bark bark

Jenny Blais, my esteemed fellow coworker and partner in crime, voyaged up to her home town of Portland Maine last weekend. Nostalgic for her old haunts, she went to a party at her old job, where she used to be a DJ for an indie-classic contemporary rock station. Showered greatly with love and attention that night she woke up the next morning wearing just a jagermeister T-shirt and a pounding headache. Despite her desire to ditch the scheduled family day-after party at her parents house, she wrung out her dignity, ding-donged the front door from childhood’s past and embraced her father in a shamefully hangover hug.

“Out late last night?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Hmmm…don’t tell your mother…”

Jen’s sister has a dog who recently gave birth to lots of oogly—woogly, cuttie—patootie puppies! The puppies arrival just so happen to coincide with the bed-ridden recovery time from a surgery Jen’s sister had. Apparently all the love and attention from the puppies helped Jen’s sister recover faster and more effectively.

This being said…

Instead of prescribing pills as medication for pain relief, why don’t doctors prescribe puppy dog love? A couple of hours playing with a litter of puppies is the cure-all, end-all for disease in this world.