Okay, I couldn't resist. I signed up for Sock Wars. Hopefully the sense of urgency (and the prospect of carrying off a successful "assassination") will compel me to actually finish a pair of socks. Chances are, though, that I'm a dead man. If you're jonesin' for a little sock and dagger, then sign up. You may even get to kill me and my size 13 feet.
1. The first rule of Sock Wars is, you must talk about Sock Wars
2. The second rule of Sock Wars is, you MUST talk about Sock Wars.
(no really, for this to be a success we need as many combatants as possible)
3. Two socks to a fight
4. One fight at a time
5. No shirts, no shoes, just socks
6. Fights will go on as long as they have to
7. If this is your first time in Sock Wars, you have to fight.
My first week back at work has been a relatively busy one. On Thursday night, I had two surgeries, one of which was a splenic torsion in an english bulldog. I had my tech take a photo during surgery, which can be seen here (not for the weak of stomach). In the last 15 years, I can probably count on one hand the number of these that I've seen. Until this case I had never heard of it in other than a large breed dog, so this one was truly exceptional.
Tonight, thankfully, was surgery-free, but we did take in a litter of 8 orphaned opossums. Mom was hit by a car and killed, so we had to pull these little guys out of her pouch and move them to a makeshift artificial pouch. They're fairly young, but they're big enough and strong enough they at least should have a shot at survival. I'll be dropping them off with a rehabilitator on my way home from work this morning.