Much as predicted, we have a new furry member of the family. Literally, the same day I wrote the last post, we went to a small town near us to a non-no-kill shelter and adopted our new dog, Bourby. It hasn’t been the turnkey experience that I was hoping for, but so far things are moving along. I don’t think he’s bonded with Scooby or Sadie yet, but they all seem to get along okay. These things take time I guess.
So, I don’t know.
I’m thinking it may be time to add to the family. It’s been nearly 1 year since Betty passed away, so nearly 1 year since we moved to Texas. And what nicer way to cap off this (very good, very bad, very weird, all in one) year than by adopting a new dog?
That’s just it. I don’t know.
There are so many places to find the right dog. And it has to be the right dog, I’m on a 3 dog winning streak. And I don’t want to adopt the wrong dog.
(So often I do that – hem and haw and think about it and then buy the first shirt/shoe/sofa/house that I see)
(Proof: 3 wedding dresses. An impulse pair of ankle boots, eventually returned and transformed into two pairs, both of which I adore)
(Also: that stupid dryer in the NC house, bought during some sort of energy rebate weekend even though it didn’t qualify because no dryer qualified but hey! Dryer acquired!)
(Furthermore: every mobile phone I’ve ever purchased, ugh)
Here’s what I want in a prospective third (fourth) dog:
- Male – Scooby is too old to care, but Sadie’s younger and I think she would see a male as less competition. (Basically, I’m trying to prepare for a post-Scooby universe)
- Older – Ideally around 5 or 6. Still younger than Sadie (who is 7 or 8?) but not a puppy and not a full senior
- Not too large – 50 lbs maximum, but even someone Scooby’s size (25 lbs) would work. There are a ton of rescue chihuahuas here and I’m not interested in little dogs. There are also a ton of pit bulls (and other breeds like that) and I don’t want a dog I have to explain to the vet, the insurance company and the neighbors.
- Maybe from a not-no-kill shelter in my area.
- Gets along with Scooby and especially Sadie.
Basically, I want a turn-key dog.
So. The terrible awful thing that happened the day after we got to TX.
(Hideous Spoiler Alert: As of today, we only have two dogs now)
Anyway. Early in 2016, Betty was taking a long time to pee. I’d noticed it even in Cheesecake City but chalked it up to her being old. Eating like a champ, able to get up on the sofa, etc. Eventually, the groomer pointed out to me that Betty had peed a lot at the groomers and I realized that it wasn’t just old age.
The vet diagnosed her with a bladder infection and gave us antibiotics. Dutifully, we gave them to her. She began peeing in her kennel at night, and in the house at all times. We’d moved the dogs to my old office so the dining room could be a dining room again and the dog room smelled just terrible 🙁 Still drinking water like normal, still eating like a boss, still the most loving dog anywhere.
And we were days from moving to TX. A 20 hour drive, stretched over 3 days so the dogs wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.
Back to the vet’s on moving day. Infection not gone. More meds, stronger ones.
Moving day was freezing cold outside and we had to leave the dogs in the back yard while the movers were moving. Poor Booper was freezing cold and sick, huddled against the side of the house because it was out of the wind and a little warmer. My incredibly sick dog, just desperate to get a tiny bit warmer. I will never forget doing this to her.
The first day, we drove to Atlanta and stayed at an Embassy Suites. We gave them all they wanted to drink, and oh my Betty wanted to drink so much water. If I’d let her at the swimming pool, she would have dried it up. Just a few minutes later though, she forcibly ejected it all. We decided that she wasn’t keeping down the new antibiotics so we stopped giving them to her temporarily.
Her illness in Atlanta was repeated at our next stop. By our last stop in east Texas, I’d taken to holding her at night (despite the protests of Scooby and Sadie) and trying to decide what we needed to do. Finally, the day before we hit our new home town, I called a vet in the new town and begged for an appointment as early as possible the next day. Our poor little girl wasn’t getting any better. If we gave her water to drink, she drank with intensity only to get rid of it quickly.
At the hotel in the new home town, we arrived around noon, unloaded everything and then Gene took Betty to the new vet. I did not expect good news. I honestly didn’t even think she’d come “home” again, but she did. For the night.
Bladder cancer. My poor baby had bladder cancer, and there was nothing to be done. The massive tumor was blocking her bladder so none of the ocean of water she’d been drinking actually went anywhere, which is why she lost all of it. “You have the best dog, with the worst disease” the vet told us.
Dutifully we went back to the vet’s office to begin the process. They did the first shot and then the second shot. When dogs go to sleep like this, they don’t close their eyes. They just aren’t awake. And then that’s it.
We elected to have her cremated, with her ashes buried at a memorial park for animals here in Texas. We still have her collar and leash and her kennel. I desperately want a third dog again, but mostly I want my Booper back.
Crazy shit I have done lately:
1) Posted 8 month old draft on blog for no conceivable reason
2) Lost my mind and good manners and was extremely rude to someone in a customer service position. (Seriously rude. And now I have to attend the Best Picture Showcase in disguise).
I’m blaming point #1 on being cracked out on Ambien. I really think that the zombies on the Walking Dead aren’t really zombies, they just took their Ambien and decided to go for a walk. Sooner or later they’ll get tired and wake up 8 hours feeling refreshed. We should all just be glad that they don’t have laptops or else who knows what crazy stuff they’d buy?
Point #2 is due to work stress. This has actually been the least stressful year end I’ve had during my career in payroll. In my old job, year end was an 11 on a 10 point scale for 3 months a year. In this job the entire year is a 7 on a 10 point scale. Some of it’s just ridiculous but none of it’s as ridiculous as it could be.
Dear My Immune System:
It’s December, so it’s time for me to make my annual reminder: There is no getting sick in December. There is altogether too much to do!
(Sidebar: People of Earth! Can we please move Christmas to July for real? I get that you want to decorate your house, your car, your kids, buy presents, take a week off, enjoy the snow, do the Elf on the Shelf thing and sing along to Debbie Gibson’s immortal version of Sleigh Ride but year end is on the way so this is seriously inconvenient).
Anyway. So no getting sick in December. I’m out of sick days anyway.
And none in January because that’s Year End.
February is absolutely a no go on illness because I need that month to catch up on the stuff that I didn’t get done in December and January.
March? Only if absolutely necessary. I have a week off scheduled but I really do not want to spend it sick.
Maybe April. Okay, immune system, you can wreak some havoc in April but only if my boss is in town and my robot coworker is around too.
And noooo, immune system, I will not do anything to make this easier. I got a flu shot what more do you want? I will not stay hydrated, I will not take vitamins, I will not get 8 hours of sleep. I will wash my hands frequently but that’s it.
Fight the good fight, immune system.
First things first: Gene has informed me that our next dog should be named Patrice, after the much maligned character on How I Met Your Mother. Considering that three dogs puts us above capacity, I assume that he will have forgotten this whim by the time we’re in the market for a new dog. (I also expect THAT to not happen for many years as Betty and Scooby are merely middle aged and have a lot of life in them).
Secondly, a month or so ago, the website Woot had a deal of the day for the Wisdom Panel Dog DNA kit. The exact item had been on my Amazon wish list for about a year but Woot’s price was about 40% cheaper than Amazon. Since we had to buy three I was eager to get it as cheaply as possible.
(And now that we know the results, I feel a little foolish about paying even the discount price. Not that swabbing your dog’s mouth doesn’t make you look like a jackass anyway, but I digress).
Back in the day, when my Grandma M and I would talk about the dogs she would always say “And you have beagle hounds, right Elaine?” and I’d say Yes.
Anyway. The votes are in and we are zero for three in terms of “I wonder what breed the dogs are?”.
Scooby – Scooby was listed on Petfinder as a beagle mix and to look at him, I completely believed it. I was 1000% sure that the test results would say “Beagle and shepherd. Have you even looked at your dog before?”. So imagine my surprise when the results stated he’s a “Chihuahua, German Wirehaired Pointer, Pekingese, Shetland Sheepdog, Tibetan Spaniel Mix”. The best parts were the chihuahua and pekingese, which are purse dog breeds and Scooby is absolutely a 100-lb German Shepherd in the body of a 25-lb dog. He loves to tangle with big dogs.
Betty – Betty was also listed as a beagle mix, I think. To be honest, when I saw her on Petfinder I knew she was our dog and the description could have said she was a Pit bull mixed with killer bee and I still would have oohed and aahed and ponied up the $80 to bring her home. After 10-ish years of ownership, Gene and I have assumed beagle and corgi and Luis Guzman’s forehead. So again…imagine my surprise when the results say she’s a “Chow chow, Pomeranian, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Samoyed, Vizsla Mix”. In retrospect, the pomeranian and Chow Chow parts don’t surprise me as they look like exceptionally sheddy dogs but Rhodesian Ridgebacks and Vizslas are long legged and short haired. Betty is…umm, furry and longer haired and has the shortest legs and most adorable paws ever.
Sadie Pot Pie: Sadie has always been our big question mark. Even the pet rescuer we adopted her from politely dodged our breed questions with “Umm, there’s lot of things in her!”. (The question was, “We think she looks a lot like our other girl dog, who we think is Beagle and Corgi”). We’ve posited a ton of theories about Sadie’s lineage but have mostly given up (“Sure, Corgi, golden retriever. Why not?”). So once again, imagine my surprise when the results came back to reveal: Beagle and Labrador Retriever. (And a lot of other things. At least half of her lineage is still listed as “Mixed Breed”, a/k/a who knows?).
So all in all, we thought we had a bepherd, a corgle and a whatever and it turns out we have a 25 lb purse dog, a 35 lb large breed dog and a 55 lb beagle. We have the melting pot of doggies and I maintain that all three of them can out badass anything at Westminster. Genetics are amazing things.
So, a week or so ago I had a dream that my mom gave us a dog. It was a dachshund/yorkie mix (a dorkie). I was upset because I didn’t really want a fourth dog and if we got one I wanted a corgi (which is true, I want a corgi so bad!). And as I woke up, I was trying to decide what to name this Dorkie Dog and came up with Pyle, in honor of Ernie Pyle.
Hmm, apparently I started this post at least a week ago. Except, I thought I’d finished it and posted it. In reality, I only wrote the post title.
Anyway, things here at home are pretty good. Ups and downs but nothing that makes me want to load up the car and flee.
Today I replaced our clothes dryer. The old model wasn’t entirely broken or anything but it was definitely fading fast and I wanted to replace it to take advantage of a pretty good sale at Home Depot.
A week or two ago we replaced the HVAC in the house. Apparently 13 years is a pretty good lifespan for it.
Mentally trying to prepare for the party known as Year End. So far all I can think is “OMG why does year end keep happening??” My coworker pointed out that this year we didn’t really have the lull one expects after year end. That plus a very stressful summer leads me to feel that there’s just no respite. I have enough time in my time off bank to take a week off, but my other coworker is a robot and never takes time off so I don’t want to look bad in comparison. (It doesn’t help that kicks way more ass at work than I do).
When you wake up in the morning because of an alarm, make sure it’s your alarm clock. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the phone, someone else’s alarm clock, or a dream. And then you can ignore it and sleep more.
Actually, it was a turkey on wheat with bacon, but who’s counting.
And with that, another Restaurant Week comes to a close. Thanks for being such a sport. Ahem.