We have a new refugee here; she saw me when I was out today and, out of nowhere, she jumped in the car when I opened the door in a parking lot. She hopped to the passenger seat, gave me eye and said, “Drive, just drive.” So I did.

We are not certain, but think she is mumbling something about escaping from a Rogaine research lab.

Sophie is going to counsel her and try to find out what trauma she has endured, because Rose is in the clinic with a (gasp) cut on her face. Her skin is a little thin and sewing it closed with a Humphrey Bogart effect is not an option. The doctor suggested maybe Rose needed a new face; the outcry was so loud that the medical team is going to attempt a “backing” operation. Her admirers talked of linen and silk, but I think we are going with muslin.

A couple of days ago, Cameron alerted me to a note Shane had left for me. (See here) And, well, then I left a post about all the Halloween decorations, and Pottermom left a comment and asked what about the important matters, such as Shane’s new Wubba.

I was going to take a picture of all the Wubbas Mr. Deprived Dog has – let’s just say it’s a lot . . . a whole bunch . . . enough to keep you throwing all the time if he pesters enough. So, I didn’t think Shane needed any new Wubbas; however, I knew I would be passing Petsmart on the way to have the scan at the hospital today and I somehow also knew I would fold and go look at the Wubbas.

I would then have at least tried.

But they had a new one and it was hanging there right at the end of an aisle.

IT WAS A HALLOWEEN PUMPKIN.

I should have known. We have one now.

Shane says, “Thanks, Pottermom.”