All good reports

I was mixed up on what week to read when in my pregnancy book, so last week when I reported that Kumquat was kumquat-sized, she was actually the size of a small plum. This week then, she has blossomed to the ripe green size of a large lime. Limey even has fingernails! And of which we are most proud, on Sunday Little Lime graduated Embyro University with a degree in Fetus-hood.

Because Zofran successfully kicked about 90% of my nausea's butt, I decided to join Dave as planned in Vegas for the blessings of his sister's triplets. They were such adorably perfect angels and it was very exciting to hold them. Even with so many people around, as there were three, I got many chances.

Because we would both be gone, I had to find a place for Pixie. The idea tortured me day and night. She can not go to a place with kids because she hates kids. She can not go to a place with dogs because she might attack them. This effectively cancels out anyone in the world that might be willing to watch her. The other option is boarding at the vet's office, where they put her in a box on a shelf and let her out twice a day to pee. My options weren't good.

Then I remembered that I met a woman at Craft Warehouse ages ago who saw her in my purse and told me she had a dog ranch where she watched dogs if I ever needed the help. I explained Pixie's many character flaws.

"She hates children," I apologized. "She thinks they're all trying to kill her and growls viciously at them."

"That's okay," the dog lady said. "I have no kids at home."

"She also hates all dogs half the time," I reported sorrowfully. "She tries to attack any dog bigger than her."

"I could keep her separated," the dog lady comforted.

"She's not perfect with her potty training if she's at a strange house," I warned.

"I don't mind," said the saint, I mean, dog lady.

She gave me her card and I saved it these many months. Pixie and I stopped by the day before so Pixie could meet her and become acquainted with the place. She raced inside and peed immediately. I was horrified.When we came for the drop-off the next day, she repeated this new trick. I was re-horrified. I reiterated Pixie's many issues for the dog lady, who did not seem phased and told me Pixie could play with the large lab she was also boarding. I expressed that this might be the worst idea ever conjured and the lady might want to check her head. My actual words were, "I really don't trust her at all so probably she should always be separated."

"Uh, okay, fine," the dog lady said unconvincingly.

I was shooed away, to Pixie's mind-losing horror at the understanding, and zoomed towards the airport feeling miserable and frightened that either Pixie would kill everybody or everybody would kill Pixie. I didn't even call to check on her because I was too afraid of the report.

Dave and I both went to pick her up this morning. We walked in and there she was with the giant lab, both of them losing their minds with the joy of seeing us AND GETTING ALONG LIKE THE BEST OF FRIENDS!!

"She was perfect," the lady reported. "Once the lab accidently stepped on her face and Pixie let out some rude noises, but other than that they were perfect pals! I kept them together the entire time, unless I wasn't with them, and they loved each other. Pixie had no accidents inside and cuddled up next to me when I watched TV. She was perfect!"

Indeed, it appeared she was. She loved the lab Chloe, played happily with all the toys on the floor and has never seemed so balanced and cheerful. She bounced up and down and licked us a thousand times and I have never felt happier.

Pixie, in her lifetime, has never not attacked a dog she spent more than a day with. And that's a lot of dogs. Three cheers for the dog lady!