Homeland Security

I've been lying.

Well...not exactly lying, but just not telling the whole truth. But telling the whole truth made me feel uncomfortable, for the very first time since I started writing this journal.

The truth is that Walt has been in London for the past week. People may have thought it strange that in the tales of my coping with my painful side I never mentioned Walt helping. I talked, for example, about buying a smaller bag of dog food because I didn't think I could carry the larger one. The obvious thing would have been for me to have Walt carry it (or send him out to get it in the first place), but he was in London.

When we first moved into this house, I always thought it was so strange that my father, whenever he parked in the carport, even if he was only going to be coming into the house for a few seconds to pick up something, always made sure all the doors of his car were locked. This was at a time when I was blase about locking the house doors and almost always left the doors unlocked, day and night. I was probably foolhardy, but I always felt safe here. My father, in contrast, had lived in the Big City all of his life and was nt nearly as trusting as I was.

I didn't start locking the doors of the house until we had a rapist running around the Davis and then my feeling of safety was shaken a bit. But I still didn't lock the car doors.

I started locking the car after David died and his car was broken into in our own carport, his dashboard smashed and his brand new cd player stolen. It was about that time that our own car was stolen out of a BART parking lot when we were in San Francisco.

I believe that usually when Walt is out of town and when that information seems something logical to mention as I write an entry, I have never hesitated to write it.

But somehow letting the world know that I would be alone in the house for a week, even with my two big dogs, just suddenly made me feel uncomfortable. It makes me angry that we live in such times that I no longer feel comfortable in talking about whatever I want to talk about. Or maybe it comes with getting older and more suspicious and fearful. Maybe it's no more dangerous than it ever was to let that information out, but I just didn't feel comfortable doing it.

Ever since he retired, Walt has had great wanderlust. He just wanted to go somewhere. He didn't care where. I was less enthusiastsic, knowing how reduced my staimina was knowing that Walt's favorite thing to do whenever so go somewhere is walk. I talked him out of taking a Rick Steeves trip to Italy because, having seen Steeves, I was fairly certain that I would not be able to keep up with the group...and was too embarrassed to let other members in the group know that I couldn't keep up.

But I have this trip to Italy with Jeri planned for next year and will, of course, have to be more active than usual.

Ahhh...but I'm in training for that (back on the treadmill today. I am amazed that it seems that overnight there was a HUGE improvement in my side pain. It was mid-morning before I even thought about it.)

So anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Walt found a deal on a new route that United had opened up between Denver and London for a very reasonable price. He asked if I would mind if he took the trip. I was delighted and encouraged him to go for it, while he had the opportunity. I was amazed that by the end of the day, he had a round trip ticket and a reservation at a hotel. That's so un-like Walt, who plans things in a slow, methodical manner.

He had a great time. He saw several plays (including King Lear at the Globe Theatre), ate in pubs (which he loves to do), visited a couple of museums, and had time to wander around London, which he also loves to do. And when he arrived home, Munchkin was back for a brief visit, which was nice because Munchkin likes Walt, unlike the Jack Russell terriers.

His new foster family was going out of town for overnight so I said I'd take him back. He's called "Otto" now and he came home just like he'd never been away. Spent the first 5 minutes here walking around in a circle around my neck, across my chest, and along my back, and then licking me over and over again.

The foster family gave me a great idea about getting him to settle down, which is to warm up one of those warming things that you use for sore muscles. I haven't had to try it yet, but I definitely will if the occasion calls for it.

Faw Down, Go Boom

My mother tells me that whenever I fell down as a little kid I would say that "I faw down, go boom." I did it big time yesterday.

You know how when you have a bad fall, everything seems to go into slow motion? I remember climbing up on the sink one time to fix the curtain at the top of our window. My foot slipped and I fell to the kitchen floor floor, but I remember as I was falling, assessing how my body was positioned, if I was likely to hit the kitchen counter, and what would happen if I hit the floor wrong. All in a matter of a split second.

That was kind of how it was yesterday. I had taken Munchkin out to the back yard to play with the other puppies (because he generally won't leave my side) and I sat down at the table on the concrete patio to read the paper.

I got up from the table and everything went wrong. Sometimes when I turn wrong my bad knee sends shooting pains and kind of gives out a little. When that happens. I automatically shift the weight to the other leg, but somehow that leg was tangled up in the leg of the chair and I started falling, in slow motion, wondering what would happen when I cracked my head on the concrete.

Walt, bless him, was there and caught my head before it bonked the concrete, but my body hit so hard that I peed all over the patio.

(Why do they tell you to wear clean underwear when you go out. If you get into an accident, your bladder releases whatever is in it. If you die, both your bladder and bowels give up their contents, so nobody knows if you had clean underwear when you left the house or not!)

I was immediately surrounded by five very worried dogs, which was lovely, but just what I didn't need as I tried to drag my pain-wracked body to an upright position. It was instantly apparent that I had wrenched something in my side. From just below my breasts to just below the waist, the muscles sent excruciating pain shoothing everywhere along my left side.

I hobbled into the house and changed my clothes (not easy when you are in pain!) and proceeded to figure out what I could do and couldn't do in my new pain-wracked state. I discovered I couldn't bend over to pick up anything. I was fixing chicken for dinner and had to wait until Walt came downstairs to get the bag of frozen chicken breasts out of the freezer for me. I could also put the pan into the oven, but it was much more comfortable to have him take them out for me.

I could pick Munchkin up, since he always raises up on his hind legs and paws at my leg, but I couldn't put him down unless I found a pile of pillows and then dropped him from a foot above the pile.

I sat in the recliner for awhile with ice on the affected area, but it was frustrating that after going through all the gyrations to get into a reasonably comfortable position, I would have to get right up again to get something I forgot or something else.

It was a no-computer night because I couldn't sit comfortably to type, so I sat and watched Idol and Dancing with the Stars and The Daily Show and finally decided it was time for sleep. But where?

The night before, in a desperate attempt for a good night's sleep, I took ALL the dogs up to the guest bedroom to sleep. Despite the stabbing pains that I get when I try to sleep in a bed, I thought maybe having room for everyone would make it worthwhile. It actually worked because I had all the puppies on one side of me, and the big dogs curled up along my backside, like the back of a couch. I considered doing that again, but I wasn't sure I could walk upstairs.

I tried the couch in the living room, but it was instantly clear that there was no way I could get to a reclining position, so I went back to the family room again and settled in on the recliner under puppies. I did wake up around 2 and had about an hour and a half awake, but eventually fell back asleep again.

Things were ever so slightly better in the morning. But the most difficult part was trying to deal with the puppies. It's hard to get comfortable with your lap being used as a playing field. I can't get food out of the dog food bin but I can lift the container and put it on the kitchen counter and get it that way.

I finally decided that I just wanted to reduce the number of pain-producing things in the house, so sadly wrote to Ashley and asked if she could find new homes for the puppies. Someone came to pick up the older puppies and it did not go well. They were both spooked and Scrappy bit one of the women trying to catch him. He also left poop all over the family room...literally scared the shit out of him. I finally called him to jump into my lap in the recliner, which he did, shrinking away from the people trying to catch him. I felt awful when I put a leash on him and helped drag him into the carrying crate. I do not feel good about sending them away, but when I tried to clean up those poop piles, I knew I had made the right decision.

There is still no new home for Munchkin and we'll see if I'm better enough tomorrow to keep him, but at the moment Ashley is still on the hunt for a new foster home for him.

Are You Barking at ME?

There's no other explanation for it. Munchkin has temper tantrums.

The good thing is that I'm getting used to them, so they don't bother me any more.

This puppy only wants to do one of three things:

• sleep on my shoulder or in my arms;

• bite any part of my body that he can connect with; or

• cry

The crying bothered me at first. As displayed in that audio clip I posted a couple of days ago, his cry is loud, plaintive and gut wrenching.

Over time you get used to it!

Tonight I put him in my recliner when we went to have dinner. Now, he isn't afraid to jump (or fall) from great heights, but for some reason he won't jump off of my chair, so he walks across the table between the two recliners to Walt's and tries to get enough nerve to jump off of that one.

Only tonight, nerve failed him, so he sat there having a first rate temper tantrum. Two days ago I would have picked him up. Today I just kept on eating. He eventually did jump off. Then he attacks my bare feet or tries to play tug of war with my pants leg, leaving holes in the cloth.

Lord, this is a difficult puppy, though we are making progress today. Up until now Russell and Scrappy have either given him a wide berth, or snarled and tried to attack him. Today they actually started playing a little, chasing each other around the house and even out into the back yard.

I felt like a mother whose toddler had gone down for a nap. A free few minutes!

He also has discovered toys and today was carrying around a teddy bear and playing tug-of-war with it and Russell.

Wow...look at those boobs!

I thought I had the sleeping thing licked the first night, when I finally gave in and brought him to the couch with me and the other two puppies, but last night was a total disaster. By the time I was ready to sleep, he had been sleeping and was ready to PLAY. All the other dogs were ready for sleep and the pack of us went into the living room.

Russell came up onto the couch and settled at my feet. Scrappy decided to sleep with Sheila along the edge of the couch. Lizzie got into "her" chair. I put Munchkin on my shoulder, and he leaped off onto Russell, who growled and snarled. So I tried to create a demilitarized zone. Everything below my waist belonged to Russell. Everything above my waist belonged to Munchkin. Russell was fine with that. Munchkin was unclear on the concept.

When I wouldn't let him go below my waist, he climbed up to the table that Lizzie sleeps on in the day and promptly fell off onto his head behind the couch. Then he got lost and set up another temper tantrum. I called and called and he finally found me by following my voice and we tried again.

It quickly became apparent that this was not working. I was doing more policing and not at all sleeping, so I decided to try the recliner.

I got up, carrying Munchkin, followed by both Russell and Scrappy. Soon all four of us were cuddled on the recliner. Munchkin was finally settling down and the other two were sound asleep. Only my legs were screaming. This was "restless leg syndrome with puppies." I had a dog on each leg and I couldn't move if I wanted to. I lasted about 30 minutes and finally I couldn't stand it any more and moved the whole group back to the couch, where we started all over again, except that after Munchkin fell off the couch one more time, he finally settled down.

(I was too sleepy to wonder if he had just knocked himself out finally)

Things went well and then my damn body woke me up at 4 a.m. This time Russell stayed asleep on the couch, the other two dogs didn't even move, and Scrappy joined Munchkin and me on the the recliner, after a brief trip outside for peeing.

Good lord, I don't know what tonight is going to be like.

I'm trying to like this puppy, but he makes it difficult. I know that as he gets older it will get easier. He's already chewing on me less, as each time he sinks one of those razor sharp canines into my wrist I yelp loudly and grab him by the scruff of his neck and pull him off. Two times doing that and he stops biting, briefly. He'll get there eventually, if I don't kill him first.

The proof of the pudding is Scrappy. I am growing so fond of this little puppy. He came here afraid of his shadow and nobody could get near him. Now he has become my shadow. He's the one that goes everywhere with me while Russell is off doing other things. He loves sleeping in my lap, or coming up under my desk to be petted and he'll even let Walt pet him as long as he's in my lap.

I know that I'll get to that point with Munchkin, but we both have a way to go before we reach that stage.

Night of the Living Munchkin

I swear there are times when I think I should call this journal "Adventures in Sleeping" (or not sleeping!) I probably write about sleep more than any other topic.

So last night was Munchkin's first night here. In my heart of hearts I knew it wouldn't work to have him sleeping in a crate, but you know, they always try to crate train dogs to make it easier for the foster families when they get adopted. I also knew I already had Russell sleeping on me, and the other three dogs sleeping on the floor or chair next to me. I decided to think positive and hope that Munchkin would eventually settle down in a crate which had nice soft towels to cuddle up in, the ubiquitous teddy bear that so many puppies have bonded with, and a nice bowl of water, plus any potential light shut out by a blanket over the door of the cage.

All things in place for a restful night of sleep at about 11:30.

Yeah. Right.

He didn't cry for...oh...at least 10 seconds. Then he started wailing. But I expected that and decided to let him cry it out. The rest of the pack and I went into the living room to settle in for the night.

I actually did go to sleep and wondered how long I'd been asleep when I woke up and it was still night and he was still howling.

It was 12:15.

Well, screw crate training. I brought him into the couch with me and he settled in happily in the crook between my shoulder and my neck, biting my hair. This was NOT exactly comfortable for me, but he was quiet; I could cope.

Then Scrappy, who had been sleeping on the floor next to the couch and who has never let me pick him up to put him on the couch, decided he wanted to join the rest of us. So there we were--Scrappy and Russell on my feet and Munchkin dozing off, chomping on my hair, curled up on my neck.

I'm sure there was a time when Walt was disappointed that my back problems made it painful for me to sleep in a real bed, but I suspect that with the advent of "pack sleeping" with all these dogs, he's relieved that I sleep on the couch!

It was still dark when I woke up. My neck was killing me and the other dogs had managed to roll all the blanket up under them, leaving my bare feet exposed to the cold air. I also had to go to the bathroom. So I lay there for about half an hour, trying to decide which was worse--getting up to pee and waking the dogs or risking an accident, freezing my toes off or waking the older puppies, moving at all or letting Munchkin continue to sleep.

I actually lasted about half an hour before I finally decided that my bladder and my toes and my neck really couldn't stand it any more and that it was unlikely that in my present state I was going to be able to fall back to sleep, so I got up. And so, of course, did all three puppies (Sheila and Lizzie have been able to continue sleeping until they want to wake up, which is about 6:30...a courtesy, I might add, that they do not extend to me on days when we have no puppies in the house and I feel like sleeping late!).

We all went, en masse, to the backyard for a pee-in (I waited until I got back in the house; I knew you'd want reassurance of that), then I did my business in the bathroom, settled into the recliner and was immediately buried in dogs again, now relieved and ready to finish out the night of sleep.

I started watching a program I had recorded on DVR, but it was only 15 min. long and the remote fell out of my hand onto the floor, where I couldn't reach it, so I had to either wake them all again, or watch whatever infomercial was going to come on after the DVR program. I did that instead.

As it was already 5 a.m., the infomercial I see from time to time, an apparently 30 minute program advertising a "male enhancement" product didn't seem to be on, which is too bad because I've been thinking I should really watch the whole thing just to see how totally outrageous it is.

I haven't watched enough of it to know if this is an appliance, a topical preparation, or a pill, but all I know is that the men who have used the product diligently are delighted with the results, and so are their giggling female partners.

Who agrees to be interviewed about something like this???

But then I remember the beauty product which was being sold thru an infomercial. The celebrity sponsor of it was Victoria Principal who introduced "her veterinarian" to give testimony on the efficacy of the product. I'm sure people think veterinarian="older woman." And Principal's veterinarian obviously had beautiful youthful skin, a glowing endorsement of the product.

Only Principal's veterinarian was Paul's widow and wasn't even thirty (I think she was about 26 or 27) at the time she did the infomercial. So I never do trust infomercials, though I'm not likely to be intrigued (other than for purposes of material for this journal) with anything said on an infomercial about penis enhancement products anyway!

Eventually, morning came and we all got up to start the day. I walked with my head tilted to the side because even in the chair, Munchkin likes to sleep on my shoulder where he can munch on my hair. I guess I won't even pretend to put him in a crate tonight but try to arrange the bedding on the couch a bit better so that I have a fighting chance of staying warm, and sleeping as long as possible, given the ridiculous circumstances.

(Note Munchkin on my shoulder)

Munchkin Land

While I was at Cousins Day, Walt attended a meeting of SPCA foster families, where Ashley passed out handbooks and pizza. While he was there, Megan asked if we could take a 6 week old chihuahua puppy that had been found wandering around the streets of Oakland and, somehow, was transferred up here. She kept him the first night, but couldn't keep him. She said he needed a lot of hands-on attention, which she couldn't give him because she was at school all day. (In a little bit I think you'll understand why she couldn't keep him in her apartment!)

When I got home, there was an e-mail from Megan about the puppy and of course I said yes. She said she would take Scrappy and find him another home, but I told her that Scrappy and Russell were such good friends and that a tiny puppy wasn't usually that much trouble, and that we would just keep all three puppies and if it proved too much she could then find a home for Scrappy.

And so, the new puppy arrived and I named him Munchkin

This one, at least, doesn't think Walt is the Devil incarnate, so Walt finally has a puppy to cuddle who won't bark if he tries to pet him.

All four other dogs overwhelmed Munchkin, so I held him until they all calmed down and then I sat in the recliner and was immediately buried under three puppies, Russell and Scrappy on my lap and Munchkin safely asleep on my collar bone.

I have become nothing more than a dog bed.

Megan warned that Munchkin was a fussy eater, when I asked what she had fed him. I didn't think that the big kibble would be easy for him to eat. She brought me some canned food so when it came time for dinner, I fed all the older dogs kibble, in four corners of the house (our mealtime routine around here is so bizarre. All four follow me around as I put down all four bowls in four areas, far removed from each other and then they all have to wander around checking all the bowls. I used to try to make sure they all got enough to eat and not too much to eat (i.e., that the puppies got a full meal and Sheila didn't eat double amounts!), but I gave that up as impossible. Somehow the food all gets eaten and nobody looks like he or she is starving, so I guess that they are eating all right).

When the big dogs had been fed, I dished up some of the canned stuff and locked Munchkin safely in a cage with the tasty food. Well. Let me tell you. Nobody puts Munchkin in a corner. He had NO interest in the food and all he wanted was to GET OUT. Listen for yourself:

Click To Play

Obviously that wasn't going to work. (And that is obviously why leaving Munchkin all alone in an apartment all day didn't work for Megan!)

I took him out, took out the food, and moved to a table in the back yard where I could stand over him and make sure he didn't fall off. He ate a bit, but ate more if I hand fed him. All the dogs, especially Scrappy, were very intrigued.

He wandered around a bit with the other dogs while I got people food ready for dinner and he lasted for a good while, but by the time I was finishing my dinner, he was begging to be picked up.

So I am writing this journal entry with Munchkin sleeping in a bed I made in my desk drawer. I have a feeling that he may require more attention than I figured, but I'm sure that as he settles in he'll get used to the other dogs and they will get used to him. The first day is always one for adjustments.