You've no idea how much time I spend watching this now. I count how long she squats, how successful she is. Also, why the hell don't I have grass anymore? What are you supposed to do about that? There used to be grass back there.
The vet gave me some choices, and I'm opting for the change-her-diet, test-for-cancer option. The other was to drive her to Raleigh and get all sorts of dye x-rays and so on. The reason we didn't do the cancer test in the first place is it's, (a), $200, and (2), has a lot of false positives. But it if reads negative, it's really negative, so at least we can rule it out if it's negative.
So, to get that test, I had to do the urine test on my dog. It was almost impossible to get her to sit on the toilet and pee in that cup.
What I HAD to do, smarty, is follow her around, which I've been doing anyway, and put a tray under her. Worked like a charm. We squatted out there for a century while she strained, and her thigh muscles must be bangin' cause good lord. Then when I finally captured her urine on film, I dashed to my deck where I had a syringe, got it in a test tube, put it in a huge baggie and rushed to the vet, which was closing in 25 minutes.
One of my coworkers said, "Your neighbors must have been so glad when you moved back." I mean, really, I must provide hours of entertainment and dog barks. "Jeb, get to the winder. What in THE hell is Neighb-hair doing now? She got a baggie of pee."
I got there just in time, saw all the techs and receptionists, with whom I am best friends now. There's the one with the snake necklace, the one with the horrific voice and her loved ones should tell her. The older sensible lady with the tight perm who you want on your side when it comes to your pets.
I've been tempted to give you all the number of the place, so you can hear the one with the awful voice answer the phone. She's also the person who does the loudspeaker stuff. "We need Tallulah Gardens to come to the front, please." Oh god, it's high-pitched, it's cloying, it's loud. It's everything you don't want in a voice. She's nice, though. Dat voice, tho.
Also too, today at 2:00 I get a crown put on. Because I am a princess. I need TWO crowns, and I could have a new nose if you combine all the Tallulah dollars and the dental work. My appointment is 2/2 at 2:00. For my TOOth. See what I did, there?
I was about to upload pictures of my grandmother that an old family friend sent, but I saw this and had to show you. Lu and her hoof. She freaking loves that awful hoof.
My grandmother, at work, when she was about 53. Smokin' at work, man. That's where it's at. My aunt said that was a Pendleton jacket, and that jacket is so her. Plaid and sensible. With beige. I dress nothing like the grandmother I'm turning into. She'd be appalled at all my pink. She'd call it "jakey." Whatever that meant.
I wonder if my hair is that gray. Oh, hell, of course it is. Maybe I should get all unfussy on your asses and let it grow out. Hang my gray flag high.
That's never going to happen.
We should really bring back goldenrod curtains.
Anyway, it was nice to see photos of my grandmother that I'd never seen. That's always such a cool idea, sending someone photos they may've never seen. Dear Enormous Member Steve: Do you still read my blog? I have pictures from Charlie and Sue's wedding that I'll bet they've never seen. I caught the bouquet. And a mere seven years later, I was married. It DOES work!
I've got to stop playing with my makeup app. This thing is my crack. What do crack addicts say? This thing is my coffee. This thing is my Breaking Bad. Maybe they just go ahead and say "crack," too.
I leave you with one final thought: I hate Siri. You speak into her, she screws it up. You type, she autocorrects so you look like you've had a stroke. Here's me trying to text with FR Fay the other night. Here's me trying to tell her someone is moving to Massachusetts.
Goddammit. I kept screeching into the phone, "MASSACHUSETTS! MASS A CHUUUU SETTS!" How do you get "Mickey said she was sick it's" from MASSACHUSETTS?
"Jeb, git over here. She's gone and done lost her mind. She's in her house screaming, "Massachusetts. Damn Yankee."
And here was me trying to say, "Fuck," which of course Siri corrected to "Juno," as you do, and then "goddammit." Siri cockblocks my cursing.
Juno. How often does anyone not in Alaska say "Juno" rather than "fuck"? Juno you, Siri.
Okay, talk to you when I'm rockin' out with my new crown out.
Princess June. Juno. Fuck.