Whoever told me to get the Nylabone or whatever it's called is my hero. She is obsessed with that thing. It is bigger than she is. She also enjoys chewing my stuffed bunny I have had for about 12 years, and this hideously dirty powder puff that my cat Francis used to carry around and purr-paw on. I think those days are over for Francis.
Anyway, I just want you to know, I hope you know (my cousins used to say that. "I hope you know, Maria, that that is MY Cabbage Patch." "For your information, Katie, no it isn't." Oh, I am glad to be an only child) that despite the debacle that was my day yesterday, despite the fact that I am Christopher Columbus of puppies, without the smallpox blanket part, I got on that dang treadmill and ran last night. For 31 minutes. While Lula slept on the couch.
I didn't go as fast as usual -- I keep a running diary, yes I do -- and it occurred to me that all I had to eat yesterday was:
1. a plain Gardenburger patty at 10 a.m.
2. two handfuls of plain popcorn at about 4:00. At 4:01, Francis began licking said popcorn so that was that.
and 3. half a bowl of minestrone soup.
I guess that explains my lack of energy.
I must go, as Francis is hissing and groaning and having big eyes, and I think I need to get him out of this room before his head explodes into angry cat parts.
