The Joy of Rambling

It is finally still. This day. It started at 1:00 a.m. when Gus needed to run outside to have diarrhea. Gus is my dog. This explosion of pudding continued its need to be acknowledged every hour, on the hour until about 4:00 a.m. Sleep was more than illusive to me. It was far, far away, partying with all its fellow life-giving forces like nutrition and hydration. They all think it’s a blast to run off and hide just when my body needs them most. 

Gus has also been having some behavior issues of late. It probably started when my 26-year old daughter Laura moved into the garage with her possibly-pregnant dog, who in fact gave birth to two puppies a week later. I guess it was more like a definitely-pregnant situation. Gus has exhibited unusually hyper behavior, has peed on the floor a couple of times recently, and has developed a habit of using a high-pitched, deafening bark when he wants attention. He was acting in this manner this morning, when my sleep-deprived self was on the phone with the Vet, hoping for an appointment for him right away. Success. I had 15 minutes to get out the door.

It turns out Gus has little swimmers in his intestines causing all the ruckus. Some sort of amoeba-type bacteria have taken up residence there and have invited their friends for a swimming party. The more the merrier, they assume.

One hundred and ten dollars later we were home with an antibiotic that will hopefully knock the poop (pun intended) out of these little guys. More accurately, I should say knock the poop out of Gus and take these little guys with it. On to the next portion of the morning.

Jim was Jim. I explained multiple times that I was exhausted and would be needing a nap today. He forgot multiple times that I was exhausted and in need of a nap today. Instead, he was very concerned about the democrats letting all the Mexicans in at the border, while he sits here dying of Alzheimer’s. I continued to assure him in my most patient, loving way, that I agreed and also that I would soon be needing a nap. 

But first, I had to deal with panic in the garage. The puppies seemed to be not getting enough milk from their mama. After feeding, they were whining and looking for more. Laura was convinced that Panda had stopped lactating. 

After much online research, we found a local pet store that carried puppy formula and bottles. They were promptly ordered and at 10:00 I put Jim in the car, and we drove off to pick up the rescue food. We also picked up beer for him at Walmart. Because he needs beer in order to keep abreast of the situation at the border. 

Home by noon, we had a quick bite and I told Jim I needed a nap. I got him to lay down with me, so I wouldn’t have to wake later to accusations of having been off partying with my friends. I got almost a couple of hours in when panic erupted again from the garage. The puppies were not taking the formula. I was asked to go out and purchase some Milk Thistle, which I guess is a natural supplement for the liver and has a side benefit of improving lactation in dog moms. Who knew? 

Racing back to the house, Milk Thistle in hand, an emergency call from the garage alerted me that the stress level was so high due to the milk-starved puppies, Laura was going to blow somebody’s brains out. Oh, and Jim was annoying her. 

I called the Vet for the second time today and explained the situation. It was now 4:45 p.m. and they told me to bring the puppies in. By this point Jim was comatose in his chair, so didn’t need notifying. Laura and I loaded up the pups and their mama and headed for the Vet. Again. 

Once inside, it was determined that mom was, in fact, still lactating, but may just be producing too little milk for the tiny gluttons. With a bit of effort, the Vet was able to get the puppies to take formula from the bottle. Other than that, their weight and appearance were appropriate and although this next week will be important in keeping the pups eating, (meaning Laura will have to work with them every two hours to make sure they’re getting enough) all should be ok.

Home we came. Jim was on the front porch with a beer and cigar complaining about the democrats letting the Mexicans in over the border. I decided he could handle the complaining on his own for a while and took Gus for a walk. He finally pooped something that didn’t resemble a cow patty, (O Victory in Jesus!) and I came home to make grilled cheese sandwiches for Jim, which he enjoyed between bouts of democratic complaints. Now I’m sitting on my couch, thoroughly exhausted, writing this little piece. 

I’d better get to bed before my phone starts buzzing.

Happy Thursday!