It's good to be home. I'm back to snoozing under Mum's desk, barking at the church-goers, and helping in the garden. My poop is looking good too. I still have 27 staples in my belly and a bald spot with a fuzzy patch where my Fentynal patch was, but neither really bothers me too much. I made and agreement with Mum and Dad that I would not lick my staples so long as they do not put that cone on my head. Basset Hounds do not wear the cone of shame (we are too handsome).
Dad shoveled every single rock and pebble out of the yard,; every edible rock is gone. At first I was, like, what!? now what will we get into along the side of the house? but this has all turned out for the better. Now instead of rocks there is soil - dark, soft soil which is awesome because it gives my cute floppy paws even more places to dig. I sank my chubby toes into it's richness and Mum scolded me saying it was for plants not silly dogs, which only means new greens things to eat are on the way. I can digest green things.
Apparently we go in on Friday to have my staples removed and to see Dr. Thomspon (who I have a little crush on...). I'm fine with a quick visit with everyone BUT I'M NOT STAYING THE NIGHT! As much as I like everyone there I like sleeping in my own king sized bed.