Turbo & Chani

Yeah Turbo got out of our crap chicken-wire fence - again - this past weekend. So I made an emergency trip (which turned out to be trips) to Lowe’s, spending about $300 dollars on lumbers and supplies to build a real fence. I’d strangle the dog if I didn’t know I’d be strangled in return by Carleen who has this strange attachment to this very neurotic dog. There’s this episode of The Simpson’s where Homer strangles Bart (”Why you little…!”) and then Marge commences to strangle Homer (”Why you big…!”) - yeah, it’d look something like that. Anyway, on with pictures!

There’s a bit of purely aesthetic work left to be done, but it does it does it’s job. I don’t have pictured the other side of the house, but it pretty much looks the same on that side too. I still have to do the back part of our property, but that’ll have to be done later. I’ve got a bathroom finish.

Liam has this semi-creepy way of sneaking up behind the dogs and trying to poke his finger into their butts. I try not to get either of the dogs too excited whenever Liam and them are together, lest I risk needing to yell the phrase “No Butts!” one more time to my son. The other day reached the peak of his obsession, as I’ve seen it. He was chasing Chani around the house, index finger pointed and ready, laughing maniacally in his best evil/devil laugh. I think he’s catching on that if he can get ahold of the tail, he can control it to some extent, and was trying to get at her tail that way. When that didn’t work, he got down on the ground, facing up; he looked like he was inspecting the under-carriage of a car. Now, I’ve had to tell Liam not to sit on the dogs, I really hope I never have to tell the dogs not to sit on Liam.

Dear family living on Macklyn Ave. in the house with all the pretty xmas yard ornaments in front,

I am so glad you decided to take a trip to Homeland last night. I know the last thing you probably wanted to do at midnight was bump into our misguided lost shivering beagle but I’m so glad you did. Turbo and I are connected in a special way. We both have this weird anxiety thing, we both step on people’s toes a lot but only because we want to make sure everyone’s ok and have some reassurance that we’re still loved even though we can be down right annoying sometimes. Most of all, we’re both far too curious for our own good which is probably why Turbo ended up at Homeland and why I end up reading seven books at the same time never finishing any one of them because I’m too curious to know what’s in the next book.

I’m also very glad that one of you had previously worked at a vets office because when we came to pick Turbo up this morning, his nails were clipped, his ears cleaned and his tummy full of pedigree chum. I had pretty much lost hope that Turbo would be found at all, but not only was he found, he was found by people who actually know a thing or two about taking care of dogs.

I really don’t know what else to say about you guys, except that you rock more then Chuck Berry.

___________

Dear Turbo,

If you were my child I would ground you for a year. But you’re not. You’re my dog so I guess all I can do right now is make up for the hugs you missed last night and hope you didn’t eat anything poisonous or moldy on your late night pilgrimage that will make you puke up green gooey stuff on my brand new rug.

___________

Dear Mike,

Had a great talk with you today at lunch. I can’t wait for our dinner/movie date tomorrow. You rock more then Chuck Berry and Led Zeplin put together.

We’ve lost Turbo again. Sometime last night while Mike was trying to get Liam asleep and I was still at work, he walked through our partially opened gate. Mike believes the meter man forgot to close it properly. That’s a possibility, however, I’m also inclined to believe, given the wind yesterday that the gate blew itself open. Mike and I had an argument over this last night which resulted in me voluntarily opting to sleep on the couch for the night. I’ve always believed that the fence/gate was insecure but because Mike is no fence expert and because our yard is a little awkward in shape, I never wanted to say straight out, Mike it’s a shitty fence can we please get something else a little stronger that doesn’t involve chicken wire. Half our yard is made out of chicken wire. As you can see, I’m still a little mad at my husband, despite the fact that I know I’m probably being way to hard on him.

So, my parents came over yesterday to help us look for Turbo but it was far to dark and given his past escapes it was almost certain that he could be half way cross town at that point.

For those of you who don’t know already, I was recently diagnosed with panic disorder (it isn’t extreme, thankfully I can still leave the house and go to work). My Thanksgiving week was not really a great Thanksgiving week. While everyone else was thanking their turkey and their family, I was simply thankful for the few pieces of sanity I had left in my head. I was dizzy, dazed and under the irrational impression that I was going to die of some horrible disease. I can’t even begin to explain how frightening, how real, and how paralyzing these feelings were. Mike and my parents got me through that weekend until I managed to see my most awesome doctor the following Monday. I’ve since seen a therapist who has set me to work on some exercises from a book which she refers to as the “bible” when it comes to treating panic disorders. Anyway, what I mean to say is, I really did not need to be dealing with a lost dog right now. It’s below freezing outside, I can only imagine how cold and alone he must feel. He has tags and the last time he got out someone found him and called us. I can only hope that a kind soul will find him again and we’ll get him back soon, but for some reason I’m hesitant to assume that we will be that lucky.

I’m angry, sad and confused. If you see me around today, please don’t attempt to cheer me up because I will probably only scowl at you. At this point, I don’t even think John Cleese could crack a smile out of me.

Turbo, if you’re out there please use that damn scent dog nose and find your way home.

UPDATE: Turbo was found last night around midnight, a few blocks away from our house. They found our number via our vet this morning and we picked him up - he’s nice and safe and sound now.

Mike will email me every so often at work with little updates. It’s nice because it helps me feel like I’m able to participate in some of his and Liam’s daily activities and I don’t miss Liam so much as a result. They’re usually short “Everything’s good, went down for his nap just fine” type stuff. Last night however, I got this:

Email Subject: Dogs….Grrr

Next time Turbo gets himself stuck in the compost bin I’m leaving him there overnight, and MAYBE it’ll teach him a lesson. How he got in, I don’t know, I’ll have to check it out when it’s light tomorrow.

Liam’s fine, he’s head-banging on the couch.

I’m happy to say I finally have the chaotic family I always hoped for.

I woke up at 4am this morning from the sound of Chani’s tummy rumbling. Not necessarily an unusually thing for her, however, it seems as though she’s eaten something that’s left her feeling a little out of sorts. She’s outside right now, probably eating more grass which she’ll likely puke back up later. I hope it’s on the laminate floor and not my new area rug.

Speaking of dogs, our local newspaper had a front page story yesterday that really made me clench my fist and say a couple of naughty cuss words.

Bartlesville police responded to two separate reports of potential animal cruelty cases within just minutes of one another Monday.

Officers responded to the 1500 block of S.W. Jennings Avenue where a chained dog was found dead at approximately 3:30 p.m.

The animal still had a collar and chain around its neck. An empty water bucket with dry dog food in the bottom was found nearby. An above ground swimming pool filled with water was out of reach from the dog and there was no shade other than a small dog house. The dog appeared to have dug a hole in the dirt in an attempt to find water or stay cooler.

I was telling Mike that I really feel people should be tested for their ability to care of living things. “Here, keep this bamboo alive for a month and then we’ll talk about the dog.”

Turbo is somewhat of a gypsy not to mention escape artist. If there’s a way out of confinement he’ll find it and go off exploring. He did exactly that in the middle of the night on Saturday. The wind had pushed our make-shift chicken wire fence gate open. Being that it was dark, Mike didn’t notice it right away. He came back in a panic, grabbing his jeans and, with Liam in tow, we took both cars and spent most of the early morning trying to find him. Make a long story short, some kind hearted person from Woodland Hills estate found him around lunch time the next day and gave us a call. For those who don’t know where we live, Turbo would have had to cross a couple of major highways (for B’vill anyway) to get to that area of town.

We got Turbo from the shelter a few years ago. It was about a year after we bought Chani who was still a puppy and very energetic. We had discussed several times about getting a second dog to keep her company and because there was just something about having two dogs that she seemed so nice and balanced. Chani was a birthday gift for Mike and she has always been sort of his dog. Turbo…well, he’s definitely mine. The minute I met him, I felt something very kindred about him. We have a lot in common. We’ve both got anxiety issues and we’re both a little gypsy. I’ve always had a thing for strays in general, be man or beast, and Turbo has this quality about him, something in his eyes that says “love me love me don’t leave me alone” and I’ve always pulled to that sort of thing. However, despite how dear he is to me, he can be an amazing pain in the ass sometimes. He demands a great deal of attention. He has this annoying habit of standing right at my feet, following me around everywhere I go, and climbing on me every time I sit down (had a boyfriend like this once).

I’m not sure but I think this may be one of the reasons Mike does not particularly like Turbo. There may be a kind of alpha battle going on between them. Whatever it may be, Mike has been known to avoid Turbo’s pleas for attention on purpose. He was quite vocal about it on Saturday afternoon, only a few hours before Turbo disappeared. Turbo is very gentle and is very good at sitting. I’ve worked with him as much as possible to show him that I will gladly pet him if he refrains from climbing or jumping on me. So he walked over to Mike and did a very elegant sit right in front of him, tail still wagging, ears flopped back. Mike just stood there. My mom kindly brought Turbo to his attention and Mike responed with “I’m not going to pet him. I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me.” I’m not entirely sure where this came from in Mike. He has a rather dry sense of humor which is, in fact, one of the things I’ve always loved in him. However, there are times when he says things that are meant to be taken in jest that will instead inspire contrary impulses in me, like wanting to hit him hard over the head with a kitchen broom yelling “Just pet the damn dog, you jerk!”.

So after we spent the morning searching for Turbo, after it became clearer and clearer that we may never see him again, I asked Mike about what he had said and before I could even finish my question he said “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that all night.” I, in turn, felt just as guilty since I have spent many a day recently letting out my exacerbation and stress on Turbo because, well he happen’s to be right there at my feet. It was hard not to imagine Turbo jumping at the opportunity to leave his home on purpose, a little like a disgruntled teenager. “Yeah, whatever, you guys don’t care, I’m leaving.”

I also sort of wondered whether he might have been wanting to leave for a long time. When we picked him up from the shelter we were told that he had already been there twice before, that he was obviously a wonderer at heart or just neglected so bad that he had no choice but to wonder. Sometimes I just wish I could get inside his head and learn his story. I can sort of imagine him growing up out in the country somewhere. Mike was raised in the country and had country dogs growing up. When I would go up to stay with him at his parent’s place I was always amazed to see his dog and the neighbor’s dogs just wondering around, no leash, nothing. They were fed once a day early in the morning and would just wonder off, usually not seen again until the sun went down at the end of the day. What a wonderful way for a dog to live. Our dogs? I’m a suburbia girl. Our dogs eat small portions of food three times a day because the American Vetranarian’s Society recommends it for easier digestion. If they’re depressed, they take doggy prozac. If they go somewhere outside of this house, it’s either on a leash or in a car….with a seat belt. Yes, my dogs have their very own seat belts. If I were Turbo, and if I were raised in the country, I would have a very difficult time adjusting to this type of lifestyle. I can just imagine what goes on in his head “You psycho lady, what the hell? Seat belts?!”

Who knows what he was thinking when he discovered that gate wide open and wondered off. I’m just glad he’s back. I think he’s glad he’s back too, at least right now. Zeus almighty decided to unleash the mother of all lightening storms on us tonight. I’ve pretty much been up with both Chani and Turbo since 2am. I think he was up pacing the house before that but luckily I was fast asleep and couldn’t hear them. I was suprised to discover Chani trembling too. Usually she’s pretty indifferent to storms. The only way I seem to be able to calm them down is to turn on a bunch of lights in the house and turn the t.v. on., thereby drowing out all the lightening and thunder. I guess, in some ways, this is probably ridiculous. How many of us out there create a special environment for their dogs so they can sleep through a thunderstom.

I’ve been having horrible nightmares recently. We’ve been having some stress lately with our dog Chani. She’s depressed, not adapting well to the new situation with having an infant in the house and being force to spend her nights on the couch. She developed some kind of bladder inflamation a few weeks ago and had us up all hours of the night needing to pee. The vet has put her on some antibiotics and long term anti-depressents. Unfortunately, now there’s something making her sick at night. Twice this week I’ve had to get up so she could go outside and vomit.

The other night I had this horrible dream involving dogs and puppies. When I woke up it felt like I had spent the entire night with canines. Turbo and Chani were sitting in our sun room waiting for me to open the glass door, except as I stepped closer to the door I realized that there was a mirror image in front of me, two sliding doors side by side. Behind one were our two dogs. Behind the other were our two dogs again except they were beaten and limping, behind them was another large dog who sort of reminded me of those breeds of dogs the Egyptians used. He was also beaten and had two of its legs missing. Later on in the dream I was at some sort of shelter. There were dogs and cages everywhere, yelping and whining. I was frantically trying to tend to them all when I noticed my old art bin from college, the one I used to store all my art supplies in. I opened it and someone had stuffed a bunch of puppies inside there. They were still alive, but they were all smooshed.

Then yesterday I dreamt that Liam was growing metal in his mouth which provided for some really awful images, too disturbing to talk about here. He seems to be going through a teething episode right now so I imagine that’s why I dreamt that one. My mom has always told me about these horrible dreams she used to have, especially after she became a mother and it looks like I’ve inherited some of that. It leaves me feeling so traumatized in the morning.

Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Pregnancy. Sheesh, you’d think we did nothing but sit around staring at Carleen’s tummy all day - it’s time I got on here and mixed things up a bit. I have a funny little anecdote that happened just the other day.

We’ve had trouble with possums* the past 2 years; they seem to enjoy nesting in our cedar trees. Chani and Turbo, however, take great offense to this marsupial invasion. Much of Turbo’s day consists of patrolling the borders of our property in search of the elusive possums. Usually, he finds them in the same tree, a very bushy cedar that makes a great little nest for just about any critter of possum size. Much to his dismay, Turbo can never get close enough to the nest to actually the possum. So, in brilliant “doggy-logic”, he howls bloody-murder. Usually ending only when either myself or Carleen physically drag him from underneath the tree.

To put a stop to all this nonsense, I went down to our local Farm & Feed store and bought a live trap and some cat food as bait. Setting the trap that night, I went to work uplifted, knowing in the morning my rodent problems would be locked tight in a little wire cage. Arriving home that morning I was dismayed to hear, from Carleen, that in fact our little rodent pal was a small baby yet. Much too small and light to actually trigger the trap. Having a much larger mental capacity than the average rodent, I continued to set the trap, night after night, fattening the little guy up until one day he would be big enough to set it off.

One morning, however, I forgot to disarm the trap when I returned home. Carleen let the dogs out to run around and she came back in and I started breakfast. Twenty minutes later, Carleen asks me about Turbo and whether I had seen or heard from him in a while. No I hadn’t. Stepping outside she called and called for Turbo with no answer and she could not see him anywhere. Sensing the impending crisis, I jolted outside and headed straight for “the tree” thinking he must be absorbed in hunting his Arch-Nemesis. No. I see two sad little doggy eyes blinking at me from inside the possum trap. Perhaps I’m imagining things, but I’m sure he gave me a “First, that was cat food. Second, I get locked in this freakin’ contraption - what gives?” look.

*I apoligize for the Southernese here; but let’s face it, possum is so much easier to say and far less awkward to pronounce than opossum.

We’re having a kind of heat wave here right now. Actually, I think there’s pretty much a heat wave everywhere in this country at the moment. It’s been like this for three days. To make things worse, our air conditioning isn’t working properly. In some rooms it doesn’t even feel like there’s any cool air coming out at all. I feel cranky. My body feels pretty bloated and “thick” around the curves. Six weeks left. I hope this discomfort is short lived.
Turbo update: I believe he’s doing better. He gave me a little scare last night after he got sick a few times but he seems to be doing ok now, his appetite is still good, his personality is back although I sometimes find him to be more anxious then usual. This might have something to do with the steriods he’s on, I don’t know. As for his slipped disk, it doesn’t appear to be giving him any more problems. Despite his improvement, I still find myself being extremely paronoid about his health. I think I just worry that the steroids are masking his ailments to the point where when he comes off them, the same symptoms will come back. We’re slowly weening him off them now. I guess we’ll see what happens.
I’m definitely tired and worn out. Every small thing seems to take an extra amount of energy to accomplish now. It’s difficult to find a comfortable position at night so I don’t often sleep so well. Besides, Turbo’s heart medication makes him drink more which means I have to get up more often at night to let him out. I’m keeping up with yoga alright but I haven’t really managed a consistent regime of walking for awhile, especially now with this heat. Yeah, so…pregnancy is becoming a little more cumbersome here lately.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned on here yet, but I’ve spent most of the summer helping in the Local and Family History section of the library. I’ve really been enjoying myself there. It’s been a nice change of pace compared to reference. The questions are often much more interesting to work on (ie..can you help me open my email vs. can you help me research my native american ancestors). I spend a lot of time looking up obituaries in old newspapers. This can be a lot of fun since it often means coming across interesting stuff like this announcement about a young girl who apparently died…or did she:

“The fast girl who died of cocaine and was burried last Monday is now being dug back up. Someone says she isn’t dead”

The 1950’s are always neat to look through, especially all the fashion advertisements. I also came across an interesting opinion article one time:

WE, THE WOMEN by Ruth Millet

The young woman who tackels her first job when she’s just out of school usually develops a business like attitude without much trouble. From nine to five she is all business.
But the woman who gets her first business experience after being a housewife for a number of years often fails to develop a “business personality.”
She carries her “good neighbor” policy into the office-where it is entirely out of place.
She gossips across her typwriter, the same way she used to gossip across the back fence.
She carries on long personal telephone conversations the way she used to do at home after the breakfast dishes were finished.
She tells all her troubles and personal business to the people who work in the same office.
She gets chummy with the salesmen who want to do business with her firm, until she finds it hard to get rid of a caller without a long chat.
She encourages her friends to stop by the office and see her whenever they are in the neighborhood.
She never goes in for tailored neat clothes, but goes right on wearing the kind of clothes she used to wear to bridge parties and to church on Sunday.
None of those errors need to be, if a woman realizes that they are mistakes a woman not used to the business world, is likely to make.
And if she will compare her business manner and habits with those of the successful women around her, she can tell easily whether or not she has adapted herself to the business world.

Even though I was only there for a few weeks I thought it would be a good idea to join a Geneolgy listserve, just for the heck of it. They had an interesting discussion going on the other day about “strange” town names, like Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky. There was also apparently a local history published for a small town known as Climax. The book was titled, perhaps not so strategically, Climax: Before and After. Apparently it’s a real collectors item today. Then there was the Iowa newspaper announcement from 1964, when a young man and young girl, one from Manly, Iowa the other from Fertile united in marriage. The announcement read “Manly Man marries Fertile Girl”. Yeah, definitely had some good times in the Local and Family History section this summer.

It’s been a rough week. In fact, the summer in general is turning out to be kind of rough. The plan was to take the summer off from school, relax, sit at home, out of the heat, eating ice cream, reading and reorganizing the house in preparation for Liam’s homecoming. Due to various circumstances, including last weeks scare with Turbo, very little of that is actually happening. But that’s ok. That’s life.
Turbo isn’t exactly out of the woods yet. He had two more episodes today where he screamed out in pain, making me wonder whether the prednisone the vet gave him is having any effect at all. We’ve also been told to look out for signs of heart congestion, since the prednisone has a tendency to make a heart retain fluid and cause various problems. I don’t exactly understand how it all works. All I know is that Turbo is hurtin’ and it makes me unbelievably nervous.
I haven’t been handling this situation well from the beginning and it sort of makes me worried about how I’m going to handle similar situations with my children. Although, I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that Turbo is a dog and although he can communicate in various ways, he still can’t tell me what’s wrong and I still can’t tell him things like “don’t jump on the couch, it’s not good for your back”.
I was a complete mess the first morning. Some of my hysterics could be blamed on lack of sleep but the rest…if Mike wasn’t there I don’t know what I would have done. I’m just extremely sensitive to the whole animal in pain thing…especially when it’s my own dog.
Otherwise, I’m just trying to get things done around our house…something I’m not really very good at doing in general. It would be really nice if a house would just sort itself out…hey guest room…so like, there’s this baby coming in August and we kinda need to change things in here to accomodate his needs, so do you think you could maybe come up with something in the next month…great…I’ll get back to you then.
Actually, Mike has finished painting. The room already looks much cozier. There’s still a bunch of crap in there that needs to either be thrown away or moved elsewhere, elsewhere being a place in this house of very small proportion. My biggest problem right now is all our books and what to with them.
In other news, Mikey had his birthday yesterday. For a very brief month and a half we both get to be the same age, until I grow another year older in late July and once again gain seniority in our relationship :-). For celebration, we went out to eat at Rib Crib (delightful meal consisting of slaughtered meat and veggies sponsored by my wonderful parents) and discussed enlightening topics like whether the word “toast” is “funny to say” or why the expression “what’s up” has come to be interpreted as “hello, how are you”.

Turbo has just been sent home with a far better diagnosis than the one he got yesterday. Looks like it was only a slipped disc, for which he is now receiving a schedule of Prednisone - an anti-inflammitory.

He’s not totally home-free, however. He also has an enlarged heart; probably due to some congestion in the lungs. For this, he’s being put on Lasix - a blood-thinner - which he’ll probably need to be on for the rest of his life.

Oh, and that mass in the x-ray? Probably food and/or gas. Now, my question is, why didn’t this other cracker offer that FIRST instead of jumping to cancer? Surely he’s seen food in an animals stomach before. If you can’t differentiate between food and a tumor, at least offer the less dire circumstance until you know more. Thanks for the heart attack, ya’ freak.

We had a hefty scare with Turbo this morning. I’m still feeling a bit anxious right now, so my writing will probably be even less pretty than normal.

In January, we took Turbo in to the Vet’s one morning after I noticed him acting strange; pacing around and acting rather anxious. When I bent down to check on him, not only could I hear his heart beating (from a good few feet away), I could see it pumping in his chest. After rushing him to Dr. Newby’s, we found out he had a heart murmur. Some pain-killlers and a few blood thinners and we were set.

Last night, Carleen called me at work with the same problem, she gave him some of his meds we had leftover and everything looked to be all right. However, shortly after I got home this morning, he got worse. The pacing started up and when I picked him up to try to relax him, he yelped in pain. After that he started limping around, unable to settle or get comfortable. We called Dr. Newby’s office, unfortunately he’s on vacation today. So his nurse told us to take him to another vet.

We took him to Dr. Clinkenbeard’s, nearby Carleen’s parent’s house. Dr. Clinkenbeard was out in Copan on another emergency, and Dr. Bullen was at a Vet meeting. Just our luck. Luckily Dr. Clinkenbeard was on his way in from the other emerency, so we only needed to wait 10-15 minutes. Minutes that just would not go by. Turbo seemed only to get more and more anxious, yelping in pain, almost as if from a seizure.

They got him some x-rays and it looks as though he may have cancer. He has a large mass of something in his stomach about the size of a tangerine. The doctor thought it may be cancer, but he wants to wait until tomorrow morning when Dr. Bullen comes in so we can get a second opinion.

After looking around for a bit, I found the 3 main symptoms of stomach cancer are:

• Vomiting
• Weight Loss
• Loss of Apetite

As far as I know, he hasn’t shown any of those symptoms recently. He was vomiting a bit a few months ago, but it certainly wasn’t anything chronic. And his weight has only increased since we got him. Though he can be a finicky eater at times, I wouldn’t say he’s lost his appetite. All this is encouraging, but I still worry, and both Carleen and I will not sleep well until we get some kind of definitive answer. I’ll post more when we hear more.