(no subject)

Last night there was a horribly starved dog eating out of our garbage.

I've seen dogs in such bad shape, but only in pictures accompanying news articles about the owners being arrested for animal abuse. I saw it from the car as I went into the garage, and from that distance and at that speed, I could see the separate bones in its legs. This was like Auschwitz dog. And it had one hind leg drawn up like it was broken, too.

I didn't dare approach it -- and what would I have done with it if it would have let me catch it? I called Animal Control, and they sent a van, but they went down our alley and then up the alley across the street, which suggests that they didn't find it.

I still feel a little sick to my stomach when I think of the poor thing.

Random SGA musing

I want to read a story in which Rodney tells seven people seven different dates for his birthday (or at least strongly hints at seven different dates) so he'll get seven different cakes.

And you know who's maybe the only person who would fully understand what John did to Col. Sumner? Who would have already thought about what he would do in a similar situation, already wrestled with the ethical questions? Carson.

Edited to add: Check out the comments for a mini-story from iibnf including Ronon in sexy oven mitts!

New SGA smutlet posted to merrymakings: Knowing

I wrote Knowing for merrymakings, a new community that's collecting cool stuff to entertain merryish when she's home from the hospital. McKay/Sheppard, NC-17. (This is the story I hinted at in the "How To Write A Sex Scene" essay, btw.)