They got me...

Disclaimer: if this post makes no sense I blame the confused red germ.

Ugh! I hope the purple one got me because that blue one looks just plain mean and prickly. The red one looks so confused it might get lost and end up somewhere germs aren't supposed to go and stick around, like my big toe. And the green one.... well, it's green and that's cruel. Nuff said.

On the positive side, Sharkdog does not have tuna butt and Chicklet is well on her way to being healthy.
Oh.. and there's jello in the fridge... except that the fridge is downstairs and I'M not.

Right, so Dumdum seems to be getting his own health issue as well. He's been shaking that big empty head of his a lot and I suspect something's amiss with his ear. So last night, I decided to put a little doggie ear cleaner in there. He comes easily enough until he notices the bottle in my hand, doggie instinct kicks in and he runs off in the other direction (he can't get far, the house isn't that big). Well... all my years of schooling in psychology are put to the test. How easy is it to fool this dog? I just squeal and run in the opposite direction. It was a lot like grammar school when you'd either run away and play coy or smack the boy you liked on the head. Mission accomplished. He was as confused as the red germ.

It's the little victories that make life meaningful, you know? HOOOOOOOORAH!



Last night we watched the elimination show for SYTYCD Canada and I think Canada got this one wrong. We had to say goodbye to Kaitlin and Danny. Although I haven't been a fan of Kaitlin's throughout the season so far, I've never had a bad thing to say about her dancing (she did fall a bit flat this week mind you). I just think she was a victim of youth and inexperience. What really has my underwear in a twist (I, unlike Jeremy - Jen's hubby from Steenky Bee- who likes to go commando and came out of the closet, was wearing underwear yesterday) is that Danny was "voted off" in favour of lesser dancers (IMHO).
This guy has some of the best partnering abilities I've seen on a dance show and I just hope Chicklet and I will be able to get tickets to see him during the SYTYCD Canada tour.

Ah crap! It just dawned on me... Kaitlin was WEARING THE RED GERM! Yup... confused. My point exactly.

I feel lightheaded now... back to bed.

Need I say more?

always remember

...to empty the bathtub after your kid takes a bath.

So yesterday, in the hopes of washing away the ickies, Chicklet took a long leisurely bubble bath. When she was done, she got out, dried off (I know this because her jammies were dry although she was a prune) and put on the aforementioned jammies (they have penguins on them) to join me as we watched SYTYCD Canada before she was shooed to her own bed.



I remember asking her if she had pulled the plug in the bath and her "Oops!" response... She always forgets. I swear I had made a mental note to go back and correct her oversight. But the sticky note fell behind some other clutter in my brain.

I settled in for the night with our dogs snoring loudly in the room. Sharkdog was in her usual spot (hogging the bed) and Dumdum was by the bedroom door. That dog seems to prefer sleeping in front of doors. I think he keeps hoping I'll forget he's there, wake up in the darkened room to fetch water or visit the WC and trip over him and provide him with a carcass to scavenge. I'm actually giving him far too much credit. He is the "Pinky" to Sharkdog's "The Brain".

In the middle of the night, as I was sleeping soundly, the plan to take over the house went into full force.



Ok, actually, the dogs were thirsty and requested some libations. So... being the good hooman I am (if I do this quick I'll never really wake up... yeah... that's the ticket) I crawled out of bed and opened the bedroom door so the Trouble Twins could quench their thirst. They're like Hobbits with pints, I tell ya.

Dumdum started down the stairs towards the water bowl in the kitchen and Sharkdog was dragging her fat carcass (I really do love them... yeah...) behind him. That is... until I decided to visit the WC in the dark.

That my friends, is when all hell broke loose.

You see, Sharkdog has discovered the joys of drinking from the faucet in the bathtub.


and


SPLASH!



and


no! no! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!




$%@&(?&!!!!!

Half wet dog... in the dark... wanting to go back on my bed... smelly... not a Bounce sheet in sight.... where the $@%$ is the towel?

Get back here!

No!

STOP!


ARGH!!!!!!!!!!

I need new jammies...

I hate you.

*stubbs toe*

$@%$

*Sharkdog smirking* I swear she was smirking!!!

*drool* Yeah, keep doing that Dumdum...

Great, now I'm awake.

What's on TV?



This morning, Chicklet was still icky. So... home again. After hugging Sharkdog until Sharkdog would be hugged no more she proceeded to hug Dumdum... who had enough right quick but is too much of a wuss to do anything about it.

The following ensued:

Me, the jello and soup maker extraordinaire: "Let him be, he looks miserable!"

Chicklet aka the Germ Factory aka the "why are you blogging this" whiner: "But I want to hug a dog! And I can't hug Chelsea (you know, Sharkdog's given name)!" (in her whiny sucky tone)

Moi: "Why not? She won't let you?" *snarf*

Germs: "Yeah.. and I don't want to... she has tuna-butt"

OH.DEAR.MERCIFUL.GOD!

Not THAT again!!!

Tuna fish... tuna dog?

First, I want to thank all who left good wishes for Sharkdog aka Chelsea the Queen Beagle aka my bestest little girl puppy in the whole world (you have to say that last one in a high pitched babytalk sing song tone to get the full effect).

There are some professions I don’t envy… like Alaska King Crab fisherman, road kill cleanup specialist, septic tank technician and avian vomitologist (owl vomit collector – yes, this is an actual job). Veterinarian is one of them. At least regular doctors have nurses they can assign to the task of giving a patient an enema.

In between two encounters with the monkeys I work with, I took a few minutes and called the vet’s office on Friday to make an appointment for Sharkdog. I told the vet tech (they have some gems working there I can tell you) about Miss Chelsea’s sore tail end and that she had yelped when I patted her and she gave us an appointment for Saturday early afternoon.

About fifteen minutes before the appointed time, I corralled Sharkdog into the car and chauffeured her to the vet’s. She hates that drive. She looked like the stick-up Garfield plush toys we used to have stuck to our car windows back in the 80s.

The vet techs were happy to see her (she suckers every one in) and came over to say hello. Sharkdog gave them a hello sniff and then tried to escape from Alcatraz um.. the vet’s waiting room. I held firm to the leash thus foiling her desperate lunges... err... best laid plans. She also gave me the “you’re not leaving me here again look” and I gave her a smooch on the head and told her everything would be ok (she understands me, you know... she doesn’t believe me, but she understands me).

The vet (he’s new but took care of Tobey aka Dumdum once and we think we like him) came and said hello and lead us to the “torture chamber”... I mean, the examination room.

Turns out the anal gland condition some of you mentioned?... yeah. As much as I adore my dog I am NOT EVER going to deal with this myself should it occur again. The vet had me put Chelsea on the exam table and we went through her symptoms.

This is not Chelsea (obviously), but you get the idea:

I told him sometimes she does the “boot scoot” and he went straight for the anal gland impaction hypothesis.



He positioned his hand at her ...um ... poop shoot and “massaged the glands”. Out squirted some yellow anal gland juice (which apparently is the normal colour) so no infection. YAY!

But then... the smell hit my nostrils and I gagged.

For a while that afternoon she was known as Tunabutt. I was attempting to explain this smell to my Honey (who had never dealt with this despite having had many dogs in his life) over the phone last night and the best description I could come up with was: picture a can of tuna in oil dating back to WWII soldier rations days that has been punctured open and left out in the baking sun of the Sahara desert for a few decades and you have a fraction of the smell that came from my dainty baby girl dog’s nether regions.

That was THE.MOST.VILE.EXPERIENCE. EVER!

Let me just say, anal gland juice could be used as a weapon of mass ... um... torture. Wanna smoke a terrorist out from the caves of Afghanistan? Pop an anal gland juice bomb in there and watch them run out vomiting, green as clover and St Paddy’s Day beer.
Seriously, unless Osama Bin Laden has had his nose surgically sealed and can keep his mouth closed while breathing through his eyeballs, this smell could send him running towards the allied forces if he thought they could make the smell stop.

Yeah... that bad!

The vet also checked out her ears and poor baby has bacterial otitis in both ears. So I have ear cleaning drops and antibiotics and we go back in a week for a follow-up.
She still isn’t fully back to her tail swinging days and I’m keeping an eye out for that. The vet manipulated the tail (stop smirking) and didn’t find anything... so we’ll see.
Sharkdog is now resting in a corner under a chair in an attempt to keep Dumdum the hell away from her behind – yup, things are back to normal. She isn’t falling for the “But baby, I just wanna express your anal glands” trick.

If anyone knows how to contact the R&D branch of the armed forces let me know. I think they need to look into anal gland juice as a weapon... seriously.

Oh... and just so that "internetpetvet" knows: Sharkdog has no problems eating fibre. Or anything else she believes is edible... like MY CHRISTMAS CHOCOLATES! Thus leading to the sparklepoop incident... that dog always has butt issues.

"My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet."
~Edith Wharton