All My Quadruped Children

Inspirational song: Stand By My Girl (Dan Auerbach)

Athena had a follow up visit with her vet this morning. She said (she being the vet) that it looked like everything was healing well, but there is still a touch of inflammation that warranted another shot of antibiotics. Poor Athena has decided that nothing good comes from going out the front door, because every time she has lately, she has ended up at the animal hospital. It will discourage her from running out toward the busy street, which is a bonus. I was pleased to tell the doc that Athena’s attitude has undergone a 180 degree change. That tooth must have been bothering her for a long time before we understood what was wrong with her. Now that her mouth feels good, she is the sweetest, cuddliest baby of all time. She’s also the hungriest, and I have to convince her that the wet food isn’t going to swell up in her stomach like the kibbles she was on before. She’s getting plenty of calories. She’s just not being plugged so full that she barfs.

I couldn’t bear watching Bruno the anole looking so sad and lonely. I gave it five solid days to make sure that he didn’t have the same infection that Agnes died from. I went to the pet store today to get him crickets, and I had to ask whether they still had the same female anole they had a week ago. The girl who scooped up my crickets was able to find where she was hiding in the cage, and she captured her for me. I freshened up the cage a little before adding the crickets and the new tiny girl. She wandered around a little bit before finding the lizard ladder, and with it, Bruno. He has been watching her with interest, but he hasn’t tried to touch her yet that I’ve witnessed. I think he is a little afraid. I’ll give it a couple days, and I bet it will be all better. I do have to keep a close eye on her however. She has something funky going on at the base of her tail, and I can’t tell whether she is untidy or injured.

I have not yet named baby girl anole. Her name will start with the letter C, and it needs to be an old-fashioned kind of name. I was thinking something like Callista, Calliope, Cassiopeia, or similar. I’m accepting suggestions. I’ve also asked my Croatian teenager for ideas. I will announce it once I decide on her name.

Participation

Inspirational song: War (Edwin Starr)

Good God, y'all. Being responsible is exhausting. It was the big day to show up as delegate for my chosen congressional candidate, to get him on the primary ballot. This was the third big meeting in the process, the last one before the choices are thrown to the public to vote on officially, and even then we still have the general election to go. There are so many steps, and I'm worn out without even being a candidate. How do they do it? At least the only words I really had to speak, other than my name when I collected my credential, were several instances of "aye." I thought we were going to be well-spread out in this large arena, and instead they made us all squeeze tightly into the floor section, and that's when things took a turn. The people in the back couldn't see the speakers at the front of the crowd (they were reluctant to use the stage, and we never got a straight answer why). Just like at the last event, contentiousness started early. It went way beyond "Speak up!" and "Why don't you stand on the stage?" We were surrounded by hecklers, yet again. I'm not sure how two of the four candidates made it to this level. The support just wasn't there. And one of them was inexplicably combative against another candidate. We were all as emotionally uncomfortable in that moment as we were physically by being jammed into too small of a space.

But after a very long day, and a surprise recess to wait for a vote count, we got our results. The two strong candidates garnered nearly all of the votes, and will appear on the primary ballot. The one my friends and I were there to support got the most, but we all agreed that the one who came in second was a strong contender who we would fight for equally if she were in the general.

Just as my phone battery was dying, and my body battery was begging me to leave without waiting for the vote count, I checked Twitter to see the rumblings of the imminent announcement of airstrikes against Syria. It was surreal watching that unfold as we were participating in the ultimate expression of peaceful democracy (heckling aside). I don't know where this is going to go, so I will just acknowledge that it happened, and move on.

I made it home, and forced myself to put in some computer work to get myself closer to current on the Rotary newsletters. I finally found the set of notes that was missing late last night, and I was able to put out three issues in a few hours tonight. I was so happy to be done at about 12:30 in the morning, and I could go to bed. Instead, I realized that I had not yet blogged, and I had miles to go before I sleep. Habits are hard to build, and some habits are hard to break. This habit is one I'm terrified of losing, so here I am, being responsible, and keeping my almost-five-year streak alive for one more night.

How to Train Your Tinky

Inspirational song: Cannibal Surf Babe (Marillion)

For anyone who has lived with a house panther, there is no question that Toothless the night fury in How to Train Your Dragon is more feline than anything else. His features, his mannerisms, his grace, his capriciousness--these are all obvious cat traits. Of these, I think it is the capriciousness that I appreciate the most. That's one of my favorite cat behaviors, to act docile and flirtatious in one second, and to attack in the next, only to go back to innocence an instant later. You can't take it as an insult. They're just reminding you that it's an ultimate killing machine that you are attempting to cuddle. They all do it. That's what makes them fun.

My own night fury, my little murder floof Athena, has been feeling awful. I wrote the night after I took her to the vet that her bad breath signaled a serious problem with one of her teeth. Today was her day to go under anaesthesia to have the abscessed tooth removed, and have the rest of her mouth investigated. I've been very nervous about this, because it's one of my babies going in for surgery who can't be reassured with a logical explanation of the procedure. I didn't want her to be so frightened that she had a poor outcome (or a tragic one). When we waited to talk to the vet on drop-off, I opened the top of her carrier, and leaned over it, resting my elbows on the exam table where she sat. She never tried to jump out of the carrier. She just scooted to the side closest to me and hid in the curtain provided by my long hair. She needed a lot of extra comfort. I had an exceptionally hard time walking away from her, even knowing that the vet is magical with cats, and Athena absolutely loved her the first time they met.

As they were waking Athena up, I got a phone call from the vet to let me know how it all went. The abscessed tooth was awful. The roots were mostly deteriorated, and what was left had to be drilled out. Her incisors, the tiny front teeth, were all so loose, that a whole row of them essentially fell out, and most of the others had to come out as well. Her fangs and the other molars are still intact, so she will eventually be able to eat dry kibbles again, but for at least two weeks, she will be on 100% canned pate.

She got a three-day injection of antibiotics, and a shot of painkiller that should last equally as long. She was a little wobbly when she came home, and she had goo on her eyes that they put on them so they don't dry out (last I heard cats keep their eyes open under anaesthesia, so they need to put goo on them--I assume what I heard was true, but I'm willing to hear other explanations that might contradict that). We were supposed to be next door all night tonight, but I requested to switch to here, so that I could stay close to her all night, and make sure she recovered from the ordeal well. She seemed curious about our guests, walking across the table several times to make sure she was the center of attention. She startled a little easier than usual, but she recovered all right. She absolutely purred and cuddled more. It could be that extended-release painkiller talking, or it could be the fact that her mouth is no longer irritating her. I am looking forward to a more tame, more relaxed little house panther. She's more toothless than she was before, but I bet her attitude changes from night fury to night snuggler.

Preponderance of Good

Inspirational Song: Where I Want to Be (Chess)

I think it’s time to sit back with my feet up, and reflect on the things that went well today. It really was a beautiful day at Smith Park West, even if it oughtn't be over 80 degrees in April in Colorado. I’ll blame the extremely warm temperature on the winds that blew through, and appreciate their effect on my flowers and trees. The nectarines are starting to open their dainty pink blossoms. The lilacs have big clusters of leaves bursting open. The choke cherry will be resplendent very soon. And my hyacinths and daffodils are prolific this year. It is spring all over. The lupines have healthy growth already, and they are going to go nuts very soon. I even dug around in last year’s dried out lavender (which smelled amazing) to find this season’s growth has begun.

I saw there was another one of those “national pet day” hashtags going around. How apropos that I took a few pictures of my kids out back, mostly of my boys—Alfred, Harvey, and Murray. They all have been spoiled rotten today, but then, they are most days. Elsa got lots of family time, which she appreciates. And so did I. We had the kids and some of our friends over for table top games. Normally this would be a D&D night, but our leader needed a week off from planning it. Instead we had a bigger group for dinner and Settlers of Cataan. I’m living my dream, I really am. I wanted this house to be a gathering spot where everyone knew they were welcome as one of the family. This group knows where to find everything in my kitchen, and they know to walk in without knocking. It’s exactly as I designed it.

It’s a good thing they are all so comfortable in my house. By the time I’d finished cleaning and cooking, I had to get off of my foot, and I let them all fetch and carry for me. I finally went to the new podiatrist (after feeling absolutely blown off by the last one the day after I injured my foot and knew it explicitly). This guy was down in Boulder, and he might as well have been from another planet he was so different than the one who was bored by my concerns. New doc took X-rays immediately, showed me the painfully obvious signs of years of plantar fasciitis, explained in a totally logical way how those signs (heel spurs) formed, and made sure I was able to see how badly my arches had fallen. (Rather than arches, the tops of my feet are straight lines, with a depression just below the ankle.) After testing and listening carefully to my descriptions, he has concluded that I have most likely torn the tendon that comes down from the posterior tibial muscle, but not severed it. An MRI will tell us whether it is a lateral or transverse tear, and how bad it is. My options range from a boot while we wait for it to heal (I find it unlikely this is my best course after 8 months of walking on it), injections of steroids (would not like), injections of my own platelets (also would not like), or surgery (really would not like). Not sure where it will go, but something has to change. I’ve been living with daily foot pain for 20 years. Before this, my average day was a five on the pain scale with both feet. This is easily a nine, and that is unchanged in any position, from standing to sitting, to lying in bed, to floating in the hot tub. But as I am focusing on the positive tonight, I will end on this: I really like this doctor. He cares. And he projects confidence and compassion. I made it. I’m good.

Don’t Panic

Inspirational song: Hell (Squirrel Nut Zippers)

I conducted most of my business from my bedroom this morning. There are huge advantages to being in the stage of a deal where everything is done via computer and phone. Mid-morning, while I was the only human in the house, I looked up and saw a large squirrel staring in my window from the side gate. I would have thought that he wouldn’t have been able to see in through the window, that there would have been a reflection to prevent it. To my surprise, he totally saw me, and I think he made eye contact and watched me very closely. And I swear he wore a look of disapproval, throwing such shade at me I was nearly compelled to go out back and make sure there was enough birdseed and dried corn for his breakfast. I didn’t, but I thought about it seriously.

It was maybe an hour after that, when I was showered and prepping to go to Rotary that I stood closer to that same window, and realized the squirrel had seemed so close because the side gate was standing open, allowing him to be just a few feet from my window. I immediately panicked, thinking my two remaining dogs would have run away by the time I discovered the gate was left open. I raced to the back of the house, hoping against hope that Murray would have flipped over in his wheels, thus keeping him from escaping. I was never so pleased to see that little goober had done just that, and was waiting patiently for me to come right him. I detoured through the garage, hoping that Elsa would be in her favorite spot, sleeping on her bed rather than roaming the neighborhood. Again, my luck held. Nothing better than a dog whose two favorite things in life are a soft bed and the promise of a regular meal schedule.

I went out to stand Murray upright, prepared to send a photo to the Mr who left the gate open, with a nasty note attached. I managed to pick the dog up without dinging my freshly painted fingernails (a Christmas miracle, that was), and I turned around to find the inner gate, the vestigial chain link that I kept on the off chance we needed a dog run so we could have a garden party without dogs begging for something or jumping on a guest, was already closed, and the perimeter was as safe as it ever was. The only one of our dogs who could have jumped a fence was Bump, and in the last year of his life, that became increasingly difficult for him, and uninteresting to boot. Elsa was always too chubby to jump, and she asks for a boost any time she is invited into a truck. Murray, well, he may think he is Underdog, Superhero of Canines, but the day those wheels lift off of the ground is the day we remake the bike escape scene of E.T. I’m not holding my breath.

Accidentally On Purpose

Inspirational song: She Chameleon (Marillion)

It is with a heavy heart that I must announce Smith Park West has become a tiny bit smaller tonight. Accidental Agnes the Adventurous Anole has passed away. I did everything I could to help her, but she was too far gone.

I noticed a few days ago that one of her eyes was swollen, but I thought it was either just a minor thing, or I was imagining it. It got worse over the weekend, when I assumed no vets were open, and I had no idea who even took tiny lizards. If I had known yesterday that the veterinary clinic at Colorado State University was a 24/7 operation, I might have driven her up there. Instead I waited until Mr S-P could catch her from the tank, and saw that it had really taken over both eyes and she looked awful, before I was able to find a vet who could see her right away. I raced down to Boulder with her, and dropped her off. They said they had her stabilized, and when I picked her up, they gave me medicine for the infection. I have to be honest, I thought she was dead when we arrived. Her color was that blue silvery shade that always indicated they were gone in Charleston when the cats would bring them inside as hunting trophies. I paid the vet $93 for the emergency visit plus the antibiotic drops, and on their recommendation, I stopped at Petsmart on the way home for an additional heater (a ceramic one), more cricket food, and some vitamin drops for lizards. And when I pulled up at the house, $150 into this odyssey, I realized she was gone. She didn’t survive the trip home.

I feel sorry for Bruno. He fell madly in love with her as soon as he caught sight of her (she hid for the first two days he was in her space, but after that, it was true love). They always slept side by side on the green mesh lizard ladder, with their tails curled around each other. For two days he has stayed right next to her, literally holding her hand, like he was comforting her. I know there isn’t a wide range of facial expressions for these little guys, but if anoles are capable of pleading or inducing guilt, he did it. Now he seems pretty freaked out to be alone. I’m going to wait several days, to make sure he doesn’t have the same infection, and to give him time to mourn, and then I will start looking for another female anole. (Like betta fish, you’re not supposed to house two males together.) I made the mistake of leaving Agnes alone for too long while she was my first lizard I kept in a tank. I won’t make Bruno suffer in isolation like she did that first year.

Back in Charleston, I buried the ones the cats would bring in the house in my plants. I’m fairly certain the orange geranium that overwintered in my dining room has two or three buried in that porcelain pot. I thought about putting her there, but it seems disrespectful to put a family member in an anonymous grave site. The Mr asked whether she’d go in the corner garden with Bump and Zoe, and that is a strong possibility. I said whatever flower we put on top of her needs to be something that grows well in Charleston, where she came from. At the same time we both thought, maybe she should go in the tea olive tree that came from there too. It seems like the most appropriate final resting place.

Thought Provoking

Inspirational song: King Herod's Song (Jesus Christ Superstar)

You're gonna have to give me a minute. Or an hour. Or really, a few days. I need to digest what I've seen tonight. I'm probably the last person in my peer group to have watched the recent movie Get Out. I knew it was going to be good even before it was nominated for Academy Awards. I'd read the buzz about it for months before then. When I finally got HBO last year, I did record it right away. And there it sat, in my DVR queue, for months and months, waiting for me to get around to it. I don't know why I hesitated. Tonight, I think I understand what I needed: for it to be a group event.

We got a text from our neighbor early this afternoon, asking us to come over for a movie night. We were given the option of selecting the feature. We have a large collection of movies that we are always telling our friends they must see (and after seeing all of the 80s movie references in Ready Player One yesterday, we are even more convinced that these are required viewing). But I didn't go downstairs to pick a disc to play. Instead, I suggested Get Out, that everyone had seen except me (the Mr had seen the last 1/3 of it, unfortunately, so he had spoilers). I managed not to pay attention when people talked about plot points. I was distracted by my tablet when the biggest spoiler was spoken in the group (which included most of our D&D group by then). I was able to watch without having any idea what was going to happen next.

It got tense a bit at the end, and watching in a group allowed me to speak out loud and be answered when it got to be too much. If I needed to say, "Whoa, that was messed up," there were a chorus of voices to agree with me. It helped. I'm not going to give away any details, spoilers, plot holes, plot victories, nothing. I need to roll it around in my head for a while anyway. I will say this: it absolutely deserved its Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. Holy cow. It should have gotten more awards than it did. Jordan Peele was robbed of a Best Director award.

You know what? I had a photo from the game we played today, and I thought I was going to write about that. Instead, I need to come up with something much more uncomfortably white. Like the book called "Cabin Porn" that was playfully staged in the condo I took my client to last week. It fits with the creepy feel of this movie way better than what I had intended originally.