pronoia

It Only Sounds Funny

When we got home tonight after work and a quick dinner, we discovered that Gracie, aka Eldest Dog, had been sick in every room in the house. Except the kitchen and bathroom of course, but those would have been too easy to clean up.

Have I mentioned the carpet is beige?

Have I mentioned the carpet is new?

Have I mentioned we rent this place?

Have I mentioned my carpet shampooer doesn't suck up fur, so that if you can't vaccuum first (say, because there's a large pile of dog vomit in the way) you create damp, compacted fur balls while attempting to make the weirdly colored stain go away?

Have I mentioned that I entered the house all happy because we finally, finally broke down and bought new bolts to put the bed together (the old ones never having materialized) and found that, once again, there's a reason I have to sleep on the floor?

For the record? This sucks.

$300 Later...

Grace had her follow-up appointment today. Not only did she have to get x-rayed again, they had to do an ultrasound, which involved shaving her belly, vacuuming her belly, squirting goo on her belly, and rubbing a wand around on her belly. She did pretty good for having been threatened by the dog-eater (i.e., vacuum).

Of course, the short answer is that we still don't know what's up. Her spleen is double the size it should be. Her ultrasound is a little wonky. Instead of exploratory surgery, we're going with the two weeks of painkillers thinking it might be osteoarthritis and the spleen is just a red herring. So here's hoping it works.

What, she had to be on daily drugs just like the rest of the family? Jeez, get over the pack mentality!

Of Dogs and Drama

Apparently Gracie, aka Eldest Dog, has been feeling left out of the health dramas around here. What's wrong with her? Who the hell knows! The vet couldn't find anything on the physical exam, and Gracie didn't yelp for her like she had for us. We decided to take some abdominal x-rays, though, and that's when things got fun.

First of all, when they pulled her legs/hips back to get the belly scan, she screamed, which suprised the vet. Then, the abdominal scan showed an enlarged spleen and intestines kind of mashed up low on one side instead of loosely throughout her belly. Finally, they did a hip scan, and there's the possibility she's got some hip problems coming on. Nothing showed up conclusively, but everything's just hinky enough that the vet is concerned. So we're to document her every sneeze, yelp, and poop, and do the x-rays again in two weeks. If they're the same, we'll do an ultrasound to see if there's something in there.

Of course, this is the day Ms. P is three hours away for work, so I can't even call to freak out on her that our not-quite-four-year-old dog has something weird wrong with her.

And on top of that, a friend's partner is missing, AWOL, vanished in El Paso. I wouldn't say I know him well, but I know him well enough to be made very edgy by this.

So I'm going to clean until it's time to pick Ms. P up for choir. That and try to get rid of this tension headache.

Claustrophobia

Lately, for reasons I cannot explain, the animals have decided I need full-body contact with at least one of them at all times. Right now youngest cat is sleeping between me and the keyboard. Yesterday, while beading, youngest cat slept between me and my beads, eldest cat slept on my book, and eldest dog took to pushing my arm with her nose to get attention.

I don't think they understand the concept of alone.

Escape Artist

We lost our cat last week. It was dreadfully cold, and several times a day we'd stand outside calling his name. Usually if he doesn't hear us one time, he hears us the next and comes running, tail up, paws frantic, to come inside where it's warm and cozy. For three days we called, even at 6am when the neighbors most certainly swore at us from their pillows, even at 11pm. Then we finally get a phone call from our next-door neighbor, an elderly artist who had feared for him in the cold and let him inside. She hadn't seen our car to let him out again.

Now, I appreciate her concern. It was misplaced with eldest cat, who once stored a half-eaten squirrel in a snowbank and tried to bring it along when Ms. P moved. But her concern for cats is admirable.

However. Eldest cat doesn't so much like having to live with dogs, although they've got a dutiful peace going on. He's an opportunist, and he got to live for three days with an old lady with other old cats in a quiet house without dogs. So when I thanked the neighbor profusely and asked her not to let him in anymore, she put him out the back door. I called him. I shook the Pounce treats. I made little cat noises. Nothing. He just sat on her back porch and cried to be let back in. I had to climb railless wooden stairs covered with snow to scoop him up (all 17 pounds of him) and carry him home again.

He wasn't impressed. We decided to keep him inside for a while, to reset him, so to speak. Ms. P wanted to give him a treat, so she gave him mahimahi. He got tuna. He slept on my pillow every night. He repeatedly pawed at the door and meowed to go out, but we ignored him. Our goal was two weeks.

Well, first thing this morning, while I'm switching the dogs on their lead, he sneaks out. Ms. P assures me he'll come home, that he knows where his home is, that he got mahimahi for fuck's sake! And I know he will. He came home when I first let him out after having to move in with a dog. So long as the neighbor doesn't let him in again (and I doubt she will), he'll come home. But oh, it makes me nervous.