jabber_moose: (Default)
Of the female dog variety, but the title amused me.

This morning, i got a call at about 8am from my co-worker. I hadn't worked yesterday because we only had 2 boarders and the weather wasn't the greatest. Since i was sick on Monday as well, i offered to work Saturday to compensate. That's why i thought i was being called.

Instead, it was my co worker (Who doesn't usually get in until 9). She informed me that Churchill, one of the two boarders,had passed away last night. I had only worked at this place for 4 1/2 months, but it was Churchill and his brother Gershwin that i took care of most regularly. While both older, Churchill was riddled with a heart condition and other complications. Everytime he boarded, our goal was "just keep him alive." it sounds like a heartless thing to say, but it was true.

Just keep Churchill alive until he got home. He came in with Gershwin to board for 3 weeks on Thursday, and died in his sleep Friday night.

(Or, i hope it was in his sleep, because nobody is there overnight. Churchill, i hope you didn't suffer.)

Anyway, I've been doing alot of...erm...bitching about my job, and this made me realize why i'm in the field in the first place. I love animals, for starters. i want to work with animals. I've just been so caught up in my stress, that i forgot the big picture.

Feeling a little sad by Churchill's passing, and worried about Gershwin. They were littermates, inseparable, and knowing animals, i wouldn't be surprised to come in to find a very depressed Gershwin on Monday. I  also wouldnt be surprised if Gershwin followed his brother to the Rainbow Bridge very soon.

But i came online. i wasn't crying, or anything like that. Dillon followed me in, clamored gracelessly up his doggy steps,and curled up with his head on my stomach. He hasn't left that position for an hour.

So dogs? Dogs are amazing. Dillon doesn't give a shit if he has 2 years to live, or a day. He doesn't care that he's losing his hair to Cushings, while a man would be racing for Rogaine. He doesn't care that he can't get onto the couch or into the car without assistance, as long as he gets fed and gets to be with his family.

And i realize i've been selfish, and i'm encouraged to make things better. Just because Dillon can't walk or run like he used to doesn't mean i skimp on quality walks. He proved the other day he still plays with toys and Charlie. I haven't been  focusing on what i CAN give him, besides medication and blood tests, because i focused on the money aspect. I haven't focused on what i CAN do for him on a personal level, instead of whining about how much time i might or might not have with him.

'Cause someday, loathe to admit it, Charlie is going to be in Gershwin's position: waking up to his best friend/brother being gone. And they aren't children. You can't explain it to them.

So, thank you, Dillon and Churchill, for the eye opener i needed
Starting to cramp a little in this position, though
jabber_moose: (Default)
Just..shoot me now.

The other day, Dad left the fridge open, and Dillon inhaled an entire package of raw meat, leaving him with the stomachache from hell.

Fine the first night. Yesterday it was just...y'know, i'll spare you the details.

Last night i was up with him all night, running him out to the bathroom every hour (If i was that lucky).

1:00am, took him outside, and the sprinkles went off. I was soaked, Dillon was soaked, and my AC was on high blast.

Went to bed about 2:00am. Half hour later, out again.

Rinse and repeat..

5:30, had to go out with him, and didn't bother going back to sleep.

Set him and Charlie up in the kitchen with the dog gate, tied it shut, pushed things against the gate. They still got out.

8:30 i was just like... 'Know what, fuckit. i'm early. I'll go to Dunkin Donuts, relax, have breakfast and a drink."

Went out to the bus about 8:45 for an 8;55 bus.

Stood right at the sign.

Bus driver sees me, and blows right past.

Next bus is at 9:55. Would get me there...10:05-10:10 for a 10:15 class.

I had stuff to print for class, because our printer is shot.

Got in touch with mom, and we tried to get in touch with Dad, but we had the wrong work number.

Finally, got in touch. Dad's coming from work to drive me.

I feel like there's a reason i'm not supposed to get to class. But. Whatever.

I keep reciting 'Alexander and the Terrible horrible no good very bad day.'

Mom says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.

I wish i were in australia
jabber_moose: (Default)
so, yeah. Dillon has this really bad habit of standing on my keyboard when i leave the room.
but seriously, he channeled my emotions while i was afk. Ridiculously on the money.   
jabber_moose: (Default)






THIS DAY ROCKS MY SOCKS, OKAY?

Smoothed things out with people over at SCCC, who assured me, "Yes, you were accepted into the veterinary science program 4 days ago. Yes, you'll get your acceptance letter in a week."

Then my dad's all, "Hey, we got a place!"

And i'm all, "YES."

and he's all, "We're moving in July 1st,"

and i'm all



and then i was all WHO DO I HUG. ANYONE I WANNA HUG IS IN NEW YORK.

So then i smished Charlie who was all 'snort'

then i smished Dillon who was all, 'derp derp i'm in the air nao.'

Then dad was all, 'who's awesome'

and i was all



and now i'm all



I'm done mucking up everyone's flist browser now
jabber_moose: (Default)


So, yeah. Think it's time to change dog food.

Which, in a way, is a reality check.

Few weeks ago, Dillon and Charlie had a really bad stomach virus. Then Dillon hurt his leg (or so i thought) and had trouble walking, getting up on beds/couches.

Few weeks later, Dillon's still stumbling around like he's had too much to drink, can't drag himself onto a couch, and prefers lying down to standing for over a minute.

So i'm going to switch them from sensitive stomach to senior longevity food. Kick up the immune system, have some joint support, antioxidents, etc.

I mean, yeah, i've said this before, but i think age is catching up to Dillon. His fur is losing health..it's more..scruffy/grungy. He lost about 4-5 lbs, and you can tell. Even my dad, who knows jackshit about dogs, was able to comment about feeling Dillon's ribs. He's thin.

And for those who know Dillon, he doesn't lack an appetite.

However, on a behavioral standpoint, the interesting part.

Dogs are freaking amazing. The pack mentality.

When i let them out of the crate, Charlie instantly presses himself against Dillon's side, keeping to Dillon's speed as a means of support, and will only put space between them when Dillon decides.

At night, Charlie will go to jump on the bed, then stop, and wait until i lift Dillon onto the bed, before coming up.

They're near inseparable, those two. Their whole lives, i mean, but..

Hooray. Dog food.

~

Side note. Little emotional today.

Grandma's birthday.

Gotta write up an article for the examiner.

Clean.

Get out a bit.

Get food for the house.

 

 


jabber_moose: (Default)
 Just 'cause you don't taste the liquor, doesn't mean you should forget it's in there.

Took mom and dad out to dinner last night. 

Apologize for the lack of details, but. yeah. Coral Reefers are setting up shop in my head.

Oh my god. Jimmy Buffett living in my head. That would be awesome.

kinda already does. Crap. digression.

Ordered a baybreeze. Funny thing about baybreezes...every place makes them different. In this case, hint of coconut. But alot of places...you can at least taste the liquor.

So, right. Baybreeze. Bread. lots of bread. gnocci appetizer. water. big plate o' Aglio e Olivio. One more baybreeze. Two cannoli.

Had an awesome dinner. I think we were all in great spirits thanks to life's sudden tide change. Mom had just completed 3 1/2 years work of hard work and earned her Bachelor's online. (Hence, dinner). 

Got home, grabbed the dog's leashes, when everything kicked in. 

it was about 9:00 when i said, "Mom, i think my drinks just kicked in.'

Mom flew into action. I chugged a bottle of water. she gave me 2 excedrin.

I'll skip to collapsing into bed and falling asleep almost instantly..only to wake up soaked in sweat, nauseous at 12:30. Unable to go back to sleep for almost three hours.

The dogs were extra extra cuddly, though.

Anyway. I learned that if i'm slightly imbibed and have no one to talk to...i'll talk internet slang as an inner monologue.

It goes something like this:

Lauren is curled in bed. Petting the dogs

"FML. Just...FML. Oh, this succkss. NGL, pups."

No answer from them. whatever.

waking up 3 hours later.

"omg. FML TO HELL."

Then a steady stream of, "GDIAF, self. just..GDIAF."

True story. Dillon and Charlie can attest to it.


Not sure if they will, though, as Charlie had taken up residence sprawled over my chest, snoring, and Dillon had my legs pinned.

The not sleeping part sucked the most, though. 

I mean, how many reruns of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Queer as Folk can one take?

It would seem, as one would say. i have lost the plot.


Oh, back to dinner. In the event of WE'RE GOING HOME, BITCHES, we had an agreement to keep it on the down low.

Then mom goes, "I have a confession. I may have told..someone. I'm sorry? I told Allison." a pause, then she held up four fingers.

It evolved into a game of tapping each finger, and guessing who she told.

Then, i raised two fingers. For some reason, this struck everyone as hilarious. Oh, alchohol.

One finger tapped: Erica. Well, that shouldn't even count, right? She's the whole epicenter to the moving back-adge.

That finger down left me sticking my middle finger up in the middle of a restaurant.

The second person being Pat. Well. Anyway

5 minutes later, i held up three fingers. I'd actually told Bonnie, my former boss from the cat shelter in NY.

Alright. Back to the present.

Things to do:

A) resume applying to colleges in NY

B) Talk to Erica about stuff.

C) Ask Jimmy Buffett to take a short intermission from my head.

Speaking of which...where's my encore CD? I believe i should have it by now.

 

jabber_moose: (Default)
 Sometimes i wonder if, after a nearly a decade, I'm still fighting myself.

How after nearly 10 years of popping medication every morning, and every night, there are times when looking at them makes me ill, and i want to throw them down the sink, or flush them.

But i don't.

And there are days, gods help me, where i wish i were...worse off. Is that insane or what?

I'm a 22 year old with full mental capacities, but there's that goddamn wall. A thin little wall that separates me from breaking out into the world. It's there...i can touch it. Independence, pride, confidence.

But i'm stuck. And i've been stuck. And i was unstuck for almost a year when i had my job.

Then i got stuck again.

And i'm rambling. I'm good, though. Not depressed or anything like that.


I may revisit this in a bit. Had another all nighter with the pups.

Going back to a previous post, Dillon's still..slowing down. I thought he'd hurt his leg about a week or two ago. Maybe he did. But he walks slowly. In a sense, it's amusing, because he can't sneak up the stairs without being caught.

But he doesn't like standing, much. He's sleeping more. Lost about 4 pounds, but that could contribute to the week he and Charlie were sick.

Haven't heard back from the Phx Zoo regarding the volunteering, which is weird. I want to see if they still need people for Rock the Zoo tonight.

Job hunt is still on. Cause lets face it, i'm not getting by on the examiner articles.

Right-o, then.

Onward, troops
jabber_moose: (Default)
 I'm such a wanker. seriously.

I have my newer SPN book that i got  a week ago, and for some reason, i haven't been able to pick it up again since Dean's eyes were described as 'hazel.'

I'm really not that shallow...


Tis 6:30 am here, It's going to be a stunning 86 degrees, and the day holds great promise.


Except for the fact that at around 11:30, Charlie started getting antsy, and had to go out to the bathroom every. freaking. hour.

Then, at one point, i got about 2 straight hours of sleep, and  Dillon started to try and climb out my window. Out my WINDOW, ffs.

Then it was back to every hour with Charlie.


I woke up around 6 to doggie doo stains in my room. Sorry we cleaned the carpets.

Hopefully i can 'unwind' and get some reading done

Oh, balls

Mar. 21st, 2010 02:39 am
jabber_moose: (Default)
 Heather and Matt returned to NY tonight, which means i was liberated from sleeping on the couch, and returned to my bedroom.

Well, after 10 days of sleeping like a baby in NY, and 3 days of restful sleep on the couch in AZ, i joked to mom, "Watch. I'm going to revert and be unable to sleep."

I think she tutted at me.

Well, it's 2:35 in the morning. And i'm writing this. What does that tell ya?

Also, it doesn't help  that Dillon had an upset stomach before we went to dinner. When we got back, there was a pretty bad..smell. I thought it was..well..anyway. Been pretty consistent.


Anywho. Started that damn SPN fic. Hoorah Wee!Chester. 

Then...it warped. Now i've got a TW/SPN fic going on...and it's muuch easier to write.

Time to attempt sleep again, methinks. And Charlie has taken up residence on half my pillow



ETA: God called. He wants me to go to sleep.

I hate Toshibas. My laptop just overheated and shorted out. There goes a paragraph of writeringz. 

jabber_moose: (Default)

My stomach felt like it got twisted up in knots today.

I've been keeping an eye on Dillon the past day or so, because his leg seemed to be bothering him. He's had some difficulties getting on the couch (Which is about a foot above ground), and his leg was a bit swollen.

Usually, in the morning, the second i open my eyes, Dillon wants to gooutgetfedwalkfedgoout. Lately, he's preferred to stay in bed and sleep, even when Charlie's ready to go out.

He's starting to slow down, i think. Sometimes i forget the lifespan of a Cavalier is typically  about 9-14 years old, and he's going to be 9 this year.

I don't know.


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