A few days ago, Pat and Jai both became suddenly ill.  Pat was apparently very sick, wobbly and visibly distressed.   Jai just seemed lethargic, which for a dog who shoots electricity from her tail, is noteworthy.

Kelsey took Pat's temperature for me because I look like a conductor wielding an ass baton when it comes to that sort of thing; I just stood there, sort of waving it around the tail region and grimmacing, beer in one hand, tortilla chip and thermometer in the other….looking for divine intervention.  The hand of God to guide me into the Pat's clenched anus.  Kelsey took the thermometer from me and did the thing.  105.3. Normally a shitty radio station that plays hits from the mid-big hair and pleather '80s, now an even MORE alarming thing. 

I rushed Pat to an emergency clinic.

By the time I got Pat to the clinic, Jai wasn't eating and we knew that she, also, had a high temperature, thanks to Kelsey's enthusiasm with a thermometer, or 'Anal Probe' as people in the midwest call it. 

"We don't know that these two things are connected," the useless whore vet told me, "I think we need to do DNA testing and confirm both dogs genetics back to primordial ooze. Then I'll take an MRI of the ooze and bill you for whatever happened before, during, and after the ice age seperately."

I might be paraphrasing. I hated her, though, and her ass face.  She patronized me, barely controlling her eyeroll everytime I spoke.  She hummed through most of what I said,

"Yes, yes…Tests. We need many many many expensive tests. I have a long night ahead of me and so far only cats to spay and an old dog whose teeth need whitening. My technician can do that.  Do not bore me with your details… We will call you with the final talley for my summer vacation costs sometime much later than you think reasonable…"

And so it was.   Xrays revealed that, indeed, Pat has a liver and kidneys and ribs, all where they should be.  Daylight revealed that no fucking way was I leaving him there for their morning "specialist" to apply leeches and a good bleeding.

The medical diagnosis – FUO – (Fever of Unknown Origin) came after Pat spent 16 hours on antibiotic and fluid replacement IV and was subjected to every test the bored night staff could dream up. In the end, it cost me as much as I paid for my MacBook pro, and I used my MacBook pro to confirm how useless the information really was.  They gave me a magnet with the office name and a frowny cartoon dog with my receipt. 

That was yesterday.

Today, Jai is better; Pat no longer has a fever, but he is 'depressed' and won't eat.  Viral is the bottom line consensus of the people whom I respect for free, plus my vet via txting. (She's great and doesn't charge per word!..but sadly doesn't work after 9 at night – she has "a family" …)

No gastronomic distress; no vomiting, no diarrhea.  Just loss of apetite and a fever. 

Pat isn't as sick as he was day one, but he looks at food sadly, as if to say,

"In some cultures this is vomit, only not as good."

My dogs and I run in the desert.  Many miles per week, nearly every day.  Sometimes they drink from questionable water sources.  This is my best hunch for origin. (or 'O').  No other dogs in our pretty large circle have contracted this, not yet anyway. 

The only thing I can think of to do next is have his teeth whitened.

…Just kidding!

The point of my last post..and Scout's sweet dreams…is that I might be to blame.   That figuring her out, how to communicate successfully with her, is my job.  Like understanding Hitler was Hitler's mother's job. 

I love this dog.

Laura's Weekly TMT:

1. Jorgen would like to know what skill would you like to have that you don't currently have?
2. If someone were going to play you in a movie, who do you think it would be?
3. Kelsey wants to know what is a quality that you admire in a dog but would never fit with you?
4. If you had just enough money to pay someone to do one chore for you, what would it be?
5. Are you a procrastinator, a doitnower (I made that word up), or something in between?

Sometimes I wish I could sing and not have it sound like I was choking on a magpie. 

Scout would play me in a movie.  It would be an artsy film, My Kibble with Katy.  The part of me played by Scout with a supporting role played by Pat, who, aside from staring at me (Scout) while I (she) do(es) not eat her kibble, guarding it dourly, bravely, instead… would be licking his balls.  It says so much! There would also be an action sequel called Act of Glower as dinner stretched into breakfast and more dogs,  plus some squirrels, started eyeing the still full dish.

Kelsey doesn't really want to know that.  She wants to know if I ate all the dried apples she left at Greenleaf in a gallon sized ziplock or whether I'm still guarding them. Yes.

I tried hiring housecleaners years ago, but ended up feeling bad about having some other poorer women clean up my shit so…slowly our relationship evolved into me serving them snacks and giving them things, like my clothes dryer, while they sat at my kitchen table and smoked.  My house actually got DIRTIER during this period.  Now I pay some dudes to mow my lawn. I bring them ice cold beer and offer to wash their trucks.  They don't speak english so they assume the worst and won't let me near them with a sponge. I should pay them more.

I am in between alright.

From Laura at C&C

1. Julie would like to know one frugal tip this week.

Once you start referring to your neighbor's cat as a 'chinese chicken' it is easier to eat.  Meat is one of the most expensive grocery items, next to good beer or wine.  You have to start cutting costs somewhere if you want to keep drinking.  If I'm going to be eating cat meat, I'll want to chase it with something stronger than mountain dew. And by 'mountain dew' I mean twice run coors light.

2. What are you reading this week?

Today I am reading Train Dreams, by Denis Johnson and obsessively the news online.

3. Barbara wants to know: do you hit the snooze button on the alarm clock, and if so how many times?

I think I might have answered this …but I can't remember.  I don't have an alarm clock.  I have dogs that dance on my sweet breads around sunrise.  There is no snooze alarm, I've tried.  All the slapping at 'buttons' seems to only encite them more.

4. If you had to travel in a sedan (or if you already drive a sedan type car) and you had five or six dogs, how would you handle it?

I'd bitch incessantly and probably tailgate those assholes who drive alone in their 6 bedroom 3 bath Ford Apocolypse SUV, without the S or the U, 3 miles to drive-thru a coffee hut, where they purchase some appalling 'skinny' double shot decaf whipped cream coffee beverage and pay with a credit card. Assportals, for sure. But that's no different from what I do anyway.  Driving a sedan full of 5 dogs isn't tragic, just inconvenient.  What's tragic is how little meat there is on a chinese chicken wing.

5. How much do you filter what you put on your own blog?

Really?  Depends on the blog. And what one means by 'filter'…