Breakfast On Pluto

I'll try and catch you all up with some of the key highlights of the last month and a half. So, first...
My dog got ran over by a car.
Don't worry, he's fine now.

This is how it started. I was in the baby's room, finishing up some last minute organization. I was 38 and something weeks along, huge and so over being pregnant. I heard a car squeal (you know, that infamous WE'RE GOING TO CRAAAAAAAAAASH noise that signals something exciting might happening) and in true Dane Cook style I looked to see what went down. With all cars and occupants appearing to be in tact, I lost interest.
**Quick side note- our road is perilous. People crash practically once a day on this road, semi-trucks drive on it at neck breaking speeds, and our landlord has lost no less than 5 pets to accidents on it.

A few minutes later, I went out back to retrieve the Pug Batman, and to my horror, found him to be nowhere. He's usually hooked up on a run, which I had put him on, but lately he had somehow found a way to escape his tether. On those occasions he'd be sitting by the back door waiting to be let in for a treat, but today he was absent from his normal spot. I went out, called for him by the woods, and nothing. So I went back through the house, thinking he might be int he front yard watching the cars, the idiot. I opened the door and...

Sad day, the poor little thing was laying on the mat. My heart broke. I brought him in and the first thing I noticed was that he was a little bloody from a scrape on his leg. My eyes watered in sympathy. Then I noticed he was favoring his back leg. My empathy raged on as I brought him his favorite treat, bed, and toy. Then I saw the leg dangle in a grotesque sort of way, and I began to fear for my life because I was pretty sure my husband would kill me when he saw what happened to his dog.

Sure enough, when he got the phone call that his precious doggy had been smashed on, Husband was UNhappy. Not at me, really, but the universe. Too bad the universe wasn't there in person to get the evil eye. After holding him for awhile and taking a long, sad look at our bank account, Sir Pug was escorted to the vet by me, lugging his 20 pound butt along with a 38.5 week huge stomach. Not an easy feat. After a $70 xray and $25 worth of pain pills, he came back with a sweet $90 splint on his leg, which at an extra $30 a pop, would need changing for the next 5 weeks. He is now officially more expensive than an Xbox 360. Batman, had you not been so stupid, we could have bought had Xbox. Not that we were going to buy one, but thats what kind of money we spent on you. Feel very special. (Can you tell this is a gaming family? Your worth is measured by systems and so forth.)

This is him, reveling in attention and couch privileges. For the first 3 weeks he had pain meds, which he ate wrapped up in a piece of cheese. Call me crazy but I think he'd do it again, seeing as the perks heavily outweighed that one moment of panic and pain he felt.

Now, 5 weeks later, he's still treating the leg gingerly but the splint is off and he is a healed, happy dog. Even though the left leg is now slightly better looking than the right. Oh well.