Today is one of those days where I can look back on it and think to myself "maybe I really can keep a human child alive."

My baby, the big dog, got her teeth cleaned today. I ensured she did not eat after 8 PM last night and revoked all water privileges this morning. At the vet's office, I ranted over the fact that her low body fat did not require full anesthetic as I will not have my baby die even though the preggo 22 year old vet tech tells me I am a loon. Yes, damn it, I will pay the extra 20 quid for blood work because my big, goofy, love-of-my-life girl is worth it.

Rather than being sleepy and having to carry the 60 pound hunk of burnin' love to the car tonight, she was all tripped out, panting, jumpy, wild-eyed crack whore. Almost four hours later, we've worked a lot of it out of her system and the wild gleam has left her eye. I picked her up and kept her curled up on my lap. With that, she instantly relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

I have done a far better job with these two puppy girls than anyone ever gave me credit. My two canine babies are alive, healthy, and thriving (compared to when I rescued them). If I can make my actions and unconditional love count for two animals, then I should be able to survive this whole baby thing.