Just not the very next day. Six days later, actually. And the word on the street is that he's in one piece, and rather famished. This wasn't the first time Miru ran away. Wasn't the 2nd time either. Or the 3rd. But he's back, safe and sound, and that's what matters.
I'm enjoying my last few days in Dublin, and by "enjoying" I mean packing, organizing, planning, and list-making. Good times! Of course I'll miss Max, but really, this will be the shortest length of time we've ever lived apart from each other. And I'll get to replace one Max with 2 dogs and 2 cats (thankfully).
We had our 23 week OB appointment and scan yesterday. Samson got a great report from the midwife: "Size appropriate for gestational age. No evidence of any structural abnormality." Those are the two best sentence fragments I've ever read in my life. Except for maybe "Salt water taffy half off," and "Kittens free to good home." There's nothing like a box of kittens.
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