Bad Dog

We are back Chez Nous after a visit to the old folks' home. Yes, they got their biscotti. We all had a good time. The Boys went out and played chase in the garden. They got good and muddy and did a lot of beagley snuffling around and some chewing on cornstalks and they ate some grass and had a grand and glorious time. Tiki found some horse manure left by the neighbor's fence-breaking horses, and so he finally had something more than plain old grass to roll in. Kirby decided that the terror of staying downstairs while Bunny was upstairs outweighed the terror of going up the slippery hardwood stairs, and he was pretty good at going up all by himself by the end of the visit. Maybe he'll practice going down by himself next time.

Tiki continues to pee all over the house, but he was completely dry at the old folks' home. We are grateful that he was on his best behavior, but we wonder why he can't be good at home.

Kirby has apparently decided to become nocturnal. He slept peacefully and uneventfully at the old folks' home, but he has been keeping us up every night before and since the visit. One night, we tried to contain his midnight enthusiasm by closing him in his crate. In he went, back to bed went Bunny, and, exploiting her hearing impairment, she went back to sleep oblivious of what would happen next.

All of a sudden he was out. I have learned that I have to do the zipper just so or he can push at it and get it open, so I figured he just unzipped it. Nope. He escaped.

He dug through. I suppose his motto is never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever quit. And now we have a crate that is fine as an around-the-house hidey hole, but useless as a bona fide crate. As usual, he is remoreseless.

Update on Babe

Yes, I'm back already. I'm doing things that are fun. This is fun.

Okay. So's today Bunny and The Man, inter alia,* went to the Petsmart because YB is going to run out of food while we visit The Old Folks from the South. It's Saturday, which means that Lost Dog is at the Petsmart from 12-3. We got there at about 11:45, so they were just setting up. We bought the dog food, and we bought Kirby a blue combination collar to replace the one that someone lost, and now Kirby is properly color-coded again.

While we were there, Bunny gave The Man a medium sell on why we should foster another dog. The Man sez, as he always does, that Bunny cannot get another foster dog because The Man always ends up doing all the work. The part that The Man doesn't say is that The Man got very attached to our last foster dog and had a hard time giving her up and doesn't want to do that again.

And that reminded me about Babe. The word on Babe is that she was adopted really quickly. And that's excellent news. What it means, of course, is that Babe was adorable and very adoptable, and thus probably not enough of a pathetic loser basket case dog to come live here. So, no Babe Chez Nous, and that's really a win-win. Surely there will be someone pathetic enough for us soon enough. For now, Bunny will leave The Man alone. For now.





* More proof that I'm really a lawyer: Some Latin and a footnote.

Now what?

I am done with my job for the year. I have done my gift-shopping and wrapping. I have made my menus, done all of the food shopping that can be done in advance, stuffed The Man's stocking, finished the decorating, and put all the detritus back in the basement closet. The laundry is done. The dogs have had baths. We are fully stocked on coffee, sugar and other goodies, booze, and firewood.

The only things I have left to do are all food-related (last-minute shopping for perishables, baking goodies) and, therefore, enjoyable at least in theory although sometimes I can tire myself out and start feeling cranky and unloved. I do and do and do for you people (The Man) and this is the thanks I get! That kind of irrational crap. That usually leads to nap time and then The Man gets some peace, and it all tends to work out.

So, with basically nothing left to do except enjoy the season, I have all this time in front of me that is not crammed full of to-dos. I am at a complete loss. I have constructed this very neurotic world around myself in which my (lack of) value and (lack of) happiness is tied to the (non) recognition I get for my (so-called) accomplishments. If I don't get enough admiration and recognition, it must be because I am not accomplishing impressive-enough achievements. I have weathered a number of professional disappointments this past year, and it has been a pretty thin year for recognition, so I've been feeling really bad about myself. And now, I have time to devote to all the fun things I can think of and I have no idea what to do if it isn't achievement-oriented.

I asked The Man I sez Hey The Man, what should I do with myself? Should I finish up the two knitting projects I have left that aren't very interesting, or I should I start something new, fun, and exciting?

The Man and I have been together since 1873 and he still doesn't quite know what to make of me. This, for example, was a serious question reflective of a deep-seated fucked-up-ness in the Dirtbunny mindset.

The Man sez, do something fun, duh. Like it was an easy question. Leisure time is not so much of a problem for him.

So I am considering what I have in the stash, and I am going to choose something cool to do. Also, I put together some cookie dough that can be sliced and baked later, and I'm making more biscotti. I'm not really going to keep almond flour and candied ginger around until next December, so I might as well use it up in light of the Economy Plan, even though no one here needs any more biscotti. YB is pretty sure he'd like some, though, given how he's sniffing around the oven and licking flour off the kitchen floor. Perhaps I'll pack some up to share with, what did they call themselves? The "old folks in the South"?

Here is our Christmas tree when it was half-decorated:

Check out the serious tilt, especially of the star on top. We're a real Land of Misfit Toys around here. By the way, as I promised, GK has thoroughly checked out the tree and he is no longer askeered of it:

YB is too busy hanging out in the kitchen hoping I'll drop something to show much interest in the tree. For now.

That time of the year

But first, an update on Mister Itchy. His booboo is benign and does not have to be removed. It is going away on its own, albeit in a crusty, draining sort of way. Poor baby.


And now, back to the regular post. It's a difficult time of year for Dirtbunny. Dirtbunny wants to go all out for the holidays, and believe me, she can shop, spend, cook, bake, and decorate out the wazoo. But our little household is only two humans, one beagle who can't have treats and doesn't understand toys, and one beagle who already has a zillion toys and is too fat for lots of treats. Plus, Bunny is 1.8 billion dollars in debt. And she has a job where they actually expect her to show up for work every now and then. Time, funds, and the ability to consume goods is limited. Bunny must draw lines and set priorities. This is not easy, because Bunny is an all-or-nothing sort of person. Seriously, I could easily bake a thousand cookies no problem. And who would eat them? I would. Let me assure you that 1,000 cookies is not good for Bunnies.


What food items are essential for Christmas? Well, the unanimous vote here is that the Candied Fruit Slices (a shortbread cookie with candied cherries) is absolutely required. Sugar Cookies, cut in the shape of airplanes, frosted with icing colored "Air Superiority Blue," and decorated with sprinkles make The Man very, very happy. I tend to want our family recipe for fruit cake (dates, pecans, candied cherries, and candied pineapple, with just enough batter to hold it together in a loaf), only I doctor it up by soaking it in booze. The problem is that the recipe makes something like 17 loaves, and I only want a slice or two. I'm probably not making that this year.


After much internal debate, I have made my famous almond-ginger biscotti, from a recipe published in The Washington Post maybe ten years ago. These are the quintessential biscotti as far as I'm concerned, and there's nothing particularly Christmas-y about them except that I only make them in December for some reason.

There are many more options. Many more. Chocolate spritz, chocolate butter cookies, pfeffernusen, gingerbread cookies, sugar cookies decorated in a non-Air Force theme, whole Cook's Illustrated Holiday Baking Issues full of cookies, and today the Post's annual Christmas cookie food section came out. But three kinds of cookies is enough for two people. I'll draw the line this year and not feel too deprived.

Another dilemma is the Buche de Noel. It takes about half a day to put together. A nice almond-orange spongecake baked in a sheet pan. A chocolate Italian meringue for the filling, then enriched with cocoa for the frosting. It is a big production, and it is fucking fabulous. There is nothing I can get from the Fresh Fields or Balducci's that will compare. But do I really want to expend the effort? I can't decide.

We have a tree. It's out on the deck waiting for the humans to care enough to bring it in. Kirby doesn't like it. We don't normally have a Christmas tree on the deck, see, therefore this is something different, ergo it is scary. Once it's inside and up, he'll adjust. He liked last year's tree. Yarn Bandit will probably mark it. He's been unusually leaky lately. Yesterday, he protested our trip to the grocery store without him by getting leaky on the kitchen rug and destroying The Man's newest New Republic. He's very naughty and may spend the rest of 2007 in his crate.

However, when he chose to wreak havoc and mayhem on the humans' toys, he FOR ONCE chose something belonging to The Man, and not Dirtbunny. The Man was quite put out. Ha ha ha, sez Bunny. Let's see how easy it is for you to remember not to leave your books and magazines lying about when you get up for a minute.

Mister Itchy

GK is an allergy dog. He is very itchy all the time, which he expresses through the obsessive licking of his paws. If a dog licks his paws enough, his saliva will stain his fur a rusty color and you will wonder if he's irritated himself bloody. We've been giving Prince Kirbsky his pills, and we've been giving him his medicated baths. We tried soothing him with aloe gel, but he thought that was delicious and only wanted to lick more. Sometimes we wrap him in a towel so he can't get at his paws, and he understands that this means he's not supposed to lick, and he tries, he really does, but he's just so itchy and he can't help himself. Most of the time I feel sorry for him, but sometimes, the sloshing liquid sound of him licking and licking and licking and licking and licking and licking and licking and licking grosses me out and I wonder if he'd rather just be put out of his misery.

So we went to the vet for another "for the love of Mike can't you people do anything about this" visit. After considering our options, we are putting him on a food trial to see if he has a food allergy. Now he gets special prescription hypoallergenic food. So this is what he gets, and nothing else. No licking the bowl after the humans have ice cream. No bits of bread crust or bran muffin. No cheese. No rawhide, no greenies, no pig ear, nothing from the dog bakery. (It's a bakery for dogs, not a place where they bake dogs.)


But hey! That was last week! And we go to the vet every week! So what is this week's dog problem?




That is this week's dog problem. That is not supposed to be there. If it were on me, I imagine it would hurt. But it's on GK, and he only complains if Bunny goes out without him. He isn't acting as though it hurts. It's getting a little bigger every day, and sometimes it looks more purple than pink. It is freaking me out, for sure.

So the vet aspirated it with a big needle (again, we assume that hurt, but GK showed no evidence that it hurt) and took some fluid from it, and she made some slides from the juice and sent the slides to the lab so we can find out what it is. Oh, it's coming off, you can believe that! But if we know what it is, that will tell the vet how aggressively she has to treat it and how much tissue she needs to remove. I'm hoping that it's simply a little ingrown hair or infected booboo and not any of the scary things that the vet suggested. But I get to wait a while to find out, and then I get to go back to the vet to have it treated.

As for Friend Tiki, he got his vaccinations and he got weighed. He's been on a diet for ever so long, and he lost two pounds, but his weight has held steady for several months now, despite the fact that we are starving him, sez Tiki. He's trimmer and firmer, and has lost a fair amount of his dewlap, but he seems to want to weigh 28 pounds.

Snow Day

We were supposed to get a light dusting of snow, maybe 1-2 inches. Instead, we got four inches. Me, I love snow. It's pretty and I'm not afraid of it. Not so much everyone else here in Suburbia. We don't normally get a lot of snow in a year, and we don't do a good job of managing snow removal, and none of us can drive in good weather, so........

But we were only going to get 1-2 inches. At 5:30 pm yesterday, when The Man and I had finished our work at home day, The Man sez he's going to the dry cleaners to pick up his shirts. I sez, since you're going out anyway and the chicken I got out of the freezer for dinner is still frozen solid, why dontcha pick up some dinner as well. So The Man clears the front walkway and moseys down to the car without a jacket because this is only going to take ten minutes and the streets are barely even wet.

The Man gets home at 9:30. He has been out there without a coat and with a nearly-dead cellphone battery and there are four inches of snow on the ground. The Man was in an accident when he encountered someone coming at him in the wrong lane, and then while dealing with the aftermath of that, he got rear-ended. At the very, very end of it all, after the other drivers had long gone and The Man is getting ready to come home, he gets hassled by the fuzz for allegedly leaving the scene of the accident, although that ended up coming to nothing. No one is hurt, happily, and the car is drivable, although it's parked on the flat part of the road down the block and I haven't seen it.

The Man is not a happy boy. Today, we decided to stay home. He's going to deal with the insurance company, and I'm going to try to, what's that word? neuter? oh, nurture him. This is not one of Bunny's strong points, but he needs it so I'm gonna give it a go. Crap, I guess I'm going to have to be good all day.

I still love snow:

Bunny's Latest Quandary

This is Babe:


This is Babe's blurb from the Lost Dog Rescue website:

Like a baby, our Babe is soft and sweet and instantly lovable. This gentle girl can be a little shy at first, but her innate friendliness soon warms her to you. She enjoys the company of people and being petted. Babe is even housetrained already. She's a quiet and unassuming dog, so Babe probably would prefer a home that isn't very busy. This sweetie does enjoy a nice walk, though. She's good on a leash, except when she sees some furry little critter scamper by, then it's back to beagle basics: She wants to chase it! This girl is pleasant company and a grateful friend. She's such a good Babe, and she would love to be yours for life.

Bunny thinks she's in love again. Housebroken and shy and gentle and looking for a forever home. And looking for a foster home. She sounds perfect.

The Man, The Man, Wonderful The Man

I mentioned a few weeks ago that we were having trouble with the heat. This has continued off and on. We got all fancy this year and one of our many expenditures was to buy new programmable thermostats. This was a great idea. Only, when the one in the main part of the house was installed, the handyman dude connected the A/C but not the heat. That cost us a visit from the heating guy. In the sunroom, everything was connected fine, but I had forgotten how to program the damn thing, so we froze until I remembered.

But there is another problem. The furnace for the sunroom automatically shuts off if the doohickey comes out of the slot. Gravity wants the doohickey to come out of the slot. When that happens, a big old contraption comes off and slams to the floor with a nice Kirby-startling bang, and then it gets cold. We spent most of the morning fighting with it. Then, an interesting thing happened:


The Man is not known for his handyman skills. It's not that he can't; he just prefers not to. However, he got sick of repeatedly tinkering with the furnace, and all of a sudden, he was doing what you see above. I was going to call the heating guy again. But The Man decided to take a good look. Before I knew it, he had diagnosed the problem and found a solution. He thwarted gravity and we have heat. Also, he built me a nice fire in the fireplace.

Meanwhile, we noticed that Kirby was missing. Then we found him:


One loud bang too many, I suppose. After an hour or so, he came out on his own.