Gud, I'm sorry. Laura, hope it turns out better.

Logged into my work email because I couldn't remember my password (goooood vacation) and lo and behold NO ONE CAN FOLLOW FUCKING DIRECTIONS.

I wish I had spent 45 minutes fighting IT tomorrow (easier to reset pwd offsite, long story) rather than being pissed off 8 hours early. I made it so easy. They did exactly what I said not to,

meara, stop moving around! I'm going to strap helium balloons to you and hire somebody to drag you from place to place.

Oh no no no Laura. I am so sorry for sweet Zoe and for all of you. And Gud and sweet Gunnar.

And {{{Zen}}}. May her memory be a blessing.

mac, no! Bad mac! {{{msbelle too}}}

Between all the marvelous Buffistas and their beloveds and their pain, and the awfulness of the world (oh, who am I kidding, the awfulness of the United States), Thanksgiving week 2018 is on my shit list.

Sucks. Choice is bringing her home for a day so boys can say bye or let her go now. Advanced lung cancer. Seems cruel to let her continue.

Oh, Laura. I'm so sorry

And now a ray of hope! Now vet says could be just cardiac or could be cancer and cardiac. But worth giving her drugs to get fluids down and see what the tests say. So she goes home tonight.

The emotional roller coaster!

So sorry Laura. That is so hard, and I know how much you adore Zoe.

Gud, I'm so sorry.

Fingers crossed, Laura.

msbelle, do you want to figure out how to import me for a week or so for me to put Mac through an intensive course of as your gothic auntie you've never met, I'm here to explain why you need to stop being a fuck-up" ? No idea if it would work, but I'm willing to give it a try.

(Offer open to all Buffistas in "intimidating-yet-kind" or "cheerleading-and-enthusiastic" flavors as needed.)

Finally home at 2 something AM. With dog. I gave her some chopped up turkey and gravy and heart meds, and she ate them. Got a zillion tests to get results on. Digits crossed.

Laura, I'm hoping for the best.

meara, I hope your wrist is okay.

mac, nooooooo.