Thursday, June 25, 2009

To admit how devestated I feel about this would be completely embarrasing. What an incredibly personal loss this is for me.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Okay, For Real?

I just got off the phone with a Canine Dermatologist. Yea…Canine dermatology! Not only is there a person out there that specializes in canine dermatology but there is a whole clinic and team of people who specialize in it. Of course you can’t get this kind of canine attention anywhere; you have to drive clear to Salt Lake to speak to these crazy canine skin enthusiasts.
Annie has allergies. She is allergic to pollens and grasses and molds and what have you. When you are a dog and have allergies, you don’t sneeze and scratch your eyes; instead your entire body breaks out in a rash and itches and drives you crazy. Actually I don’t know exactly what she is allergic to and that is why I found myself on the phone with the dermatology clinic. Annie will be tested. They will determine what she is allergic too exactly; create a special ‘Annie serum’ that I will inject into her body (yeah with a freakin needle) on a weekly basis. This is called hypoimmunotherapy yeah that is One word. I have to do this. Currently she is on medication for her allergies. This medicine costs (bare down) $100.00 a month. I’ve done the math and here you go: that is $1200.00 a year and if she lives her entire 17 expected years turns out to be about $20,000.00. OMG! Giving her shots will cost significantly less, after I have paid a huge bill for the testing, the shots will be about $30.00 a month….do-able.
I have had many people say “I would have put her down by now”. For real, that’s what they say. And to be honest I would have to, if I felt about her the way that they do. But I don’t…instead I adore her. Annie goes everywhere I go. With the exception of at work time, we are rarely apart. Two peas in a pod, Paris Hilton and that Richie chick (pre-break up). Annie is the sprinkles on my cupcake. Put her down and you can try me for murdering my BFF. Who goes around killing their best friends? Like no-one.
At what point do I have to face the fact that I have turned into one of those crazy dog people? I can see it now, me at 80 years old: short, a little fat (yes still), short white hair. I’ll be wearing one of those Christmas themed sweat shirts with a pair of stretch denim jeans (you know the kind with an elastic waist band), and I will have a poodle on my lap that I call precious and talk to like it’s a real human being. With the exception of being old, this scenario is already my reality. I do call her precious. I do talk to her like she is a real human being. I am ashamed. I am embarrassed. I am super lame. I am not putting her down.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

To Brighten your day