Odds & Ends

Man, Rimadyl works FAST.

Max woke up this morning and trotted (trotted!!) outside, with scarcely a trace of stiffness, then spent about ten minutes barking at something I couldn't see with a vigor I haven't heard in three years, at least. Then I let him in, because five ack emma barking is not a thing in this neighborhood. Although it might become a thing, because Max is groovin' back to his badass self.

No weird memory issues the last few days, either.

Now, of course, I feel like shit because all of this must've been related to the pain his back was causing him. And I didn't notice. But he's stoic, so how would I have noticed? Anyway, I think he might keep going for a few more years, now that he's able to boink around the yard going BAROOOF at things.

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Turns out that Bossman had a meeting with The Big Evil Bossman and one of the BEB's Minions, a woman I used to like and respect until she got too close to the BEB and started acting more like him than like herself. What is it about Evil Bosses? How do they corrupt the minds of the innocent? And, more than that, what was Minion doing at a meeting about the NCCU with our Bossman? WTF? She has zero CCU experience and doesn't even run a floor that has to do with our specialty.

All these questions will have to wait until Monday to be answered. The upshot of the last meeting was that BEB can't understand why (because he too has exactly zero critical-care experience) we would want heart monitors on our patients in the NCCU.

.... ..... .... .... ....Yeah.

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I have finally figured out liquid/gel eyeliner. This is a huge deal for me. Back in the day, I wore the shit out of that stuff, but as I've gotten more mature (read: as I've gotten lines around my eyes) the mid-Eighties Rococo Raccoon Look is less and less appropriate for work.

Last night I took some time and figured out a better way to do liquid eyeliner, which involves lining the inside of my upper eyelid, and will try this bad boy out with the green-and-black rhinestone-encrusted glasses which Abilene Rob said made me look hot. I'm thinking it'll be a sort of Nutso Cat Lady Librarian Meets Studious Nurse Thang, and I'm all over that.

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Why I love The Hairpin, part three gazillion: because they introduce me to websites like this.

'Zhausted.

Max has arthritis in his spine. His bloodwork was perfect, his right hip is fine, his left hip is all jacked up with arthritis, and his spine--especially the lower back--is a mess.

He now has the tippy-top super-duper prescription glucosamine supplements from Hades, a bottle of generic Rimadyl, and a bad sedative hangover. Luckily, he's a meditative drunk rather than the pacing, panting sort.

That's him, passed out with his head on the nice cool bathroom tile. Poor guy.

Had a bad day?

Have a baby hippo.

Max news!

Thank you, first of all, to all the folks who sent/commented with tips and tricks for old, arthritic dogs.

The vet says two things:

1. It's probable that the trouble with Max's hind legs is arthritis in his hips. HOWEVER. There is a rare degenerative spinal disease that tends to hit German Shepherds, so he's going in for X-rays on Thursday to make sure that it's actually arthritis.

2. The memory loss doesn't concern her yet, because it's recent, sporadic, and correlates with the horrible heatwave here. I am to keep a journal of when he goes blank and, if I get more than five or six instances in the next couple of months, to bring it back to her. My marvelously intuitive brother-in-law might be right: this might be Max saying "I hate the heat and there are ants biting my butt."

Also, he has Old Dog Teeth and Old Dog Skin Weirdnesses, but we're not going to put him under to deal with them. His heart's fine, his bloodwork is pending, but honestly? I don't see the point in putting a 107-lb, eleven-year-old dog under general anesthetic to have a couple of minor, benign skin-things removed and his teeth cleaned. They're not *that* bad.

I learned today that the fastest way to get a reaction out of people is to take your very large old dog into a liquor store on the wrong side of the tracks. There's a store here that sells 471, a pale ale I particularly like, and so I ran past there on the way home from the vet's, with Max in tow. I took him in because, in 100-degree heat, you don't leave any animal in any car for any length of time.

We walked past Mexican roofers with cases of Corona Light in their arms, gang-banger wannabes with saggy shorts and gold teeth and bandannas, and scary-skinny blonde white women with prison tattoos, and all of them were totally silent. Max was prick-eared and perky; he likes going new places. Not one person said one damn thing to me, the chunky chick in the empire-waisted flowy hippie-dress. Except one guy, who came in, stopped dead in the doorway, and said, "Woah." I reassured him that Max was friendly, so he came closer, scratched Max behind the ears, and said, "He's a big man, ain't he?" I replied that yes, he got that way through drinking all my beer, and the guy chuckled while Max drooled on his shoes.

Max is now lying on the dining room floor, and taking up most of it, because he has had a Very Big Day.

Oh, well.

I have had One Of Those Days.

Worry about work kept me up late last night; the heat kept me in today. I did some basic grocery shopping, but forgot to get coffee. Max seems better--of course, because he has a vet appointment tomorrow.

Today, a friend of mine whom I love and respect was bitching about how the development of cellulite has kept her from buying shorts. It was dramatic enough that I nearly said something like, "What a coincidence! I've been looking for months for shorts that'll coordinate with the huge hole in my head, the sores I get on my tongue from the prosthetic, and the wires that poke my gums."

Anger from work is obviously spilling over.

Tonight I'm going to read All Creatures Great And Small and eat a pile of toast. Tomorrow I'll see the Prosthodontic Fairy, then take the Zoaters to see the doctor he once tried unsuccessfully to bite, then come home and make salads and lunch for the rest of the week. It'll be a productive day, which is better than a day spent worrying and pacing.

Something is going to happen soon, I know that. I just wish I knew what it *is*.