"All a man needs is a good set of teeth and a good barber."
Jimmy Luxury, the best artist ever. Buy his CD now!
"All a man needs is a good set of teeth and a good barber."
Update on Ginger
I'm pleased to report that after extensive surgery, both Ginger and Lisa are on the mend, Lisa in traction but walking with a walker and Ginger in a crate but ready to get back to her high-strung life. Enough donations to cover 1/3 of Ginger's surgery have come in so far, thanks to everyone who helped.
In other news, we now have doggie seatbelts for all of our dogs.
2 dogs that we'd been trying to place through our rescue are being put down today. They're only 3 and 3 1/2 but one is a biter (or at the very least, a forceful snapper/snarler) and the other barks agressively non-stop. We'd sent numerous families out to meet them and wondered why they didn't get adopted. We stopped wondering when one was finally placed and returned hours later because he attempted to bite a little girl.
I know we can't save them all but this is the first time I've had to deal with this. At least the guy who has them now is going to be there when they die, they won't die alone and they won't be forgotten.
A Belly Full O' Funyons
We came home to a very fat Alice and a guilty-looking Zeus. Bagel staunchly denied any involvment. Alice got some Pepto in her dish, mixed with cottage cheese, which, while disgusting, she ate anyway. Blech.
Look, it's me, getting ready to go out on the ice at Monday's game. At least I think it's me. We won 3 - 0!!!
A bunch of chippies just moved into the cubes across the aisle from me. They started off the day by going into a cleaning frenzy with so much Simple Green that I got a headache and had to go outside. They enjoyed a catered lunch with much discussion of black bean soup and now are speaking quite loudly about their new surroundings and a woman named Debra, who doesn't seem to be here.
Good thing I'm moving to where they used to sit (don't ask, I can't explain it) next week.
Mark your calendars and tell me the woman on the page doesn't look like she's marching in a gay pride parade.
For Andrea, who thinks that you don't need to test-drive a car: MSN Carpoint tells you how to test drive a car.
We spent the weekend in our backyard. Not enjoying it, mind you, but working our asses off in it. (Seriously, at one point my shorts got so baggy I was showing crack, which of course I pointed out to Andrea) We rented a rototiller, driving my squareback so we'd have room to haul it home. Which was all fine until we went to load it, it was 1 inch too tall so we decided to rent a van from the rental place and haul it home that way.
Rototilling is a bitch. Andrea solved the problem of the tiller getting away from her by tying one of our many dog leashes around her waist and the tiller. We both spent much of the time tilling pretending we were cracking a whip above the tiller, then laughing hysterically.
Sunday we finished laying down 20 bags of fertilizer and rolling it out so it's sort of smooth. We thought hey, we'll just go and get some sod, then bam! we'll have a lawn with grass. Turns out that the spot market for sod is terrible, we called every Home Depot in the area (I know this because we now have a map of the Bay Area with every Home Depot on it.) The city of Cupertino won't allow them to sell it, every other place is sold out by 11 am on delivery days. I think we're forced with having it delivered for an extra $50, but at least then we won't have to fight for it. I'm checking out this page of Local Nurseries just in case I can order it without having to go into Home Depot again.
It's official! There are no reasonably priced homes in Pleasanton CA. Thanks JT
I get teary-eyed even thinking about what happened 2 years ago today. We had been to the pet store 2 nights before, buying the right bed, the right leash, bowls, toys and anything else we thought our Incoming Princess Alice would need. We'd arranged the bed in a cozy corner of the living room, all we needed now was to wait until we could pick up Alice.
That morning, May 27,1999, we got up early, we were so excited about her! We got a little lost on the way to Alice's house but still managed to get there 1/2 hour early. This is a major feat, we're late for EVERYTHING!
We passed the time in a grocery store down the street until finally, it was 9:30 am, time to get our Alice! We raced up the road and with pounding hearts, knocked on the door. When it finally opened, a vision in light brown and white came running out of it. That was Alice! I was in love!
We spent over an hour with her and her mom for the last 8 years (Alice was 9 at the time), hearing stories and getting kisses from our Princess. When it was time to go, Al came with us like she was meant to, hopping into the car like she'd always known one day we'd come to get her. On the way home, I promised her that we were her last home, that she'd never have to worry about anything again. She just looked out the window.
When we got home, she found her new bed right away and was snoring logs within 20 minutes of our arrival. We moved the bed so we could watch her sleep.
It's been 2 whole years since that amazing day. The sun shined, the heavens opened, and God gave us Alice, still the most amazing thing in my life. Today, at 11 1/2, I see her slowing down but just when I think she's officially and old dog, she surprizes me once again. In that time, we've adopted and loved, then held Ellie as she died, adopted Zeus, fostered many and now today, we have Rainie Roo, a 5 month old basset who's mom is named after Ellie. But through it all, in her mind, Alice is the only dog and will always be the queen of our roost. The day I met Alice was the best day of my life. I don't know how the sun came up in the morning without her here.
Please join me in congradulating Alice on her 2 year Gotcha Day. I'm adopted too, and I know that in a lot of ways, Gotcha Day is better than a birthday, it's not just the day you were born, it's the day you came home for good.
Why I could never work at a shelter, or why you should spay or neuter your pets
It is Wednesday afternoon. I make my weekly walk through our shelter and contemplate the number of animals we'll be able to bring into here tomorrow.
Four cages in the dog's kennel area, two in the isolation room and three empty cat cages are available. Depending on the size of the available dogs, it appears as though we'll have nine to thirteen openings this week. We've had several adoptions in the last few days and are lucky to have this much space available. It's never enough though...if every single cage were open it would still not be enough. There are always more unwanted animals than we can house.
It's Thursday morning now. A morning like every other morning except for the weekly task that looms before me every Thursday. You see, part of my job is to go to the Harrison County Animal Control Center and "choose" animals there to take to our Humane Society Shelter...animals scheduled to die on Friday morning...more animals than we have room for.
There is a full house of animals at the Animal Control Center this week. As I walk down the gravel road that separates our facilities I can hear them barking and see some of them in their outside cages. Every single cage is filled to capacity with several animals in each one. Animals that never asked to be on this earth or in this place.
When I open the door to the kennel area, a chorus of excited doggy voices greets me. They each seem to beckon me to "look at me, choose me, love me....." In run one is a large litter (9) of chow mix puppies, each one equally adorable. Run two holds a very old Golden Retrimever, two small briar scarred Beagles and a shy German Shepherd. Run three holds four dogs held for biting and four has two Terrier mix puppies, five shepherd crosses and a small puppy so mixed in breed no recognizable one can be named.
Run five holds several dogs unavailable for adoption at this time and six holds twelve different puppies varying in size, shape and breed. Each one competes for my attention, providing antics to persuade me to pay attention to just them.
As I start down the second side of the shelter, my heart drops. Run seven holds four confiscated dogs whose owner is being charged with cruelty to animals. These particular ones have been starved. Two large, withered Coonhounds and an old shrunken Beagle lay together in the corner of the cage and a pregnant female Coonhound lies on the outside. The female is so thin each rib is apparent. Her hair is dull and lifeless as is her eyes. She barely has the confidence to look me in the eyes and I am glad. I'm glad because I don't want to see the pain that lives inside of them...glad because I am ashamed that one of "my kind" did this to her. Her stomach protrudes awkwardly from her thin body...almost pulling her to the ground because of her weakened state. Food bowls are filled to capacity, but these animals no longer have the desire to eat and are so ill the food goes untouched. As I turn to go, the pregnant females tail slaps ever so slightly against the concrete floor. As cruel and horrific as mankind has been to her, she still longs for the kind word or soft pet she knows must be in them.
Runs eight through twelve hold more of the same. Relinquished pets who aren't "cute" anymore or who ate little Jimmy's favorite toy. The St. Bernard mix who "got bigger than we expected (?)" and puppy after puppy whose owners thought they could find a home for them but couldn't. Puppies, who have never known love or a real master and who for the majority of them, never will. Older dogs ready to die whose owners either didn't have or wouldn't spend the money it would take to put them to sleep at a private veterinarians office. I see dogs who are frightened, depressed and unable to understand why they are here and where their master has gone...dogs who because they are so withdrawn, will not find a new master in time.
Now I must "choose." I walk into run one and bend down to examine the chow mix puppies. When I get to floor level, my lap is filled with the wiggling, licking puppies. Each lick says thank you...each glance one of pure adoration. I choose four, two boys and two girls, choosing simply by sex, as each one is equally wonderful. Many of the animals I am looking at are too sick to be adopted out; and therefore must be passed over by me as well. Their illnesses are caused often times by the negligent way they were treated before they came here. Many die of parasites and controllable diseases that could have been prevented had they only received a little care...a worming or a vaccination.
In run three I take the two terrier mixes and the small unrecognizable breed. From run five I take a lab mix puppy, a half grown German Shepherd and two cocker crosses. I only have two spots left and I've just finished side one! I retrieve a Boxer mix from run nine and in twelve a Beagle puppy.
I've reached my limit but there are so many more left. The animals look at me hopefully, wagging their tails and bouncing against the cage fronts. "Don't leave," they seem to say, "I'll be a good friend to you if you'll only let me try." I try to avoid their eyes and actions and remain focused on the fact that I was able to save the thirteen dogs in tow. I try not to hear their cries...try to pretend they're not back there...the way so many do when they leave them here.
I enter the cat area expecting the worst and I am not disappointed. Every cage is filled with every color and age assortment imaginable. I only have three available cages and there are at least thirty-five animals in these cages. I pick three tiny kittens (I can put them in one cage and still have two choices left), a large white female about one year old and a large black and white neutered male whose owners "suddenly developed allergies."
My two kennel technicians walk over to help bring our pets to the shelter. Eighteen animals will be taken out of here by us this week (an unusually large amount) and we are still leaving over fifty animals behind that are available for adoption. Why can't we make people realize there is absolutely no reason to let their animals breed indiscriminately? I only wish they could see what we see every week of every year. We take our charges to the shelter and settle them in their new temporary homes. Each one is given a raised platform or a soft carpet to lie on, a full food dish and fresh water, a chew and a toy or two. Shots and worm medicine are administered and baths are given. It's been a long day for us all. The animals settle into their new surroundings and we go home.
It's Friday now. If possible this day is often worse than the last. This is the day of the week that the animals we left behind are killed. We drive our cars by the closed facility and try not to imagine what is happening inside.
Before long, we can hear the doors open and a thudding sound...a sound we know all too well. You see, this is the sound of their now lifeless bodies hitting the bottom of the truck that will take them to their final stop. The sound of the many creatures that only yesterday looked to me for comfort...who asked me to choose them...who only wanted one last chance.
I try very hard to focus on the good we do. I don't want to downplay the tremendous effort it takes to save and place the many animals we have, but I cannot forget the ones I didn't save...the occupants of the truck that leaves the Animal Control Center every week.
I walk back to the dog runs and view our newest arrivals. Everyone has had their cage cleaned, eaten breakfast and are now napping or pulling on their littermate's tail. I bend down to the little Beagle I just brought in. She gratefully licks my hand and then my cheek. Her eyes are so full of adoration and gratefulness. I try to look past the tears in my own, and for one moment forget that I'll have to do this again next week.
Author unknown. For Bagel, Duke, Daisy, Poppy, Mabel and all the lucky ones I've been able to help spring and save from shelters
I was talking to a co-worker about how stressful life (especially families) is when another co-worker joined our conversation. She reminded us that no matter what happens, God still loves you.
A good point, I suppose, but not the sort of thing I'm used to hearing from someone at work. Maybe I've been around the heathens too long.
Michelle's Happy Page, bet I can make you smile.
Wow, the Kaycee drama made the news. You know, not just the world of Web surfer's news, but the actual news media, people who get paid for telling people about stuff.
Ow! My Ass!
The end result is that my ass hurts a lot.
Don't even ask me how I found this: Chautauqua County Convicted Drug Dealers.
Kids, I'm out of the office this week, at an Intro to UNIX system administration class. I'm having a great time, see you later in the week!
I'm not THAT Liz2d2
Feel free to drop her a line and remind her to let her friends know that she doesn't have it on IM.
For some, gender is a fluid thing. In the global sense, it doesn't matter if you grow up as a boy, knowing that you're really a girl, or vice-versa. I have no problem with that, if it's so important to you that you move to a strange town, save up $30,000 and have some surgery, and the end result is who you wanted to be, good for you.
Yesterday, I ran into a woman I'd dated briefly in college. Only now, she's a man. While everyone else in the room had seen her recently and knew about this development, I wasn't in on the scoop until she spoke and this man's voice came out. If it's what she wanted, what she feels she needs to do, great.
It still freaked me out though. While she was never girlie, this seemed extreme to me. I think it always will.
Woo hoo!! The Jimmy Luxury CD has finally arrived. You must buy it. Buy it now!
I guess the whole Kaycee thing was a hoax. What a crock of shit, to solicit people's compassion as a hoax. Whoever did it, whoever she was, you should be ashamed of yourselves, getting people to beleive in you when you were just a flash in the pan. And if she did indeed exist, then this is more fucked up than I thought.
At long last, here's part two of Tourette's: A Journey.
Half of our recent vacation story is now up for your perusal: Tourette's: A Journey.
My hockey name is Shane McDoughtychuk. Thanks Amyfritz!
Sometimes I just want to say exactly what I'm thinking. But then I realize people wouldn't like me very much.
Sometimes, Tourette's is funny. Sometimes it's annoying. I'm not embracing anyone's Tourette's today. Try me again tomorrow.
I think this week has caught up with me and I'm just ready to pack it in, starting over again next week. The good news is I'm taking an Introduction to UNIX systems administration class for much of next week so I can come back to the office talking like a geek, then promptly forget it all. Hopefully I'll retain one or two kernels of knowledge.
The full names of all of Rainie's littermates, Ellie the basset's pups:
Just when rescuing dogs seems too much to bear, that I can't save enough of them to make a difference, here's why I won't stop: I Want To Quit!
Here's one way to avoid paying for your lunch: TIME Magazine -- My Day With The Stanley Cup.
Reading The Tin Man's post about losing his childhood dog made me think. Ellie died over 7 months ago and I haven't talked about that day and the days leading up to it, though I've re-lived them more than I care to admit.
We adopted her on April 1, 2000, after I'd heard about a senior beagle with a tumor on her leg who had been found on the side of the road. She was taken to a shelter where her chances of adoption were slim. I got up early that day and drove to Berkeley (passing the brand-new IKEA that hadn't opened yet, and commenting to myself that it would probably be the only time it had an empty parking lot). Berkeley Animal Services is the city's smaller shelter, everyone I met was very nice, some folks looked like they were going to cry, they were so happy I was taking her.
We'd thought that we'd just foster her, hoping that the tumor was benign. 6 days after she came home, she fell into a slump, didn't want to eat, walk or do anything but lay curled up in a ball under the end table. We got the diagnosis, it was hemangiosarcoma, a tumor that would eventually spread to other parts of her body. She also had high calcium levels that hinted at a second tumor, inside her body. That day, I was ready to let her go but we tried some Rimadyl and deli turkey as a last straw. She ate the turkey and the Rimadyl gave her valuable time with us.
In some ways, those 6 months are a blur. Eating was a daily struggle, we tried baby food, turkey, roast beef, cheese, wet dog food, hot dogs and finally, in July, McDonald's hamburgers. She loved those, barking like a madman every time I rolled into the drive-through. She came to work with me a lot at the end, sleeping under the extra chair in my office and making friends with my co-workers. Twice last summer, she freaked out (we called them Carol Ann episodes, she seemed absolutely possessed), yelping and running around, chewing everything in sight (casualties included a Dreamcast controller, a remote control, the fan cord and my family's antique chair) and rubbing against anything she could find. It was like she was trying to get out of her skin. The first time, we got it under control with cortisone, the second time, it worked it's way out, but the third time...
Saturday, Oct. 7, 2000, 11:00 a.m. Carol Ann returned. I was standing in the kitchen when I heard her yelp and start the Carol Ann routine. We gave her a few minutes but called the vet to see if they could squeeze her in. We headed out the door with her but 1/2 way down the walk, she seemed to feel better so we turned around. As we went back into the house, I heard Alice baying like she's never done before, and hasn't done since.
3:00 p.m. She's not getting any better, running around, panting, chewing, not seeing me through the pain. I rush her to the nearby open vet clinic, where they tell me she's blind (she wasn't until 11 am that day, I think the pain did it). They shave a huge spot on her belly and give her a narcotic patch, hoping to alleviate the pain. They wrapped the area in some stretchy ace-bandage like stuff but warned me that it probably wouldn't stay put. I put part of an old t-shirt over the bandage and secured it with hockey tape, hoping that would help.
That night I went to a movie with my brother and his wife. We stopped at my house on our way to dinner afterwards so I could check on her. When I walked in, I was in a panic, I couldn't find Ellie. I ran outside to our patio, where I saw the t-shirt and the bandage hanging from a rose bush branch, but no Ellie. A closer look showed her in the farthest corner under a bush, panting miserably and hiding from me. I brought her inside and held her (this was a girl who I couldn't hold, I think the pain was too great until the end) as she whined. I cried to Chris and Marci that there was nothing I could do, Marci told me there was.
Ellie didn't really sleep that night, choosing to pace frantically instead. We didn't sleep either, listening to her pace and worrying about her. I had a band concert the next day but I cancelled it, knowing somehow that this was Ellie's last day with us and I wanted to be with her. We hoped she could make it through the day so we could put her to sleep at our own vet's office Monday morning. A friend suggested that maybe it was just a toothache, that gave us hope for a few hours.
I laid down for a nap around 5 pm and woke up an hour later, as Andrea yelled to me that Ellie was pooping blood. I ran downstairs while we put Ellie outside. I cleaned up her indoor poop as well as the outdoor. I knew I didn't want to see that when we came home. We gathered an old towel and Alice and ran to the car. For the last 6 months, I'd put off making this drive but in the end it couldn't happen faster. Andrea drove while I sat in the back with Ellie. She was crying so loudly, Alice cried with her.
When we got to the emergency vet, I stood there holding her while we checked in. They didn't find her in the computer because she'd never been there. I shouted that "She's never been here!" over her cries. They finally let us into a room, the vet had to shout over Ellie's cries while Alice hid under a chair. The vet thought it might be colitis and suggested treating it. While she got the medicine, Ellie freaked out even more, pooping more blood all over the room. By the time she returned, I had cleaned up that poop and we knew that it was time.
We went into a different room and they explained the procedure, they'd give her a sedative and then when she was good and relaxed, they'd give the final shot. She fought the sedative hard for 30 minutes (it was supposed to work in 15), but just as they were ready to give another one, she fell asleep, snoring abruptly for the first time in days. It was comforting to see her so relaxed after so much pain.
Finally, at 7:50 p.m. on October 8, 2000, Ellie died in my arms. She took one sigh and left us. We stayed with her for a long time afterwards, covering her with the blanket they gave us. Finally, we left her there and went home. I cleaned out all her medicines right away, gathered up the baby food and the wet food to give away.
I let our regular vet know the next morning, they cried too. Less than a week before, we'd had x-rays done that showed the arthritis in her spine but no confirmed tumors. I thought that meant she'd be with us longer, but no. Our vet had long suspected a lymphoma in her liver, she believes Ellie's death was from a large piece of that tumor breaking off into her bloodstream. That also explains the Carol Ann episodes. We'll never know, but in the end it was so clear that she was already gone that it doesn't matter how it happened.
I'm grateful for the 6 months, 8 days we shared with her. While I may knowingly adopt a dying dog again in my lifetime, it won't be anytime soon, my heart is still broken.
Today, our house is full with Alice, Zeus (who came unexpectedly on Dec 22), Bagel, a sweet foster dog and our newest arrival, Rainie the basset hound. Rainie's mom was saved from a puppy mill last fall and is named after Ellie. The day we picked up Rainie, I was surrounded by 4 of the pups from Ellie the basset's litter and Ellie herself. It was sad and sweet, I never would have imagined that my sweet Ellie would bring me to the place where I'd adopt a puppy, but in many ways Rainie is Ellie's granddaughter and it's wonderful.
Ellie McBelly April 1, 1987 - October 8, 2000
Day 2 of the server outage at work and I'm running out of non-server stuff to do. When 90% of your work happens on the server, that doesn't leave a lot of other stuff.
However, my inbox is no longer over it's size limit.
What's been going on
Bagel visited the nice doctor and was found to have arthritis and allergies. His bloodwork was normal, he's on asprin and antihistamines and is a new man, chasing toys like he just discovered them. Hell, maybe he did.
Rainie is still silly and fabulous, Alice is withholding judgement on the whole puppy situation until further notice. She did, however, stop growling at Rainie as much.
Our Internet connection at work has been down all day, leaving my entire group unable to work. It would be fabulous if I didn't have a bunch of stuff to do.
More of my fabulous hockey-playing ass, this time waiting for a face-off.
Work Avoided Through Extensive List-Making Thanks Phil!
When I am old, I shall grow my hair into a grey mullet and wear it with pride, shouting at all the youngsters who get in my way "outta my way you little asshole!"
We love our neighbors, they're all very nice people, I feel very lucky to be living next to such nice people. On our left side is a huge family, 10 kids, 30 grandkids and at last count, 45 great-grandkids. Most of these folks live within about 2 blocks of our house, some of the grown kids live next door, with Mom, so there are constantly cars coming in and out of the house. With a 1-car wide driveway, it makes for some crowded conditions, so they're always watching the street in front of our house for an opening, then they run out and move one of their cars from the driveway to that spot. We didn't think too much of this until we met a couple who had lived in our house 20 years ago -- they've been at this parking switcheroo for at least 20 years!
Now Andrea is obsessed, she parks there every time the spot's open, even if we don't need to (we also have a 1 car driveway, it causes problems sometimes). To fuel this obsession, we'll be installing a ParkingSpotCam as soon as I get the DSL running at home. Enjoy!
Play hockey with Jesus. Thanks Brad!
Parenting at it's finest: Mom arrested after driving into parked car, then taking children into nearby bar.
Though we are mad about our new basset hound, I don't think we'll get a basset license plate. Only because we have beagles too, and who wants to offend?
Things you really need to know: ow To Look Sexy While Only Wearing Underpants
Tourette's: A Journey
The highlight of our trip was meeting some of my beagle buddies and all of us going to meet Ms. Rainie, our bundle of puppy joy. She was awesome on the plane, didn't make a peep, only turned around a few times. She's integrated herself into our flock of dogs and our hearts in no time, I can't hardly remember what life was like before her.
Another thing about the tragedy: Ginger the dog was not restrained in the car, most dogs (including my own until today) aren't. Please let this be a lesson to all of us, put your pet in a crate or harness it in with a pet seatbelt harness when travelling by car with your pet.
A Terrible Tragedy
Ginger is having surgery today, it's estimated that it will cost $2700 to fix her extensive injuries but she will eventually heal. It would mean everything to Karen for us to save her last rescue/foster dog. If anyone would like to contribute a donation to the fund that we set up to help with the vet bills, please make your tax deductible donation to Tri Valley Animal Rescue c/o Ginger. You can send the donation to Linea McPherson at 644 Praderia Circle, Fremont, CA 94539.
That's it kids, I'm off to wild wooly Arizona until Sunday so if you're looking for fresh content, I am not your source. Peace, out.
Here's what I did yesterday: a beaglefest! Note that Zeus was a real pain in the ass for much of the event.
Amy came over, we watched our Episode of the Price is Right. It's still fabulous, it gets better every time. We realized that my snide comment was 'I'm just shouting out numbers' and Amy saying 'that's a good idea.' She started shouting out numbers then too.
Thank god it's National Masturbation Month! Anyone going to participate in the Masturbate-A-Thon? Don't tell me if you do, but have fun.
Anyone looking to import shoes from Indonesia can do so here. Why they thought sending me spam was worth their time, I don't know but it is kinda funny. Shoes!
Our Episode of The Price is Right
Grandma reports that she saw my arms wave, Mom forgot that I'd died my hair blonde so she wasn't sure she saw me. But I did! No less than 5 times did I see my face right there next to Amy. Wow! We're famous! Soon enough people will be calling, wanting me to wave my arms on their TV show!