How Dirtbunny Copes with Tragedy

And so we here at Chez Nous are working on getting our heads around the idea of making Kirby into a three-legged dog in order to save his life. It is not a difficult decision. I don't know how much it is going to cost and I don't care. It is a very sad situation but the surgery must be done and that's all there is to it. And I am dealing. But first:

It took a while to get a photo of the May sock club socks that displayed the socks to advantage and simultaneously concealed from you how long it has been since I shaved my legs (my brother Patrick would be scandalized!). Here they are. All done and I like 'em.

Back to Kirby. The biopsy yesterday was a pretty big deal and he has a lot of stitches holding his incision together. He's on some serious painkillers and has spent the day looking like this:

You can almost hear him snoring, can't you? The Man stayed home with him today and I went to the office. On the way home from the office, I stopped at the LYS for some yarn therapy, the details of which I will share more fully later. One of the things I got was this:

That is my Special Sweetheart's Super Recovery Wubbie. I replaced the book that Yarn Bandit ate so I have my needles, pattern, and yarn ready to go. I will be casting on imminently. As I knit, I will be putting in as much love and good karma as any Dirtbunny can muster (it can be hard for Dirtbunnies to come up with positive energy) and I will convince myself that it is going to help Kirby recover quickly and safely, and it will give me somewhere to put my anger and sadness and grief that is not upside The Man's head because he's angry and sad too after all and deserves better. OK, so I just put that last sentence in another color because I wanted to see how long it was. It seemed a little long. It is. Fuck it. I'm a little scattered and it's only right that my sentences reflect that.