I haven't blogged for a long time, so thought it was time to start again.
Sometime before Christmas I was watching TV in the bedroom and moved the rocking chair so I could see it better. At 10:30 I was ready to go to bed and moved the rocker--right into my leg. I looked down and saw blood gushing like a volcano out of one of those Hawaiian Islands.
Did I mention I don't do well with blood?
Hubby was sleeping in the family room with the TV blaring and I decided the bleeding would stop soon. Band aid after band aid I was still gushing, then put a lot of gauze over it and went to bed. I know, I should've gone for stitches, but who wants to sit in ER at that hour and wait for someone to get the thread and needle out and stitch your leg?
I kept doctoring the leg, sure any day it would be healed. I never had trouble healing. Besides, Christmas was coming up soon and another baby was entering the world, Larry had leg problems and was in treatment, and I volunteered a few hours a week in grandson Noah's Kindergarten class.
Christmas Day arrived, but we won't talk about that drama, the baby arrived, Tyler Phoenix Ana Hase, then New Years. And the leg still wasn't healed.
February was about to arrive and the leg still hadn't healed. I had a talk with the leg. "Damn it! Get over this. I don't have time for more doctor appointments." I visited my primary doctor again. He said to keep any eye on it. How could I not?
Two more weeks passed and I called and said okay, my leg still isn't healed. Ok so perhaps you need to see a wound doctor, Primary said. Meanwhile, here's some antibiotics. Another three weeks I got to see Wound Doctor. He gave me two more antibiotics.
I don't know about you, but I never read that long list of side effects. If I did, I'd never take any medications. Along with the antibiotics, Wound Doctor gave me some witch's brew to clean the wound with. Cleaning an open wound hurts like the devil, but I could do this, and wear lots of gauze over it.
But then I went to lunch on the second day of drugs and picked up my grands from school. I noticed I was getting cold. Real cold. We're talking about Florida here.
Noah gets in the car and I ask how his day was.
"Not good. I got into trouble and I'm on red now."
"What did you do?"
"We'll talk about it when we get home."
That sounded serious.
Then Emma gets into the car and I ask the same question.
"Good. I now have 25 dog bones."
Noah: "You have 25 dog bones? I only have one and it's for Art."
(dog bones are some type of awards at the school)
Noah grumbled the whole way home. When we got home, Larry gave him his usual chocolate milk, but in his haste of being upset over Emma having more dog bones he yanked with the pop-up on his cup and milk came flying out all over him.
"It's your fault, Papaw! You put too much milk in here."
Meanwhile, the side effects of one of the meds kicked in big time with me. I wrapped up in blankets and shivered, had a headache, and even my teeth rattled. I called the doc 's office and was told medicine x was probably causing it. I read the paper and yep, I had a lot of those things going on.
My leg is slowly healing, we will pick up the kids in a bit and hopefully, Noah had a good day!
Monday, February 24, 2014
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Rocky goes to Obedience School
By Dee Gatrell
“My cookie! Gimme!” My two-year-old granddaughter, Ashley fought the German Shepherd dog for the cookie he tried snatching from her hand. She got half, he got half. She was angry and yelled at him. He just looked at her like, “Hey, what did I do? Your hand was near my mouth.” For the next two weeks, it was a constant battle between them.
Rocky was a German Shepard given to us when we lived in Ohio. One of our friend’s daughters couldn’t keep him anymore. Not only was the dog a cookie thief, but he had no manners. We’d put him out to use the bathroom, and if someone was taking a walk by the house he’d run down the long driveway and bark and scare them. We tried keeping him in the house, but he’d want to go out to romp, which was fine as long as one of us was with him. After all, he had ten acres to run on. So why did he have to run the several hundred feet to the road to scare people? He really wasn’t all that brave.
I read in the paper there was a dog obedience class starting soon, so I signed him up. I think I was more excited about going to them than Rocky was. The first night of class, I drove my husband’s Chevy S-10, which is a pretty small vehicle. Rocky sat beside me and was behaving. When we arrived at our destination, there were a lot of dogs.
Our first assignment was to get in a line and walk in a large circle. One wall was lined with mirrors. We would walk, then told to have the dogs sit. Most of the time Rocky would sit, but while the others dogs ignored the “doggie in the mirror” Rocky fell in love with himself. It wasn’t easy to get him up and moving again. I swear if he could’ve talked he would have said, “Look at that handsome dog in the mirror. I think I’m in love.”
At the end of the night, the instructor told us repeatedly to make sure we praised our dogs on the way home and when we got home. We get into the truck and Rocky decided he wanted to sit almost on my lap. I kept pushing him over, but again, he wanted to be close. So I told him, “You were such a good dog. And you are going to learn to have manners.”
It was about a fifteen minute drive to our house. I turned onto the street where he lived, again assuring Rocky he was a good dog, but I’d like him more if he quit trying to get into my lap. Nearly to our house, Rocky laid his head in my lap and threw up. A lot. All over my legs.
I pulled into the garage and told him he really wasn’t a good dog for doing that. I walked into the family room and my daughter, Michelle, and my husband, Larry, took one look at me and started to laugh. I told them I was supposed to tell Rocky he was a good dog, but right now I didn’t think he was.
Six weeks later we were finished with obedience school. But Rocky still didn’t listen when I called him and he still swiped cookies out of Ashley’s hands.
Then my husband was transferred from OH to FL and we had to find a home for Rocky. We were having a house built and had to rent an apartment until it was finished. I took Rocky to the vet for his checkup and asked if he could help me find him a good home. The next day I got a phone call from a young woman who was recommended by our vet. She was really excited and came to visit him. They fell in love instantly.
Rocky went to live with her and her roommate. They had someone try breaking into their house and wanted a big dog to protect them. She took him home and called me the following week to report in.
“He is absolutely wonderful,” she said. “My roommate has a little girl and they get along well. But the best part is that I work for my dad and he lets me bring Rocky to work with me every day. We all really love him.”
I was so happy to hear that. I hated having to give him up, in spite of his bad habits.
Oh, did I mention after the vomiting episode I didn’t feed him dinner before we left for class? No more vomiting on the way home!
Monday, August 19, 2013
Dogs of Chinaberry Lane
Zeus is loving, but clumsy. When we had a deck in the back yard, he used to have a hard time climbing the steps and often would fall down the steps. But he’s our weather dog. If he starts to shake or crawls underneath my desk, within half an hour we will have a storm.
We call Zeus our million dollar dog—he broke his leg at 9 weeks, he got bit by a spider and had to have surgery and anything else you can think of, it happens to him. He’s also a hunter. He killed a snake in the yard, he killed a squirrel that ate the screen on the back porch and was there to make another mess, and last week he caught a baby bunny and brought it to the door. That one I wished he hadn’t caught. It was too cute and too dead.
Then came Icarus. I went with my daughter-in-law to look at schnauzer dogs at a kennel going out of business. She bought two dogs, but when we got home she said to tell my husband I bought one. He grumbled and then named the dog. I wrote her out a check and that’s how he came to live with us. He was six months old, all fuzzy and looking like a teddybear.
He and Maggie were good friends and they both ignored Zeus, except to pick on him. When Maggie passed over, Icarus mourned her for a month. It didn’t seem to bother Zeus.
By the time four months had passed, my husband was ready for another large dog. Daughter Michelle was visiting and we went online looking for dogs. We sent him several pictures to look at and he liked the half lab, half Great Dane dog. She, too, is a rescue dog, about 18 months old. Ellie is what we renamed her. She is great with the kids, listens well, and will go into the crate to take naps and sleep at night. She’s all black, not a white spot on her. And she’s still a clumsy puppy. Icarus growls at her if she gets too close when he has a chewy toy. Zeus fears her when her big paws come too close to his head when she wants to play--and he hides under chairs!
Ellie has been in two other homes and took back to the Second Chance Rescue. One single mom decided she didn’t want the dog anymore and the other family only had her a few weeks and learned the kids were allergic to her. She’s trying hard to be good so she can stay at a forever home. We hope nothing ever happens to make her leave, because we want her forever.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
When Larry was in the military and came back from overseas, he was stationed in OK. I had moved to AZ with my parents while he was gone, so he flew into Phoenix. From there we drove to OK to rent a house by the base, as we weren't eligible for base housing. So we found a house to rent in Dill City, which is a very small village. I looked it up online and it’s still about the same size as when we lived there.
Then we went to OH to spend time with the rest of our family members for several weeks. I went to get my hair cut, and the beautician said she heard there was a tornado in Dill City. Back then the news wasn't as easy to get as it is now. We couldn’t find anything about a tornado and thought she was wrong,
When we arrived back to OK and turned onto the road that would take us to the house we rented, the entire street was flattened. I had never seen destruction from a tornado before. My first thought was, is this what we’ll find when we get to our rental? We drove further and found the house we rented was standing as were the others in that part of the town. The entire town was and still is less than 2 miles. (I googled it)
Back then Larry was young and healthy and was asked to pitch in to clean up the mess.
One thing I remember about living in OK, sirens went off a lot. One of our neighbors had a storm cellar and we would head to it with the others and sit out the storms. And people were friendly and helpful.
Larry once cleaned out a septic system for the landlord for a bag of groceries. I learned to eat green beans from the garden planted by whoever lived there before us. Since we didn’t have much money, we never had soda. It was popcorn and Kool Aid. I still can’t drink Kool Aid!
When we rented the house, a man who lived in the town came to the door to greet us and tell tell us he’d check on the “matters and tatters” while we were gone. We learned to eat the food from the garden, and I learned to be less picky.
In the military you moved with the car pools. Next we moved to Cordell, then to Elk City before being shipped to Indiana. We had two Okie babies. Not much to do in OK back then. One TV station that had locals singing over and over "Gum Chum."
Friday, February 22, 2013
Blog 02/21/2013 Dogs
For those of us that love their pets, who think of them as family members, it’s hard watching them age.
Maggie, our shepherd rescue dog, is now about 12-years-old. Her hips are giving out and she limps at times, just like my husband Larry and I do. She is a wonderful dog and loves to play with the grandkids when they are here. But after a few hours of throw the stick and let me bring it back for you to throw it again..and again..well, she never gives up. When they go home, she has a hard time moving. Last week Maggie was disappointed when Larry told the kids not to throw sticks for her. He worried about her being able to walk when they left. The question is, do we let her have fun in her last years, or try to make it so she doesn’t hurt so much?
Last week we thought she was dying. We found her in the bathroom lying on the floor and not moving. Later she moved to the toilet area. She wasn’t eating or drinking water like she usually did. Then we started getting her cereal bowls with water in them and she drank and drank, but still ate no food.
After a few hours she followed Larry to the family room and moved to her pillow. He kept bowls of water there all night long and he made sure she drank. The next day she ate a little, peed in the house several times, which is something she never does, but again, wouldn’t go outside or eat.
But the next day when I got up to let Zeus and Icarus out, she went with them. I got her a bowl of dry food and mixed in wet food, and she ate. We were like two kids, excited because Maggie ate. Sounds silly, but to watch her recover was like watching a miracle. We thought for sure it was the end of her life.
This morning we took her to the vet when Icarus went for his flu shot. Yes, dogs need them, too! The vet checked her and said her heart is still strong, and yes she has arthritis in her hind legs, but for her age she’s doing great. I really think if Larry hadn’t stayed with her all night that first night she wouldn’t have made it. She now has pills for her pain and she got her nails cut, which she hated.
Larry had to lift her into the truck. Sad to see she can’t jump on her own any longer.
Zeus, who is an 8-year-old schnauzer, loves to go to the vet, gets all excited as soon as he sees that yellow building. Icarus, who is soon to be eight, too, has this attitude of okay I’m here. Pick me up so I can see over the counter. Maggie is scared. She gets to shedding something awful when she is there. Funny thing is, it’s Zeus who has had the surgeries—broken leg, spider bite and other odd things—and he loves to go there. Maggie only gets shots, as does Icarus.
I was watching a show on TV, forget the name of it, but it’s about two gay guys who have a surrogate mother and they will take the baby when it’s born.
They had an adorable puppy who they treated like a baby. They were practicing fatherhood on the puppy. The puppy got something wrong with it, and they rushed it to the vet. Turns out he had gas, but they wanted to keep it overnight. Then the vet folks took it for a walk—I don’t think they ever do that—and the dog got hit by a car and died. I am still ticked over that. They should never have killed off the dog! It’s a goofy show, but I like watching it. I think I simply like stupid shows that make me laugh.
What do you think of them killing the dog off in the show off?