Hornsby was due for his eye surgery/neuter yesterday, but it seems that he may have developed a case of Kennel Cough. Worst Case Scenario: Canine Distemper.
We're really hoping it's just Kennel Cough, though we're taking every precaution, keeping Hornsby quarantined to the guest room and crated throughout the day. This is especially hard because he's a puppy, and puppies don't like to be isolated, therefore we are getting very little sleep.
Hornsby isn't a fan of the crate, like, at all, and no matter how many treats/toys/hugs we give him, every time we put him back in the crate he freaks out and starts crying for like an hour. Imagine that you put him up after taking him out for his evening potty break at 8 p.m., you're in bed by 11:30, he's gotta go to the bathroom at 3:30 a.m., and you don't get back to sleep until 4:30 a.m. to wake back up at 6:30 to get ready for work... it's a nightmare!
We're just praying that he gets over this and we can move on. I'm getting to the point where I just want to get back to everyday life, get back into a routine that I can rely on to ground me throughout the rest of the day. Because things are unpredictable at home, work has becom more strained. I'm trying to meet deadlines and tie up loose ends on projects but I feel like I'm grasping a straws, as if I'm climbing a mile-high mountain with no toe-holds for the first 20 feet.
Here's hoping I can get some momentum...
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Turning double plays...
If you didn't see it, Hornsby was featured on www.readlarrypowell.com yesterday! If you need to reaffirm your belief that there are genuinely good, caring, outstanding people on this earth, go to that site and read a few bars.
In other Hornsby-related news, the pupster is doing good, getting along well with the kitties and Fitzgerald! He's doing great with the housebreaking, learning the ropes with the crate. He's enjoying his bed and new family, as far as I can tell. You be the judge!
In other Hornsby-related news, the pupster is doing good, getting along well with the kitties and Fitzgerald! He's doing great with the housebreaking, learning the ropes with the crate. He's enjoying his bed and new family, as far as I can tell. You be the judge!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Face-licking good!
So, I think we're pretty set on keeping the puppy, who we've named Hornsby. Doesn't ring a bell, strike a chord?
His namesake is Rogers Hornsby, arguably the best secondbaseman in history with a .358 career batting average, the highest of any righty and only 9 points behind Ty Cobb. Born in Winters, Texas, Rogers Hornsby was twice a National League MVP and led the league in RBIs and home runs.
(This is all gleaned from Dave, the walking baseball encyclopedia. He can remember all this junk but forgets to do the dishes... peculiar.)
Hornsby (the dog) is still in recovery. He isn't putting much weight on his bum leg, hopefully he'll re-learn how to use it. He's on pain pills and muscle relaxers, and he's back at the vet this morning for a progress report. Hopefully he'll get to keep his leg. Not that three-legged dogs aren't cute, but I'd much rather him be a happy, four-legged puppy that can run, play and live a long life with his mom and dad!
And now, to the main event:
His namesake is Rogers Hornsby, arguably the best secondbaseman in history with a .358 career batting average, the highest of any righty and only 9 points behind Ty Cobb. Born in Winters, Texas, Rogers Hornsby was twice a National League MVP and led the league in RBIs and home runs.
(This is all gleaned from Dave, the walking baseball encyclopedia. He can remember all this junk but forgets to do the dishes... peculiar.)
Hornsby (the dog) is still in recovery. He isn't putting much weight on his bum leg, hopefully he'll re-learn how to use it. He's on pain pills and muscle relaxers, and he's back at the vet this morning for a progress report. Hopefully he'll get to keep his leg. Not that three-legged dogs aren't cute, but I'd much rather him be a happy, four-legged puppy that can run, play and live a long life with his mom and dad!
And now, to the main event:
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Pupskerdoo Number Two!
I have been hounding Dave about getting another dog (Get it? HOUNDING?), and we've talked about getting a larger one this time, adopting a retired greyhound or something. But Dave took a crash course with fate yesterday and stopped on his way to work to help two women who were huddled around a puppy that had been hit by a car. Dave said the poor dear was slouched and shivvering despite the 90-degree heat, the pup was scared out of his mind. The three of them ushered the little boy into a carrier and escorted him to a nearby veterinary hospital.
Dave called and was in hysterics. He'd stopped to save the dog and ended up at work an hour and a half late. After visiting the hospital later once they had done x-rays, he reported that the chap had a broken leg and would need surgery immediately. Of course, we're suckers, and he's just a puppy, so we OK'd the surgery knowing that we'd be dealing with a short future of poverty: The bill could be as large as $1,300.
I made a b-line to the vet hospital after work yesterday to meet the poorbaby and I'll admit it here that I really fell in love with the guy (he was heavily sedated, so it was easy). Poorbaby's on an IV with a broken rear right leg. He's got the look of a Saint Bernard to him with a little Great Pyrenees. He's about 6 months old, they think, and weighs about 33 lbs. He's got the biggest ol feet, so I think he'll be a sizeable kid!
Anywho, we're running through names right now. I like Leonard, Dave likes Salinger. Both abbreviate well (Lenny and Sal).
Opinions?
Dave called and was in hysterics. He'd stopped to save the dog and ended up at work an hour and a half late. After visiting the hospital later once they had done x-rays, he reported that the chap had a broken leg and would need surgery immediately. Of course, we're suckers, and he's just a puppy, so we OK'd the surgery knowing that we'd be dealing with a short future of poverty: The bill could be as large as $1,300.
I made a b-line to the vet hospital after work yesterday to meet the poorbaby and I'll admit it here that I really fell in love with the guy (he was heavily sedated, so it was easy). Poorbaby's on an IV with a broken rear right leg. He's got the look of a Saint Bernard to him with a little Great Pyrenees. He's about 6 months old, they think, and weighs about 33 lbs. He's got the biggest ol feet, so I think he'll be a sizeable kid!
Anywho, we're running through names right now. I like Leonard, Dave likes Salinger. Both abbreviate well (Lenny and Sal).
Opinions?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
New zip code, same old bullshit
I am not moving again for a very long time. Very long. Like a decade. About a week into packing up all of our belongings, which by the way seem to multiply exponentially while we're not looking, I was ready to quit and hire a pack of movers to finish the job. And there is truth to adage that "real friends are the ones that help you move." This is a shout-out to my sister Kara, her boytoy Veeeektor, my brother-in-law Marcus and the illustrious Vicki and Bobby, the mom-and-dad-in-law super duo. Thanks bunches!
So, after too much takeout and lots of cleaning/painting/unpacking, we're finally settling in. I've made bread at the new house, which I think is a pretty decent indicator that we're moved in (if I'm unpacked enough to bake then we're at least technically moved in!).
We've already been to IKEA twice, which I have to say, is arguably the best furniture store on the planet. I know there are going to be folks that would disagree with this, esp. Liv and Matt, who beyond all their virtues are still British (love ya, I swear!). Why do I have a thing for IKEA? I'm disorganized. Bad. Every time I waste the money to drive up the Dallas North Tollway to Frisco and run screaming like a Beatles fan into that big blue box I always leave hoping to recant my messy ways. Storage boxes, closet organizers, dressing chests, a new bed, glass-door book cases, a TV bench, a new coffee table: all of it is going to make me more organized, less cluttered and substantially easier to deal with. I just know it.
The worst thing about IKEA? The late-night assembly marathon. Dave's parents stuck around until after midnight on Saturday/Sunday to get our chest of drawers and bed put together. It was an awesome experience, mostly because Dave's dad is really handy with a Phillips-head screwdriver and without his help I would have never gotten that damn bed put together. Seriously.
Another highlight: Dave's mom, Vicki, who is an absolute saint, said "Shit!" when she couldn't get the attic fan to turn off in the new house -- she thought she broke it. A-W-E-S-O-M-E! Dave started hyperventhilating, half-yelling at Vicki for turning the fan on in the first place, when Bobby sternly announced, "IF YOU TWO DON'T QUIT THAT YELLING I'LL SEND YOU BOTH TO CHURCH TOMORROW -- TOGETHER!" That got everyone to chill the fuck out!
Now, this marks the greatest difference between Dave's family and mine: You can put money on the fact that someone will drop an f-bomb at a family gathering, whether mom, dad or the Jemison brood. We're extremely laid-back. We drink on all occaisions we are together, even when they aren't technically occaisions. Expect a good 15-year-old scotch to be poured when I'm in town. Cigars may be smoked, but scotch will definitely be consumed. You can also rest assured that meat in some form will be charred over an open fire, someone will fall asleep in a recliner and that a person that no one likes will be referred to as a "cunt." That's just how we roll. (That's also why Brent, my sister's Scottish husband, fits in with our family so well!)
Also, tragedy struck our house not long before we moved. My computer, which I purchased the summer of 2001, went kaput. We're now trying to replace the old bastard, but it's not looking good. Then, shortly after we moved, Dave's battery for his old ThinkPad went on the fritz. Seriously, when it rains, it motherfucking pours. I may only be able to blog intermittently because of the difficulties at home. I hope that this mini treatise holds you folks over until I can post again!
Much love from the 75228, suckers!
So, after too much takeout and lots of cleaning/painting/unpacking, we're finally settling in. I've made bread at the new house, which I think is a pretty decent indicator that we're moved in (if I'm unpacked enough to bake then we're at least technically moved in!).
We've already been to IKEA twice, which I have to say, is arguably the best furniture store on the planet. I know there are going to be folks that would disagree with this, esp. Liv and Matt, who beyond all their virtues are still British (love ya, I swear!). Why do I have a thing for IKEA? I'm disorganized. Bad. Every time I waste the money to drive up the Dallas North Tollway to Frisco and run screaming like a Beatles fan into that big blue box I always leave hoping to recant my messy ways. Storage boxes, closet organizers, dressing chests, a new bed, glass-door book cases, a TV bench, a new coffee table: all of it is going to make me more organized, less cluttered and substantially easier to deal with. I just know it.
The worst thing about IKEA? The late-night assembly marathon. Dave's parents stuck around until after midnight on Saturday/Sunday to get our chest of drawers and bed put together. It was an awesome experience, mostly because Dave's dad is really handy with a Phillips-head screwdriver and without his help I would have never gotten that damn bed put together. Seriously.
Another highlight: Dave's mom, Vicki, who is an absolute saint, said "Shit!" when she couldn't get the attic fan to turn off in the new house -- she thought she broke it. A-W-E-S-O-M-E! Dave started hyperventhilating, half-yelling at Vicki for turning the fan on in the first place, when Bobby sternly announced, "IF YOU TWO DON'T QUIT THAT YELLING I'LL SEND YOU BOTH TO CHURCH TOMORROW -- TOGETHER!" That got everyone to chill the fuck out!
Now, this marks the greatest difference between Dave's family and mine: You can put money on the fact that someone will drop an f-bomb at a family gathering, whether mom, dad or the Jemison brood. We're extremely laid-back. We drink on all occaisions we are together, even when they aren't technically occaisions. Expect a good 15-year-old scotch to be poured when I'm in town. Cigars may be smoked, but scotch will definitely be consumed. You can also rest assured that meat in some form will be charred over an open fire, someone will fall asleep in a recliner and that a person that no one likes will be referred to as a "cunt." That's just how we roll. (That's also why Brent, my sister's Scottish husband, fits in with our family so well!)
Also, tragedy struck our house not long before we moved. My computer, which I purchased the summer of 2001, went kaput. We're now trying to replace the old bastard, but it's not looking good. Then, shortly after we moved, Dave's battery for his old ThinkPad went on the fritz. Seriously, when it rains, it motherfucking pours. I may only be able to blog intermittently because of the difficulties at home. I hope that this mini treatise holds you folks over until I can post again!
Much love from the 75228, suckers!
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