Plague

My dog, you remember my dog? Epileptic? Dangerously allergic to wasps? Fatty? She's just now getting over her latest health scare. A few days ago, right in the middle of the really big (for Vancouver) snow that practically wiped my neighborhood off the map (see: Pompeii) and buried us all, my dog got sick. It was the weirdest fucking thing. She was all of a sudden moody and quiet, sitting weirdly and looking nauseous.

If this had taken place in normal land, I'd have taken her down to the vet's that very day, and had them stick a thermometer up her ass, et cetera, and tell me what was happening. But as we were buried in snow (my car, Argo, having already failed to get more than a meter from the garage), and my dog is CONSTANTLY ILL ANYWAY, I figured I'd wait on it. I kept expecting her to heave up some grass or have some nice diarrhea all over the front lawn, but instead she stopped doing anything at all, and lay under my bed all day. That night, she did puke, and it was the most appalling, rank-smelling thing ever, but she didn't seem to feel any better for it.

So the next day I was determined to take her in, but the stupid cars were still buried in snow, and she wasn't well enough to walk to the clinic. She wasn't well enough to walk down the stairs, at that point, and she lay on floor (where I'd dragged her out from under the bed) and her paws were freezing cold, and needless to say, I was freaking out.

I don't think any amount of shoveling, rock salt and/or cat litter could have gotten my Jetta out of the back alley, but luckily my mum has a Rav4. I'd never had much affection for it, this "mini SUV", and never even given it a nickname. I called it "the Rav4" when I called it anything. But now I call it "HERO CAR SUPREME", because it trundled out of the garage, when pressed, like a little bull, and got my dog to the vet.

They told me it was probably her pancreas. That she had pancreatitis, which is fairly common, and that she was very dehydrated. They took her into the back and hooked her up to an IV and took blood, and I left her there.

It's hard for me to leave a pet there, in the back of the vet's, because it reminds me of the times I've left pets there forever, after they've been euthanized. It's a strange and horrible feeling to leave an animal you love on a table in a vet's office, and walk out of the clinic knowing you'll never come back to take them home.

I picked Happy up that night and took her home, but she was still in bad shape, so the next morning she went back to the vet's for more fluids. The bloodwork came back saying a bunch of stuff I couldn't understand, but mainly that it wasn't her pancreas after all. It was some sort of severe stomach infection. The blood wasn't specific as to the type of infection, so I don't know why it happened. And her white blood cell count was dangerously high. "Dangerously high" were the words used, and you can imagine I focused particularly on the bit about dangerously.

So antibiotics were prescribed. My old friends. And this kind of very soft, palatable food called "Gastro". Which makes me think of the futuristic every-organ striptease in Paul Pope's 100%. And Happy loves Gastro. I heat it up in the microwave for her and sprinkle it with delicious Clavamox and Apo Metronidazole and she gobbles it up and begs for more.

Long-story-medium-length, she's doing better. It took a couple of days but she's almost back to her old caninity. She's almost 100%, you might say. Oh ho ho ho, ah me. But seriously, and this might be weird, I feel so lucky. I know it's insane that I've got a four-year-old dog who is (as I may have mentioned) CONSTANTLY ILL, and that she's an expensive bugger to maintain, but I'm filled with fucking gratitude that she always gets better again, and she always comes home.

That said, (and sloppily), my mother wants to adopt a wire-haired Dachshund from Idaho named Frank. For herself. So I might be going to Idaho to get him.

And in January, I'm flying to Chicago for a few days to take a writing workshop taught by Lynda Barry who is, as you know, my idol.

Not much, besides that, is up.

The snow is all crusty.

I bought the new, fancy issue of Matrix Magazine with NERNIES on the back page, and that gave me a little thrill.

I've been doing a lot of christmas shopping for the family. I got Emily a big bag of water and meat (mixed) that can be used as both a pillow and a "comfort buddy".

That's what you get, EMILY, FOR READING THE ABOVE SENTENCE WHEN IT CLEARLY HELD SECRETS AND SURPRISES.

I still don't have a Wii. The guy at EB sighs really loudly whenever I come in.

Watching (or in my case re-watching) Deadwood with Marian is bringing me much joy.

Watching fan subs of Naruto on my computer is bringing me less joy, but has its own charm. Sasuke sometimes reminds me of Jack White. Is that wrong?

I feel like an idiot lately, on the internet. Everything I type is an idiot thing, and this blog is an idiot blog. Thus: I am an idiot.

But that's just how it goes, from time to time. By tomorrow I'm sure I'll feel as internet savvy as Britney Spears' crotch, (thanks mum, for those photos) or whatever the latest online phenomenon might be.

My dog is having a noisy dream, just now, and her tongue is sticking out of her mouth a little bit.
No more now!