No, seriously, it's a required training course. Required. I wasn't keen on going, mainly because it's a financial strain for a household already burdened by upcoming surgeries and other expenses. Sure, the course is free. The lodging, gas, parking, food, and more parking aren't covered. I plan to take the bus tomorrow (I'm at a different hotel) to save funds rather than pay double parking garage fees.
So I drove to Baltimore today. And it was raining. Sideways.
No, SERIOUSLY. It came like a sheet that rocked my car as I took the exit for Inner Harbor. I can handle rain. Better Half and I have driven through all sorts of shit. What I can't handle is my Explorer turning into a road boat.
A road boat, people!
I should compliment Ford on their watertight vehicles. I never planned to float from Baltimore to D.C., but I'm sure I could with enough determination and some good GPS directions. (I…
Today was Hershey's first visit to the vet. His wellness exam is still on for Friday, but I've been worried about a UTI.
Hershey's first adoptive family had returned him for being "too excited". One of the woman's other complaints was that he "drank too much" and "peed too often".
His odd "drink and piss a river" behavior continued the first week we had him. There are plenty of reasons to not fret over it too much. Puppy's don't have great bladder control; puppies wee when excited; puppies are just puppies. The length of the piss was rather long, however, and I didn't see any improvement. He had also started weeing more often in the house.
I called to make his appointment but couldn't get him in any sooner than Friday. Determined not to let things brew, I asked if I could bring a urine specimen in before then. "Sure," they said.
Getting piss from a dog isn't that difficult. Males are easier…
Saying goodbye is never easy. After nineteen years, it seems nearly impossible. Yet we said farewell to our beloved Zephyr today. The Rainbow Bridge is a bittersweet place.
This Italian Greyhound was the last of the "Colorado Dogs". We rescued him from a pet shop in the Citadel Mall when he was only a few weeks old. Nobody wanted him. Iggy's look frail. They lack that fat, roly-poly essence. He was in a small cage, frightened yet excited. We had just lost our retired racer, Barron, and seeing this little guy brought back a flood of fond memories. We had to take him home.
There are many words to describe him. Silly, sweet, capricious, prissy. As a puppy, he loved grabbing onto Better Half's slipper as he walked. He was the lone male of the Bitch Brigade (we had three large breed females already) but, in his mind, he was the crown prince.
He went by many pet names. Wiggy, Iggy, Buddy, Turd, the Turdous. My favorite was "L…