I learned how to ski in Gstaad when I was a child – young enough to have no real concept of how elegant a resort it was. And by “learn how to ski” I mean my parents evidently strapped a pair of skis on me and had some Italian ski instructor tell me to bend my knees before pushing me down a steep mountain. No “bunny” hill for me apparently, I think I screamed the whole way down the first time.

The pup made it through surgery and I was there to help him every step with the post-operation recovery process. He’s doing great, remarkably well considering that it was pretty major surgery. Still don’t know yet if he has cancer but this operation will definitely improve his quality of life once he heals up. Glad he made it, he’s a good one. Thank you to all who were wishing us well! Now on with the show!

I have to go away for a couple of days to take my dog to a specialist surgeon for some complicated surgery to remove a cyst. He’s only 10 so I’m hoping he’ll survive. He’s already had three miracles: Being rescued from the floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans as a tiny pup and somehow making his way through the canine equivalent of the Underground Railway to the far North where I live and I adopted him; narrowly escaping having his eyes ripped out by a vet who didn’t know there was another procedure that could be done to save his eyes; and very narrowly avoiding getting shot and killed by a 10 year old with a semi-automatic weapon (ah, America) shooting at him because he thought he was a coyote. Hoping he has at least one more miracle in him. He’s the best dog. Probably won’t be back to posting till Wednesday night.