Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

A new goal…a simpler goal…

Author: thenicknick

Yeah, normally I start with a really optimistic kind of  Monday morning post where I assess my goals and their current status.  Right.  And if you read over the weekend, you may have the mistaken impression that I had this wonderful relaxing mellow kind of a weekend.  And I can see why you’d think that.  It’s my own fault really.  My Sunday morning post was written during the week after I had reminisced about the previous Sunday.  And that day really was that good.

So, now for the real dirt on this weekend.  For the past few days, I had been noticing that Bishop was having more frequent and runnier poos.  (I have a point, really.  Not just into talking about bodily functions.  That is soooo not me.)  Well, Saturday morning, for the first time, since he RARELY takes Bishop out, S realized what I had been noticing.  The end result: I called the vet.

The plan was simple.  I had already ordered an auger for the day so that we could dig the posts for the fence we were installing around the back yard.  He would go get the auger while I showered and dressed.  We had an 11am vet appointment and he’d be back in plenty of time to go with me.  Ahhh…the best laid plans.

At 10:30am, I’m thick into getting pretty, since we will be out in public together.  And I’m beginning to wonder if he’s going to be back in the next ten minutes.  So, I called.

me: I’m almost pretty.  Where are you?

S: The towable auger really does need to be towed.  So, I called Ed since I don’t have a tow package on the truck.  Hey, can you check and see if he’s left yet?

me: Yup.  He’s on his way now.

S: Sorry, babe, but there’s no way I can make it to go with you.  I’ll call as soon as I’m back and see about meeting you there.

me: Okay.  Then I’m done getting pretty.  This is good enough.

And Bishop and I went to the vet by ourselves.  We had just managed to convince him about half an hour before that a leash was not actually some medieval torture device and that dogs really did walk with one attached to their collar.  And after further convincing, and packing his bag, which by now makes the experience something reminiscent of traveling with a diaper bag, he laid in the passenger seat.

Taking Bishop to the vet is an experience to begin with.  He is a sight to see.  I mean, he’s not even eight weeks old yet and he weighs twenty pounds and is the size of a six month old lab.  (As long as the six month old lab has bear sized paws.)  People always want to know what he is and how old he is.

The visit went well, after we established that he didn’t have giardia or parvo, but instead some run of the mill intestinal thing…that is costing a small fortune.  My platinum puppy is eating three cans of prescription…yes, prescription, puppy food a day.  The first can has a powder sprinkled on it, and the third has his antibiotic hidden in it.  The second one is all dog food.  And he has a Kaopectate for dogs.  Seriously.

We went through the KFC drive-thru on the way home and brought lunch back for everyone.  Then with Bishop taken care of and kids on dog detail, we decided to use the auger.  Sounds simple, right?  I mean if anyone can walk in off the street and just take one home with them, it should be simple, right?

Mwah ha ha.  Sixteen post holes to dig.  Two feet deep each.  We called for back up and Jay showed up within minutes.  He was bored.  He had to have been to think that using an auger was preferable to lying around on the couch channel surfing.  Or maybe it was just the promise of using gasoline powered tools?

Let me begin by explaining that this is a beast of a machine.  It stands taller than I am.  It’s huge and green and scary looking with its eight inch drill bit (that’s diameter, by the way, since it was at least four feet long).  Well, first they had to figure out how to start it.  Then there was the issue with positioning it.  (I was running around with a cinder block and hunk of granite to stop the wheels.)  And soon we’re on the phone with the after hours technician (the rental place closes at noon on Saturday).  After two hours, we managed to dig nearly half a hole.  Well, crap!

So, no fence for now.  And the beast of a machine still needed to be returned by 8am on Monday.  Well, the remainder of the day was spent babying Bishop.  And Ashley came over to spend the night.  It was an excuse for Chinese food and renting a movie on cable.  It was fun.  Saturday night was not a total wash.  And old fuddy duddies that we are, we were in bed by 11:30pm.  (I know, you thought I lived some exciting glamorous life.  Ha!)

Sunday…was worse.  Not only was I up at the butt crack of dawn.  (And here’s how that conversation went.)

me: (in response to the incessant whimpering) We’ve had Bishop a week.  Is it your turn to get up with him yet?

S: In a couple of hours.

me: In a couple of hours I’ll have more messes to clean.  I think I hate you.  When your looks go…

S: I’m dead.

(It’s  an inside joke.)

After taking Bishop out, not once but twice, I find Keenan awake and lying on the couch.  And he says words that make my heart sink.

Keenan: Mom, I feel hot.

For Keenan to say that, well, I might just as well batten down the hatches and prepare for a long convalescence.  Sure enough.  He had a temperature of 101.8.  Now, that is not an all time high by any means.  By late afternoon he was running a fever of 103.5.  And at his age, he needs to be swallowing pills.  Luckily, his constant illnesses give us plenty of opportunity for that.

Only this time he decided that he’d rather be sick than swallow.  It turned into an episode of Survivor.

me: Swallow.

Keenan: I did.

me: Let me see.

And I’m doing the mouth check thing.

me: Lift your tongue.

Right now, I’m fast losing my sense of humor.  I’m not going to work today.  I’ve given up the idea of a walk and am instead planning on a trip to the grocery store to get some much needed supplies.  I’ll hope to work out on a DVD while the sick dog and sick boy are napping.  And if the stars align and the the moon is in Pluto, maybe I’ll even get a shower.  (Fingers crossed!)

So, my goal for today:  (baby steps, going to leave the big goals for another day) I just want everyone to get well.  See, today is supposed to be Happy Squatter Removal Day.  They are supposed to be out by midnight.  And if they aren’t I have to go to the court house…again…and pay money…again…so that the Sheriff will remove them…eventually.

Wish me well.  And may all your goals be accomplished.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 21st, 2009 at 6:47 am and is filed under Goals. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.