Quickie update and goodbye to my good old girl

I haven't been around much. Vasectomy baby, as Dean so lovingly calls it, has been keeping me rather under the weather with all the usual morning sickness and such. I'm counting down the days until Dean's home and can pamper me a bit. It's going to be insanely busy this time home because he has classes and Fifi and family are going to be down. I'm getting a bit overwhelmed just thinking about it.

Nadine has announced she's having a mermaid and needs a swimming pool for her new baby to live in...she's so funny.

In really sad news, Fancy, the blue heeler that's been my family dog for 13 years, had to be put down today. Her health had been failing for the last couple of years and today was just her day. My mom is understandably upset, as Fancy was like a child to her. I used to joke that Fancy was my favorite sister because of how my mom spoiled her. She was a very good dog, and I never worried for my mom with her around. No matter how territorial or protective she was, the universal response to her antics by newcomers to the house was "I wish I had a dog like that for MY mom". She had to learn to like my girls...she never was fond of sharing my mom's attention, but she has saved Claudia from falling off of the porch at her house so many times and kept other dogs away from my girls. Once she learned that the girls drop food everywhere, the friendship was sealed. She was a once in a lifetime dog, and I've been blessed to know some really great dogs. She will be greatly missed. I don't think I can cry any more about her...but I probably will.

I am really proud of Nadine. When I told her about Fancy (because I didn't want her to show up to Grandma's and her just not be there), her first reaction was, "Grandma must be really sad. I want to call her and tell her I love her." Of course she's sad, but I'm proud of how she was able to figure out someone else's emotions.

Can I toss her out with the trash, please?

I love the girls' cat Tinkerbell, I swear I do...or usually do. We live in the country and since the manufacturer of our mobile home cut a TWO FOOT HOLE in my bathroom floor to make room for the very small pipes that need to leave the house even with all the steel wool stuffing and expanding foam pumping we do sometimes mice come in. Tink's a great mouser, which means that coming through that hole is quite wonderfully a death trap. She brings the mice to me, which up until say a week ago was cool. I praise her quite a bit for mousing, so this situation is partially my fault.

She's tormenting me with a mouse right now, and it isn't even dead yet. I puked in the living room at the site of said wonderful cat with a squirming little grey mouse in her mouth. I told her to get away from me and all I got was a truly stunned "what? mice are your favorite!?!" stare. She finally went under the dining room table so I ran to my bedroom and shut the door. I can hear that cat letting the mouse go and catching it again in my living room, and I want to puke. I officially hate being pregnant. If I wasn't I'd go take that mouse from her and finish it off without blinking and throw it outside, but thanks to the stupid hormones I'm too terrified of the thing to do it. I HATE not being me...I love the baby, but I can't stand the hormones.

And I swear the cat knows I'm afraid of it and is following me around. She's outside the door right now. I'm stuck in some lame 15-minute horror clip done by university film students, and it sucks. If that mouse is still alive and she lets it go under the door I can't vouch for Tink's future safety...