I took this yesterday. The incision is a little red, which had me concerned, but it’s not hot or swollen, and the redness is fading. They had to loosen the skin underneath, to get enough slack to close the incision, and I think that’s probably what’s causing the redness. The vet gave her antibiotics, so there shouldn’t be any problem with infection.
Other than the redness, she looks good! I’m amazed at the fact that there’s no swelling. The contours of her butt actually match on both sides now.
It’s raining. And raining and raining and raining. It’s a perfect rain for plants, too, and they really need it. We’ve had an awfully dry summer.
Someone should tell the guy upstairs that the smoke detector is not an oven timer. It’s gone off four times already this morning.
Harriet is home. She’s doing great! She’s alert, happy, and has a good appetite. That first photo is of her hoovering the kitchen floor for stray crumbs.
The surgery site is going to ooze blood for awhile. I was prepared for that (it’s a bad location for that sort of tumor on a lean dog). They’re sending the mass out to be identified, but the vet is pretty sure it’s a spindle cell tumor. If he’s right, he thinks it’s going to be benign, but will come back in the same location and grow more quickly than the last one. We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. Right now, I’m just glad to have my dog back in one piece!
Oh, and the incision itself? It’s a smiley face. My dog has a happy butt!
This bumblebee really, really, really likes sedum. Even repeatedly bumping the plant with my camera strap didn’t disturb him.
I’m pretty sure that my mom originally told me that the sedum she has is bright red, but then she decided that she also had some pinky-colored plants, as well. Since she didn’t see where, exactly, I took this start from, she didn’t know which color I had. I’d say those are pinky, which is not at all the same thing as bright red, but I’m not complaining. The color is light and delicate and very pretty. Andalsoplustoo, this means that there is still red sedum to be raided at my mom’s house. Ahem. We’re practicing looking on the bright side, see?
Miss PossumPants is about a million years old. She’s lived here for years, and was apparently hit by a bike or car, because she has some serious mobility problems. She’s also got cataracts in both eyes and appears to be deaf as a post. I wouldn’t have known that she was out on my patio, except that Harriet and the cat suddenly got Very Interested in the live action nature TV. When I went to look at what the uproar was about, I saw Miss PossumPants with her nose plastered against the outside of the patio door. I don’t know what the hell she thought she was doing, but it was pretty funny.
I tried to shoo her away, but she was either unimpressed or unaware of my presence. She decided to have a nice, leisurely drink from the upturned rim of a big flower pot, so I went and got my little camera.
As I was leaving from cat sitting this morning, I saw a dark blob on the garage floor. Miss Spider stayed put long enough for me to go to the car, get my camera, and take a couple of photos. And then she scurried off.
Folks, the word is kyoo, not kway. WTF?! Every time I hear it mispronounced, I get a mental picture of a line of boats gently bobbing, dockside, which is not at all the same thing as a stack of books in one’s to-be-cataloged backlog.
Kthnxbye.
Harriet’s surgery is next week. I’m assuming the best, but just in case, I’m spending lots of time just hanging out with her. I would really hate to regret not having done so. Tonight, hanging out means watching CSI re-runs with a lap full of dog. Every time I get up, Harriet sits up straight, with her best “We are not amused” expression.
I left work early, onna counta suffering from drug-induced brain deadedness. Anyway, one of my upstairs neighbors was leaving with his Lab puppy (who, by the way, is not looking so very puppyish anymore) as I was coming in. We did the “HowareyouI’mfinehowareyou” routine, and he said that he was having a crappy day, because he was off work and BORED. Bored?! WTF is that?! I think I was bored once, in 1975[1].
He said that he works so much that when he has a day off, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Dude, get a hobby! Or learn to appreciate the fine art of ass-sitting[2].
____________________________________
1. My mom’s cure for bored children was to put them to work, so I quickly learned that being bored would never, ever be to my benefit.
2. I ran into a high school classmate a couple of years after graduation. After catching up for a few minutes, he commented that one thing he missed about being a teenager was not having sufficient time to sit on his ass and do nothing. Amen, Pedro.
red paper boat 