Attention to those who may be eating (or have weak stomachs) this entry may gross you out!

Sadie no longer allows Felina to sit on top of her, but she puts up with the brat sitting on her legs.
I can’t believe I haven’t posted anything since last Tuesday! As usual, life got in the way. A lot of life. Our dear, overweight Sadie had some issues that required a trip to the vet. She was just there in April to have her anal glands expressed. And 3½ weeks later they wound up impacted and infected. With bonus yeast infection! Poor fat Sadie. She cannot win. I spent the better part of last week walking around and cleaning up after her (you don’t want to know, but maybe you do…it leaks and what leaks SMELLS VERY, VERY GROSS). I may have lost some weight just by being unable to eat. Poor baby got a bath every single night and I was all of the sudden appalled to find myself wondering if they had a doggie bidet.
On Friday she was at the vet. Rick and I had a brief argument where I found out that he finds himself being intimidated by the bitching he gets regarding her weight. The practice that she goes to has rotating doctors and apparently the first thing they mention is her weight. No shit. She’s fat and apparently the whole fat acceptance thing isn’t happening there. My problem is not so much that they’re bitching about her weight, but the fact is that it’s harder for her to lose weight because she’s and elderly dog that has been on phenobarbital. Hello, this dog takes seizures and she’s has been heavily medicated for years now. Side effects from this medication lead to weight gain. Open your fucking chart and read it! And for the record, Sadie lost two pounds. It’s not like we’re not trying over here. Although I do admit (for the sake of honesty) that it’s hard for me not to share something I’m eating with her because she’s such a sweetheart. Ugh. Meanwhile, she’s on medications and feeling better and the leakage is done, but now my house smells like so many different cleaners that I want to barf.
Am I the only one that thinks household cleaners are not cleaning like they used to? My mother and I were at the store the other day and I could not find one cleaner that I hadn’t tried and thought it was useless (although I love my Comet® in a can). And the new ones with the different scents? Gimme a fucking break. I don’t need my cleaners to smell like Febreze®, I just need them to CLEAN. I’ve pretty much given up and have accepted Dawn mixed with bleach as my cleanser of choice. Sorry environment.
Anyway. That’s what I’ve been up to. Cleaning up after the dog. Trying to keep up with the normal housekeeping. Taking Shirley to the doctor so she could finally get her ankles x-rayed and confirmed that the bones were not crushed in there. She suffers, like the rest of us, what I like to call Sanforditis. Fat ankles, compliments of my grandparents. We ALL have them (even the skinny ones). But she was convinced that hers might be broken because she started having even more swelling than normal and my aunt has serious problems with hers (they were broken in there). It turns out it’s torn ligaments and she has to wear braces and apply heat (and also take Vitamin C) to try and heal them up. They may never heal up due to her bad circulation and age, but I’m forcing her to be compliant.
I took her for ice cream afterwards (and don’t even get me started about the fact that she chose to wear that sweatshirt over top of her clothes when she has a million nice jackets and we’re not farmers). This place is famous for its over-the-top ice cream items. Cones that are 10 inches high, etc. We split this bitch and we only ate about a 1/4 of it. I was all about that vanilla and pineapple, man. My favorite sundae is vanilla ice cream with pineapple and hershey syrup. I seldom get it though because eating that kind of high sugar stuff makes me sick. But Shirley hadn’t been to this place so we made it a moment.
Sorta like how it was a moment an hour before that when I clocked her in the face with my elbow. We were coming out of the store during a downpour and I told her to just get in the car while I threw our purchases in the back (I have a honda crv – everything goes in the back). Well. Stupid bullhead herself insisted upon “helping” because she’s trying to prove that she’s not an old lady. It’s pouring down rain, I’m lifting up big boxes of laundry detergent (or maybe cat litter) while she’s reaching in to grab the little “things” to put in my back seat (which I HATE because it rolls all over the place) and the next thing you know my elbow connects with her face. NICE.
I’m running out of patience here (like I had that much to begin with) and we’re going to have a come to Jesus meeting soon if she doesn’t stop making things more difficult for me by trying to help all the time. Ugh. I’m sure you can imagine the joy that will be that conversation considering what a bullhead she is.
Today she has plans to put on the tube-top/pajama pants combo and throw herself into scrubbing down the bathroom walls because we have company coming in this weekend. If she breaks a hip, so help me God.
We put up an entry over at Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza. Sugar-free Monkey Bread. Go see the surprising results.
I’m outta here.













