Wasted days and wasted nights....I love morphine! It makes me feel all gooey and soft...
Today was my tooth surgery. We got a bit of a late start, which meant Mom drove like a bat out of hell, which actually isn't all that unusual. You would think she'd be a bit more cautious, what with her precious cargo and all. Kenzie and I clung to the sides of our carrier as we ricocheted around hairpin turns, tires squealing in protest. We got to the clinic with one minute to spare. And then...
...and then the true terror began. Mom snatched me out of my carrier and plunked me down on a slippery, icy cold scale, only to make smart aleck remarks about my weight. *I* don't think five and a half pounds is excessive. It's all muscle.
Actually, it's all fur. And I weigh a lot less now, now that the tech came in and hauled me away to the back room where she SHAVED MY NECK. Then she stuck a big fat needle into it, to draw my pre-op bloodwork. As if that wasn't bad enough, then then another tech came in with another big fat needle, and stabbed me in the back!
Well, I can't honestly say I minded that one. That was the morphine. So I didn't really argue when the vet came in and started poking around my mouth with his nasty scope. He commented on what a good boy I was, and wrapped me in a warm towel, and whisked me off to the operating room. I'm a little unclear what happened after that, but eventually I found myself wrapped in another warm towel, being placed into my mom's eager and loving arms. She oohed and aahed over me and gave me back to Kenzie for safekeeping. Then I got to go home!
Oh, Granny came along, and SHE gave Kenzie and me our post-op blackberries. Blackberries make everything better. It's good to have a Granny.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
The cold hard tooth
Mom saw the dental surgeon today. MY dental surgeon, not hers. Hers would be a walk in the park. Just suck down a Vicodin and a shot of Old Crow and let 'im go to town! But we're talking about *ME*. My teeth (or shall I say FANGS) are far more fearsome than any you'll find in Mom's mouth. My teeth grow SPIKES. Long, jaggedy spikes that threaten to rip my tender tongue to shreds! Or at least poke me in the cheek.
Anyway, my dental surgeon won't work on me without general anesthesia because I am such a "Stressie Bessie". I beg your pardon?? Just because I showed a little attitude to the otoscope..."High spirited" is a much nicer term than "high strung", wouldn't you agree? Anyway, he's a specialist and works fast. He promises to knock me out, file me down, and pack me up to go home all in less than two hours. Mom won't even have time to fret, and fretting is what she does best.
Anyway, my dental surgeon won't work on me without general anesthesia because I am such a "Stressie Bessie". I beg your pardon?? Just because I showed a little attitude to the otoscope..."High spirited" is a much nicer term than "high strung", wouldn't you agree? Anyway, he's a specialist and works fast. He promises to knock me out, file me down, and pack me up to go home all in less than two hours. Mom won't even have time to fret, and fretting is what she does best.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
The "B" word
Mom can no longer deny the ravages of time. She's officially a geezer, thanks to her brand new bifocals, fresh from the Wal*Mart Vision Center.
She didn't even get the transition specs, the ones that would have allowed her to at least pretend to still be vibrant and youthful. No, she figured "in for a penny, in for a pound", and chose sturdy rhinestone-studded frames worthy of Great-Aunt Agatha, lenses sliced across the middle with the traditional line of demarcation. All she's lacking now is a decorative gold-tone chain to hold them securely 'round her neck, nestled against her sagging bosom.
It took her long enough to get to this point of acceptance. She's been peering and squinting for a few years now, and Granny finally had enough. "Take the check and GO!" she shrieked, and Mom had no choice but to drag herself in for an exam. The optometrist was a kindly woman who refrained from saying, "It's about time", and instead patted Mom gently on the shoulder, like one might comfort a loved one on their first day in the nursing home.
Mom came home and wept bitterly, or at least groused a bit, and buried her sorrows beneath a gargantuan slab of pumpkin pie smothered in whipped cream. A pie, I might add, that she didn't even SHARE. Then she browsed through the shopping pages in search of elastic-waist pants and sensible shoes. Maybe now the clerks will stop asking for her ID when she buys wine. Instead they'll ask if she'd like the senior discount.
She didn't even get the transition specs, the ones that would have allowed her to at least pretend to still be vibrant and youthful. No, she figured "in for a penny, in for a pound", and chose sturdy rhinestone-studded frames worthy of Great-Aunt Agatha, lenses sliced across the middle with the traditional line of demarcation. All she's lacking now is a decorative gold-tone chain to hold them securely 'round her neck, nestled against her sagging bosom.
It took her long enough to get to this point of acceptance. She's been peering and squinting for a few years now, and Granny finally had enough. "Take the check and GO!" she shrieked, and Mom had no choice but to drag herself in for an exam. The optometrist was a kindly woman who refrained from saying, "It's about time", and instead patted Mom gently on the shoulder, like one might comfort a loved one on their first day in the nursing home.
Mom came home and wept bitterly, or at least groused a bit, and buried her sorrows beneath a gargantuan slab of pumpkin pie smothered in whipped cream. A pie, I might add, that she didn't even SHARE. Then she browsed through the shopping pages in search of elastic-waist pants and sensible shoes. Maybe now the clerks will stop asking for her ID when she buys wine. Instead they'll ask if she'd like the senior discount.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
O Sole Mio
It's no wonder the neighbors cringe and turn away when they see Mom coming. They've got to think she's certifiably insane. Why, just today she was puttering around outside, in her "Sunday best" sweatpants with the big hole in the rear end, muttering to herself and shrieking every time she saw what might be a bee. And last night she forgot all the windows were open and serenaded the neighborhood with a spirited round of "Greens and Goodies", our night-night song. I would blush crimson with shame, but you couldn't see it anyway what with my thick velvety fur.
Mom thought Granny was bad when she crooned lovingly to the forsythia bush as she whacked it near to the ground. I have to say, between the two of them, Mom's the most embarrassing. At least Granny can claim to be "elderly", which automatically gives her the right to be eccentric and crotchety. Mom has no such excuse. She's just bats.
Mom thought Granny was bad when she crooned lovingly to the forsythia bush as she whacked it near to the ground. I have to say, between the two of them, Mom's the most embarrassing. At least Granny can claim to be "elderly", which automatically gives her the right to be eccentric and crotchety. Mom has no such excuse. She's just bats.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Well, it's about time!
Finally! I am reunited with my adoring public! It's been a long, rough, few months. Mom has been preoccupied with that thing called "school", and you know what that means. Kenzie and I get shunted to the back of the bus.
It's not all bad. Mom was way too busy to notice our project, the one where we tunneled underneath the sofa and ate our way up inside the springs. And she didn't even catch us using it as a litter box. Sure, she might have commented that the living room smelled a little "sharp", but that's as far as it went before she had her nose stuck back in the books again.
But now the semester is over, and Mom has the time, if not the energy, to make the rounds of the house, "mitigating the damage" as she likes to say. What that means in plain bunny speak is "Let's take away the bunnies' fun!" Granny came over and the two of them set to work with a hammer and nails and some chicken wire, and a big loud sucky thing called a "carpet cleaner", and next thing you know that sofa is shining brightly and locked up as tight as Fort Knox. No way a curious bunny can so much as squeeze one paw beneath it now.
We are resourceful little bunnies and we still have our secret hideaways, like the back of the coat closet, for now anyway. Mom's only taking one class this summer so she has grand ambitions of spring cleaning the whole house, and she's bound to stumble upon a few surprises. We'll keep you posted!
It's not all bad. Mom was way too busy to notice our project, the one where we tunneled underneath the sofa and ate our way up inside the springs. And she didn't even catch us using it as a litter box. Sure, she might have commented that the living room smelled a little "sharp", but that's as far as it went before she had her nose stuck back in the books again.
But now the semester is over, and Mom has the time, if not the energy, to make the rounds of the house, "mitigating the damage" as she likes to say. What that means in plain bunny speak is "Let's take away the bunnies' fun!" Granny came over and the two of them set to work with a hammer and nails and some chicken wire, and a big loud sucky thing called a "carpet cleaner", and next thing you know that sofa is shining brightly and locked up as tight as Fort Knox. No way a curious bunny can so much as squeeze one paw beneath it now.
We are resourceful little bunnies and we still have our secret hideaways, like the back of the coat closet, for now anyway. Mom's only taking one class this summer so she has grand ambitions of spring cleaning the whole house, and she's bound to stumble upon a few surprises. We'll keep you posted!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
*YAWN*
Mom wants to know why I start throwing a fit around 5:30, clamoring to be released from my pen to run free...
...but after she drags herself out of bed to let me out, the first thing I do is run into the living room and LAY DOWN!
heh heh
Monday, January 30, 2012
Havoc!
Kenzie and I have had free run of the house now for about a week, while Mom digs out from under an avalanche of homework. Never mind the dishwasher overflowing with dirty coffee mugs, or the dining room floor buried under a mountain of unfolded laundry. And I'd advise you to avoid the bathroom unless you have a strong stomach. You've heard of drain clogs? Mom's got the equivalent of a small badger crammed down the sink.
It's not her fault, she'll tell you. How's she supposed to keep up with housework while attempting to decipher thirty pages of 9-point single spaced roughly translated French transgenre prose poetry? Who can expect her to worry about poop patrol when faced with diagramming two chapters of linguistic symbolism? There's only so much one human can do, she protests, as she sobs a little and shuffles to the bathroom, still in her ratty PJs.
Kenzie and I have bravely soldiered on. We appreciate that Mom's too distracted to care about a slight slippage in our litter habits. That pile of Orchard Grass in the living room? Looks just fine from where we're sitting. And it will take Mom at least another week to notice the missing foot on her favorite doll. We figure we're safe at least until the end of the semester. Go Mom go!
It's not her fault, she'll tell you. How's she supposed to keep up with housework while attempting to decipher thirty pages of 9-point single spaced roughly translated French transgenre prose poetry? Who can expect her to worry about poop patrol when faced with diagramming two chapters of linguistic symbolism? There's only so much one human can do, she protests, as she sobs a little and shuffles to the bathroom, still in her ratty PJs.
Kenzie and I have bravely soldiered on. We appreciate that Mom's too distracted to care about a slight slippage in our litter habits. That pile of Orchard Grass in the living room? Looks just fine from where we're sitting. And it will take Mom at least another week to notice the missing foot on her favorite doll. We figure we're safe at least until the end of the semester. Go Mom go!
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