Where it all happens

This is Dirtbunny's office. This is where she makes all the money that is required to keep The Boys in kibble and medical tests. This view is from the door looking in.



Bunny's office is small, even compared to some of the other offices, but it is nice, and it has a great view. Out the window there and across the street is the National Geographic building. The building is terraced and has plantings along the terraces, and a courtyard with trees and sculpture. For a city view in Our Nation's Capital, there is actually something to look at. Not an alley, a real view.

One of the guys/gals over at "The Geo" has a row of Emmy awards sitting on his/her windowsill. Bunny does not have a row of Emmys. That person gets Emmys when he does his job well. Not so much for Bunny.

Bunny has put a sun catcher in the window. Also, her peace lily is there. The peace lily used to live at home until Kirby started to nibble on it. Lilies are bad for dogs. Whether that includes peace lilies as well, I don't know. I'm not taking chances. So the peace lily came with me to work. There is an empty Diet Pepsi bottle next to it. I know someone who has an extensive collection of empty soda bottles in the office, along with a great many other objects that most of the rest of us would consider to be trash. I'm pointing out my single Diet Pepsi bottle just to let you know that I use it to collect water for the peace lily, every Friday afternoon, and not because I keep garbage in my office.

That big orange box on the left is censoring something that you don't need to know about. I'm too ashamed to tell you what it is today.

Bunny has an ordinary office chair. A few years ago, we had a big pile of end-of-year funds to spend and lots of people got fancy new chairs. They put models in the break room for people to try out. The problem was, all the chairs had names like "Freedom" and "Liberty." God knows which government contractor manufactured those things. What appalling names. I could not bring myself to choose, so I did not get a fancy new ergonomic chair. In retrospect, that might have been a mistake. At the time though, I just couldn't. Who names chairs things like "Freedom," "Liberty," and "Patriot"? It was a philosophical choice and I stand by it. But it would have been nice to get a new chair.

What I learned today

Looking good, isn't he? The MRI did not give us a definitive reason for Kirby's seizure, but it did rule out the big scary stuff, like tumors and trauma. They drew some spinal fluid from our poor baby since he was thoroughly anesthetized and we will hear back on those results soon. Kirby took several hours to really wake up. He's a cute stoner, but we like him best when he's himself.

And what I learned today is that dogs are supposed to have hair. They aren't quite right without it.

It's only hair. It'll grow back. He's still handsome without it.

We met a lovely boxer today named Cali (a dog boxer, not a prize fighter boxer). She's a cutie and a big sweetie, but she's really sick with seizures much worse than Kirby's are. We've been really worried, but things aren't really so bad after all.

Happy Birthday Special Boy

As I write this, Kirby is sitting next to me, looking up at me and oink/grunting contentedly. This was a work at home day, which is about as good as it gets for Kirby. In the morning, he follows me around the house, even to the bathroom, to make sure I'm not going to leave. In the afternoon, he's usually decided that I'm not going anywhere, and he settles down for a nap. Yarn Bandit, meanwhile, follows the sun around the house. He knows where it's going to be at what time of day and now we do too, so there's a cushion for him in all the best spots.

When we adopted Kirby two years ago tomorrow, we weren't so sure that he was ever going to be happy here and I suppose he wasn't so sure either. What a frightened little guy he was. He wouldn't eat, drink, pee, or poop. The first time we took him for a walk, he tried to escape for the woods. I thought it would be nice to have a dog, but I had no idea how important he would be or what he would mean to me. After two years, and despite the unwelcome (from Kirby's point of view) intrusion of one Yarn Bandit, I know he's happy. He loves and trusts us enough to show us sides of himself that no one else gets to see, and that feels like a gift. Forgive the schmoopiness, I know that's not really like me, but he is a precious gift. In the words of Ed, seeing Nathan, Jr. for the first time after H.I. has kidnapped him, "I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!" [sobbing hysterically]

Rough day, rough night for Kirby

Special Boy is getting his MRI on Wednesday. Also, he was grubby and dirty. So Friday, he got a nice, thorough bath with barely-warm water, which is the only water there was because the pilot light in the water heater went out. There are a lot of things that Kirby does not understand about the world, and plenty of things he doesn't know, and some things that he forgets he knows. One thing he knows for sure is that he is supposed to get a special treat after his bath. The most special of all special treats is pig ear. He will tear all around the place until he gets his treat, and it had better be a pig ear. So I gave him a pig ear. Big mistake. Pig ear makes him super-itchy. Now we know. No pig ear. No pork products for that matter. And now that has passed out of his system and he is super-clean and extra-handsome and perfectly soft and shiny and sweet-smelling. And, for some reason, extra-cuddly, too.

But he's getting his MRI on Wednesday, so he needed some lab work done, blood tests and a urinalysis. That meant a trip to the vet. There are two ways to get urine from a dog. One way is to follow him around with a receptacle of some sort and catch it as it comes out of him. No dice on that method. Kirby could not understand what the hell Bunny was doing with that down there. And if Bunny couldn't do it, there was no effing way that a nice, male, teenaged vet assistant was going to get anywhere with it. We resorted to the other way, which involves a needle inserted into the source. While GK's blood work is fine, the urine results are not quite right, and may be nothing or may be something (where have I heard that before) so we have to get some more done in about three weeks to see if there is a kidney issue that requires attention.

To recap: Kirby has:

• seizures and a possible tumor or cerebellum disease
• neurological deficits
• maybe some kidney disease, maybe not
• allergies
• occasional skin infections from the allergies
• unspeakably foul ear gunk from occasional ear infections resulting from the allergies
• a disgusting and annoying licking habit that is partly from the allergies and partly from his psychological issues (see below)
• appallingly stinky flatulence resulting from the hypoallergenic diet we feed him because of the allergies
• bizarre phobias and sensitivities too numerous to list
• an acute sense of stranger-danger that prevents him from making friends with humans who are not Bunny or The Man
• and he's a bed hog

He's worth it. He's even worth the baths, which suck at least as much for us as they do for him.

Anyhoo, our pobre cito had to endure a vet visit with needles and strangers and a car ride that did not end at the dog park, and he was extra clingy for the rest of the day.

But he slept peacefully like the angel he is...

OR DID HE?

Dirtbunny, as you may recall, has a hearing impairment. She slept through Hurricane Isabel and, last night, she slept through Hurricane K-Hole. The Man reports that Kirby spent the better part of the night dancing around the house, flinging himself against the big bed (he has forgotten that he knows how to jump up), clawing at the bench at the foot of the bed, and generally making as big a pest of himself as he could in an attempt to get a boost onto the big bed. Or so The Man says. Bunny slept through all of it. The Man resisted GK's desperation and eventually, everyone went to sleep where he was supposed to go to sleep. The Man usually succumbs and gives in to whatever unreasonable nocturnal canine demands are made of him which, of course, only encourages the sort of bad behavior we had last night.

I believe The Man's reports of what happened last night. There was evidence.

1. Bunny's fleece-lined slippers showed signs of new chewage. Kirby likes to rip the fleece lining out of Bunny's slippers, but he only does it when he wants attention. I can leave them lying around all day while I'm at work and he ignores them. However, if I'm on the sofa and he's not, he'll shred them.
2. There was this:

Kirby's bed, to the right. Kirby's wubbie, dragged out of the bed and dumped four feet away, to the left. Untouched by human hands, I assure you. And Tiki's wubbie was in the bed with Tiki, as it was supposed to be. Whatever his other faults, Tiki is a champion sleeper. Night time is for sleeping in the dog bed with the wubbie and there to remain until the sun comes up or until the humans roust him.

Imagne that

For some reason, The Man just hung up his coat for the first time in about two weeks. He was very conspicuous about it, and he made an effort to make sure I noticed.

Leaky Tiki

Is it true, a reader asks, that Tiki has not had an accident since late February?

Shhhhhhhhh

Are you kidding me? Are you trying to jinx it?

Bunny Checks up on the Economy Plan

So way back when, Dirtbunny was freaking out because of this:



She was very upset that, in this time of economy (before the car wreck, the no-oil-pressure car repair, the Kirby seizure, the doggy neurologist, and the canine MRI), she had no actual money but lots and lots of skin care products in the cabinet. How could this be?




Well, Bunny has been diligently cleansing, masque-ing, toning, scrubbing, and exfoliating ever since. What does she have to show for it?

Hmmmm. That didn't turn out quite as I'd hoped. Here's a more Obsessive-Compulsive way to look at it:

Now we're cooking with Wesson!

By the way, my skin looks the same.

Punishment is apparently over. Don't tell me I don't know when I'm being punished. Having been the recipient of "you suck" vibes pretty much constantly for 35 years, I know one when I see one. Kirby was sending out a "Bunny sux" aura if ever there was one. But he has now forgiven me and is snoring away happily.

I am being punished

Kirby hates me. He is ignoring me. I call him and he blows me off. I stroke him and he pays no attention. I talk to him, and nothing. Much less responsive than usual.

I know what the problem is.

1. I let a stranger in the house to fiddle with the computers.
2. I had ice cream and didn't give him any.

He's pouting.

Beagle Update

Komrade Kirbsky continues to show no signs of his earlier troubles. He has had his visit with the neurologist. She officially proclaims his event to have been a "seizure." She also found a deficit in his blinking reflex that we never noticed (or went looking for) before. He is getting an MRI soon and he is taking an anti-convulsive medicine. She warned us that it sometimes upsets doggie stomachs, so when he barfed once, we were a little concerned, but we decided to wait and see if it was a one-off. Then he barfed again, and now we find that we are back to this:

When we first adopted Kirby about two years ago, he came complete with about 10-12 of these little chunks of rigid plastic that he proceeded to yak up one or two at a time over the course of several weeks. It looks to us like a plastic ball of some sort, complete with fake stitching. We thought we had seen the last of these a long long long time ago. We were wrong. Whatever else may have happened to our little buddy before he came to live with us, I'm pretty sure that no one force-fed him a plastic football. This one is his own fault. Still, what's going on in there that he could keep this in his stomach for two years? I suppose it isn't small enough to pass into his intestines. Yuck. I truly hope this one is the last one. And we are going to chalk up the recent spewage to his special gift and not to his new medicine, until we have reason to suspect otherwise.

By the way, let's say you are having a rough weekend and you decide to take a long afternoon nap in the bed. You are wearing your pink bathrobe, and you are cuddling with Kirby under the covers. Then you wake up and you decide to take a shower. Because you are lazy, you toss the robe on the floor. Because he is devoted to you, this is what Kirby does while you are in the shower instead of staying in bed:

Awwwwwww

Also, we decided to discontinue Kirby's special hypoallergenic diet because we convinced ourselves that we didn't see much of a difference. He was still engaging in ritualistic paw-licking at certain times of the day. If we didn't notice a change when we put him on it, we certainly noticed a difference when we took him off it. Within a few days, he was not only doing the paw-licking (which we have decided has a habitual, compulsive element to it), he was also back to the possessed-by-the-devil paw chewing and the frenetic butt-scootching (sometimes he drags himself in a straight line, and sometimes he goes in a circle) with a vengeance. THAT behavior, we concluded, certainly had diminished a lot on the no-itch diet. So we are back to it.

Last but not least, the Yarn Bandit has a new color-coded harness. Kirby liked too much to chew on the clasp of the old one, and it wasn't opening and closing well anymore. Here's his updated look:

Oops! Too slow, Bunny. OK, let's try again:

Good boy, Tiki.

Yikes

I was going to give everyone a Kirby update and maybe some knitting information, but I've been sidetracked by a crisis. The auto has no oil pressure. "Park ASAP when safe." How's THAT for a warning light. I noticed the light a few houses down the road, so I went the 50 yards and parked in front of the house. And now we need more car repairs, and a tow truck to get it to the garage, and a rental to get us to the Old Folks Home this weekend. The Boys don't understand why I'm not in the mood for them right now. However, The Man is on the case, so I can stop panicking. Time now for some TV to numb the agitation and some beagle therapy to soothe the senses. Bunny out.