Pet Therapy

No, I'm not talking about sending our animals to a pet psychiatrist in order to figure out their frustrations and anxieties...although I am possibly a big enough wackadoo to try something like that. I do love me some Dog Whisperer! What I'm talking about is taking advantage of the dopey cuddliness of animals in a purely selfish way.

This week has been incredibly busy, as every end-of-the-semester is. But in addition to all the final projects and presentations and work and volunteering, I am itching like crazy from head to toe. Spring allergies are making the inside of my skull prickly. I got stung by a wasp, so my thigh is swollen and red and rashy. My left foot has fallen victim to a ridonculous poison ivy reaction, and of course the bubbliest itchiest spot is exactly where any shoe or sandal will rub. (I would post pictures but I don't want to ruin your evening.) Halfway through running errands today, my car decided not to start. After switching cars with The Hubs, I needed to get gas. So I tried going to the hornets nest that is the PX gas station on a Friday afternoon, circled a few times, got honked at, gave up, and paid an absurd price per gallon just for the luxury of using a slightly less aggressive filling station. When the lady at Hobby Lobby was rude to me, I wanted to scream, "JUST SHOW ME WHERE THE DAMN BEESWAX IS! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT I'M ITCHY?!?!"

But then I got home, and all of our pets rushed to greet me with purrs and wagging tails. I scooped up the kitty, sat down, started scratching the dogs behind their ears, and within 30 seconds all was right with the world.

The Benadryl is calling me, but I'll leave you with some gratuitous pet photos just in case you're also having one of those days. Maybe their magic will work even virtually.

Sarah