B and I got this here dog from the Animal Shelter yesterday. He's chilling out on the vet's table in the picture. He was a few days away from the big sleep. His name is Thirteen and he is some kind of chihuahua terrier mystery hybrid dog. He's about 10 pounds right now, but he's skinny as a rail so we expect him to fatten up in a while. Thirteen does not like other small dogs very much, but he's quite comfortable with large, even huge ones. He's cool with adults and children. He does not bark, ever. He hates stairs, but he went up and down them all by himself this morning when I took him out to pee, so I think he is getting used to them. He better, 'cause he's got to brave 3 flights of them every time he needs a crap. He has only peed on our floor once, and has gone to the bathroom like a good boy every time we've taken him outside. He's got a clean bill of health, except for the kennel cough, and he's on a week's worth of antibiotics for that. Next week he gets a rabies shot, and the week after that he loses his balls. He was a stray, so the shelter didn't know anything about him apart from what they assume is his breed and his approximate age, 1 year. Because he is so good with people, relatively house trained, and so timid, B and I think he was a house dog before, possibly abused.

More on the dog later, once we see him do more cute or quirky shit.

Backtracking to a previous entry, the trip home was short and sweet. Dad's presence was short and sweet. He didn't care about me giving my brother the Nissan, and he didn't give my brother any money. My mom's house was still horribly nasty, but they at least tried to disguise it a little this time by vacuuming the living room. I brought 5 Cheerwines home because they don't sell them down here, and I drank them all in like 2 days. Ah Cheerwine.