Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club.
It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good grammar. What the hell does it mean to disappear somebody?
Sorry I've been gone so long. While blogging about fostering is a fantastic idea--if I do say so myself--I'm finding it tough to do both. Fostering Jack meant petting him endlessly, which state made it hard to type. Then the shelter really wanted us to take Cinnamon too, and a foster couple was found who expressly wanted to take in a senior. So Jack was passed off to them and Cinnamon came in and kicked my ass. Bella's too. She was wonderful but indefatiguable (Bella and I: fatiguable) and I had zero time to type. I'll tell you more about her sometime...
When she found her forever home, I went on vacation. I'll tell you about that too...
Then I came home, rested and ready to rest some more. I wanted to hang out, calmly, with Bella, and to work on my apartment, which lay somewhere under a thick layer of bones and dog toys.
So I told the rescue group I needed a break. That lasted two weeks.
Then Christmas came and fosters wanted to go home to their families and I got the call. Which is why Ellie Mae is chewing my slipper with a vengeance, and dancing with it, in the center of my living room. Now she's trying to lift her dinner bowl off the floor--no, it's back to the slipper dance--wait, she's managed to flip the bowl up, hitting herself in the head. She's taking this as a sign it's time to fling the duck toy around the room. Now the porcupine. Now the lion's head. And back to the slipper.
Yeah, a break.