Well, crud.

Here on the eve of Junior’s 18th birthday, San Antonio is on the cusp of receiving some sort of storm produced by red clouds.

I know this because the picture from the weather radar app on my phone shows the clouds to have a reddish hue to them.

Nah, screw the hue.  Them suckers are red.

Ten days after donating her toe to the better good (whatever that is), Faith is still sporting a bandaged foot and a cone of silence.  Granted, the cone doesn’t really help her shut up, however she’s practically mastered calf assault with it.

In the meantime, the area received a red cloud treatment yesterday when she was home alone with Hope.  The thunder and rain freaked her out enough (as it usually does), that she escaped the confines of the domain into the rain.  She was picked up by a lady living in the subdivision who subsequently took her to her own vet where they scanned her for her Lojack and subsequently got a hold of us.

Wifey then picked her up at the other vet and took her to ours where she had to get her paw re-wrapped in the requisite quantity of gauze, ace bandages, and duck tape.  She was then prescribed a tranquilizer sufficient to take the edge off of the late Keith Moon.

It’s not enough that we have to deal with the bandaged foot, and martini glass neckwear.  Compounding all of that with her irrational fear of thunder and rain and the resulting behavior makes for a less than monotonous life around here.