Here's my Christmas song, sung to the tune of A Partridge in a Pear Tree
On the twelfth day of Christmas the family farm was this:
Day 12 Valentine the Cat
Day 11 Reno is her brother
Day 10 Tiger's mom was feral
Day 9 parakeet named Ralph
Day 8 Yoda beta fish
Day 7 Skittles is too
Day 6 Takota is a lizard
Day 5 Goldie and Garfield
Day 4 Tallulah is a lizard
Day 3 Abby's a dog
Day 2 Ginger is the sick one
Day 1 And a chicken that we named Wanda
Oh no, I forgot the rats! Chrysanthemum and Rosie. This truly is ridiculous.
I know, it's not very good. I could do better if I had more time and less animal friends. Ginger just barfed on the rug again, I've got to go. Dogs!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Parenting Gem No. 1
I figured out how to get my kids to pay attention to a pet that they've been neglecting! They (the pet, not the kid) have to have a near-death experience. Simple, huh?
The way I discovered this little gem of parenting? Well, it goes like this: today we got home from the Christmas parties at school (yes, we just got out today!) and found our sweet, gentle, somewhat annoying who-knows-how-old dog, Ginger, staggering around. She couldn't stand up, couldn't walk and her eyes were jerking back and forth in a scary way. Needless to say we freaked. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that she had had some kind of stroke and was dying. The kids were all crying except the oldest - he was yelling at the kids who were crying presumably because they were "scaring the dog" - and I moved straight into my "this is part of the circle of life, all of God's creatures are here only for a short time, yada, yada, yada...." speech. Meanwhile I'm thinking, "One down, twelve to go!" Yes, we have 13 pets. And we're caring for two more for some friends who are away. It's literally a zoo around here. Anyway, we took her to the vet to have her put down. It's the humane thing to do when an animal is suffering and certainly she was suffering, right? So we get to the vet and he asks "So, what's happening here?" I was hoping that he wouldn't ask a lot of questions. I was hoping that he would just come into the room with the needle, do the deed and let me go home. But no. "So, what's happening here?" he says with a smile and a pat on the dog's head. So I told him. And does he agree with my diagnosis of stroke and subsequent paralysis resulting in a terrible quality of life for the poor dog???? Noooooooo, of course not. He takes one look at her eyes and asks, "Does she have a history of ear infections?" To which No. 1 son pipes up, "Oh yeah, all the time." Dr. Vet says "Hmm, well it may be..." and launches into an explanation filled with 8 syllable words which ended with "...treat her with an antibiotic for a week and that should do the trick." I'm nodding and smiling throughout thinking, "S*&t, we're taking her back home again, aren't we?" Yes, I swear in my thoughts. Forgive me.
So $118.00 and an hour and a half later we're back home with a pocket full of pill bottles and Ginger's a flippin' hero and everyone's oohing and aahing and petting and loving and right now, as I write this, No. 1 daughter is sitting on the bedroom floor next to Ginger hand feeding her. Hand feeding. That dog has been pet, hugged, squeezed and cried over so much today her fur is coming out. She's probably thinking that she has died and gone to doggy-heaven. This devoted daughter of mine, whom yesterday I could not even pay to take the dogs for a walk, keeps coming out and telling me about the plans she's devised to help Ginger to walk if she doesn't get her legs under her again. Which she might not, she might have arthritis as well as an inner ear infection. Her plans involve a sling type thing which we hold while she walks with her front legs and/or a wheeled cart to put under her back end. sigh. How long is Christmas break? And when are the Browns coming to collect their vinal-siding eating, dirt flinging, bark at everything that moves dogs?!?!
Bless you all and Merry Christmas!!!!
The way I discovered this little gem of parenting? Well, it goes like this: today we got home from the Christmas parties at school (yes, we just got out today!) and found our sweet, gentle, somewhat annoying who-knows-how-old dog, Ginger, staggering around. She couldn't stand up, couldn't walk and her eyes were jerking back and forth in a scary way. Needless to say we freaked. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that she had had some kind of stroke and was dying. The kids were all crying except the oldest - he was yelling at the kids who were crying presumably because they were "scaring the dog" - and I moved straight into my "this is part of the circle of life, all of God's creatures are here only for a short time, yada, yada, yada...." speech. Meanwhile I'm thinking, "One down, twelve to go!" Yes, we have 13 pets. And we're caring for two more for some friends who are away. It's literally a zoo around here. Anyway, we took her to the vet to have her put down. It's the humane thing to do when an animal is suffering and certainly she was suffering, right? So we get to the vet and he asks "So, what's happening here?" I was hoping that he wouldn't ask a lot of questions. I was hoping that he would just come into the room with the needle, do the deed and let me go home. But no. "So, what's happening here?" he says with a smile and a pat on the dog's head. So I told him. And does he agree with my diagnosis of stroke and subsequent paralysis resulting in a terrible quality of life for the poor dog???? Noooooooo, of course not. He takes one look at her eyes and asks, "Does she have a history of ear infections?" To which No. 1 son pipes up, "Oh yeah, all the time." Dr. Vet says "Hmm, well it may be..." and launches into an explanation filled with 8 syllable words which ended with "...treat her with an antibiotic for a week and that should do the trick." I'm nodding and smiling throughout thinking, "S*&t, we're taking her back home again, aren't we?" Yes, I swear in my thoughts. Forgive me.
So $118.00 and an hour and a half later we're back home with a pocket full of pill bottles and Ginger's a flippin' hero and everyone's oohing and aahing and petting and loving and right now, as I write this, No. 1 daughter is sitting on the bedroom floor next to Ginger hand feeding her. Hand feeding. That dog has been pet, hugged, squeezed and cried over so much today her fur is coming out. She's probably thinking that she has died and gone to doggy-heaven. This devoted daughter of mine, whom yesterday I could not even pay to take the dogs for a walk, keeps coming out and telling me about the plans she's devised to help Ginger to walk if she doesn't get her legs under her again. Which she might not, she might have arthritis as well as an inner ear infection. Her plans involve a sling type thing which we hold while she walks with her front legs and/or a wheeled cart to put under her back end. sigh. How long is Christmas break? And when are the Browns coming to collect their vinal-siding eating, dirt flinging, bark at everything that moves dogs?!?!
Bless you all and Merry Christmas!!!!
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