Light showers this morning, remnants of Gustav. Rain expected over the next couple of days. We need it.

Things Gaby Doesn't Like:

1) the pedal-operated kitchen trash can. Every time I open it, she moves away from it. I think she thinks it's going to eat her.

2) the sound of my hair dryer--it must remind her of the groomers. My dryer/curling iron doesn't bother her through, so she must recognize shape as well as sound.

I had forgotten how readily a dog with longish hair picks up stickers. The groomer is going to love Gaby's next visit.

When you have four battery-operated detectors of one sort or another within fifteen feet of you, it's hard to determine which one is making the dying battery chirp. Especially at 6am, with two dogs following close behind begging Mom to make it stop.

Oh well--off to it.

Someone has been snatching socks out of the laundry basket and leaving them about the house. I wonder who it could be?

Both vet and the vet tech who saw King during his last pre-Gaby visit remarked on the change in his behavior. A week and a half ago, he was suffering from kennel cough. He was also suffering, period, hiding behind my legs, refusing the vet office treats (which he loves), and, as I posted, snapping at the vet when she tried to take his temp. Miserable and worried and missing his buddy.

I confess I didn't spot many of the changes. I saw him every day, and noticed a couple of things, but thought he would be OK until such time as I felt ready to hunt for a new buddy for him. According to vet, King wouldn't have been able to last that long. She saw him in snapshot, and the major changes stuck out. She said that she was genuinely concerned.

No worries today. King jumped up on the exam table--front end only--and licked vet's face. Took several treats. Jumped up on the visitor chairs. His eyes are bright, and vet thinks he's building muscle--he hasn't lost any weight in the last week and a half, but he looks slimmer.

Vet said that when they found Gaby tied to the front door, she wondered why she (Gaby) had been brought there. She wasn't in the office the day that the other people adopted her--I think she would have asked a few more questions. Vet thinks Fate played a role in all this. She thinks Gaby was sent here to take care of King by being the little sister for him to take care of.

Little Sis has gained almost 2 pounds in the week she's been here--she now close to 28 pounds, and vet feels she should weigh about 35. I should simply continue to feed her the amount recommended for a 35 pound dog. It amazes me that she's so active and happy given that she weighs only 2/3 what she should weigh. Makes me wonder what she'll be like when she's where she should be.

She did test positive for coccidiosis, unfortunately, so she's on a med for the next week or so. Vet thinks squelching the bug will help her put on weight as well. She tested negative for heartworm, and had her distemper shot.

Busy morning. Happy ending.

For the first time since Tuesday, King rousted me out of bed by swiping my slipper-clog. Energy-wise, the edge has definitely been worn away, but I think he's adjusting to the puppy-like presence in his life. They're both going to the vet's this morning, King for his 6-month senior check and Gaby for a diet consultation--does she need to gain any weight? If so, how much? Does she need the special active dog food, or will regular do?

She is not a fan of beef liver. The last time I offered it to her, she made a face. Last night, I tried again--she again made a face, backed away, then offered me her paw. Please, Mom--don't make me eat the smelly stuff! Please!

Three day weekend. Thank heavens. Remember that writing situation I wanted to avoid? Book only half-finished as I enter the -ber months? Yup. I'm so there. It seems that this is the only way Brain can pull story together. Body is entering the gut-roiling state of panic, and Brain gets up from the couch and rolls up its sleeves and says, yeah, now it's time.

Brain Is The Suck. I hate my brain.

In tomato news, many blossoms. Some are browning and shriveling. No signs of tomatoes yet. Given that the days are getting shorter and the nights cooler, this year's tomato experiment may prove a wash.

Puppy pics, in lieu of text.

( Read more... )

Most of the open floor space in my bedroom is now taken up by two dog beds.

I'm turning into a little old dog lady...

I'm trying to take King for a walk every morning, weather permitting. Yesterday, things started out well. Then the drizzle began, which slowly transitioned to light rain. I learned the hard way that my orange rain jacket is no longer waterproof, and that rain water will run down the front of a jacket and soak the hell out of the legs of one's pants. King didn't seem too enthused, either. He loves to splash through puddles and run through marshes and slosh in pools, but there's something about water from above that he doesn't like. Doesn't like being sprayed with the hose. Doesn't seem to care for walking in the rain.

This morning, he dashed for the door as soon as he saw me collect my jacket. Stood patiently while I put on his training collar, then off we went. I planned to have him out for at least an hour--the morning was muggy but not yet oppressively warm, and he deserved a decent workout. But about five minutes out, he found a filled water bottle and did what he usually does when he finds water bottles. He picked it up, then held back and made wanna go home motions, walking behind me and turning to head back every time I stopped to see what he was doing. No, I said, you need at least a half hour. So he dropped the bottle and came along with me. On the way back, we walked down the opposite side of the road, but when we reached the spot near opposite the place where he'd left the bottle, he angled over and collected it. Walked with it for a time, then dropped it when he came upon one that wasn't filled with water. Because you can't crunch them when they're filled with water. He wound up dropping that one, too, but I picked it up to dump it in the recycle bin. King collected it from me, however. He chews on it every time he goes outside.

Rained buckets Friday night into Saturday. More rain last night, but not as much. The tomato plants are adjusting to their upside-down existence--they've all twisted and curled upward so that their leaves are facing out toward the light. I am going to have to trim back the oregano, which is expanding to fill a good portion of the planter bowl.

Just after noon. The guys are napping. Mickey had a breakfast of diced chicken and chicken livers mixed with rice and some of King's dry food. He picked out the chicken and livers and left most of the doggy stuff, which is pretty much what he did yesterday. I'm taking that as a sign that I'm feeding him enough, trusting that if he were really hungry, he'd eat everything. He sleeps for most of the day. Gets up to go outside. He stared down one of the neighbor dogs this morning, but didn't go to the fence as he often did.

I have the British Open on for the voices, and am gearing up to get started on some day job stuff. Dinner will be storebought pasta and sauce because cooking just isn't in the cards today.

The new Travelers Insurance commercial has been playing, the one with the older British gentleman complete with bowler hat carrying a huge version of the company's signature red brollie and using it to save various folks on his way to the city. There's an Alice in Wonderland whimsy to it that I like--the little kids with the broken bike being floated home, nestled in the handle. The stranded circusfolk sailing down a river in the upturned umbrella toward their home. No idea whether it's a good insurance company or not, but it's a remarkably sweet commercial.

And another surreal weekend winds down.

Things proceed on the tomato front. A few of the plants are 5-6" tall, and I planted them in the patio garden.

( photos behind the cut )

I'll be taking Mickey to the doggy hospital tomorrow. It's been a week and a half since this load of rocks fell on him, and I still haven't been able to step up his food intake so that he can take in enough calories, and it isn't going to get any better if he can't eat enough to maintain his weight. He ate breakfast and lunch, but turned away from dinner, and has been drinking a lot of water. Just spoke with his vet--it's possible that either his pancreas or liver is flaring. Time to call in the specialist.

The morning writing hasn't gone too well over the past few days. Mickey's morning meds get dosed over the course of an hour, which chops the time up. This means I need to watch the clock a little too closely, so the semi-immersion I need in order to get started doesn't happen. Add to that the general anxiety. Is he OK? Will he eat this morning? It hits me in my stomach, which means I can barely force coffee down, much less breakfast, and say goodbye to concentration. Maybe I'll try the night writing until this eases up.

Oh look--it's mid-July already.

Working on backfill, filling in the gaps in early chapters. Nasty meeting scene, in which protag is humiliated and discredited, is currently on the table. Hope I can make it nasty enough.

So far:

33,639 / 110,000 (30.6%)

I don't want to speak too loud, but a certain puppy is currently lying on the living room rug chewing on a (sterilized/no marrow in sight) bone.

The road outside my house is being paved. The equipment that tore up the old road makes a lot of noise, which rattles King oh yeah and Mickey to a lesser extent. I came home to find one of the dog beds fairly well wetted with what appeared to be water hork, which either one could have produced if worked up enough. The bed is currently outside drying. Given that it is supposed to hit 90+F here over the next few days, I expect it to dry completely.

Also found when I came home that both landlines were down. Called Comcast via the trusty cell. A reset of the modem brought back both lines, but one is kinda noisy. So they're sending a tech, who will be out on Monday afternoon. As long as the internets are working, I can deal with anything else. Even noisy phones.

Certain Puppy is now dozing, the bone tucked under one paw. He looked for the dog bed that resides in the living room during the day, but that was the one that got horked. I'll need to dig out some old pillows or a blankie for either him or King to sleep on, although it's still above 80 outside so it's possible the bed may dry in an hour.

Harrison is still en garage, which is fine. Not looking forward to that repair bill.

I just want some boredom for a while. Please?

The day didn't begin well, but it got better.

( puppy stuff cut to spare the non-doggy flist )

Still light out. I mowed the front yard this morning. Think I'll work on the back...

Back from the vet's. Yes, Mickey has improved, but not as much as the vet had hoped. He's not guarding his abdomen like he did last week, and his fever is gone, but his liver is still big. No repeat bloodwork for a couple of weeks--the values would still be high, and Mickey would be stressed for nothing. His course of metro has been extended from 10 to 14 days. I can up his dry food every couple of days, but need to keep an eye out for a decrease in appetite that would indicate it's too much too soon.

Vet doesn't think the marrow bone was the sole cause of this; she thinks it's been smoldering for a while. She said I was one of the most conscientious owners she knew, food-wise, and that I shouldn't beat myself up. OK.

If Mickey isn't where she wants him to be after this, she will refer us to a specialist. She wants to keep in occasional phone contact in the meantime.

I am trying to not have a bad feeling about this.

...you make your own fun.




( more unkindness behind the cut )

So last night was my Ravinia night, a Chicago Symphony concert featuring violinist Joshua Bell. I didn't want to go.

( Decision time )

( Puppy news )

Needless to say, did not make near as much of a dent in the word count as I wanted during my week off. Only 4833 words. Wanted at least twice that. I would've been better off saving the vacation days and continuing with the early morning writing.

Oh well, what's past is prologue.

1002 words between this morning and tonight. Crossed the 30K word mark, and am feeling those first twinges of middlebookitis, that good old who-the-flip-will-want-to-read-this? feeling.

8 weeks until Labor Day.

In other news. Harrison-the-Ford has been towed to the garage. The tow truck driver thinks the problem is vapor lock, likely a result of my not driving Harrison enough. I'm going to ask the mechanic to give him a good going over, which he hasn't had in a few years. Then I'll try to drive him a couple of times a week.

The Mickster continues to improve, fingers still crossed. I won't say what he tried to eat today, but it's become pretty apparent that his appetite is coming back.

Mickey loves to chew on bones, especially the beef bones filled with marrow. When Mom would give both guys these bones, King would usually bury his immediately. Mickey, otoh, would gnaw for hours, scraping the bone clean and getting out all the marrow. King would hover during this time, and pounce on the leftovers as soon as Mickey relinquished them. He never got much out of the deal, though, because Mickey didn't leave him anything except, well, the bone.

For one reason or another I've never given the guys any bones, which means that they haven't had any since last Spring. So, the weekend before last, I bought some nice soupbones and gave them each one, then did yardwork while they went to town. As usual, King buried his almost immediately, while Mickey cleaned his out.

The bone may have been what made him sick.

His system has become more sensitive to fats and proteins over the years. The led to the gall bladder and liver issues we've dealt with over the past couple of years, and finally resulted in his being put on a special lower fat, protein restricted diet. Well, the marrow he ate may have been enough to mess him up, even more so if the bone had any fat attached.

So, he used to be able to have bones, but he apparently can't anymore. And even though I had no way of knowing until I knew, I feel like shit.

Mickey was thisclose to being admitted to the doggy hospital, but he is recovering. I spoke with the vet today, and she said to increase the amount of rice I've been feeding him. Starting Wednesday, I can start adding in a few pebbles of dry food. The Mickster, meanwhile, is a little more active today, enjoying his rice and looking for more food and taking his favorite Kong away from King. Coming over to me and asking for head rubs. I take him in on Saturday for a follow-up.

Today, Mickey has eaten three small meals totalling 1.5 cups of cooked rice with either a little minced white meat chicken or the juice from cooked chicken livers. He ate with enthusiasm, and after meal #3 came into the kitchen to see if there was any more to be had. I need to talk to the vet and see when I can increase the amounts/start adding his regular food. He's moving around a little more, rubbing his head against my legs, and in general seems to be feeling better than he did yesterday.

King has been limited to two small meals of cooked rice, the first with some diced chicken livers and the second with some livers and a half-cup of his regular dry food.

The nurse had wine with her dinner salad.

So far, fingers crossed, all food has stayed in the stomachs for which it was meant. King doesn't understand this limited food thing, but I think it's best for him, at least for today.

Guess who just threw up his lunch?

Hint: It wasn't Mickey.

My problem is that when I have something hanging over my head, like monitoring a sick puppy, I have a hard time doing, much less concentrating on, anything else. I mean, I should wash my hair, but I'm reluctant to leave the living room. Mickey is lying on the floor. He's had a couple of pills and a lot of water, and I am crossing fingers that it all stays down. And it should, given the time lag, but I'm still reluctant to leave the room and like, I have to go to the bathroom, for crying out loud. But every time he moves, I have to make sure everything is ok.

This isn't going to be the most restful day.

King, of course, doesn't know what's going on. He's like the bouncy three year old vying for attention, competing with the sick sibling and losing. It's not fair to him. I will take him outside after I dose Mick with the metro and am sure he's going to keep it down.