kripke to my Cooper, the Sobriety to my Courtney Love, you get the point. The boy was PURE EVIL. Everyone thought that we were always bickering back and forth, because we had a crush on each other (the whole "boys pick on you when they like you" thing- dumb), but that was entirely untrue. We bickered all of the time, because he was a buttface. And yes, that is what third grade me told him. That he was a buttface. Because I know how to throw a real zinger when it comes to insults (wait until I watched That 70s Show a few years later and first heard the insult- dilhole, and after that made up the phrase- douche canoe).

The point is, that boy was always tormenting me. ALWAYS. I let it go forever, but eventually got fed up with it and one day when he was playing with my pigtails (I always wore pigtails) I turned around and yanked/twisted his ear until he screamed like a girl. Things only went from there, because the next day he cut off one of my pigtails. Yes, just one. ONE PIGTAIL. I had to carry my detached pigtail home, with a note from my teacher for Momma, to tell her that I hadn't done it myself. Of course I hadn't done it myself, I already had feathered bangs and a lisp, how much more ridiculous did I need to look?!

That was the last time my hair was that long, because Momma in turn had to cut the rest of my hair to match and my hair went from almost to my waist to up past my shoulders. I was sad.

BUT not as sad as I was angry. Even though Momma raised me very much to be "don't start fights" "don't provoke" "just walk away" all I could hear when she was talking about "being the bigger person" while cutting my hair was- "blah, blah, blah". Obviously because I was in the middle of plotting my revenge. I didn't want to be the bigger person that time, once again I had had enough. I went to school the next day (with my very short hair) and as soon as I got to my classroom he started laughing and pointing and being mean (I know, you're shocked at this point). I sat down in my desk and tried to ignore him..... for awhile. And then he pulled my hair and the fight was on. And not just that day, but every single day after that. He continued to pick and I continued to fight back.

Eventually our teacher separated us (she had sat us next to each other thinking it was a crush- it wasn't) after he bit me on my leg and then punched me in the eye and I stabbed him in the hand with a pair of scissors and kicked him in the throat (obviously, I kicked his ass and won that fight). Now that I think back on it, I have a hard time believing that they didn't kick us both out of school, but that was before the whole "No Tolerance" policy (damn, I'm glad they've put that in schools).

We learned to deal with each other over the years and as we grew up (and he admitted in junior high that he did have a crush on me), but to this day (almost twenty years later) I am still convinced that he was and is- my arch nemesis.