Smudge did manage to gack down (under protest) his pain meds last night, so he slept well. At least wine tastes good! He got his last yucky dose this morning, along with the tasty antibiotic tuna drops, and is now sitting placidly in front of the fan. Which isn't on. He's high.

With things resolved, I'm going with a friend out to George's Island, to check out the fort and a Native American festival and see what interesting stuff we can find to photograph. Smudge isn't disturbing his stitches (they're on his bum, so there's no way he can whack at them with a hind toe) so he doesn't have to wear the cone the vet gave me. VERY glad I'd arranged to have the weekend off.

Love, Columbine