Van Gogh'ing it

I am on day 5 of a stupid ear infection (probably swimmer's ear). No, Mom, I have not been to the GP Dr. because I personally feel 2 inches tall everytime I go in to see the man. So, here I suffer. I used to get a lot of ear infections and bouts of swimmer's ear in my early 20s, but I've suffered little with ear problems in the last few years til now. Damnit.

At this moment, I totally understand why Van Gogh lopped the damn thing off. I'm sure his ear was swollen like a golf ball trailing down his jaw line like mine and the only sure sign of relief was to cut it off and eliminate the source of pain. Although, I'm not quite sure the Van Gogh-look will help me in the looks and dating departments. However, it will give me a chance to wear all these unmatched earrings I have, since I constantly seem to lose just one of each pair I own.

This, also, may be the dog gods way of punishing me. My golden retriever, Chili, suffers constantly from ear infections and ulcers. No matter how much TLC I give him the damn things are constantly a bother to him. Right now, I'm feeling incredibly guilty and hoping to find away to clear us both up this weekend (even it is taking a bit of advice from my trusty Van Gogh).

JUST MAKE IT GO AWAY!!!!!

Trading Mud for Tears

My sister called me Monday morning. My Schnoodle, Guinness, is living with her at the moment. I was a little concerned when I saw her name on the caller ID and even more concerned when I heard her exasperated, "Hello".

Meags: I lost your dog
me: It is OK. What happened? and how long has he been gone? (thinking to myself of how to best handle the situation when I was already late for work)
Meags: but I went looking for him and found him
me: OK, are you alright? is he OK?
Meags: Yeah, but he put me through hell and I was supposed to be taking Abby (our cousin) to school, so Mom had to do it. She didn't want to hear the story so you have to listen to this...
me: Ok (thinking about last time she said this and told me about the Opossums)
Meags: Well, I didn't know where he went and I was looking all over the back yard in just my bra and dress pants. Then, I thought he might have gotten out front so I ran out the front gate right as a truck full of guys drove by and I'm standing in my front yard in my bra yelling, "GUINNESS". I probably gave them an interesting start to their morning.
me: I can only imagine they were not too disappointed, hun.
Meags: Then, realizing I was in my bra I jumped in my car and grabbed an extra shirt out of the back and put it on and thought I should drive over to Grant's Trail (right behind her house) to look for him. Well, I pulled up to the trail entrance and these guys are looking at me funny running in heels down the trail. I ran yelling for Guinness for over a mile when I spied him jumping in and out of a mud puddle and rolling around in it. When he saw me he started to dart the other direction and I was soo exhausted I just plopped down on the ground and started crying knowing I couldn't catch up to him running. Well, I guess that is what he needed. He came running back to me and crawled in my lap rubbing against me trying to make me feel better. All he managed to do was make me feel muddy. He covered my clothes, hair and face in mud, so much for showering.

After sitting there for a bit, I decided to carry him back to the car. For such a little dog, he got really heavy fast after just running so far for him. My back starting hurting and I was ready to collapse again and I had nothing to walk him with. I finally figured I was covered in mud already and it would be easier to walk barefoot with him. As I took off my heels, I got the bright idea of linking the straps together and around his collar to walk him with. By the time I got back to my car the guys I passed earlier were laughing hysterically at me covered in mud and walking Guinness with my high heels. I'm sure I was quite a sight for them.

Opossum logic

This is why I love my Dad. My sister was taking the trash out at her house and when she lifted the lid off the can she noticed a litter of baby opossums in the bottom of it. She didn't know what to do so she called my dad and the dialogue went a little something like this:

Meags: Daddy, there are baby opossums in my trash can, what should I do?
Dad: Give them water, they're thirsty.
Meags: Really? How do you know they are thirsty?
Dad: Fill the can all the way up with water and put the lid back on.
Meags: DADDY!
Dad: Well, what do you want to do? Let them loose and run them over another time with your car instead?

I love roadkill stories.