First off, I finished up a backlogged entry from yesterday's elk flight.

And, a month and a half late (again), I completed my annual equipment inventory. A mandatory requirement to physically check each reportable item.

I only got five, so it ain't that hard. The computer and printer are right there in the office, as is the tranq rifle. The portable radio's in the truck, and the numbers are easy enough to confirm. (You gotta check the property and serial numbers, even if you know you haven't bought or swapped anything. Always possible somebody in Capitol City typed the numbers wrong, you know.)

But the truck radio?

That's underneath the back seat. Under the coats, sleeping bags, emergency rations, field guides, maps and capture gear. Checking it is the pain in the butt that makes me late with this report every year. (There were only five of us named in the nasty gram sent out this morning.)

But it's done now.

And in other news, the poor little maskless heeler got to make another after hours visit to the vet today.

Since she hasn't defecated since Thursday's surgery. And not for a lack of trying. And, by the bulge of her sides, not from a lack of material.

We went through this after her first ACL surgery. It just hurts too much to squat, so she holds it in. Then it hardens and dries, and she can't get anything out, no matter how hard she tries. Even bleeding under the effort.

He had to tranquilize her to get the job done. After she'd torn the wife's blouse, gouged claw marks into her arms and breasts, and ripped a huge welt into her elbow.

I'm pretty sure if I was going to sodomize a heeler with my hand, I'd tranquilize it as soon as it was in the room. If only so it wouldn't know who the villain was.