My dog is sick. Not just like, aw he's sick! But like, "well my dog might die" kind of sick. We noticed because he got sick and then stopped eating - for three days. Now, my dog is not a food-indifferent dog; he's a "I live to eat" kind of dog. So we took him to the vet and he has liver dysfunction, which is the step before liver failure. It's really scary; all the tests to determine if it's something really awful (Hepatitis, cancer, liver torsion) cost $1000+. So we're just hoping the treatment we're trying this week helps...otherwise we'll be talking about when to put him down. And that - just kills me.
Losing this guy (Blackacre) would be really rough
Last night we had a concert at our parish, and it was incredible. Mr. O wrote this incredible aria for an opera that he hasn't yet written, but it was the Ave Maria in Spanish. It was incredibly beautiful and brought down the house - and there I was, in the front row, crying about my dog and how I was so excited for him to meet the baby and now maybe he won't.
38 weeks today and I still feel good. No signs of Baby Girl...and I'm glad about that. The hubs says she needs to wait until at least Monday, because he hasn't scheduled substitutes until next weekend! Thankfully, she seems to be cooperating.
I'm trying to type about something other than my dog. Soooo... what's the point of baby legwarmers? Anybody know? Is it just to protect them when they're crawling? I couldn't figure it out - except they're cute!
"Hospital" bag is packed, stroller and car seat are here, but my floors are still dirty. For whatever reason, this drives me insane - this makes me hysterical about being "not ready" for Baby. Since Wednesday, I have been fixated on my floors...but since Wednesday, we've been trying to figure out why Blackacre is dying, so I haven't had time to give them a good scrubbing. I think I'm getting to the irrational-nesting phase.
Scored 3 cloth diapers for $10 today. I realize this is thoroughly uninteresting, but I'm trying not to type memories of my dog.
Can't resist. Here's how I got my dog: I was thinking about adopting a dog and I went to the local shelter "just to look." As I was walking around looking at the sweet puppies and the middle-aged dogs, none of them seemed just right. I didn't want a lab or a shepherd; none of the little yappy dogs or the growly ones. Most of them were too small. I wanted a big lovable lump of a dog. Finally I asked the lady, "do you have anything...bigger?" She hesitated and then said, "well we have this one dog in the back but...he's really big!" I just smiled and so she sighed and went into the back. She brought him out and he was WILD - she couldn't control him! He rushed out, dragging her along, and jumped up on me, then on my friend, then onto the desk, sending papers and pencils flying. He rushed around to all the other cages, trying to lick the other dogs through the bars, and then back to me. And I knew he was my dog. He was panting, happy, and huge - just what I wanted!
I decided to wait a few days and think about it, but I knew I wanted him to be my dog. I got his history - he was owned by a family that was abusive. He was kept outside in all kinds of weather, so he got a collar ring and had been attacked by wild animals, and he was starved, so he was very skinny. At 2.5 years old, he hadn't had a great life. But he's never been anything but loving. I brought him home Valentine's Day weekend and he's been my pup ever since. I keep telling myself "he's just a dog" - but it's not helping much.