Fluff is Not Durable

Poor Corrib (also known as Fluff, Murff, and Chunk) has had a pretty rough couple of weeks. First, it was having her scalp cut into with safety scissors. (Feel free to take a moment to enjoy the irony. I know I did.) In her fluffy defense, this was a direct result of her pet parents' 1) cheapness and 2) ineptness at dog grooming. Two staples in the head later we figured we were in the clear with our vet karma.

We told her the staples gave her street cred.

Sadly, Corrib's summer camping got the better of her and she brought home a zillion (give or take one or two) foxtails in her paws. All up in there like it's their job (which it could be given that I don't know any other worldly purpose for foxtails). Two trips and an invasive "probe" later, the Fluff is rocking the antibiotics and a new bed and blanket (old ones burned - see Velveteen Rabbit).

We tried to tell her she was lucky that it was only her paw that was probed. 

Corrib is taking sympathy donations in the form of cheeseburgers. Or bacon. Whatever.