Done? Okay - back to our regularly scheduled programming.
First for the bitchfest.
I hate summer. I know there are those of you who cavort through vacations, enjoy having your kids home from school, going through family outings, blah blah blah. Me? I sit here and pine away for that which is lost, drip sweat, sleep, stare at the pool and wish the water were warmer so I could actually use it, sleep, drip sweat, get really cranky and nasty (tonight I told Hubster to put rat poison in my coffee so I could just get it over and done with), and when it gets really hot like it was today and will be tomorrow, I'm really fucking miserable. Part of it is the disease; the other part are the meds. Emma doesn't fair well with the heat, either. Bullies just don't do heat - it can kill them quite easily. I keep an eagle eye on her and have fans blowing, ice cubes in her water, and a frozen milk carton in front of the fan to act as a mini-A/C. It's going to be in the 90's here tomorrow, and that's just too damn hot. I think I'll try taking her in the pool (she loves water) to see if that cools her down. Bullies sink like a stone, so I'll have to hold her up by her belly and let her little stubby legs paddle away. It'll cool me down, too, and I wish I could have been in there every day like I was in the Sac pool. I miss having that deep mahogany tan. Sigh. Since I swim nude, I normally have an all-over tan; right now, I look like the belly of a dead fish. It just doesn't get hot enough... well, I've sung that song before, so I'll try to shut up. I just don't understand why this house doesn't cool off at night. The windows and doors are all open, the fans are set up to draw the cool air in... I just don't know. These old houses are built differently than the new ones (obviously), and they're great in the winter because they retain the heat. I honestly don't remember feeling this horrible when I was a kid. Maybe it's that global warming thing, or maybe it's because I'm an old, cranky bitch now.
So today, we had to take the queen to the vet for the rest of her puppy shots and her rabies shot. Not a problem. We got in the truck, she wiggled all over the back seat (she loves car trips), and off we went. As we drew closer to Livermore, I looked at the temperature gauge in the truck. It said 104. What??? Oh shiiiiiiiit. Sure enough, when we got to the vet, it was hotter than hell. I carried her inside because the pavement is just too hot for tender Bullie paws. No, she's not spoiled. Nope. Not one little bit.
So the vet came in, examined her, and noticed a little patch of skin that didn't have hair on it. Then she found a few other patches. After scraping one of the lesions (as she called them), she looked at the slide under the microscope, came back, and told us that my little one has mites. WHAT? I asked her how in the hell Emma got mites, and she said they come from the mother. The unfortunate news is that most dogs just shake it off with no intervention; Emma apparently has a comprised immune system (just like her human mama) and can't get rid of them herself. As a result, they're all over her body. We have to give her Ivermectin before meals and ramp up the dosage daily. I guess this shit tastes like shit and gives them the shits (oh happy happy joy joy), so we have to give it to her with food to avoid an upset tummy. She had enough trauma today, so we're starting it tomorrow. At least they gave us a syringe to squirt it in her mouth. We also got her Sentinel (they gave her one today, so she starts on that next month), and then we patiently waited for the medication to be mixed up. Then they gave us the bill. That little fart cost us $360. I damn near fell over and realized that we're not going to have enough money to make it through the next three weeks. Sigh. Hubster has figured out a way for us to get out of this mess (or at least to help us), so I'm resting a little easier.
After the ordeal at the vet's, we went over to my jeweler's (he's pretty much across the street) so I could get my ring checked and cleaned. When I fell outside of the dentist's office a couple of weeks ago and went surfing across the parking lot on my bare calf, I also scratched up the bottom of the band. I was afraid that I might have loosened some of the stones and really wanted to get it checked. Hubster and Emma stayed in the truck with the A/C blasting while I went inside. None of the diamonds were loose (as I was falling, the first thing I thought was, "Don't hit the ring!" and protected it accordingly), he fixed the scratches, and it took a half-hour to get out of there (I can't just walk in; we have to reminisce about what happened 20 years ago). Then it was back in the truck to get to Emma's puppy class.
I barely made it out of the truck when I noticed this enormous man standing there waiting for me. He was covered in paint and was obviously a construction guy. He immediately walked up to me, bent down, and began cuddling a very happy Emma. Then he told me that he had one at home (a few months older than her) and loved her to death. His little girl is named Bulldozer - Dozie for short. It was so endearing to see this monster of a man who could rip your head from your body speaking baby talk to a little wriggling sausage. She ate it up, of course, and gave him her best soulful eyes. He told me that he would never be without a Bullie again. I agreed with him and dragged a very reluctant Emma off to her class.
You have to picture this: A 28-lb. sausage-shaped creature with the chest of a bull, the head of a bowling ball, and the strength of a small horse trolling the isles of Petsmart (one of her favorite places in the world), totally ignoring her lessons and dragging Mama along like I weighed nothing. She knows that she can meet other dogs, get lots of love from the staff (who also all love her), and get to play with the puppies in her class. She also knows that class means treats, and no matter how bad she felt from all the shots, food takes precedence (she IS a bulldog, after all). She learned her new commands after two tries, got lots of loves from the trainer and a new guy who sat in on the class, and generally had a roaring good time. We came straight home today instead of going to Mom's; it was just too hot, and we were all drained and tired. No sooner had we all sat down at home than we fell asleep. Needless to say, I haven't gotten any work done tonight, but I'll be working on it through the wee hours of the morning.
Lest you think that I'm going to let you all off the hook, here are my gratuitous Emma pictures for tonight:
Her Majesty consenting to a picture while she lounges on the couch.
Her Majesty is tired of posing for pictures and is sliding back into slumber.
See? I didn't bore you too much.
So now it's time to go back to work and try to get one vendor listed. All the spreadsheet work is done, so now I just have to fill out a form for every item before I can upload the picture. I'll be doing the alpaca tomorrow; wait until you get a load of this stuff. She sent me 100 items, and that's all I'm going to say.
I'm too hot to say anything.