Yes, ladies and gents. Marge of the Large is Prego. Our fine Omish lady of the forementioned blogging is/was with calf (however you want to look at that). Ahh I can't wait till next week when I get to preform what is my first and probubly my only necropcic c-section. This is not the birth of life from life, or life from death, but the beauty and joy of death from death. Ahh what a beautiful optomistic picture this brings. I can only imagine that fateful day when they brought Marge into the lab barely able to walk on her own; Bobby jumping on her chest trying to get her warm dead heart that had given up so easily, to pump enough formalin through her lifeless old body to keep it from rotting. Little did he know he was also preserving a fine calf fetus for us to rip from her body only a few short months later. Ahh the sweet splender of surprise.
Our horse Frenchie was also blessed with life thriving inside him as we found out the other day. Though being male he was not with the pleasure of pony but did have a fine infestation of worms that Katie and I roughtfully picked out of his diaphram and facial layers of his abdominal cavity. You know they migrated there because the diaphram is the only muscle that is moving constantly and thus provides a fantastic and rich blood supply to thrive on. The best was when you're rip into their puss pockets and the worm would POP out of it's wormy home and say "Hey what's up I'm a worm". Gives me goosebumps of joy in all this remonicing. I know you wish you were there as always.
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