Apr. 12th, 2013

green_dreams: Sepia-toned picture of a dog, with the caption "Will reload saves for Dogmeat." (will reload for Dogmeat)
Piper is doing much better; she still whimpers when she moves (and screamed a couple of times, dear god), but she's crashing out and sleeping a lot. We've gotten her up the stairs, let her fall asleep in front of the fire, and the day seems to be turning into a Mad Max marathon interrupted by pauses to find out if she's complaining because she wants to roll over, be brought water, be helped up, get more pills (strict schedule, puppy), or just get tummy rubs.

Hadn't ever seen the first two Mad Max movies. Mildly surprised by how non-post-apocalyptic the first one was. The second one, on the other hand...
To understand who he was, you have to go back to another time. When the world was powered by the black fuel, and the desert sprouted great cities of pipe and steel. Gone now, swept away. For reasons long forgotten, two mighty warrior tribes went to war and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all... Their world crumbled. The cities exploded. A firestorm of fear.
I'll, uhm, be over here, trying to wipe the Deadlands: Hell on Earth off my TV screen. (This may prove difficult. It's an enduring setting.)

If Piper keeps improving at this rate, I expect we'll need to set up the baby gate soon to keep her from trying the stairs by herself. This is encouraging in terms of progress, but honestly, she was having trouble with the hardwood stairs being slippery before the surgery, so it is sort of horrific in terms of things to visualize. It's not the up, it's the down.

Nothing much else, today. Mostly counting down the time to Piper's next dose.

(Right, we've just seen a... a bicycle-auto-gyro-copter-thingy. The Wasted West ain't going nowhere.)
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