This One's for the Dog!

Aging sucks.  I think we all know that.  And while it may be better than the alternative, it sure seems like it must be awful.
 
Rod, at last count, had the following maladies:

Back pain
A shoulder growth
A rash on his leg
and now the latest, a toe infection.  Ick factor +8

Now, if this were describing my body, the last thing I would ever do would be to look in a mirror.  Do you think these things happen to ALL old people?  Or just the evil ones?  Rod makes weekly appointments for the doctor these days.  I think he's on a first name basis with the person who answers the phone, even!  Me, I visit a doctor once every 5 years (at best!) and then, only when something hurts or seems infectious.  This guy has been 5 times just this year!  Oy vey, I hope we have a good insurance plan!  Anyway, at least this latest corporal failure means he is leaving early today and Jen and I will get a nice lunch out of it!

Rod thinks he doesn't micromanage.  Isn't that a laugh?  He even bragged about it in my interview!  Later, his story changed a bit.  He said "Do you know?  People think I micromanage!" and then he snorted in disbelief.  I snorted right back and said "Ya, I can believe it!  You have me cc you on every single email I send.  Every time you ask me to do something, I must advise you when it is complete.  You literally demand to know what I am thinking, you insist on my agreement with you on policies, approaches, and sales techniques.  Yes, Rod, you are a Micromanager!"  He still scoffed.  "Well, I don't think that makes me a micromanager! That's just ensuring that we are giving good customer service!"  I just rolled my eyes.  I try not to think ill of anyone, but this guy is just clueless.  He actually kinda reminds me of Mr Bean - just off in his own world, and when something happens that he doesn't like, well, he just dumps it in someone else's world (like the scene with the oysters, when he dumps them in the ladies purse).

Oh, and hell to the no!  Ick factor +143.  Rod just went to some website, I guess.  All I know is that I heard a mouse click and then cheesy synth music, and then a woman's breathy panting voice.  Oh HELL no.  God, get me out of here, this place is just nasty.  I am getting a prophylactic suit for Monday.  I am just so creeped out right now!  Damn!

Anyway, as this week closes, I have been thinking harder about why I'm still here.  Last night as I drove home in the rain, I just couldn't think of why I should come in another day.  When I got home, I finally realized it.  My two puppies greeted me happily, bouncing off each other to give me warm kisses and nuzzles.  I have a husky and a HUGE white malamute.  The husky bounded up again, and landed on the malamute, who yelped and jumped, cowering in pain.  She had hit his tender back legs.  Maybe I should tell the whole story...
 
Last December (08), when Seattle got hit with a nasty series of freak snow storms, the city got buried.  I religiously walked my dogs (I had just been laid off from Boeing, I certainly had nothing better to do), and the snow didn't stop me.  Actually, it encouraged me! I love the snow.  So, my fiance and I took my husky and the most innocent, incorrigible, impossible black lab you have ever known for a walk.  We took them to the park and I let them run free, the snowdog and the retriever!  They had a blast, running through the snow, bounding back to us... repeat!  We got home that night, and our lab started whimpering in apparent pain.  When I got him to come to me, I knew immediately what was wrong, my heart sank, and I went cold.  He had bloat.  And it was late at night.  And the streets were covered in snow.  This was not good.

Being the animal lovers we are, we got him into our Suburban (he jumped right up, despite the agony he was in) and off we took for the nearest emergency vet - about 10 miles away.  Off we sped!  A terrifying 20 MPH on deserted, snow packed streets!  The dog moaning and howling in misery, but licking me desperately, as though to say "make it stop, mama, I know you can!"  I kept saying "Just hang on, buddy, the doctor will fix you up!  Just hang on, ohh, I know it hurts!"  Then I'd yell desperately, "HOW MUCH FURTHER?"

If any of you have had a dog with bloat, you probably know what happened next.  We got him in the vet's, they drugged him up good, took xrays, and came to us with the news.  It would be $5000 to fix him.  FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!  We looked at each other, we looked at the doc.  I asked, "Can we set up a payment plan?  I mean, Christmas is next week, and I just got riffed from Boeing, and ... well, we just don't have that kind of money sitting in an account."  It killed me that money was stopping me from saving my dog's life.  What a crime.   He said, no, they would not accept payments, but they would take credit cards!  Because I had already been burdening our credit cards by being out of work, this just was not a feasible option.  We had to make the choice to have our dog put down.  A perfectly healthy, wonderfully innocent 5 year old lab died that night.  Because of money.

It took a few weeks, but we made the choice to get another dog.  On Jan 2, 2009, we went to the Seattle pound, just to "take a look."  I kept repeating, "We are not getting a dog today!  So keep that in mind!"  So in we walked, my main squeeze and his two sons.  The first dog on the right was the biggest dog I have ever seen.  He had wonderfully soulful eyes, and while all the other dogs were yapping, jumping, or eating their poo, he just quietly watched us.  Back and forth we walked, pointing at different dogs.  "What about this one!" or "Here's another husky!" or "Wow, I didn't know dogs would lay in their own poop!  GROSS!"  But I couldn't stray far from that big, white, sad-lookin' dog with the woeful eyes on the right.  So I finally said, "Babe, I really want this one." And I pointed.  He looked at me with huge eyes.  I figured the answer would be "No way in hell!"  I was half way right.  "No way!  That's the one I like too!!"  The boys were all over it.  "I loved him right away."  "No you didn't, idiot, I did."  "Yes I did!"  "Can we get him?"  "I love him!"  I couldn't believe that everyone else wanted this same big ass dog I did!

So we did all the right things, we asked to take him out in the yard out back, we played with him, we kissed him, we walked him, we chased him, we were already proud of him... We fell in love with him.  We put him on reserve - it was getting late, and I wanted my dog to play with him in the yard before we made it final. 

The excitement the next day was better than Christmas.  We were going to give Big Ass White Dog a new forever home!  We packed the husky in the truck along with four overly excited humans.  Well, to shorten the story, my husky fell in love as quickly as we did, and we decided to proceed.  Dreading the fees, I took out my checkbook and asked what the tally was.  Again, the want of money was interfering with my ability to love an animal.  It made me sad.  But imagine my surprise as the story unfolded!  This was actually the dog's 2nd time to the pound!  He was dropped off as a puppy and adopted by some sort of drug family, they think, who wanted a big ass dog for protection.  Then they returned him, we think because he just got too big!  The result was that they had already paid all the neutering fees, placement fees, whatever other charges there are, and all I had to pay for was to re-instate his license.  $5.  The big ass, 1 year old dog was 5 bucks. 

When we got him home, I noticed his gait was a bit off, so I got him to our usual vet.  They checked him out, and said something was definitely wrong - hips, back, or knees, they couldn't tell, so they referred us to an expert place.  Off we went to the next place, they couldn't really diagnose either, without xrays and medicines to see how he reacted.  Xrays and medicine all cost money.  And for a dog that big, it meant big money.  So I promised him as we left, "One day soon, big bubba, I'm gonna get a job, and I'm gonna save up my money, and we are gonna get your legs fixed!"

The windshield wipers squealed and brought me back to the present.  Here I am, keeping a promise I made to a dog, a solemn vow, and one I will not break.  He doesn't know I made the promise, but I do.  And one day, I will have the money to fix him.  He will not have to live a life in pain.  Everyday I put up with Rod, as trite as it is, for a few more dollars in the "Fix the dog" pot.  It may seem stupid to put up with this for a promise to a dog, but it's enough to help me go in every day now, and put up with a little more crap, until I land somewhere else. 
 
It's not a lot, but it's enough.

Happy puppy trails, everyone!  It's Friday!

Eye Tee Girl