I just noticed that San Jose State is a mere one letter away from San Nose State, which, if you ask me, is a lot funnier.

Once again, Step Aerobics has kicked my ass. I'll be lying down now, a sweaty mess.

In other news, my grad-level fiction class met yesterday for the second time. I came armed with five pages to share that day and twelve for everyone to peruse between yesterday and next Monday. I was pleased to hear that nothing anyone read was downright awful (start contrast to last semester's undergrad version of the same class. Please believe me when I say that experience does count for something and that while you can hone your skills, if talent isn't there to begin with, and you don't want to hear criticism, well, you're going to spend the entire semester churning out drivel that nobody will want to read. But I digress.) and that my own stuff was warmly received, though the parts about the puke made everyone a little squeamish. Yes, loyal readers, I did my usual -- told something gross about vomit, then topped it . Thank you, thank you.

Despite the vomit, or maybe because of it, my work fit in just fine with the MFA candidates. Not bad for a Recreation major.

Today's Epilepsy Update
Yesterday, Patrick had two seizures, including a doozy that left him stuck with his head in the couch, unable to pull it out. It would have been funny, except that a seizure brought him there. We had to drug him not once, but twice with valium, leaving us with a very woozy pup. Gus is feeling more like himself, he even showed me both a stuffed pheasant and a frog today so I know he's on the mend.

Rainie and Patrick are at Spots right now because there's no way I can leave Patrick alone right now. What if his head got stuck in the couch or he had a seizure while at the water bowl and drowned? Though, I must admit that every seizure he's had so far has been while lying down, so there isn't too much risk of water bowl drowning.

On the business side of this, here's what Spots has done to try and make this right:

• Fired the girl who wrote Gus' name on Patrick's pill bottle.
• Without question, offered to pay for all the vet bills associated with this. Yes, we'll be taking them up on that.
• Retrained the entire staff on how to process medications on incoming dogs.
• Apologized more times than I can count.
• Came to our house to see how the guys were doing. This visit made it abundantly clear that Gus was not himself and that Patrick was sleeping off the Valium. Neither of them got up to greet him, certainly not their style.
• Admitted that the owner would have a hard time sleeping over this.

All this is well and good (no, really, it is) but in the end, they don't have to be there holding Patrick as he seizes, when he's unable to see me right there in front of him, they don't have to clean up the pee and the drool that he can't control and they don't have to try and comfort him afterwards, when he stumbles around whining in a scared tone we don't hear much.

Please keep both of our guys in your thoughts as they work their way through the Great Boarding Fiasco of 2004. I know they won't be far from my mind.

This morning brought us another seizure for Patrick and a call to spots. I talked to the owner, he was very apologetic and assures me that he'll figure out what happened and make sure it never happens again. No, that's not enough but it's a start.

Gus is still quite sluggish and Patrick is scared. So am I, buddy. So am I.

Back from the puppy ER. Patrick got a healthy dose of valium to follow up a second seizure. He's now very very tired and sacked out in a round bed. I don't know why people would want to use valium -- the first ten minutes after it was in were awful, he was rolling around like a crazy man and completely freaked out.

Not my idea of a good time.

Back from Vegas. Short-term, here's what happened. We came in third. More importantly and much worse than that was that Spots, our trusted cageless kennel, fucked up the medication for Patrick, giving it to Gus, despite the fact that it says PATRICK right on the label and that he wears a nametag that reinforces it.

As soon as we pulled up to the house, Gus fell down getting out of the car. He was very lethargic. I didn't put it all together until a few minutes ago, when Patrick had the biggest, worst, scariest seizure of his whole short life.

There was drooling, and of course, a big puddle of pee and the usual scary parts where his big brown eyes are wide open but don't see anything. I sat with him the whole time, talking to him, wishing that Andrea was here with me (she's on los airplanes right now). When he started to come out of it (and this is just a part of why I love him so so so much) he heard me and thumped his tail, trying to look around to where I was, but his little (okay, big) head couldn't make it all the way back to me and he lapsed into another seizure.

He's behind me now, sleeping it off, after a little while of stumbling around like a drunken sailor. Gus, on the other hand, is seizure-free and so lethargic he lays shaking on the couch. I want to call Spots RIGHT NOW, THIS VERY INSTANT, and bitch them out but the manager is not there right now so I think I should wait until the morning.

But then what? Even if they offer me something, that is so not the point. Patrick was ONE MONTH away from going on a medicine-free trial period. Now we have to wait, to drug him with that horrible mood-altering drug for another year.

Thanks a fuck of a lot, Spots.