I didn't actually realize that that is what today was, but when Oliver and I showed up at the nursing home this afternoon, it became apparent to me that it was, indeed, Fat Tuesday.
Oliver was the life of the party, proving to me that he is a born dog therapist. It was also interesting to watch people interact with him-in New Earth, the author talks about how puppies, babies, etc. are unblemished and in touch with their true natures. I've taken the older dogs, but never a puppy.
Now, I'm not saying puppies are superior to old dogs for therapy. Dottie is quite serene and she passes that on to her people she visits. But for Mardi Gras parties, scruffy pups are the bomb.