Sick and small, he is the insect king. . .

February 6, 2011


My plan of attack for yesterday was to remain as busy as possible.

Busy makes the time pass, and prevents me from thinking too much.

It worked.







First order of business was to take Tikka to the vet.

Her ears are driving her crazy, they're so itchy, and the red color inside of them was making me nervous.

So off we went.

Sans Frankie.

We debated about taking him.

Stephen wanted him to come along because he doesn't appreciate being left without Tikka.

I wanted him home because taking Frankie to the vet when he doesn't have to go is cruel for him.

And us.

He doesn't like it there.

And he makes sure everyone knows he doesn't like it there.

I won.

He stayed home with Em.

Tikka came with us.

Stephen agonized the entire time we were gone.

And don't think I didn't care that my Frankie doodle was upset.

Laying on the mat in front of the front door, staring out the window, waiting for us to bring Tikka back.

I did care.

He's been separated from Tikka maybe three times in the almost two years we've had him.

But I still content keeping him in his house, with his Em, was the best choice.






The vet verdict.

Sarcoptic mange is attempting to make a comeback.

Thanks for the offer, but I think we'll decline.

We're still traumatized from the last visit.

Luckily, we caught it early.

Confined to her ears only.

Much easier to treat.

And she needed her vaccinations, so we got that over with, too.

Tikka loves the vet.

Or at least she loves going in the car to see people she knows will ohhhh and ahhhh over her.

What they do to her while she's there is another issue entirely.






After the vet and the vet bill, we decided to stop at the U Wash Dog Wash http://www.uwashdogwash.com/ because we were almost out of the biodegradable poop bags that have become a staple of clean household living.

One for the car.

One for the front hallway.

One for the basement.

The basement you ask?

Goblet.

And her absolute abject refusal to poop in the litter box.

Running out of these bags is akin to running out of milk around here.

Which I why I always purchase a minimum of 3 rolls, 120 bags per roll, whenever we're there.

And, since we were there, with Tikka, together, no Frankie, it seemed to me a perfect opportunity to give Tikka something else she desperately needed.

A bath.

Tikka is a Tervuran Belgian shepherd.

Which is a fancy name for dog-with-long-hair-who-sheds-constantly-and-gets-knots-in-all-the-wrong-places.

She should be bathed once every two months.

We don't quite manage that, but at least we get her there, eventually.

For $20.00, U Wash Dog Wash provides the facilities, the shampoos, brushes, knot removers, toenail clippers, vacuum like doggie dryers. . .

SO much easier than trying to bath her at home.

It's a minimum two hour job to bathe her properly.

Stephen was informed of this prior to beginning, as he can, sometimes, become impatient.

Starting with the 45 minute brushing regiment.

The goal: remove as much hair as possible.

And because there is so much of it, there's no fear she'll come out of her forced grooming bald.

The soaking.

Again, a daunting task, as you have to get at her undercoat.

The shampooing.

Two different types: the oatmeal for her dry skin and the coconut-smelling one for shedding.

The rinsing.

The drying.

The brushing.

Stephen more interested in cleaning the tub area and putting things away before I'm finished with them.

Locating Tikka's knots are a bit like a game of Where's Waldo.

Some are much harder to locate than others.

Meaning that I may not find one until we're in the after-shampoo rinsing phase of our operation.

Reaching for the scissors that weren't there, I found myself saying more than once, while up to my eyeballs in shampoo, water and wet, unhappy dog, "where are the scissors?" only to be told they'd been put away but hold on to my pantiloons, he'd go get them.

But the time and effort were worth it.

Tikka looks so good after a good bath and brush.

So pretty.

Smells so good.

Although I expect she was wondering what in God's name she'd done that was so bad she had to have needles and a bath in the same day.






After vet and bath, we returned home long enough to refuel while waiting for Em to shower before heading to the grocery store.

I had my day well planned.

Minute to minute.

And then the sort-of-but-really-why-didn't-I-expect-it unexpected.

A phone call from Meredyth detailing her latest crisis and what I had to do to get her sorted out.

This put me in a foul mood.

For, as with most of Mer's crises, everything could have been avoided with common sense, responsibility and the realization that Meredyth-Party-Fun-Time is not a life aspiration.

But that is taking far longer for Mer to realize.

And I'm left wondering how many more dealing with Mer crises I have left in me.

I know Stephen is running on empty.

But we managed to get groceries, get me to the nursing home and sort out the latest Mer crisis.

And all before the snow storm arrived.






I was supposed to go to Jerry's today.

But with 30 cms of snow, that is not possible.

I wanted to see him, too.

Needed to see him, actually.

I will be okay. I'll get through this, work through my grief and my disappointment in myself.

Writing is how I do that. . . getting it out of me and on paper, so to speak.

I will be fine.

No worries.

Just have to do it my way.

A way that doesn't include peanut butter macaroons or brandy.

Because neither is really helping me in the long run.



Title Lyric: Dirty Dog by Switchblade Symphony