“What fresh hell blessing is this? “

Picture me sitting at my kitchen table at four-freaking-thirty in the morning. It's dark outside and below freezing. I've got one dog in a cone of shame (oh, all right, we switched the cone out for an inflatable doughnut thing, but still!) and another one that wants to play 24-7. They can't, of course, be allowed to play with each other, because the reason for the doughnut-of-shame is a laceration and stitches that need to heal.