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Wednesday coming home tonight

Wednesday had her surgery last week to remove the new stones; she ended up having to be under for almost two hours because the stones had travelled down her urethra and would have lodged there because at least one of them was too large to pass. This is something that happens sometimes in males but is pretty rare in females — we were lucky we got her in when we did.

I visited her the afternoon of the surgery: she was still in pretty rough shape, and had to be force fed for the first day or so. She is eating well now, and while she did remove all of her own stitches again this time, the incision is OK so we figured she is well enough to come home now.

Thankfully she is also taking the new medication for controlling her urine Ph, without protest. Hopefully she will never have to go through this again!

Chuckle from BBspot.com

Flashing Yellow Lights Puzzle BMW Driver

OK, so it’s not exactly new but I just found it.

Avoiding spending any time with 11 of your ‘peers’

After a really insane week things slowed down a bit at work today and somehow we got on to the subject of jury duty. One co-worker had never been called, though of course having now pointed that out I would bet she gets a summons within 3 months. Another was called once, but excused. I gleefully bragged that I’ve gotten three summonses but because I am not a U.S. citizen I simply check the box that says “I am not a U.S. citizen” and that ends it right there. We jokingly wondered what sort of things one could say in the juror interview that would be a guaranteed excusal. A google search on the subject found this handy list of things to say.

Update 02-06-2004 at 9:42 AM: The title of this post has been changed to try and knock it down from #2 in Google’s search results on this subject. For some reason it comes up even above the article I posted the link for… See my recent post for more details.

L is for loser

Everyone will have to excuse any typos for the next few days because the middle finger on my left hand is completely bandaged due to a mishap with a training lead. I may or may not have mentioned in the past that I am a total loser… if I haven’t, then let me go ahead and come out of the closet on this right now and say it: I am a loser. There is a large invisible L on my forehead. If I am not actively doing something stupid, then stupid crap is happening to me of it’s own accord. In the case of the hand injury, it was the former, though.

Last night after the cow incident (see previous entry) I took Mojo out in front of the house for some training lessons. We’ve been working on long downs and sit-stays with a 30′ lead, and he’s been doing pretty good. On Saturday we even did an off-lead exercise ‘for real’ where Mojo went with me to the mailbox, sat while I gathered the mail, and then followed at my heels perfectly back to the house; I was very proud of him but do have to admit there was cheddar cheese involved. Anyway, I digress… I usually do a bit of heeling with him with the line just trailing loose on the ground and I guess Mojo was still a bit on edge over his brush with bovine destruction. He heard the lead slithering along the road behind him, cast a panicked look over his shoulder, and took off running like devils (or cows?) were after him!

Initially there was no cause for alarm — I calmly and quickly stomped my foot down on the rapidly retreating lead to halt his flight — but I manage to put my foot down in such a way that the arched part of my sneaker is what actually came down over the lead. Because the sole is molded so that part isn’t actually touching the ground, it made a bridge, the lead kept slipping, and it was now almost beyond reach. At this point I did something really, really stupid. In the back of my mind, I was even thinking what a dumbass thing this was to do and yet I still did it. Panicking, I reached down and grabbed for the line.

Hard canvas webbing moving at a high rate of speed with 65 pounds of fleeing teenage Bull Terrier at the other end of it, I can testify, is a formidable weapon. The top of my hand hit the ground resulting in road rash across the knuckles of three fingers, and that was the least of the damage… The leash itself shot between my middle finger and ring finger and left a wound I can best describe as a cross between a gash and a rope burn running the length of the entire finger and about a half inch across at its widest point. Stubborn as well as stupid, I hung on in spite of the exploding pain and did manage to bring my chickensh** dog to a halt, but also succeeded in grinding bits of black webbing fibers into the wound that I had to pick out with tweezers afterwards.

Mojo by now had realized there were no cows after him, and came back to me to see what the “ow!-ow! ow! ow! ow!” noises and the funny dance were all about. Wanting to end the lesson on a positive note (my index finger and thumb were unharmed so I could still work the clicker) we did a quick bit of heeling and a couple of sits and downs, with me leaving a trail of blood droplets all along the way, before I went in to see to the finger. It’s nasty, it’s going to take forever to heal, and of course it is on my left hand which is the one I write with. I can be such a moron sometimes… 🙁

Mad cow

OK, maybe it was just a bit annoyed… 😉

I got home a little earlier than usual; it was a warm day and still light out so when I was walking the dogs I got the sudden inspiration to walk them to the cow pasture up the road so they could see the cows. Lindsy has always gotten very excited about cows, and I wasn’t sure if Mojo had ever seen one, so off we went.

Mojo didn’t notice the cows right away, and Lindsy was too busy sniffing the manure smell in the air to see them (I think all this time when we assumed she was excited over cows, it was actually cow sh** she was impressed with) but the cows sure saw us. One of the smaller ones, a half-grown brindle calf, came sauntering over to the fence.

My dogs apparently are not blessed with very good powers of observation. The cow was within five feet of the fence before either one noticed. Lindsy stopped breathing. Mojo tucked his head and quietly tippy-toed to the end of his flexi as far from the cow as he could get. I just stood there silently and let them figure it out for themselves, and after a moment or two they kind of watched curiously. Deciding we’d had enough ‘cow socialization’ for the day, I turned around to walk away, the cow staring after us as we started back up the road. Apparently showing off for the rest of his or her cow friends, the cow decided to charge after us!

I just about jumped out of my skin (briefly forgetting the cow was behind a fence) and the dogs both tried to bolt in different directions. The cow had come to a stop at the fence line and snorted as if to say “and don’t come back!” as we all recomposed ourselves and headed for home.