Maybe a Dingo Ate Your Baby

In December, we let Patches go.

He was 16 years old (maybe 17) and could not stand up or walk any more.  We carried him up the stairs, down the stairs, outside to pee, and back in to sleep.  He had fecal incontinence which mean he would just poop at anytime, even in his sleep.  He was still "there" but starting to go---barking at the sunlight was one big indicator.  We took him in to the vet for his euthanasia, and he had lost 8 lbs in 4 weeks.  That's not the sign of a healthy dog.

It was time.  We were sad, but he didn't need to suffer any more.

Dave and I decided to wait until the summer to get a new dog. We figured it would be good to take some time off and heal and enjoy the freedom of a dog free life.

Like a fool, I decided during my acute grieving to check out the North Meck and South Charlotte Animal Rescues.  Honestly, I was just looking to feel better and see all the options available when we would be ready.  I looked at many, many dogs and puppies on both sites.  And I felt warm, but not struck-by-lightening in love.

And then I saw this little stinker.

I emailed Dave. He said he thought we were going to wait.  I said ok.  And THEN DAVE MENTIONED THE PUPPY TO BRIDGET!  HA!  Mama ain't no fool!!  I emailed the rescue immediately and started the application process.  Who would break our daughter's heart?  The man who mentioned the puppy but didn't get her!  Not I!!

So we jumped through a few hoops, and we brought home Juliet Eleven Blanchard Dougherty.  Juliet from the detective in Psych (nickname Jules).  Eleven from Stranger Things.  Yes, she is wonderful.

She's sweet. And smart.  And loving.  And a wonderful puppy.

And she hates Fred, the cat.  And she tried to kill a chicken.

YIKES!!!

So Jules is a Carolina Dog. That's the name of her breed.  She is supposedly mixed with a bit of a yellow lab, which I can see when she's hanging around with the pure bred Yellow Lab at Puppy Training Class.  But she's definitely a Carolina Dog.

This does not mean that she hates DOOK.  Unless, Duke is the name of a cat or a chicken. And we didn't really know what a Carolina Dog is except that our neighbor has one, who is sweet and chases cats.  

After the near murder of the chicken, we finally looked up what the Carolina Dog breed is.  Do you want to know what a Carolina Dog is without looking at the wiki?  It's a freaking Native American Dingo.  Yes.  Carolina Dogs are an ancient breed of dogs that came over on the Bering Straight and were the dogs Native Americans had, at least in the Southeast.  Their closest behavioral and genetic relatives are dingoes, in Australia.  Go head.  Say it.

There are a lot of people who say it.

And there are certain characteristics of Carolina Dogs that we absolutely see in Jules.  She will jump like a fox, particularly when then bed covers are not to her liking. She makes odd vocalizations, which to me sound like a very exasperated old man sighing at how lame the rest of us are.  She loves chicken poop, especially when it is frozen and turns into a poopsicle.  She has black eye-liner and black lips.  She is less motivated to learn commands to please us (which was absolutely Patches' motivation) and more motivated to learn to get a snack.  

A DINGO!!!  

Of COURSE, we have a dingo.  We have 13 chickens, two cats, two gerbils, two house rabbits, and a freaking DINGO!  

Aye-eye-eye.

Except, she's a good dog. She's learning the pack rules: don't kill the chickens or bite the cats.  She sleeps at my feet while I'm at my standing desk.  And if I've been too active, she'll lie across my feet to keep me from moving.  She gets on the furniture. And we let her sleep with us.  (Patches would haunt us if he knew that)   

There are times that, yes, I do think we're insane.  And when I say "we," I agree with you, dear reader, as well as my family, and actually mean "I" am insane.  Yeah.  It keeps in interesting.

A dingo.  People: A DINGO!  

I love my little ding-dong dingo!  

Well, Poop

What an amazing weekend. There is something about the south in the spring that is prettier than any other season in any other part of the country I've lived in. All the flowering dogwoods and cherry treas, vibrant pink azaleas, and, um, flowering flowers are so pretty after the gray of winter. But what I think is even prettier is all the shades of green from the trees as they start to get leaves again. By the middle of summer, it's all one hot, oppressive shade of green. But now, it's all vibrant colors and 15 shades of green that make me so happy to move from winter to spring.

And we FINALLY have the house and the yard in a livable condition. When we moved back in November '09, the yard was completely destroyed from all the workers and their equipment. The vegetable garden had been mostly neglected and with less than 1 year old twins, we made the easy decision to neglect it again. Even the perennial got no attention besides mulch and superficial weeding.

Worse than all of that was that we didn't have a deck anymore on the back of the house and it wasn't clear where we should put our outdoor table and chairs to hang out and "enjoy" our backyard.

Who the hell am I kidding. There was not a lot of "enjoying" last year. What were we thinking having twins and remodeling the house at the same time? I don't know how we could have done it any other way but holy crap, that was a rough time.

IN ANY CASE, for the last month, we've been working in our yard. Dave put in cedar raised beds for the garden and just this weekend we finished putting up a gorgeous architectural bunny and rat proof fence (designed by Dave's DIY Home By Design--available for hire and/or babysitting services, inquire within). Pictures to follow; they are on the other computer.

It's been wonderful getting the yard to where I thought it should have been last year. Who knew, really, how much work a remodel is *after* the remodel!?

But even better--the TWINS! Are EASIER!! They PLAY!! With each other!!! With Conor!!! And even though a re-enactment of Bridget at any point during the day would include the words "Mommy. Mommy!! MOMMY!! MOMMMYYYY! MOMMY! Mommy. Mommy!! MOMMY!!" we can do things when they are awake and that is a freedom I am excited about.

Speaking of freedom, both twins have shown some interest in potty training. I think they are really young, but they want to sit on the potty. And we're happy to let them do it.

Yesterday, we thought, Hey!! It's warm out! Let's give them some freedom and let them run around without their diapers on and practice sitting on the potty. What's the worst that could happen?

What is the worst, indeed.

It was not more than 5 minutes before Bridget started running around the backyard with her diaper in hand. Fine. She wants to play with her undies; I wonder what the neighbors will think. At this point she still had her jumper on and I thought it would be good to take it off in case she peed and got her clothes wet. I ran after her and she ran to steps outside the garage.

I scooper her up. "What is that smell," I thought. "Did she toot?"

Ummmm, no.

I looked down at a poop on the stairs to the garage. Did the cat get outside?? Did some other apparently large cat poop on our steps?

There were olives. No cat I know eats olives. Bridget on the other hand. . .

YIKES! I yelled and made Dave come over and look because that's exactly the kind of wife and mother that I am.

I ran back inside to get some wipes to clean Bridget up and finally take off her jumper.

I see Patches wending his way towards the garage, curious at this new smell.

LEAVE IT!! LEAVE IT!!! Patches slinks away.

I clean up Bridget. And then I go to clean up the steps to the garage.

What the.....???? Where the.....??? PATCHES!??!!?! PATCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'd strongly suggest you don't let Patches kiss you any time soon. I'm just saying.

Spring

I hate to keep changing the background and layout of my blog, but I am still not completely satisfied with it. I would like it to be fancy and eye-catching, but not so busy. Sort of like how I'd like my own life to be. ((Rudely laughing at my own joke))

So, um, yeah! Here we are in spring. Work-wise, I need to be reviewing abstracts for a conference and what I'd really rather do (besides writing constructive comments) is just to turn in my short assessments to the conference organizers:

1) Hell No

2) Yes, great job

3) Yes, but as a poster or interactive session

3) Nope.

That should be enough. It's relevant for conference organizers, but, alas, does not have enough specific feedback for the authors. (Really? Ya, think)

In mother news, Bridget was given an "incident report" this week for biting another child. The good news is that it is fully clear in the report that she was defending herself from the tooth-y onslaught of the other child. That is, she wasn't the aggressor--someone was trying to bite her, she knew someone was trying to bite her, and she got the first bite in, probably right after she said "Listen, fool." (She can channel Mr T when she is defending herself)

In working mother news, I have a much better internet connection, we have a printer that works, and the cat is still alive. Let me back up a moment. A month. Ummm, two months.

Two months ago, in that I took a work-life balance class for mid-level women academics at our university: How the heck are we supposed to do this thing called A Career that allows us to have A Life, too. I honestly don't know if that is possible, but one thing we worked on was our "tolerations." Tolerations are those annoyances you have in your life that if you took 10 minutes or $10 (or maybe a bit more investment of time/money), you could solve the problem and your life wouldn't have those niggling "tolerations" any more.

For me, besides exercise, some of the big tolerances we've been putting up with around the house is crappy internet service (from AT&T U-verse) and no working printer. As someone who works A LOT from home, these are problems. The night of the workshop, Dave read my list of tolerations and within 3 days, had fixed them. Or at least, these two. The Messy House toleration is ongoing. Let's just stop for a second and talk about how wonderful my husband is, shall we? Yes, he's wonderful. Ok, moving on...

What bothered me about ME is that I had also included on my list of tolerations: Cat Won't Die.

Really? Really, Anita????? It is a daily annoyance to you that your Cat Won't Die. What kind of heartless bitch am I? A pretty big one, apparently.

In my defense, the cat is 18 years old. If she were a child, we would be exploring college opportunities right now. It would be time for her to move on. She also howls at night. LOUDLY. Right by the bed. That is annoying. Especially since sleep is so precious right now, an 18 year old cat howling by the bed is a toleration, that could be solved. By, ummm. Well, a shoe would be a less extreme solution than death.

Of course, feeling very guilty, I started paying a bit more attention to the cat. And that's when we realized that she is completely deaf. I have no idea how long she's been deaf. But she is completely and utterly deaf. That's why she's howling. In the middle of the night she has no idea what anyone is doing and would kind of like the world to know she's still alive. (Fortunately, she cannot read and did not know of her place on my list of daily annoyances/tolerations).

So she is still alive and she is not on my list of tolerations any more. We are also paying her more attention and she is not howling as much.

Finally, a funny professor story. After I give lectures, I will often write notes to myself on the syllabus or on the PowerPoint slides if there was a problem and if I should revise the lecture. This week, I gave my lecture on Stress in the workplace and I had written on the opening slide (so as to catch my attention) "This is a BORING lecture!! FIX!" So, I did. I added more exercises and more places for the students to contribute their own feedback and experiences.

Then, yesterday when I was reviewing my notes before class, I realized: I had uploaded the PowerPoint slides on the web....and had not taken off my note: "This is a BORING lecture!! FIX!" Yes! On the first slide!! The first thing the students saw when they looked at the slides was how awful class was going to be this week!! And yes, they did notice it!

Great!!

What I appreciated was during the class, I kept asking: Are you bored? how am I doing? I absolutely LOVE the student who said, "I'm not bored, but I am less enthused than I was."

We stopped and did an exercise.

Best Laid Plans....

It started with fussiness. Bridget has been getting a bit fussy when she and Christopher nurse together. Christopher is pretty calm and confident that he can get all the nummies he needs. Bridget worries and frets and can't get into position when she can see Christopher half a mom's body away. So it started with fussiness. But it has moved to the stink eye.

Bridget now gives Christopher the stink eye most times they nurse together. And bless her little heart, it backfires and she ends up feeling the anger of the stink eye herself. So even if we wanted to put the babies on a schedule, the stink eye prevents us.

(((Sigh)))

As I said, we're not so much on the schedule, but we were loving the routine. We're still routinized: they still eat, play, and sleep around the same time. But any plans to encourage them to eat exactly at the same time are out the door. Bridget gets too upset and she needs to save her calories for growth, not for bursting my ear drum.

And how is Patches doing, you ask? (Smooth transition...not) He is well. He is happy to have more puppies in the pack. But he is concerned about our abilities to properly parent the loud one--Bridget.

People have accused me of exaggerating, but I'm not in this instance. Before we diagnosed Bridget with reflux, we had real problems with her screaming. Indeed, a few days before the doctor's visit she was screaming and Patches gave me a look that clearly indicated his thoughts. He was heading out the door of our bedroom and turned and with a disappointed expression, projected onto me: "You are not doing that right."

Yes, you can say I was imagining that, but I know my dog. And I know what he thinks. And he was sorely disappointed in my parenting skills at that point.

A few days later, I was nursing them together (it was the beginning of the stink eye), and Bridget was screaming, of course. Patches sat up from his nap and barked at me! Just one bark. And it was one of those heads up barks that dogs have. But I knew what he was thinking "Are you paying attention here? Fix it!!"

And on one of my first days alone, Bridget had a melt-down (notice a theme here?) while I was changing Christopher's diaper. I ended up putting Christopher in a safe place while I ran to pick her up. As soon as I started running, Patches started running, too, to safely escort me to Bridget. (All 7 feet it took me to get there)

So yes, there we are. Having my parenting skills judged by a dog and keeping my daughter from giving her brother the stink eye. We actually have created a "stink eye cloth", essentially a burp cloth I hold between them if we are trying to have them nurse at the same time. Because they have not yet developed object permanence, neither of them have any idea the other one is behind the cloth. It works mostly, unless Christopher starts stretching out his enormous monkey arms and pokes Bridget in the eye or sticks a finger up her nose.

Hmmm, maybe that's why she gives him the stink eye? I doubt it. Even when he's nursing in his sleep it bothers her.

Back on Track

Well, we're back from the CA trip. We were supposed to stay until Thursday, but since, uhhh, THAT PART FELL THROUGH, we came back early. We still went to attend my conference and see some friends.

We also went to Disneyland on my birthday. I cannot explain to you how wonderful it was to be at Disneyland for Conor's first trip on my birthday. (BTW, did you know you get a button for your birthday at Disney and you can adjust your age so that "all your dreams come true?" Very nice) Conor rode his first roller coaster (fun!), saw Minnie and Micky(fun! fun!) and saw his first parade in which a trombone player played specifically to Conor while Conor grinned and squirmed and died of embarrassed excitement. I know that the band members know that it's fun for the crowd to see that, but I guarantee they have no idea just how much it makes the parents' hearts swell to see this.

We also went to the beach in San Clemente, and I spent more time in the (frigid-oh-my-god-did-I-just-run-into-an-iceberg-go-on-without-me-and-save-yourself, Rose) water that day than I ever spent in the 10 years I lived in Los Angeles. Conor rode a boogie board and even fell over a few times without freaking out too much.

And on the day we were traveling back, we got a call from our cat/dogsitter that Patches wasn't eating or playing and Scarlett was peeing outside the box--a sign from our last trip that she was very sick. They very, very kindly took Scarlett to the animal hospital and we just prayed that both of them would make it by the time we came back. Early. Without a baby. No wonder why I was so weepy on the flight back, eh?

Patches is doing much better and is playing and happily eating again. I picked up Scarlett from the vet and I learned how to give her Sub-Cutaneous shots of fluids to keep her kidneys clean (for $80 a month! yikes!!) We've also decided that we can't leave the animals alone for this long again. So, Mom and Dad....stay free in October! The grandcat and the granddog and the grandkid are going to need you to babysit them while we make our I-hope-to-God, gods, and goddesses-last-trip-for-a-while to get pregnant.

Owl Be Darned

Apparently, we are not the only creatures in our neighborhood noting the extensive number of rats, rabbits and mice around our house.

We have three adult screech owls hanging around our house every night now looking for prey. On the one hand, Hooray!! Kill the bunnies!! On the other, ummm, is there a downside? We can't think of one! Both we and our neighbors are enjoying the nightly owl show in our back yard.

First, the owls are frickin' big. They fly low and they think we are not worthy, so they have no fear flying over our heads or watching us from low branches. Second, they love playing on our outdoor furniture and our car. We suspected owl activity from the massive bird poop we were finding on our deck and cars, but this week they've decided to truly make themselves known.

Dave came to get me one night to show me the owl on our car. We were standing at our back window watching the owl on the car while the owl was watching us, too. Then we decided to turn out the light so we could see the owl better. The owl thought that was bizarre behavior. He could still see us through the glass (those big owly eyes and such) and he was still quite curious at our behavior. So he started bobbing and weaving his head at us, I'm guessing just to make sure he could still see us. Then he apparently got bored of that and started looking around at different things around the car. Once his gaze was directly opposite of us, he all of a sudden whipped his head around and stared directly at us! He was trying to catch us doing! It was so obvious what he was doing, we laughed out loud.

By that time I think he trusted us enough to fly back and forth between the cars and walking around.

I just love having our owls in our backyard even if it makes me a little nervous to go outside and do something once the sun has gone down. They are REALLY big. And we can now recognize their screeches which lull us to sleep when we sleep with the windows open. However, now that we are all owly friends, I feel like I ought to inform that it's probably not the best hunting strategy to keep screeching every 3 minutes when you're on the hunt. Even the dumbest mouse and bunny is going to figure out that a screech could lead to a murder and to keep their heads low. Since our goal is for the prey to walk around waving their tiny rodent arms to attract attention to themselves, we might need to bring this up at our next owl meeting.

And on a more exciting note, I'm done with the Quantum Cleanse. I had my first cup of coffee this morning and it was delicious!!! And oddly, I could only drink one cup. More than that made me feel a little sick. Our new RE allows 2-3 cups of coffee, but I'm thinking I might stick to 1-2 cups. And tonight, I am so excited about the pinot grigio I'm going to put in the fridge!! WOOHOO!!

And I did lose about 6 lbs. I'm very happy about that. But I really want to lose about 4-6 more lbs before the IVF in August. So I'm still sticking with what I've been eating with a few modifications: no sugar, minimal wine, mostly vegetarian and less wheat than before. Truly, it would be great to be back down to my weight at Conor's pg when we go in for our IVF.

But now, it's time to focus on today and today's work and relish the coffee I had this morning!!

Running Around Outside

(((Brrrringgg. Brrrrring)))

"Hello?"

"Anita? This is your neighbor, C***."

"Hey! How are you doing?!"

"Fine. I just thought you'd want to know that Patches is running around in your backyard with something that looks like shorts."

Pause.

"Are you sure it's shorts and not underwear?"

"I'm just saying it looks like shorts."

"Thanks!"

I Can See Clearly Now...

We have new windows.

Project Warm the House is finally done. They installed our new double hung windows on Monday. (I didn't know what that meant originally, but apparently, each pane of glass has a "partner" and there is also gas in between the two panes.) In any case, it's supposed to make us warmer. Or at least stop the breezes like the one I felt on my neck last week. When the window was closed.

Even better, we can OPEN the windows now. I know, I know, windows are supposed to open, but the ones in our bedroom, family room and kitchen did not. And that could be a problem when I burned food. We'd open the back door beside the kitchen, but it really didn't help clear out the smoke before the fire alarm went off and ADT would call up asking for our password. Unfortunately, the only password I can easily remember is our hostage password and I really don't like giving that one out, essentially inviting the SWAT team over for dinner when I've burnt it already.

In any case, we opened the window in the kitchen this morning, the better to enjoy our 62 degree sunrise. (So not kidding. It's too warm for winter) And we also noted that we actually have a three tier alarm system. First, there is the alarm. Then there are the toys scattered around the house like an obstacle course. We would fully expect that any burglar would trip and fall on Thomas the Tank, Clifford the Big Red Dog ball, or any of a variety of stuffed animals occupying our floor. Finally, there would be Patches. Patches would be able to pin any fallen burglar down licking him to death. Or until the police arrived. Patches has the most vicious bark. He really sounds ferocious. But he only wants to love the people that he meets. Fortunately, most people don't know that. (However, if they knew that all the fight scenes with Lassie involved Lassie actually playing with others and the growls dubbed in, they might not be so afraid.)

School starts tomorrow. Hooray! I'm only being a little bit sarcastic.

The Fish Who Would Not Die

Sergio has made an amazing comeback. He's eating again and swimming around and his fins are spread out. Who knew that we'd have our own Monty Python character living in a fishbowl?

So have you heard of Pingu? Last year, Conor's cousin Carter brought out a DVD of favorite TV shows and within it was a sample of the Pingu animations. I LOVE Pingu! It's one of the shows Conor watches that Dave and I like to watch. (Go! Diego! Go! Not so much)

As part of our Holiday wishes to you, we invite you to watch a Pingu Video (ironically of Pingu fishing).



And then when you see Conor and he goes "QUACK QUACK!!" and pulls his hand away from his mouth like he's playing a trombone, you will realize that he's trying to talk like Pingu. (Although Pingu says NOB! NOB!!)

Mama Stink

Conor has started yoga at daycare. A yogini comes by every two weeks and teaches the children different positions. The first class just involved reaching for the sun, but lately, Conor has shown us how he can make himself into a ball and how he can not only do Down Dog, but can then do Down Dog with one hand behind his back.

It's pretty impressive not only that he knows these positions, but that they are teaching children yoga at daycare.

On Sunday, we were decorating cookies together and Conor put his hands in prayer pose and bowed a little while he said "mamastink."

"What?" I asked.

"Manastink. Mamastink. Mamastink," all the while his hands are folded.

"I think you mean 'Namaste'" I suggested to him.

"Mamastink," he replied.

"Namaste," I counted.

This went on for a while until he got very frustrated and said "YOGA! YOGA! I learned this in Yoga cwass!!!"

"I know, honey! I learned it in yoga class, too. And it's Namaste!"

"Mamastink!!" he insisted one more time, although finally willing to concede that maybe Mama might know a bit more about yoga than he. And that she didn't stink.

********************

We continue to be on Death Watch. I thought Sergio had finally kicked the fishbowl Saturday morning when I had to go past just flicking the side of the bowl to shaking it a bit to see if he was still alive. (He squiggled a bit, so we took that as a proclamation that he was not dead yet.) This morning he actually ate something so I think we have a while to go.

It's very sad to see an animal towards the end. We are certainly following his lead on this. Sort of like attachment parenting, but more like attachment fishing, but where the attachments do not involve lures. Also, it's hard to comfort a fish. They don't take to touching and petting all that well.

He's had a good little life, our Sergio. And I think he has a little bit left in him. Maybe he'll make it to Christmas. I'm sure that the holiday holds much meaning for him.

Sergio Death Watch

The fish, Sergio, is not doing so well. First, I must admit that at 4 1/2 years, Sergio is very, very old for a betta. And he's actually quite active, attacking his food and waving his fins at us if we are a bit late on feeding him.

Lately, though, he's taken to either lying on his artificial grass or hanging vertically in the water. Neither of those positions seem all that healthy. Also, instead of attacking his food, which is awfully cute--it's a pellet, but he hunts and kills it, he now sort of lunges towards it and if he misses, well, he sort of takes a nap and waits for the next meal. We really try to drop the pellets very close to his head, but he's not very interested.

Worst, though, is that Dave noticed that his gills are getting crusty. We do not assume this is a good sign.

I wish there was somthing we could do to ease his pain, short of using gin or the freezer. However, I think we'll just continue to provide him with whatever comfort we can (usually a head near his bowl and some sympathetic sounds) and then just flush him when he's officially belly up.

Oh, Just Lots of Things

We had another "event" this month. I will probably refer to this as the Month Where I Used A Gazillion HPTs. I took a test on Monday afternoon and got the faintest of faintest lines on my First Response Early Response (FRER) test. In case you were wondering, that was 9 dpo, so it was very early and certainly reasonable to have a faint line.

However the next morning, 10 dpo, it was still way too faint and I knew it wasn't going to stick. Nonetheless, I took another test Tuesday afternoon with an Accu-clear (which I've later found out was panned on Peeonastick.com) and still had that faint line. By this point, I'd broken down and let Dave inspect the sticks, too, instead of saving the test for a big "You're Going to Be a Daddy" surprise, which one might admit is pretty foolish at this point. In any case, he saw a line, too.

And BECAUSE I AM PATHETICALLY OPTIMISTIC, I took another Accu-clear test on Weds morning, 11 dpo, and finally got a faint but clearly visible positive test line. It was gone by Thursday morning (12 dpo) when I peed again on a FRER. I won't even mention the three tests I took Weds afternoon with one positive (FRER) and two negative (Answer, New Choice/Dollar Store).

I am my own HPT testing lab. And I'm sticking with FRER because I think they are still the most sensitive. However, if I was really pregnant, then all of them would be flaming with two hot pink lines right now and it wouldn't really matter which test I used.

So there. Bleah and crap. I continue on my quest to be the oldest miscarrying freak of a woman in these United States this year.

In other news, we have an evil bunny indulging him/herself in a fresh vegetable garden buffet every night. It's amazing how this rabbit can eat the insides of a tomato clean out and leaving a soon-to-be rotting hull on the vine. Oh, what a talented bunny haunts our garden. At least it's not a rat. (And I just realized that I didn't blog about our rat problem from the spring. Hmmmm. Go figure)

I like not this bunny. And I like not our dog who lets this bunny run free in our garden. It is shocking that Patches lets the bunny roam, much less live, considering the incident with the bird and the other bunny. I know he's an older dog now but he still chases squirrels around the yard, and God(dess) forbid that Scarlett should do anything out of the ordinary because he'll rat her out in tail wag. Speaking of rats, I should have realized his hunting days were over when he did nothing as a rat ran across his paws and under the deck earlier this spring (see Rat Problem, above). Yes, nothing more than a quizzical look from our bird killing dog should have been my first clue that He Has Changed.

We try and try to explain to him: Scarlett, good! Don't bite or bark at. Birds, good! Let live!! Rats, bad. Attack! Bunnies in garden, bad, Bad, BAD! KILL BUNNY, KILL!

And on a big change of subjects but more on my mind that evil bunnies, I believe we are going with Catholic Social Services for our domestic adoption. I promise you that soon I will devote an entire blog on how FREAKIN' confusing adoption is, the range of prices that are out there and why, and why we are making the decisions that we are making. I keep making these offhanded comments about what we are doing on this adoption journey, but each decision point we get to is really, really hard.

But enough for this Friday post. I wonder why I always blog my longest on Fridays because no one comes around to read it. If you are here on Friday, well, thank you for stopping by!! I do miss having your company on Fridays.

Have a good weekend, y'all!

Oh, one last thing: it is one of my biggest pet peeves when people misspell y'all. It is the contraction of You All. You All: Y'all. It is NOT the contraction of Ya All. What the hell is that?? Ya All? Ya'll?!?!?

The only time the "ll" goes by itself is when you are contracting: You All Will. That becomes Y'all'll. Yes, that is a word. We use it all the time down here when we are inquiring about others' plans in the future. "Y'all'll be at the park on Sunday? We will, too! See you there!"

And Your Little Dog, Too

In addition to the recent miscarriage, I've developed a creeping crud on my head and neck. It's lovely, I can assure you. It started with an itchy, dry, largely flaking scalp about 2 months into the pregnancy, moved on to a big red itchy patch on my neck and now I have three dime size incursions from my scalp onto my face. Again, beautiful. And I'm calling my dermatologist right now.

Then, last week, I noticed a slight limp from Patches when he got up from watching me meditate. (It's a spectator sport for the animals around here) Then, over the weekend, when playing with Dave, Patches couldn't even put his weight on one leg. We felt his legs and paws and found a golf ball size swelling on what we thought was his knee (it turned out to be his ankle; dogs legs are not as straightforward as ours).

We raised our fists to the sky and said, Duncan? The Baby? And now the DOG!? This is CRUEL! You are not playing very nicely right now and we're going to start complaining. To a higher authority. The INTERNET will NOT BE AMUSED if our dog has cancer. You'll be in big trouble then!!

So on Tuesday, right after we took Conor to the pediatrician for meds for his second bout of croup this year, we took Patches to the vet. And thank God, it's simply a doggie version of a strained Achilles tendon. No running for Patches for a whole week. Yes! Stop a collie from running just like you stop the tide from coming in.

He's doing better now, and I think the swelling has gone down a little bit.

Truly, that would have been the last straw.

I'm Pregnant

I'm sure you're thinking...."Wait....didn't she already talk about this a couple of weeks ago? Did I miss something in the last few weeks of the measly posting she's been doing??"

Well, for the first time since I got a positive HPT, I am finally convinced that I am pregnant.

Yesterday was my first meeting with the OB nurse, the promotion from Gyn to OB as it were. And the whole time during our meeting when she was talking about this or that, I kept thinking "Well, I could be pregnant, but based on my history, we don't really know for sure."

So when she set up the meeting for my first trimester screening, I mentioned that I thought it would be a good idea if I had another ultrasound to check that there was any reason for me to go to the screening. I know that all the news has been very good thus far, but I had been lead to believe that the news was positive before, too, and it wasn't.

So she scheduled another ultrasound for the afternoon.

And 1 week and 1 day after my last ultrasound, the baby has grown exactly one week and one day. And the heart rate? 170! I was measuring 8 weeks 0 days with a 170 heart rate. At this point, the research I've seen shows that a heart rate over 146 has a 3% miscarriage rate. At 170, I just feel like that's a really good number. I believe, finally, that I am pregnant.

And yes, I did start crying on the table when she told me the heart rate. I was so relieved that everything looks normal. Of course, there could be some abnormalities in the screening, but I don't think so. I think everything is fine and normal. I could be wrong, but I don't think so.

3% is a magic number for me. I use it all the time in teaching about statistics to tell my students that it's the same probability as getting pregnant using birthcontrol pills. So it could happen, but it's unlikely. So having a 3% chance of miscarriage right now is very reassuring to me.

I'm pregnant. And I finally believe it.

In other news, we are slowly adjusting to life without Duncan. Surprisingly, the household member who is taking this the worst is Scarlett, aka Psycho Kitty. She and Duncan spent a lot of time napping together and Duncan was always licking her head (and her butt, but that's another story). When we come home from work now, she's like a little tribble flying across the room to latch on to our heads. Nights are filled with plaintive mews for us to pet her and snuggle with her. I try, but it's a bit annoying. (She has a whiny meow). I gave up long ago the right to any privacy when I go to the bathroom. But now she views me as a captive audience when I go a toilette and fairly assaults me with headbutts, meows and purrs while I'm trying to go about my business.

In all honesty, this is the first time in Scarlett's 14 1/2 years that she has not had a cat companion. And since Patches regards her beyond all cats as an indoor squirrel, he's not going to fill that void in her life. She always wanted to be #1 Kitty, but I don't think she ever meant to be the only cat in the house.

Little Duncan

We had a very sad cat-tragedy last night.

It started about a week ago when Duncan started rolling around on the floor and pushing his legs out. It was clear something was wrong and he couldn't stand up. First we thought it was a seizure, but it didn't fit the google criteria for a seizure. Then we thought it was a little stroke cuz we just did. But within 15 minutes he was all better and we didn't think much more about it.

Then last night I saw him trying to crawl into our hutch and it was obvious his back legs weren't working. Since we'd also found a pee spot in our bedroom and the dining room rug also had a leak, my immediate suspicion was renal failure. By the time we saw him lying in the litter box, Dave had fixed up the cat carrier and whisked him to the emergency vet.

I thought for sure we would spend a bit of money and they would flush him with fluids and everything would be OK.

But instead, it wasn't renal failure. It was a very large bloodclot in his leg that had cut off his blood supply and his feeling. And apparently, he was throwing another clot in his other leg and was beginning to suffer. (Can I point out this this all occurred within about 2 hours!?) The choices were a $1000 treatment in which the vet had never known to be successful or put him to sleep. (Again...THOSE are the options!?!? Wasn't there a middle ground somewhere?? A few days of not really a lot of suffering and a chance to say a proper goodbye?????)

But the clots were not moving, his limbs were getting cold and he was apparently coming into a lot of pain. I understand that he was getting very sick and that losing circulation in one's limbs is never good and that they can't run a catheter into a 16 year old crippled cat and expect everything to come out hunky dory.

But nonetheless, I am very sad. Because Conor was in bed and I was at home, I didn't get to give him one last head scratch before he went to sleep. Dave was there and said it was very peaceful and Duncan apparently seemed ready for it.

But I feel a little robbed of a few more days with Duncan and a chance to say a proper goodbye. Quick partings are very difficult, even if they are with a sweet, if somewhat slow, little cat.

Shaking it Up A Bit

Last year, we made an extensive To Do list of projects around the house. I can now say that as of last weekend one of them, making our living room look grown up instead of grad student, is about done. We finally bought the rug that brings everything together in the room. And even better, this 8x11" rug was only $238 from Lowes. Bwhahahahahahahahahah! I love that story! We've been looking at rugs for years and have found nothing less than $800 and most well over $1100. And this is a NICE rug for less than $250! Bwhahahahahahahahahah! Indeed, most of Lowes rugs are Cheap A$$. Who knew? We thinking of getting another one for the family room, which is this year's list of things to do.

The last thing we have to get are bookshelf speakers to take Dave and my electronic purchases up from the 70's and 80's respectively. Otherwise, with the two new chairs, the leather coffee table/ottaman, the new doors on the built-ins and the rug, we're calling the living room done!

Of course, once you change one thing, you open up the world for all the other changes you want to make, like switching closets around, moving bedroom furniture and buying your 2 1/2 year old son A NEW BED!!!!!! (I feel like Bob Barker right now).

Yes! We've moved to the Big Boy Bed in our household. What the HELL were we thinking???? The first night was great; Conor asked to get into bed and slept the whole night. The next night was a little bit more of a struggle; we had to sit in the room with him a little longer to help him go to sleep. The last two nights have been downright awful. There is the scurrying of little feet around the house when he darn well ought to be in bed. There is the screaming for one more toy--usually Thomas the Train or one of his compatriots--to put under his covers.

I know (hope!) it's just a transitional phase as he gets used to having more freedom and we figure out how to enforce the night time rules with methods that do not involve a) wrestling one's opponent and pinning him to the mat/bed or b) a variety of phyiscal restraints, the favorite one in my imagination involving a leash that allows some roaming but will pull him back to the bed should he get too far.

Mentally, I know he's just testing the new limits. Emotionally, I'm ready to bring the crib back and put him in it until he is 15.

Oh, and we are on Death Watch 2007 for Sergio the fish. He's taken to new positions of floating and swimming I've never seen before. For a while, he has been resting in his grass instead of swimming. Just sort of hanging out without expending any effort. Now he's taken to lying on the bottom of the first bowl or hanging vertically at the top of the water with his mouth right at water/air line. I know he's old for a Betta--3 years makes him above average in fish years. But still we'd hope for him to hang around a bit longer. The vertical stance, though. It's very easy to see him move one fin the wrong way, and he's belly up.

Conversation This Morning

"Scarlett certainly is enjoying her ascension into the Queen's throne."

"Yes, and I must have lost my invitation to the coronation ceremony she conducted on the bed at 2:30 this morning."

"I'm not sure 'Get The F*ck Off Me!' is the proper way to address the Queen."

Feeling Her Catnip

Until now, Scarlett has always been the "lowest" animal in the house, certainly not by our standards, but in the animal kingdom. The first night Patches was here, he curiously sniffed at Savannah and Duncan and tried to eat Scarlett. Simba wasn't thrilled with Duncan but constantly chased Scarlett the house trying to beat her to a furry pulp. Patches, head collie cop, never let that happen.

Now, however, things have changed.

I really don't know what is up, but Scarlett is regularly whacking Patches on the nose. She is now taking the empty seat at the dinner table and inspecting what we're eating in case she wants any. (Aside: 1) we're not going to give it to her but 2) she looks so darn cute with her gray ears barely peeking over the table.) Nonetheless, this sends Patches into an "awwrooorrroooroooroooorroooo" frenzy of policing/being a tattle tale.

Just today, she jumped up on the kitchen island, and in full view of Dave, started licking the butter dish. Now, we know she does that, but that doesn't mean she's allowed to do it in front of us. This afternoon, when Conor and I got the mail, she made a significant try at getting out the front door.

There is shifting of the pet power around here, people. Scarlett sees an opportunity to move up the ladder and she is taking it. Simba's presence and departure still has its consequences.

We're definitely on a new world record for days with out inappropriate pee! YIPPEEE!

Update on the Zoo

Well, I have to be honest with you: we don't miss Simba. (too much) I have to write that in small letters because I feel so guilty admitting it. But minus one tiny but ferocious kitty, we are having a much easier time of it.

Mom and Dad love Simba and she is settling in as Queen of the Realm. So, it assuages our guilt a bit that she is happy and my parents are happy with her.

And I start to feel even less guilty when we are reaching a new World Record in No Inappropriate Pee Since We Met Simba. I'm telling you, it's amazing: we can leave laundry out on the floor in front of the laundry closet, my new bathroom rug has gone two whole days without being peed on, AND the gym bag has remained pee free for over a week. My LORD, that makes life a lot easier.

And Scarlett has started to blossom for the first time in years. (Why, yes! It has been about 2 years, in fact) She is sleeping with us again, visiting Conor's room and letting him pet her, playing with toys and purring with a vibration that could serve as a massage. She even hopped up onto Simba's special pillow space over our heads and has been sleeping there. They only reason she would sleep there is that she saw Simba sleeping there and she wants to try it out. We thought Simba and Scarlett were fighting over who was low kitty, but it's clear that Scarlett was on the bottom---the Kitty has been Keeping Her Down!

Blainey-Pants if you are out there reading this, we do feel guilty, but it just seems like everything is so much better.

Big Sigh.