Well played, pup.

So this morning, at long last, we took Tucker to the vet so his sutures could be removed. And we could finally take his spacedog Elizabethan collar off, even though he'd gotten fairly well accustomed to it: eating, drinking, running up and down stairs, removing his own stitches.

Yup. The vet came into the examining room, checked out his overall well-being (healthy pup!), flipped him over and said, "Huh. Somebody did a good job of taking those out."

And I was sure that we were going to get in trouble -- I love our vet, but somehow we always end up feeling guilty when we're there -- because it really did seem unfathomable that Tucker would have been able to manage that while wearing his E-collar, but the vet just said, "Okay, then. All done."

And then, guilt-free and collar-free, we headed over to the dog park, where everyone ooohed and aaahed over what a cute, fast, fun puppy we have, and my heart swelled with pride.

Yeah, I think it's official: I've crossed over to the other side. I'm a dog person.