An overshare about my dog

Remember on Friday when I said I was going to write a post on Monday?

Yeah, I was totally lying.

I don't even remember what I did yesterday.

Oh wait, yes I do.  I worked from 10-3, went to Bed Bath and Beyond to raise some heck about silverware I bought from them that rusted (yet they willingly exchanged for me because THAT'S how good customer service is done ... especially considering I forgot three spoons and a knife when I brought the old set in), took Clayon on a 3 mile run that ended up rather sweaty and crampy in the extreme heat, and then attended his softball game and watched him WIN!

So I was busy. I'm sorry.

My 5k race on Saturday went swimmingly considering the entire course was one series of hills after another.  Like I mentioned on Friday, I didn't give myself a goal time and just kind went into with the attitude of "Whatever happens, happens", and I'm glad I did.  It was a tough race.  I suffered up every single one of those hills and was seething when a gaggle of 9 year-old boys sprinted past me, scaling the hills easily with their capable, young legs.

A lot of the race was through residential neighborhoods, which made for some great sight-seeing.  I think I picked out three houses I want to live in.  But at one point we ran past some kind of shrubbery that had a smell that, for some strange reason, reminded me of the popsicle sticks that doctors put over your tongue so they can see the back of your throat.  The idea of a tongue compressor paired with my already queasy hill-running stomach made me seriously start gagging.  I kept telling myself, "Stop thinking of tongue depressors in your mouth!" but I kept thinking, "TONGUE DEPRESSORS IN MY MOUTH".  It was pretty touch-and-go for awhile.  I honest-to-goodness thought I was going to toss my bananas all over the place.

I ran my first mile in 7:55 which kind of surprised me, but then again, I tend to sprint a bit at the beginning of races because my body's natural reaction to seeing people run past me is to chase them down.  But, after that, it was all downhill (which I don't mean literally since the entire race, as I said, was UPHILL).  I finished with a time of 27:37, which I'm pretty happy with ... all things considered.

And I got a t-shirt, so consider this girl happy!

Today after work I stupidly ran another 3 miles in the heat, convincing myself that the 100 degrees temperature on my car's dashboard display was just a gross over exaggeration. 

It wasn't.

It was HOT.

But I ran it as quickly as my body would allow in the stifling heat because I had to get home, get Joey, and head to a vet appointment.  Joey has some pretty funky breath and in order for us to have his teeth cleaned, we have to have a wellness exam to make sure he's healthy before the procedure.

He's very healthy.

Minus the whole ripping-his-hair-out-of-his-butt-and-his-tail thing.  Seriously. My dog has like zero hair at the base of his tail and what I presume are his doggie butt cheeks.  All that's left is soft pink skin and red scabs, and his tail is starting to look like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. He woke me up twice last night thanks to the sound of his butt munching.

I just LOL-ed myself silly at that .., Ah, butt munching.

In the past we've assumed it was just allergies or some kind of skin irritation because he seems to do this every time the weather becomes hot and more pollen is in the air.  We typically give him a probiotic pill and some plain yogurt on his food because, believe it or not, a vet once told us that he could have skin problems because of poor digestive health.

While examining him, the vet asked me, "Have you ever heard about a dog's anal sacs?"

"Would you think less of me if I told you I'm creepily familiar with my dog's anal sacs?" I replied.

"Then I think you know where I'm going with this," the vet said, snapping on her rubber gloves.

Joey, for whatever reason, has a lot of difficulty, um, how do I say this, "expressing" his anal sacs (and I'm sorry, "expressing" is the worst term you could use for this process.  You express your feelings ... not your butt.).  Dogs are usually able to express, or empty, their anal sacs on their own by defecating (I'm trying to talk about this as delicately as possible).  Some dogs, and of course a dog of MINE, have trouble doing this on their own. Not being able to express these glands leads to a build-up of nasty fluid and most dogs will resort to dragging their butts on carpet or biting at their butt to try and get relief.

Joey is hit or miss with his glands.  Sometimes he's VERY successful at expressing his glands.  We know that because he's done it ... on our couch. (and you do not know bad smells until you smell THAT. Talk about room-clearing.). Other times he's not so successful, which leads to a build-up of fluid and results in my beagle tearing his own hair out in an effort to relieve himself.

So, for a cool $8, a poor vet technician will help your little pup out and empty the sacs by hand.  Best $8 I've ever spent.

The vet took Joey down the hall to "do the deed" while I sat in the examining room and waited.  I heard a faint howl and knew that Joey had just been violated.  Then I heard a door fly open and a shrill voice call-out, "Oh my gosh. They were SO. FULL."

Sitting in my chair, I began shaking because I was laughing so hard.  I felt like I needed to tip her or something.

But Joey is okay.  Perfectly healthy, though a bit pudgy. Clay and I are going to monitor his food intake a bit more closely and I'm going to extend the lengths of his walks.  I will do anything in my power to make sure my dog is happy and healthy for as many years as possible ... which will include giving my father-in-law a stern talking-to about the amount of "scraps" he tosses to Joey. 

I had a softball game tonight.  I made a note in my phone's calender that the game started at 8:20 and I planned my entire evening accordingly.  Around 8 pm on the dot, I logged into the facebook and checked my messages.  I saw the email chain about my game that our team manager sends out to see who will be able to make it.  It was then that I noticed the game started at 7:20 ...

I got to the fields during the middle of 5th inning.  Everyone was out on the field and I learned from one of my friends there watching his girlfriend that my team had to take an automatic out every time I was supposed to be up to bat.  To say I felt awful was a complete understatement.  I wanted to cry, and almost did, because I absolutely hate inconveniencing people. I loathe it. I can't stand people not being able to rely on me.  Our manager was really understanding (and I'm thankful for that), but I still feel like a turd.  For the rest of the season I'm leaving post-it note reminders everywhere so this doesn't happen again.

It's been an interesting start to the week ...