Sunday, March 19, 2006

'Angus Bathoon is a Fat Kid!'

And is there a place where I can get colored contact lenses for my dog?

So, for yesterday and the Saturday before the dogs (one per appointment) have gone to the vet for their annual check-up and shots. Jezebelle was the last dog we had to the vet before these appointments and that was in the summer when she broke her toe jumping like a maniac hopped up on angel dust from the couch to the ottoman to keep Angus from getting her rawhide. The vet doesn't like me. He actually told me that I ask too many questions. Sorry, I need answers. I can't be plagued with wonder about why the stuff for Angus' ear smelled and looked like and came in the same kind of tube except one was longer like the stuff he had for his eye and why if they were the same did I have to buy both? If you don't tell me, I will sit and ask myself these sorts of questions and go insane! Anyway, I had started to fret a couple days before because I knew that Jezebelle did not react well to leaving the house and driving in the car the last couple times I have been in the car with her and hubby was always there with me. I had never taken her in the car all by myself. Hubby said he would go also. She was seriously well behaved and didn't pee on or vomit up anything. She sat still looking out the window and was my perfect, little angel. She also behaved for the vet...until he tried to clip her nails, but still she received nothing but praise for her health and behavior. Woo-hoo! I thought it would be smooth sailing from here. Angus' appointment was yesterday. I set the alarm for seven am and went to sleep only two wake up around two am having to pee so badly I thought I was gonna explode...not that you really needed to know that. So I hit the bathroom and headed back to bed only to have the godforsaken owl that lives in my barn hoo-hoo me to near insanity. I literally put the pillow over my face and not to drown out the noise but to suffocate myself so I'd never have to hear it again! Finally, I fell back to sleep. But at precisely five am, hubby's cell alarm starting going off, waking me again. I tried to ignore it for about fifteen minutes but that really didn't work so, I got up and tried to turn it off. This not only had me leaving the comfort of the warm, comfy bed when I had barely slept at all but also the bedroom where the temperature is livable...let's just say I'm never gonna get hypothermia in the bedroom! Because hubby has one of those ridiculous TREO 650 phones I cannot figure it out. I'm a girl. It's too complex for something that isn't so necessary. Basically trying to operate the thing just hurts my head and I say things like, "Why do you need that?" a lot. I do know how to make the alarm snooze though, even if it does only do it for like ten or fifteen minutes. I head back to bed, hoping for crash for a little bit longer, or at the very least, regain the feeling in my toes (Are they supposed to be blue?). The cats had already noticed I had gotten up and had left the room. They had also noticed that it was light outside. Arrgh! Have you ever tried to share a full size bed with another person who sleeps like a crash victim and three cats, one of which, weighs 48 pounds, keeping in mind that all three cats want to be fed right friggin' now? It's brutal...and a lot of the time one of them ends up tossing me on to the floor. We're getting a new bed though...just as soon as we can figure out which the largest is we can get up the back stairs. Anyway, the alarm was going off again and so on and so forth so I crawled out of bed and into the day (sort of like 'Samara' from The Ring...except my hair is much, much shorter. I washed got dressed and washed my hair, let the dogs out, fed the cats, bitched at hubby 'cause he has so many pairs of shoes and they all seem to live in the kitchen. You know, the usual. We got Jezebelle into her crate because she knew we were only taking Angus in the car and she had to stay home. She was going nuts but we got Angus outside and into hubby's truck. Of course, he had to sit on the front seat with us, but he was mostly well behaved...if you don't count the puddle he drooled on leg of my jeans. We get him to the vet where he as a clearly large dog is weighed and is found to be 105 pounds. Not surprising. I actually thought he weighed more. Huh. The vet, while handing the dog treats like they're candy (hmm...nevermind) tells me my dog is fat and should weigh 20 pounds less than he does. I could not imagine my dog weighing only 85 pounds. In general he is a big fuckin' dog. So my dog is a fat-ass according to the vet and is supposed to lose some weight by his next appointment for Lymes booster shots on April 15th. I am actually so surprised the man didn't try to sell me diet dog food. He's such demon! This prompts hubby to start saying things to the dog like, "Angus Bathoon is a fat kid!" which is who he was named for as they told me when I got him as a puppy he was going to eventually be a very big dog and now the statement is actually true. There was some laughter, but I squashed it. Don't want to give the fat kid a complex. We left the vet and headed for the bank drive-thru, which should really be called the drive-thru puppy cookie store. Angus only tried to eat the teller once and she still gave him three cookies. We were like, "Maybe this isn't so good for the fat kid." Angus really didn't have any interest in the cookies though. I don't think he was barking at her, ordering her to give him cookies. I think it was just because he really wanted to eat her. He's a little feisty. We get home. He was mello-pup for the rest of the day yesterday...really didn't even want anything to do with peanut butter or Tyra Banks. Strange, I know, and I assume it's from the shots. Last night, while hubby was off doing some work, I was watching this story on Animal Planet about how a lot of Dalmations aren't marketable because their eyes aren't blue. I looked at Jezebelle who is Dalmation-Pointer and she has brown eyes. I wonder if this is why she was at the shelter and was deemed to have behavioral issues (hyper-activity and general craziness...she also posses the ability to jump five feet in the air without a moments notice and for no apparently good reason). I started to wonder if she would like contact lenses and then if and where there was a place that made contact lenses for dogs like a place that caters to Hollywood pooches. Then I wondered if you could even get a dog to wear contact lenses. It was all too much! Today, I got up late (nine-thirty am) and then hubby wanted to take both dogs to the dog park. I usually protest because it's just a filthy fucking disaster and then they come home muddy and smelly and I have to give them baths...and Belle fucking hates that. I decided that if I said no one more time, especially now that they had gotten all their shots again, hubby would divorce me. Si we loaded into the truck and headed to the dog park, which is a gigantic chunk of land that was donated by someone and is surrounded by water on three sides. The dogs love it. Angus was running too fast and took a dive, sliding about three feet on his face. He got right up though and headed back to play with the other dogs. Jezebelle loves to run and she loves to sniff things so you can imagine she was losing her mind. They played for about an hour, making lots of short-term friends and then we lost Jezebelle. Hubby and Angus went off to find her and didn't return for twenty minutes, in which time I was sniffed repeatedly by a Rotweiler that apparently had no owner and another man came out of the woods with a dog, a man I had talked to earlier, asking me if I was looking for a dog. I told him my husband had gone to look for her. This man then told me my husband had found the little black and white dog but had now lost the golden. How does a grown man go into the wood with one dog seeking another and come out with another, the one sought? Finally the dogs were wrangled up and put back in the car as the muddy, disgusting messes I expected them to be. We stopped at McDonald's on the way home, hubby strangely thinking the dogs were mellow enough to be able to go through the drive-thru. This was not true. Both dogs, who were in a comatose staight in the backseat of the truck until then, rose barking and tried to eat the drive-thru speaker box. I think they though there was a woman inside. When we got home, I of course got the pleasure of giving the dogs baths because hubby gets frustrated easily, espcially when he has no idea what he's doing. Belle's bath went surprisingly well. She didn't escape the tub once and she didn't really even fight. Angus on the other hand was so worn from the weekend's activities thus far I had to lift him into the tub. He, of course, was covered in thick smelly mud and protested the entire time. Both dogs have been rather comatose this afternoon so I thought it would be a great time to try to get them accustomed to the cats again. Lately, we've been working with Boo who is so laid back it's not even funny. It didn't go well. Docile puppies turned into crazed lunatic puppies and Belle kept trying to bite Boo's ear. Arrgh! What a long weekend! And now I'm off to watch 'The Sopranos'.


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