Went to breakfast with the gang on Friday. Seven of us showed up, had a veggie omlet that was awesome, great coffee. Didn't leave until after 12. Shoulda just stayed for lunch. Ha. While there, Bobby was talking to me about a sale at Cabelas this coming week. I was looking at a Walther P22 on line and he said they were $50 off during this sale. Hummmmmmmmmmmm. We left it at "call me if you're going."
Since I was going right pass my favorite gun shop, I stopped in to price them there. With the price of gas, sometimes it's just as cheap to buy local. They didn't have any in stock. The guy, Tom, couldn't find any in the catalog. He wondered if they were being discontinued. I said I doubt it, they are very popular. Then I saw it, under the glass, in the case, my new BFF. A Ruger LCP .380.
Came home, got Archie, went to Dad's, he was washing the '72 Buick. I lifted my shirt and showed him my new BFF. He said, "Good, you need to carry something this day and age. I worry about you coming home in the dark, with the dogs in the house." Didn't know that. I told him no need to worry now.
Been finding little drops of blood on the sheet and on the floor. WTH. Both dogs are spayed, so he told me, maybe someone stepped on glass or a nail. Nope, it's Daisy. Shit. Called Mike, "Didn't you tell me both girls were spayed?" I was sure he did, probably to get me to take them. Which was stupid on his part. He replyed, "No, the little one isn't spayed." "Well, how old is she?" I was sure he had said 6 because Coco is 7. "Oh, she's about 4." Grrrrrrrrrrr. Have an appointment with the vet on Monday evening. This girl is getting neutered asap. I should have known that by the time she was old enough for a spay job, they were already in financial trouble. Oh well, it'll work out. She is still a sweety. Mike, however is on my shit list.