The best birthday present EVER

My lovely, wonderful, compassionate, caring (and did I say wonderful?) friends Julie and Tony gave me the BEST birthday present this weekend. They're NOT giving the dog back. (At least not right now, at any rate.) It's the best birthday present ever! And he's the naughtiest puppy ever! And yet they haven't shot him (or me!) yet. I can't thank them enough for hanging in there with "Spock." (He couldn't remain "Wiley"--they already had a "Riley.") They are earning HUGE karmic dividends. And did I mention how wonderful they are?

I gave myself a birthday present this weekend, as well. Here it is, folks:

As you can see, I went with the left forearm. Don't be alarmed by the slight redddish hue around it. That's perfectly normal--I'm not dying of a blood infection. That I know of. In a couple of days the red will go away, and then it will start to scab over. Can't pick that scab, though! It has to flake away gradually on its own or you lose the color.

Do you like it? I like it.

Did it hurt? Oh, some people might have called that pain. I, however, have had screws drilled into my bones, and have crushed my fingers in a pizza dough roller. THAT's pain. This was...short-lived, minor discomfort.

Nothing at all like the pain of living with "Spock"--hey, Julie? (You're a saint.)