FIRED

Well, I thought you should hear it here first. I’ve been fired! My job as a greeter has come to an end, at least for a while. My dad is calling it a leave of absence. He feels my brain has left my skull and I have forgotten all my canine good manners. I guess it is not surprising after I chased after the Fed EX guy last week and then snapped at a puppy while my dad showed a client what a whippet looks like full grown. I know, I know, I guess I was jealous. With Rome officially in our lives, I have taken the back seat and well to be honest, I like to drive and sometimes my teeth get in the way. My

mom says I am the most handsome dog ever and my sister loves me all the way to the moon and back. I know this should be enough for a rescue dog like me but well it is not. So.... for the time being I will be hanging out protecting my house. This is a skill I excel at and not to put too fine a point on it but my bite is much worse then my bark. I will be returning to work for brief stints to see if I can behave myself. Meanwhile Captain ZERO (Rome) will be helming the ship, greeting you all with his happy go-lucky attitude and his never ending need to seek your approval and attention. I will be chewing things up at home and putting them into Rome’s kennel, evidence that I am the better dog.

I was thinking in my time off I could work on my tan, but then I remembered white dogs and cats have a higher rate of skin cancer. Then I thought perhaps I would catch up on some TV but I remembered how weird my family is and that we don’t have cable and haven’t for over 5 years. I thought maybe I could have my mom leave the treadmill on so I could at least get some exercise. I asked her and she said NO! I guess this means instead I will be lying around doing nothing. My mom says it is called “introspection”. I said no it is called “mind-numbing boredom”. Either way, I will be out of the office for a while. I want you all not to worry about me... alone, no staff to tend to, no Fed Ex men to chase, just me, myself and I. I will think about my actions and try to figure out how to be a better dog while lying on the sofa, watching the palm trees sway. Time off for bad behavior never looked so good. RUFF!!!

Fore!!!!

As anyone who has ever owned their own business knows, the life you had before is gone, baby, gone. You spend every day, 7 days a week, working and when you’re not at work you’re thinking about work, right?  Until something happens that makes you remember wait just a minute, hold the phone, stop the press. I used to do that! We recently had this revelation. 

You see, our oldest son started to play on the golf team and it reminded us that once upon a time, long, long ago we played too. Now, let me be clear that the “we” would be Jacob and I, with a strong emphasis on Jacob. He used to play at least a few times a month and he played junior golf as a kid. Now he is lucky if he plays a few times per year! (Usually in some tournament I have signed him up for and then only if he doesn't get called into the hospital). 

I, on the other hand, am sad to say, while I enjoy playing very much, I am terrible. I can throw the ball about as far as I can hit it. I am proud of the fact, however, I am single handedly doing my part to kill every earthworm on the course as my ball burns by them at a crawl. Maybe I just bump them on the head but at least I am contributing, right? When I am not swinging at the ball and.... missing (we don't count those), I occasionally get a piece of it and then after searching in vain for several minutes and holding up the poor chaps coming up behind us, I have to concede and drop a ball. (For the record we don't count these either.) 

Poor Jacob, his ball has been resting peacefully a mere foot or so from the pin for what in golf time seems like an eternity. I swing and miss again and start counting up my strikes. By my count I have been struck out the equivalent of a full inning in baseball. Jacob reminds me gently to take my time, nice and slow, pausing just at the top of the swing and then I swing with enough force to send him running and when I open my eyes the ball has indeed sailed a good 50 feet....behind me. This is talent, folks! I can actually replicate this exact shot almost every time. I wonder sometimes if I shouldn't just play the whole course backwards. 

My husband comes out from the nearest shrub to again give me a pointer (or ten) and say “hey Sammy (Sammy Sosa) we don't need a home run, just a single, easy now.” Then, as if I am getting prepared to launch a hand grenade, he hits the deck. Thankfully, I honestly don't mind him trying to teach me to golf. He is very patient and kind about our 4 plus hour golf games. I think he really just brings me along for the comic relief. When I finally do reach the green, the real fun begins. I can chip it on and off again in the same shot! (Oh yeah, I am that good!) 

Once I get the ball back on I can hit it 2 inches at a time all the way to the hole. I may not be consistent on the fairway but on the green, I am an amazing display of pin-point accuracy and consistency. 35 shots later, I have completed the 1^st hole. Only 17 more to go!

It is usually about this time that the little beverage cart comes around and my husband buys himself a water (enriched with barley and hops). He may need more enrichment before the day is through and I understand it is hard work playing dodge ball and golf at the same time. I tell him to think of it like cross training, only instead of alternating activities he is getting both things done at once. This may actually afford him time later for a nap, if he is lucky.  After 9 holes we are usually plenty warmed up for the back nine and my score is usually well into the triple digits. 

Jacob has taken up playing 2 balls simultaneously and is proud to be beating himself. At least it is a fair game, although I must admit I secretly root for the white ball with the x on it, not the white ball with the numbers. It definitely gets style points. 

When we finish up and head into the 19th hole, Jacob always adds up my score, subtracts 100, figures out my handicap and I manage to beat him. While I know he is the superior player between the two of us, the numbers don't lie. I always offer to buy him another “water” for taking his loss like such a good sport. We laugh at the day’s events and look forward to next year when we try and settle this grudge match. I think maybe I will take some lessons this year so I don't get an unfair advantage. I wonder if the coach will charge me extra for hazard pay. Until then, here is hoping for another day off, so we can hit the links....FORE!!!!!

A walk on the wild side.

Well, it seems we are taking an awful lot of walks on the wild side here at the Hospital lately. My family flew to Oahu to hang out with the giraffes and a Rhino last weekend. My brother and I were left behind here to watch the Hospital. No cake, no giraffes and no Rhino- super sorry I had to miss that one. 

Then this week Anne Goody from Three Ring Ranch came to us with a broken NENE (goose). It was hit by a golf ball on the golf course and suffered a broken leg. Anne brought it to my dad for x-rays and surgery. The real story here is not the break however, it is the the goose himself. You see, according to Anne, Goose 446 is a real ladies man and when he couldn't get his own lady, he seized the opportunity and misfortune of some other fellow. As the story goes, Don Juan de' la Goose, moved in on the poor chap's lady when the chap had to take some sick leave. She was a pretty little thing left alone with two eggs to care for and he, unable to start his own family, figured this little brood surely needed looking after. Well, he moved in on the misses and her two little goslings. One baby died the the other little gander thrived. Imagine Mr. Goose's surprise when he returned from being out for some much needed R&R and found some young Don Juan, had taken his place. Mr. Goose didn't have to try and get revenge though, Karma has a funny way of taking care of that, which was how my dad met Don Juan. After Karma had taken a crack at him, this would be the ultimate birdie.

Anne brought Don Juan in for x-rays and it was good news- a clean break, but it would have to be pinned. We scheduled surgery for the next day. It is not everyday we get an endangered species in the Hospital, and the staff was excited. When my dad got into surgery, he realized this was going to be much harder than he thought. There was a pretty good overlap of the bone and, despite being under anesthesia, Don Juan was not going to give up any muscle-tone, should the ladies of Waikaloa be watching. My dad tried to reduce the fracture closed but had to concede and make an incision. It took just a few minutes to get the bone ends to match up and then he advanced the pin and was done. Anne then applied her custom-made splint and the goose was back in business. I am wondering if this is a good way to play up the sympathy aspect of things. As for Don Juan, I think he has just been given the ultimate pick-up lines for a while. Hopefully he will not hit into any more water hazards. Karma is not as gentle when it has to give you a second reminder. Let this be a lesson to all. Mi Casa is not always su casa. Anne called us Monday to let us know that Don Juan was doing very well. Let's hope that leg heals perfectly so he can out-run the next chap whose lady he tries to steal. Personally, I think I would rather take my chances with the Geese of Waikaloa. That Karma can be a really bad dog. RUFF!!!

It has to be the cat's fault....

Men are funny. Sure, we all make jokes about men not asking for directions and how they can fix anything until... well, they can't. I am fortunate that I never experienced this in my relationship. I have been lucky enough to be married to a man who can really do it all... except when he can't, and then It has to be the cat's fault. 

You see, cats in general, really like Jacob, except for when they don't. The cat that doesn't like him, happily for Jacob, resides somewhere other then our house. Okay, so he lives at the Hospital with his world-dominating sister. Jenner tolerates Jacob from afar, not that they haven't had close encounters, mind you. The first and last of significance ended with a two week course of antibiotics after the trip to urgent care.

You see, Jenner was mine before he was ours and for clarification, in case you're confused, means he is still mine. Jenner came to me with his sister and brother before his eyes were even open. I hand-raised them and loved them, together with my then, one and seven year-old sons. We did what we could do to make sure Jenner turned out well-adjusted. Basically, if he could survive, he could stay. When Jacob and I decided to turn the his and mine into an ours, we became a mixed family. His two dogs, Hina and Maddie, and my two cats, Rune and Jenner, would need to get used to each other slowly. For my cats, this meant that when the dogs stopped breathing, they could move into the backyard. Jenner had never been an easy cat, even as a kitten he was more of a take-no-prisoners kind of creature. With the addition of the dogs, this was seen as a hostel take over and the dogs must be destroyed, or at the very least, tormented until they went stark-raving nuts. Unfortunately, in poor Maddie's case was not a real long walk.

We have all learned over the years that treating Jenner for anything medical requires great skill and a solid grasp on reality (basically, I hold on for dear life and hope I don't let go). Just treating him monthly for fleas and such is like hoping the Jello stays in a strainer under hot water. He bites and scratches with the ferocity of a meat grinder and you just hope that someone has band-aids ready after you get done with your 8-second ride. 

Tuesday,when Stacia came down with trepidation and said Jenner had a bloody ear, we all really questioned whether we should just let it be. I asked her to go upstairs and bring him down and she asked if she got hazard pay. She did manage to get him and I took him from there. I think he was trying to figure out how to have an out-of-body experience (mine being the closest body). When I set him on the table, he flattened his ears as if to say, "excuse me, but I lack the ability to use my middle digit. Perhaps my teeth will make the point". I noted this and then he flicked his tail in a way that on a rattler would have made me back away slowly and then run in the other direction. I could see the wound on his ear and I could see Jacob eyeing the situation with a where-did-I-leave-that-chain-mail-full-body-armor look I see come across his face ever time we have to deal with Jenner. I held on to Jenner and stroked his coat and tried to reassure him, all the while, I had my fingers tucked under, like a chef in a chopping contest, for fear of the loss or damage that would surely come If I got to close. My very brave husband stayed an arm's length back while still examining my beloved cat. Jenner, all the while was plotting our demise. Jacob swabbed his ears, "okay buddy, you're almost done". Then came the ear cleaning. Okay so yes, it is cold and yes, it feels strange sloshing about inside your ear, but from the look on my cat's face you would have thought I was preparing him to be cooked up on a spit. I was rubbing the solution into his ears when Jacob said, "so who is going to treat him everyday?" This was a retorical question of course. We both knew the answer to this. I set him into his cage and his ears were as flat as they could get against his head. In human terms, this would be a double bird moment. I apologized profusely and told him I was very sorry but we have to take care of his ears-that it was for his own good. What he heard was, "I was bored and hadn't tortured you in a while so thanks for coming down." Jacob also apologized for his veterinary-like behavior and Jenner actually let him pet him. How's that saying go? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Yeah, well, let's just say Jenner has mastered this and takes it to a whole new level. 

Jenner's ear swab showed a bacterial infection. This means I will be attempting to treat him for the duration of his infection, under the careful direction of my husband. He will make sure to tell me how I need to do it and I will kindly explain to him, as the fur flies and I start my own course of medication, that he is welcome to do it if he likes. He will smile and tell me he can't do everything...... except when he can..... I am certain of one thing, it has to be the cat's fault. 

Trying to catch our breath...

Wow... Did you see that year fly by? As a dog, I aged 7 years and I feel it. I suddenly no longer feel like a teenager and, from the simple math, I was able to count my toes, some more than once, I figure I am nearly 21. I guess that makes me of legal age. I actually pondered an after-work glass of wine and then remembered that it is made with grapes and since grapes are toxic to dogs and cats, that would only be an invitation to go back to work and not as the CED (Chief Executive Dog), but as a patient..... um I'll pass. I guess I will be nosing up to the water dish. Maybe if I am nice, my sister will throw in some ice cubes. That means I will have to eat her green peas again at dinner but I actually like veggies so it's a win-win.

There is so much going on around the Hospital so I have been trying to lay low and stay out of the way. We are performing all kinds of surgery everyday and I am getting to meet pets from all over the island. We also have a new extern coming to visit for two weeks and several veterinarians coming for interviews. All of our new staff is up to speed on how this place ticks (sometimes like a time bomb, other times she purrs like a kitten). We are so busy, we are trying to keep up. My dad is still waiting for the cloning machine to come and make a copy of him so he can get a day off. Mom said they should make one of each of them, then they could go on an adventure together. I am not certain what she means, they have adventures daily- like raising 3 kids and running this place isn't enough. My brother Rome said, "maybe they mean the kind of adventure where you do nothing at all". OK... Rome, sit down before you hurt yourself. I think I can actually see his poor little brain cells lining up at the edge of his ears, like lemmings ready to abandon the sinking ship. This is why I write for the paper and not him. Can you imagine my family sitting around doing nothing?They would go nuts and take the first plane back here to crazy.  

All I know is this is going to be an amazing year! I can feel it all the way to the tip of my tail. It is a kind of tingling sensation... actually it is kind of a numb, burning sensation... now that I think about it. Wait a minute! "Rome, get off my tail!" OOOHHHHH pins and needles!   

Anyway... numb tails aside, it is shaping up to be an amazing year. We have so much to look forward to that we are trying to pace ourselves. First up, Rome's Birthday is Saturday the 8th. It is his 1st birthday and, in Hawaii, that is a big deal, so come on up for some treats to celebrate. 

Then we are gearing up for February's Dental Awareness Month. Watch for theTooth in this month's paper. There will only be one and it is only good in February. You have to bring it in to use it..... Shoots, I hope I didn't give away the surprise. Mom would be mad. On second thought, maybe that is why she told me, because she knows I can't keep my mouth shut.....she wouldn't do that... would she? ~Ruff