I hurt my back last weekend — and hurt it bad. Was I doing someThing fun at least? Nope. All I did was lift my 60-pound dog Bosco out of the bathtub and BAM! Down I went on the sopping wet floor. What do you think "man's best friend" did then? Came to my rescue? No. Checked to see if I was okay? Not even close. While I writhed around in agony, covered in soap suds and dog hair, Bosco ran through the house spreading wet dog smell all over everyThing.

Two visits to the doctor later, all I have to show for it is a pile of bills and two bottles of pills. I don't like pills. Especially the ones that make me feel loopy. Almost anyone who knows me knows that I'm plenty silly even without 'pharmaceutical intervention'.

Since I won't take pills, I'm grateful that we have some Things at work to ease the pressure and take the pain out of sitting. As for Bosco? He's getting a professional groomer. Because clearly it's time to admit that washing a beast like him in my little bathtub is a foolish Thing to do.

Stay well. I'll see you next week,
Bobby