Today I am buying socks. Lots and lots of socks. Not for me--for the girls. These socks will probably all be one color and one size. Because half of their socks wind their way from the floor to the dog's mouth to his digestive tract to his ---well, you know by now--Hannah and Charlotte are no longer permitted to request a particular color or size or style.
No. Now I get to answer "But why can't I have pom poms on my socks??"
with
"Because Mommy is tired of playing "Guess what I found in the dog's poop this morning?!"
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Random Question of the Week
Do you ever look up at the night sky and think, "Wow. I'm a part of that"?
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Another Poop Story
By now you've probably seen the list of things that Kairos has eaten. There's no telling what else he's ingested that we missed.
After his breakfast this morning I took him out to go to the bathroom. The last couple of times he'd had a little bit of trouble making things work. He would assume the position and then just move his tail up and down, as if he were working an old-fashioned water pump. It was the same today: he just stood there, waiting, moving his tail up and down; waiting, moving his tail up and down some more.
Finally! There was a bit--a tiny poop. More of a nugget, really. He moved to a different patch and continued his efforts. The neighbor came out of his side gate, scaring Kairos, who spun around, sending a sock whipping from his butt.
Two days ago, I saw him throw up what looked like either a sock or a napkin. Before I could get to it, he swallowed it again. I hope that this was the sock that he just pooped out and that there isn't another one in there somewhere.
And I still don't know where or when he found the sock. I do know that, because some of the sock poop got stuck to him and he won't left me wipe it off and he keeps trying to wipe it on the floor, I'm going to have the groomers shave his butt today.
After his breakfast this morning I took him out to go to the bathroom. The last couple of times he'd had a little bit of trouble making things work. He would assume the position and then just move his tail up and down, as if he were working an old-fashioned water pump. It was the same today: he just stood there, waiting, moving his tail up and down; waiting, moving his tail up and down some more.
Finally! There was a bit--a tiny poop. More of a nugget, really. He moved to a different patch and continued his efforts. The neighbor came out of his side gate, scaring Kairos, who spun around, sending a sock whipping from his butt.
Two days ago, I saw him throw up what looked like either a sock or a napkin. Before I could get to it, he swallowed it again. I hope that this was the sock that he just pooped out and that there isn't another one in there somewhere.
And I still don't know where or when he found the sock. I do know that, because some of the sock poop got stuck to him and he won't left me wipe it off and he keeps trying to wipe it on the floor, I'm going to have the groomers shave his butt today.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Overheard in a Coffee Shop
The guy sitting at the table behind me was trying to set up a web account. He had apparently already paid for the account, but hadn't yet received a confirmation email, so he called customer service.
After a few minutes on the phone, he uttered one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time:
Thanks for the laugh, dude!
After a few minutes on the phone, he uttered one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time:
"Yeah, you're right. I guess "butt smoke" is too obvious a password."
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Suicide By Sock
Kairos is one of the happiest dogs I've met. He's so excited to see people, whether a new acquaintance or an old friend, that he pees on them. Or on the ground at their feet. His tail is almost always wagging, occasionally even while he sleeps. Which makes it that much more difficult to understand why he seems intent on killing himself. With a sock. Or a headband. Or anything else that he can ingest that stands a good chance of blocking or wrapping itself around his intestines.
To date, the tally stands at:
I've been doing a little poking around and some of the tips I've found include:
UPDATE:
The sock exited the dog, using the back door. No complications. No $600 vet bill. Whew!
To date, the tally stands at:
- Fabric square from Hannah's Knot-a-Quilt kit: Forcibly removed before it went all the way down). Cost: one fabric square from Hannah's Knot-a-Quilt set and pierced eardrums when Hannah realized that we were going to throw away said fabric square.
- Fabric headband: Induced vomiting at the vet. Cost: two sets of X-rays, a full day stay, whatever medicine they used to make him vomit. Probably peroxide (see below). Cost: $600
- Sock: Induced vomiting at home. Cost: one tablespoon of peroxide (at the vet's instruction) and a roll of paper towels to mop up.
- Fabric headband: Induced vomiting at home. Cost: another tablespoon of peroxide, a roll of paper towels and having to listen to Hannah crying that that was her absolutely, positively most favorite headband and why can't she keep it. (She changed her mind after I took the limp, soggy, dog-food-smelling scrap of pink and silver headband out of the trash for her inspection.)
- Sock: Vomiting. He did this one on his own. Cost: A roll of paper towels, plus Thomas had to get up in the middle of the night to clean up the mess.
- Sock: Forcible extraction. I got it before it went down, but only because he was wearing a muzzle and I think that prevented him from swallowing it.
- Small cloth doll: Forcible extraction. Cost: temper and nerves.
- Ribbon--the one the vet used to tie on his post-op cone: It went all the way through. Cost: Ew, yuck, he had a ribbon hanging from his butt. (Hannah: Did you get it? I wanted that pretty blue ribbon. Me: It's not blue any more, sweetie.)
- String from a rope toy: Also passed through on its own. Cost: none.
- Sock: Still waiting for him to vomit it up. Cost: One tablespoon of peroxide and an "Oh my god--you're going right back to the breeder!"
I've been doing a little poking around and some of the tips I've found include:
- Obviously, putting all of the socks away, which we're all getting better about, but he grabbed the second headband while we were playing in the back yard, a mere five seconds after it fell from Hannah's head.
- Putting cayenne pepper or bitter apple on a sock that you leave out intentionally. The trainer did not recommend this.
- Give them a toy-but NOT a treat--in exchange for the sock--but this assumes that you actually see them before the sock goes in all the way.
- More exercise. In the beginning this would have made sense, because poor Kairos was pretty much confined to the house and yard until he had all of his shots. But either that's not the answer for him or it's just become a habit. He gets lots of exercise now and still, many things other than food must be eaten.
UPDATE:
The sock exited the dog, using the back door. No complications. No $600 vet bill. Whew!
Pica–noun Pathology.
an abnormal appetite or craving for substances that are not fit to eat, as chalk or clay, common in malnutrition, pregnancy, etc. Dictionary.com Unabridged Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009. |
Monday, March 16, 2009
Things I Never Imagined I’d Say
Hannah please don’t put the chickens down the slide again! And NO she does not want a ride in the swing again, either.
Charlotte—DO NOT wash your hands with that toothbrush!
Charlotte! Toothpaste! NOT the soap!
Whatever that is DO NOT put it in your mouth!
Jesus Edith! There’s a ribbon sticking out of the dog’s butt.
Feel free to add your own!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Update on Hannah's Art Contest Entry
Hannah's Poppy earned an Honorable Mention at the art contest sponsored by the Loma Prieta District Womens' Club and one of the judges said that she would like to buy it when Hannah has her first gallery show!
Reminder: Hannah is six.
She literally glowed when her teacher gave her the news.
I guess I'd better get started on transforming my plant room into an art studio for the girls.
Reminder: Hannah is six.
She literally glowed when her teacher gave her the news.
I guess I'd better get started on transforming my plant room into an art studio for the girls.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
The Dammit
First one of 2009! How, you must be asking, did I manage to go this long without finding something to be outraged about? Well, that gives us
Dammit #1:
I'm lazy. Well, feeling lazy, anyway. I just sent out invoices that should have gone two weeks ago (shut up, Thomas!). I've been dithering on a book proposal. There's a pile of laundry in my room that needs to be folded. The front garden is a mess (most wouldn't think so, but I'm usually a bit anal about it). Usually these would be signs of creeping depression, but now my brain is just tired. And feeling lazy.
Dammit #2:
R u s h L i m b a u g h. He calls women hos and femanazis; says that women work because they're unattractive and don't have alternative options for meeting people (men). He's loud and rude and crass. And yet he wonders why women don't like him. He has republican party bigwigs cowering at his feet and kissing the ring. He actually had the gall to invite the president of the US to debate him on the issues. Obama has more important things to thing about than a bloated talking head who thinks of no one but himself, but R u s h isn't not stupid; even this futile invite serves his purpose: Obama won't take the bait, leaving R u s h with the ability to say that Obama was afraid to come on his little show and "face" the 20 million, mostly male, listeners.
Dammit #3:
Bernie Madoff's portrait didn't go at auction. I expected that someone would have thought 100k a small price to pay for a large, sneering dartboard. Oh, wait: no one had any money left to pay for it. And he's just not worth the jail sentence one might get for slashing it. Not that I'm recommending that. Really.
Dammit #4:
I'm not ready to be 40.
Dammit #1:
I'm lazy. Well, feeling lazy, anyway. I just sent out invoices that should have gone two weeks ago (shut up, Thomas!). I've been dithering on a book proposal. There's a pile of laundry in my room that needs to be folded. The front garden is a mess (most wouldn't think so, but I'm usually a bit anal about it). Usually these would be signs of creeping depression, but now my brain is just tired. And feeling lazy.
Dammit #2:
R u s h L i m b a u g h. He calls women hos and femanazis; says that women work because they're unattractive and don't have alternative options for meeting people (men). He's loud and rude and crass. And yet he wonders why women don't like him. He has republican party bigwigs cowering at his feet and kissing the ring. He actually had the gall to invite the president of the US to debate him on the issues. Obama has more important things to thing about than a bloated talking head who thinks of no one but himself, but R u s h isn't not stupid; even this futile invite serves his purpose: Obama won't take the bait, leaving R u s h with the ability to say that Obama was afraid to come on his little show and "face" the 20 million, mostly male, listeners.
Dammit #3:
Bernie Madoff's portrait didn't go at auction. I expected that someone would have thought 100k a small price to pay for a large, sneering dartboard. Oh, wait: no one had any money left to pay for it. And he's just not worth the jail sentence one might get for slashing it. Not that I'm recommending that. Really.
Dammit #4:
I'm not ready to be 40.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Hannah Takes First Prize!
Hannah's Poppy took first prize for her age group in an art contest sponsored by the Woman's Club of Palo Alto this weekend:
The winners advance to the district competition on March 9.
The winners advance to the district competition on March 9.