Dear Dobby, there is no other way to say it – you’re an asshole. You may have notice the two humans you live with occasionally saying, “we get it now, we know why you were left on the side of the road.” That is because we have developed an intricate backstory for you where you’ve lived in about 7 different homes and all of them start out taking care of this sweet little dog who just needs food and love and then fast forward 7 months and the people are pacing while pulling their hair out before freaking out and driving you back to where I found you. You feel great and have ALL the energy in the world – I’m thrilled. Let me detail your current assholery:
- toilet paper is not food. We only have ONE roll left, if you steal and eat that I am wiping with you.
- your sisters (Ziesa & Piper) are not your personal chew toys.
- Not all straps are evil and must be destroyed. Straps attached to items such as shoes, bags, furniture, etc. are there ON PURPOSE – they are not evil.
- My bras are not yours to chew and destroy despite being made of mostly straps. Bras are also not to steal and run with into the yard (why does this keep happening to me)?
- Neither of your brothers (Sam & Humphrey) want you to crawl into their mouths and when they tell you to stop you should maybe not make screeching noises like they are killing you – I’m watching, they didn’t touch you. You appear to be extremely passive aggressive, which is weird in a dog.
- This confidence (assholeishness) you show at home – could you perhaps save some of that for the outside world? I know everything is scary and I am trying to take things slowly, but I promise everything is not out to get you.
So, Dobby’s doing well, healthy, happy, etc. No, we are not getting rid of him, I just like bitching every once in a while. I don’t know if the shelter judged him a bit older than he was or if he is finally going through a delayed adolescence due to early starvation – doesn’t matter, he is full on embracing his “adolescent asshole” stage.
I love the little monster.
In other news on Monday morning the (not nice)neighbors’ (probably nice but has issues)dog was heading South down the road. I’m not proud that for half a second I thought about calling the police, but I made the better-person decision to herd the barky fuzzy-butt back into his yard to keep him from getting run over. Fuzzy-butt is/was fear-reactive so he was super pissed (from a distance) as I moved him towards his yard just by talking and walking towards him. His human came out a bit shocked as she said she didn’t even realize he was outside. I just nodded and waved goodbye while thinking, “Yeah, it sucks when that happens, doesn’t it?”
All’s well that ends well. ❤
So, this afternoon my phone gets all feisty and says I have messages, well la-dee-dah, aren’t I fancy?! I received a voicemail and a text from my new(ish) neighbor with whom I have enjoyed random over-fence dog chats. He was calling to say there was a dog laying outside my gate and could one of mine have gotten loose? My first thought was (obviously), “shit….how did they get through concrete?!” because they were locked in the house. Then he described the dog and I said, “shit….another stray.” My freaking yard apparently grows “dog-nip” because a ridiculous number of strays end up here. The most memorable was when Life, Teak, Freckles (aww, I miss them) and I woke up to find a very large Rottweiler with infected eyes and a broken chain hanging out in our kitchen. We were all a bit surprised at first, but he turned out to be a sweetheart. I wish I could rehabilitate, train and re-home all of the poor little lost souls but no one person can do it all.
That said, the never-ending battle of dog rescue is not what this post is about – neighborly consideration and LOVE, that’s what this post is about. Y’all, my heart about melted. A dog was outside my gate and my neighbor called me to let me know, that it turned out not to be one of my (beloved) assholes is irrelevant because if it had been one of mine I could have gotten home and fixed the problem. It was just a beautiful moment in stark contrast to what I’ve dealt with in the past with the other neighbors, ya know, the police-calling-try-to-kill-my-dog ones that I was just thrilled. So thrilled I wrote a card and left it with a 16oz bag of ZiwiPeak dog food (great dog treats! and yes, they have dogs!)
Not only did said neighbor care enough to call me, a friend of his is keeping the stray safe while trying to find her owner. Here is the pretty lost girl.
FoodLady Chronicles – Dear Dobby Edition: Dear Dobby, yes, it’s true. You are indeed the destroyer of all things; or as I said in laughing frustration while standing in front of wreckage, “I now know *why* you were left on the side of the road Mr. Stinky!!!” Additionally, you were once a very stoic boy. When we found you, you were an infected mess of pain and starvation and yet, still just so happy. That stoicism has left you and you have embraced the way of, “owwie, owwie, owwie, LADY! my foot was stung by some damn caribbean death insect and I’m OBVIOUSLY DYING! I may NEVER walk again! *dramatically flopping onto the ground holding up one paw* (he was fine) or No! don’t trim my nails! I may NEVER walk again! (he was fine) or Is the food ALL the way over there?! I may NEVER walk again! (he was fine).” The rough tough little 16lb stinky, infected, furless mess of puppy – stoic & brave. The 60lb healthy muscular beefcake of a boxerbull – total mamma’s boy. I wouldn’t have you any other way little dude.
Most of y’all probably do not remember Freckles, but the house of FoodLady had to institute what was known as the “Freckles Protocol” prior to leaving. The FP can be boiled down to, “is there anything expensive or electronic within potential reach of a Freckles? no? okay, we can leave.” While Dobby does enjoy the destruction of expensive items as well as the piquant tang of chewing into electronics, his true joy comes in the removal of tags, seams, and tassles – preferably from expensive items. Perfect example, to keep him occupied while I write this, he has deigned to begin the removal of tassels from an old towel. His demolition work is just never done and this morning I am being serenaded by, “nibble, nibble, nibble, riiiiip; nibble, nibble, nibble, riiiiiip…”
He is Dobby the Happy Asshole, Destroyer of Possessions and Mighty Master of Derp; he is beloved.
Please enjoy this video of Dobby Nibbles.
So, scared the bejeebis out of the new husband Saturday (sorry honey!), I was (am) getting over a cold and as all y’all know sick = ⬆BG = more insulin to bring things closer to normal. But when ya start getting better, more insulin can make ya low. I don’t know how low I was, I just know I felt really warm (in air conditioning) and walked out to make something to eat, and then I felt really tired and sat down in front of the open fridge and apparently decided to take a nap. Next thing I remember is drinking some disgusting thick nasty liquid (a coke) through a straw and realizing how much I need to clean under my (as before unviewed and apparently nasty) stove. Thanks for the assist my love!
So, for any of y’all who has ever wondered how much insulin could kill you? The answer is probably more than you have available and no matter the dose, is just as likely to leave you with severe brain damage as kill you.
So, it was the time I woke up in the front yard in 2012 when I finally decided that I was going to train Herbert as a diabetic alert dog because I lived alone and was pretty darn sure I was going to die alone and be eaten by cats. It was a lot of work, but worth it and no matter how hard his loss has been on me the hard-won knowledge I gained during the training process has been invaluable.
Also, it may be time to invest in a t-shirt that says, I’m sorry for what I said when I was low. 😚😜😉😘
Last night I was privileged enough to witness something incredibly special – leatherback turtles. Last night went like this: We arrived at the Sandy Point Wildlife Refuge and met with our group. Our guide heard over the radio that there was one turtle who had just finished laying. We scampered out and got to see one pretty lady (I think she was named Nina?) finish camouflaging her where she laid her eggs (think Volkswagen with flippers doing slow donuts). Now, because she had chosen a spot in an erosion zone researchers had caught the eggs as they were dropped and relocated them, but she didn’t know that. She was just amazing, okay – so she is shite at choosing nesting spots, but she was still amazing. Then we got to sit in a circle and learn about leatherbacks – and hooboy!, science doesn’t really know all that much about them. My favorite learned tidbit – leatherback turtles are so big they created a new type of “‘therm” just for them: Gigantotherm (rather than Exotherm or Endotherm). That’s right, I pretty much got to see dinosaurs last night. So, after a few moments of leatherback information, our guide introduced us to a baby leatherback turtle and we got to hold him/her. There is no way to explain the level of squee involved in a baby leatherback sea turtle – the cuteness physically hurt me. Then the guide’s radio squawked and we learned that there was another female laying on an adjacent beach and off we went en masse and we were able to see another pretty lady (real name something like Conga, but I think she should be renamed Fertile Myrtle as this was her sixth (yes, her 6th) clutch this season!) begin to lay her eggs. According to our guide while these gorgeous behemoths are laying their eggs they could give a flying crapola about the world around them, so we were invited to come up one at a time and touch her. She felt so soft and delicate (no, not normally something you would use to describe such large lady, but her skin (yes, skin) felt like….well….skin). I spent years fascinated by reptiles within our world, so much so that it was a huge part of my college education. None of the herptiles I worked with felt like these ladies (and little lady/guy).
The entire experience was wonderful and something I will cherish forever, even if I didn’t get to feed them anything. *grin*
I like to think of myself as open-minded, but I believe that as we gain knowledge and age what each of us perceive as truth may narrow a bit. Maybe it is more correct to say I actively try to maintain an open mind.
To be honest, I had never even considered the concept of acupuncture for any animal until I read an article a few years ago talking about acupuncture for sea turtles. After I read that I spent a little more time thinking about it and came to the conclusion that acupuncture seems inappropriate for animals. Although acupuncture helps a lot of people, the overriding condition that those people have is the belief that acupuncture can work and one thing that has been repeatedly proven is that the placebo effect is very powerful and effective.
Now that Ziesa has such horrible hip issues I can’t help but notice how many articles mention acupuncture as treatment – too the point that I am left wondering if I am too close minded? Or does it just make the humans feel better to be doing something to (theoretically) alleviate their dog’s discomfort and because they feel better and hopeful the dog feels better and hopeful?
I don’t know.
It’s a moot point, I’m pretty sure I can’t find a canine acupuncturist on this island anyway, let alone afford one. But I thought it was an interesting ponder.
After a long day at the office Dobby likes to kick back with a tennis ball in his luxurious pool. ❤❤❤❤❤
So, my pretty pretty little princess was getting a little grumpier and ouchy so off we went to the veterinarian’s office and on behalf of Grumble Princess Ziesa Dumpy-truck Von Bulldozer (her full show name, obviously) I hereby say, “Ow Ow Fuckity Ow!”.
Her hips are rather trashed (see x-ray, ya can’t miss it), both elbows and one knee also arthritic and bringing the pain.
She will be medicated and managed and quality of life will be kept up for as many years as possible. ❤❤❤
Not going to lie though, having Ziesa all zonked out on meds lying under the same computer desk mounted to the wall that Herbert spent a lot of time under when he first got sick hit me harder than I expected.
Then I received confirmation she tested positive for Tick Fever (aka Ehrlichiosis) so now she is on doxycycline to treat. She has been on flea & tick preventative since the day I picked her up, but I did pull three ticks off her that day. She had excessive bleeding following her spay and out of concern, I stopped at the vet on the way home. She was anemic, but since the bleeding had slowed the stateside vet who was covering the office determined she would be fine. Maybe he unfamiliar with tick fever in the VI, but maybe she just seemed okay. At her 6-month-old vet visit I asked about growing pains and mentioned she was achy, but it didn’t occur to the vet or me that it could have been a tick-borne viral fever causing/exacerbating arthritis.
Now her hips, yeah, those are just a genetic lottery loss. But all this painful arthritis crap is because I didn’t pay enough attention or push hard enough to find out why she was so achy. I know professionals missed it as well, but I hold myself a to higher standard; not in diagnostics, but in knowing when something is wrong with my dogs.
Anywhoodle, her prognosis is good and her anti-inflammatory is starting to kick in; she has been visibly happier and more relaxed.
She is starting to feel better: https://youtu.be/q5fNW_bkIv8
Ya know, some mornings can just suck it. Today is one of those mornings.
The middle finger of my right hand 🖕now has frostbite and I am randomly coated with spots and smears of blood and mud with blades of grass clinging to everywhere. “The hell?!” you logically ask. Everyone is fine (except for my beloved and expressive right middle finger) but this morning Señors SamSam and Humphrey decided to have themselves a fight. Why? Well see, what I think happened was Humphrey insulted Sam’s mother; kidding! I don’t know, they are DOGS and I was in the house. So, off I go grabbing the air horn in my very sexy bike shorts, t-shirt, and slippers stomping into the wet (cut yesterday) grass. One blast of the air horn scares off the, well, let’s call them the “fight-adjacent assholes.” However for descriptive purposes allow me to detail the F-AAs: Ziesa just occasionally running headlong into the fight using her snoot as a battering ram; Dobby just grabbing onto whatever collar or neck he can grab his entire demeanor screeching “just happy to be here guys!”; and Piper, blessedly weird Piper, just grabbing and humping whatever dog she can. So, one honk of the air horn scares the F-AAs away and I get to begin separating the primary assholes. Air horn scares Humphrey up close, Sam is too far gone. Able to get Sam’s collar (Martingale) but grab the collar itself and not the tightening strap so he slips out (Asshole!), so I grab his back legs and swing him away. Unfortunately had to do that twice and then keep Sam down for a couple minutes before he came back to himself and then put Sam & Humphrey into a Sit & Wait while I retrieved Sam’s collar and put it on him. Annoyingly, Sam and Humphrey walked side by side back into the house with a, “sheesh, why the lady so mad?!” when I ordered them both “IN!”.
So, the damn air horn froze my poor middle finger which is alternating between numb and tingles, I’m running late for work and I have to hose the mud, blood, and grass off me before I can finish getting dressed.
Sam & Humphrey are safely separated but just another unique day at FoodLady’s house.
So, I’ve been quiet lately. Not because I’m actively avoiding facebook but because I’ve been rather busy.
My father came to visit the island and I played tour guide, it was a lot of fun. Now that the visit is over I have actively begun training Dobby as a Diabetic Alert Dog, and hoo-boy do I have a LOT of work to do with him.
In medical (management) news, my insurance company is annoying me. Remember them making me switch from my preferred AccuChek Aviva Connect to One Touch? yeah, I tried it. I tried THREE different One Touch meters. They were okay, just basic blood glucose meters. But I wasn’t using them nearly as often as I should have and it turns out what motivates me to actually check my blood glucose levels is other people. The connect meter connects to my phone and auto texts my results to anyone I set it up to send it to. Is it perfect? no. does it work better for me? yes.
So for now I’m paying for strips out of pocket but soon I will be asking my doctor to argue with the insurance folks.
Speaking of my doctor, she called me the other day and said, “your insurance wants to switch you from Victoza to Byetta or Trulicity? thoughts?” Byetta was out of the question, I was on it before and let’s just say that was 8 months of nausea I don’t want again. So, I told her to give Trulicity a whirl. I just took my first once-weekly injection about 10 minutes ago so I have no idea how it works (yet) but let me tell you this, there is no freaking way in Hell this is a cheaper option. This is an over-engineered auto-injection pen that, while fancy and spiffy, seems excessively wasteful of materials. I peeled the sticker off for your inspection. Think of it as an almost fancier version of an epipen but with a wee little sub-cu needle instead of an IM one. When I read the instructions I laughed out loud at the disposal instructions which can II went online and read two studies comparing the differences between Trulicity and Victoza and, to be honest, they are very similar results-wise.
I’ll let y’all know how this goes…should be interesting.