One: I went to the eye surgeon yesterday and got dilated, which I abhor. He found a “thickening” at the back of my right eye. It’s not something he can zap, so now I have to take drops. The instructions on the bottle don’t match the instructions he told me, so now I have to call and find out which are the correct instructions. Also I need to ask, “A thickening of what?” because I have no idea.
Two: I get to take Cobie back to the vet today. T-Moth took him on Tuesday and Cobie had such a conniption he had to be muzzled, and even then they couldn’t get blood for his heartworm test because of all the thrashing, during the course of which he fattened T-Moth’s lip. The vet thought Cobie tried to bite, but I think it’s unlikely he was he meant business. He does this warning air-snap when crowded, and I’m betting that’s what they observed. A guest at a party once pursued him until he hid under a lawn chair, reached in after him, and inflicted unwanted petting upon him. His eyes rolled and his flanks heaved with stress, but he didn’t bite, or even warn.
It probably helped that she was young and female.
I once had a big goofy dog that never previously offered to bite anyone, yet who bit a pizza driver, so I would never say a given dog would never bite. I’ve been on both sides as the dog owner and the pizza driver, which is the source of my belief that any dog will bite, given the right circumstances. So the muzzle is probably a good idea just to keep everyone safe, especially since Cobie’s teeth are enormous, rather like the rest of him. People who feel safe probably give off calmer vibes than ones that are worried about having their face removed.
Anyway, his mommy will take him. Kelly will go too. And he has pills to make him happy. I hope not too happy though, because no one wants to carry a hundred pound dog.
Three: Someone is coming later to install one new properly grounded outlet so I can plug in the broken-ass stove Sears sold me and they will then deign to come fix the damn thing. We discovered that only the outlet the stove is plugged into reads as reversed polarity, and then only when the stove is plugged in. So the lack of grounding is on us, but that reverse polarity is on the stove itself. The brand new $600 stove.
They better fix or replace that sumbitch, that’s all I’m saying.
Four: I’m not doing NaNo. This should not come as news.
Five: Oliver has emerged from the wall. He hurt his passenger side rear paw, and when I got out the cat carrier he vanished. We had to put food near his hidey hole, the wall where he went to ground after we moved here. It took three adults and a teenager to stuff him into the carrier to bring him here. People bled. I knew I would never be able to get him to a vet unless he was at death’s door.
Mind you, I don’t want Oliver dying at all, but especially not deep inside a load-bearing wall. I put the cat carrier away. He still wouldn’t come out except occasionally at night. It’s like he knew I wouldn’t take him to the vet at night.
Previously I kept Oliver’s feeding station and litter box in the utility room, and kept dogs out of there with a baby gate. Now Oliver can’t jump the gate. It has been a huge unending pain keeping dogs out of the cat food and litter box, especially Kelly, who is smaller than Oliver and so can get into any space he can. She can climb gates too, but chooses not to, I think because Cobie disapproves of gate-climbing.
Aggravatingly, Oliver has resumed jumping onto the kitchen table and my desk, where he clears space for himself by flinging anything in his way onto the floor where dogs can get it, but he still won’t jump the gate. He will walk on anyone who sits on the sofa though. Endlessly. Back and forth and back and forth. Limpy, but seemingly content. I missed his vicious butt while he was living in the wall. I guess I’ll have to go back to clearing off the table though. And maybe change his name to Chester.