#monocular cocker

A fearsome dragon sat on its top.

Until one day, a knight rode up.

"Do you need help to get down?"

HERE

SHE

COMES!

But her breathing is increasingly blocked, nothing else is helping, so it's time to go in and investigate and hope that a mere benign lipoma is the cause.

And also to hope that she's not at the beginning of a pancreatitis flareup, because it looks like she might be, and the timing is *terrible*. I don't know if general anesthesia is safe at that point. She's at the right place to get checked, anyway. My poor honey, 2020 has been a tumble dryer.

Yvaine: Hello, everyone, it's Talk Like A Pirate Day and I am here to discuss the rich histories and cultures that contributed to the heyday of piracy in the Golden Age.

Tristan: I'm helping!

Yvaine: *sigh* And Tristan is helping.

Tristan: I have the props!

Yvaine: What? No, we don't need a telescope.

Yvaine: We're talking about the way governments encouraged their people to attack other countries' ships, the way women could become pirates, the way people of all backgrounds ended up in ranking positions, so the language used on board could have been any in the known world.

Tristan: And they all fought together!

Yvaine: WHO GAVE THIS FOOL A CUTLASS?

Tristan: They held their swords in their teeth as they swung on ropes to board the ships!

Yvaine: They did NOT. That's a good way to cut off your own head.

Yvaine. Oh, I can't work under these conditions.

Tristan: I stole an extra's hook hand!

Yvaine: Cut. Just cut.

This is your irregular reminder that Yvaine loves you. We're all going through a lot, you and everyone around you, everyone you brush up against all day; it's like a static charge that only builds, won't disperse.

The protests continue. The reason for the protests continue. The pandemic kills and kills and leaves broken survivors. In the US our federal government actively works to inflame all our problems. There's an election, during the pandemic, and we don't even know if our votes will be counted. In other countries, the lockdown feels intolerable or the plague fatigue is exhausting but the danger is still right there.

We all feel like we are at the end of our ropes (or past, and falling). You, and everyone you encounter today, at home, online, at work, on the bus, on the street.

Yvaine is the best of the best.

But unexpectedly, there was a puff of glitter-smoke! As the glitter-smoke cleared, Snifferella's Faerie Tristopher told her, "We're going to get you to that Tennis Ball with Serious Business, and it will be a glorious place to be a dog."

The Faerie Tristopher had picked up a magnificent dress in Snifferella's size, and arranged for Snifferella's little buddies to swap a prize-winning pumpkin for cart and costume rental so they could chauffeur Snifferella to the Ball.

And with a wave of the Hypno-Spaniel-Wand, and a Sniffity-Squeakity, Sniffity-Squawkity, Sniffity-Shnortity Food! everybody got changed much faster than they thought possible.

As Snifferella rode away into the night, the Faerie Tristopher called, "Have a bouncing ball! But remember the rentals have to be returned at midnight, or else you'll have to pay a late fee!"

Post-Apoca-Cockers