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.

Come Play with Bunny

It is apparently OK with The Man if Dirtbunny suggests to the world that he would consider the possibility of wearing Heidi Klum's scalp as a hat. Probably because he knows that the "world" (i.e., Bunny's known readership) consists of her Daddy (when he's not overseas) and Mel (who reads the stuff about the dogs and the yarn, but not the stuff about the food). Also, he knows Mel is too nice to think ill of The Man, and Daddy is so happy that someone took Dirtbunny off his hands that anything The Man does is just fine so long as Dirtbunny doesn't move back in with her parents.

I think I have probably fixed the comments to allow anonymous contributions from those who don't want the evil overlords of Blogger to know their stuff. That was what I always intended, but, you know, sometimes Bunny has problems.

Weather

So this is why I had to cancel my massage and also a doctor appointment:



We have quite a steep slope down to the street, so when there's ice, I'm trapped in the house, because I am afraid I'll fall and hurt my back. It was pretty for a while, and now it's gone. I'm starting to despair of getting any real, work-cancelling snow this year.

Yesterday was warm and sunny, just perfect for marinating the Tiki juice that is soaked into the sunroom rug and creating a lovely ammonia odor, perhaps what one might smell on the surface of Venus, if one's nostrils weren't burned up by the heat and acid. So we cleaned the rug. Yes, we clean up after every accident, but this time we did the super-duper move the table and deodorize underneath it job. And it worked and the room smelled normal and we enjoyed the sunny afternoon:

And then Kirby saw something scary and had to leave the room. What did he see? This:

A reflection on the ceiling. SCARY! I kept telling him that it wouldn't bother him if he would just stop looking to see if it was still there, but he wouldn't listen. Silly boy.