Let’s assume I am a blue furry creature named Grover. Well, right now, I would be saying, “I am soooo embarrassed,” just like he did when he came to the last page of The Monster at the End of This Book. I, the Psuedo-Grover, along with Summer (who does not have an alias to hide behind) have been investigating the state of healing going on in the vicinity of Sydney’s neutering surgery. We have looked at his scrotum, okay. There, I said it. Oh, I am sooooo embarrassed.

He is wearing his cone and trying to nip and lick the incision and so Summer and I got a wet towel to dampen the area and some generic antibiotic cream, but he is a little sensitive and actually what we saw isn’t what we expected to see. We looked it up on the internet and had to admit we didn’t have the pre-requisite education to truly understand what we were seeing, especially since our subject here was very much aware of our poking around. Oh, I think he was soooo embarrassed also.

We are going in a 5 pm to get him officially checked out and maybe an impromptu lesson in normal/ inflamed/ swollen/healing properly scrotums. The spell-checker red-lined the plural of scrotum, so I guess there must be some medical Latin involved. I’m not looking it up.

The regulars here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse are showing some interest in this recovery investigation and we think Shane is going to take his cone and go hide. I think he is going to demand a big party when this is over with lots of treats and maybe another wubba. At present, I am advising all the little cloth people to stay clear of the teeth; I think he’s in a bit of a bad mood and while we hope all rest is peaceful, we don’t want any cloth people to have a problem with RIP.