Tino's foot, where they removed his dew claw on the right, is infected. My tiny dude can't catch a break. In case you haven't been playing along, let's recap: We found him with a broken back, then he contracted "bordetella" aka "kennel cough" aka "doggie bronchitis" while he was recovering from spinal surgery. He got infected with mites on his chest and then in his ears, and we cut off his extra toes and his balls. He lives in a state of fear around anyone that isn't me or Rob, and now he has to walk around with a dorky cone on his head and with one heavily bandaged foot in the air. It's really pathetic. He's on anti-biotics and pain meds.

House hunting is frustrating. We're at a price point where we see a lot of REALLY nice things, but we're not going to find anything perfect for us, so it's a lot of figuring out what sacrifices we're willing to make. I've pretty much had it with the open houses.

I am thankful for my husband. He's the most amazing man in the world, and I couldn't do this without him.

Gagging yet?