Buddy

On June 20th, I returned from Pittsburgh, PA to find my dog, Buddy, having trouble walking. I took him to the vet and had x-rays done. The x-rays showed a discoloration on his spine (indicating cancer). My vet referred me to a specialist.

On the 26th I met with the specialist. Buddy's prognosis isn't good, but nothing was concrete till they do a biopsy. So Buddy had biopsy surgery (I gave the vet permission to remove any of the growth, if it's in the best interest of Buddy). The vet removed what he called a cancerous growth (we don't have the results of the biopsy yet). Unfortunately, he could not remove it all without destabilizing the spine. This means that if it's cancer, he still has it.

After surgery, Buddy couldn't walk for a couple of day. When I visited him on Saturday morning, he still couldn't walk or stand (not even with help). I left him with the vet over the weekend, but they didn't think he would be much better Monday. I started contemplating putting him to sleep.

On Monday he was a different dog. With the help of a sling he could get around. After visiting him and taking him outside, I left him at the vet so I could prepare the house for his homecoming (moving furniture, putting down area rugs, setting up his crate, etc...).

On July 1st Buddy came home. He has been getting stronger and stronger each day. Today he even walked a little bit on his own. Next week he returns to the vet to get his stitches out and his neck brace replaced. Total rehab will last 4 to 6 weeks, and their is no guarantee that he will be better than he is now or how long he has to live. The most I can do is make his life as easy as I can make it.

My Odd Thoughts

I read a headline the other day about a truck carrying 14 tons of Oreo cookies overturning.
My Odd Thought: I wondered to myself if they sent a tanker truck filled with milk to the scene to help with the clean up.
I had later heard that two lanes of I-80 were closed as authorities cleaned up the cookies.
My Odd Thought: I pictured all the worker as cookie monsters in yellow reflective vests and hard hats.

I was driving to work the other morning and I got behind a old Honda that had one of those flip top DVD players sitting on its dash. We have all been behind one of these cars, with it playing a Disney movie for the kids. This wasn't one of those cars; this guy was watching a porn DVD.
My Odd Thoughts: What job does he have that he has to watch a porn before going in.
As he drove away I saw the car lurching as he shifted gears.
My Odd Thought: Thank God it's a manual transmission.

Town Hall Meetings

The new big boss at work (a reference to her position on the food chain and not her size) has been having town hall meetings. I avoid them like the plague. It’s not that I don’t want to hear what she has to say, or learn about what’s happening with our company. It’s that I value my time. I feel I can contribute more to the company by working. I might attend one of these meetings if they were a half an hour or so. But, most of the time they turn into one of two things:

• The 2 Hour Bitch Session – Why can’t the company buy me this or that, why do I have to pay any money for my insurance, why do I have to be random drug tested and you don’t, whaaa, whaaa, whaaa… on and on. – If I want to hear bitching, I can call my sister and ask her, “how’s your boss?”.

• The 2 Hour Pep Rally – Yah!!! Yes, we are laying people off, but isn’t it great that I got a bonus for cutting the budget. Yah!!! Aren’t we great? You make this company (true, but most of them make the company mediocre). Rah, rah, rah. – If I wanted to attend a pep rally I would go to one that had cheerleaders in little costumes (college or professional cheerleaders, not most the women from work in little costumes (there are two that I wouldn’t mind seeing in a cheerleader costume).

I understand that some people are required to attend, but I’m not. I am not that high on the food chain. I understand some people want to try to suck up to the big boss, but not me; I’m too busy brown nosing my immediate supervisor to worry about anyone above him. I understand that some people like to feel that someone with authority is listening to them, but I don’t; I find if you have good enough ideas, it will reach people above you.

I have no use for these Town Hall Meetings.

Welcome to the Family

I would like to take a moment to welcome a new member into our pack. Her name is Dixie Belle and my sister adopted (rescued) her a few weeks ago.

Allergies

I am not feeling well today. My throat hurts and I’m drowsy from the over medication I did to myself. Normally my allergies aren’t that bad, but yesterday I hurt myself.

Yesterday, I finally got the parts to fix my lawn mower (I ran over a brick that my neighbor’s dog pushed under the fence trying to get into my yard (she has a crush on Buddy)), and a battery charger (my lawn mower had been broken so long that I thought the battery might have died (it had)). Once the mower was repaired, I decided to cut as much of the lawn as possible before the sun set. I figured I would be able to get most of the yard. Boy was I wrong. What I didn’t take into account was that I hadn’t cut the grass (weeds) in a few weeks. My lawn was high. To give you an example of how high; when my dogs would lie down in the grass, I would lose them.

It took me all the time just to get the front cut (and I still need to cut it again to get it lower). Because it was high the grass (weeds) had a lot of pollen. So, by the time I stopped mowing I had a sore throat, watery eyes, breathing trouble and the general feeling of blah. And, because I’m not a doctor I don’t always medicate myself well. I took to much allergy medicine (with beer), and now I a little bit out of it.

Allergies suck.

Heft on Wheels Again

My bike screamed in agony and so did I. The small little tires of my road bike are not made for people like me (Hefty), so my bike screamed under my weight. The big tires of a cruiser or a mountain bike are better equipped to handle my rotundness, but there I was on my little road bike pedaling my ass off (actually I would have to pedal thousands of miles to pedal my fat ass off) and my body screamed in agony.

I am following a woman ahead of me (not in a stalking way). She is a cyclist. Lean, aerodynamic and skilled; she glides through the trail. I had vowed to keep up with her. I was doing everything to keep up. She made little circles as she pedaled, while I stomped down on the pedals; she easily talked to people as she passed them, while I gasped for air. To her this was a little training ride, to me it was war (and not a cool war like WW II or the French Indian War, but a crappy war like Vietnam or Iraq (not the first Iraq War)).

In the end two truths came out. She is a cyclist and I am Heft on Wheels.