I woke up super early this morning to the sounds of thunder rumbling off in the distance. Opening my eyes just a teensy bit, I saw flashes or lightning sparking on and off outside of my window. I looked at the clock; it was barely after five o’clock in the morning. The room was dark and cool, our curtains blowing softly in the open window. I rolled over on my side, burrowed into Clayton’s back, and had the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life.
And he looked like he couldn’t be happier to see me.
It is so hard to get out of bed on days like today. I feel like rainy days should be mandatory national holidays. We should all be allowed to stay in bed and do nothing when it’s wet and dreary outside. If this ever happens, I'm moving to Seattle.
Needless to say, I’m super groggy and cannot stop yawning. But I feel kind of bad for complaining about it because the lethargy I’m feeling now is nothing compared to what Joey went through yesterday.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that we brought a strange dog into our home this week, I dropped Joey off at the vet yesterday morning to have his teeth cleaned. Since he doesn't like us messing with his mouth and refuses to sit still, Joey had to be knocked out for the procedure and spend most of the day recouping at the vet clinic.
I got a call later in the day (okay, that’s a lie. I called them even though the vet made it perfectly clear that she would call when the procedure was over and let me know how he did. But hey, Joey’s my baby and I have about zero patience when it comes to waiting. I was annoying. Yes, I can admit that.) and it was to notify me that Joey did just fine and was recovering peacefully in a kennel. However, they also informed me that one of Joey’s teeth had to be extracted because it was cracked. Luckily, it was one of his very back teeth and not one near the front … so I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I wouldn’t have to worry about my dog looking like a hillbilly.
I was able to pick him up immediately after work, and I could barely sign the paperwork because I kept asking, “Where is? Can they bring him out now?”
After what seemed like a billion years (or 4 and a half minutes), one of the vet technicians finally brought Joey into the front office where I was waiting on a bench, tapping my foot nervously. When he rounded the corner and came into view, I didn’t know whether I should start laughing or crying. Joey’s fur was a mangled, matted mess from his anesthetic stupor, and he waddled drowsily off-balance. The very first thing I noticed was the camouflaged-colored bandage on his arm (from his IV), and the light red tint of blood on his snout. He looked like a little solider returning from battle.
And he looked like he couldn’t be happier to see me.
I got him home and it took us about 20 minutes to get up the stairs and into our apartment. Joey stood at the base of the stairs and just stared at them for a solid minute without blinking. I sat down several stairs up, patting the spot next to me and doing my best to encourage him to come up. But he just stood there, dazed. I started to make my way back down so I could carry him up, but all of a sudden he took a step back and lunged up the first 4 steps, slipping, and face-planting into the fifth one. Again, I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry. After much coaxing and several tries, Joey finally made it up the stairs on his own. Then he made his way down the breezeway, leaning against the wall for support and walking so slowly I had to stand at our front door and wait for him.
I made him a nest of pillows by the couch and laid with him for several minutes as he drifted in and out of sleep, barely managing to wag his tail whenever I spoke to him.
He perked up later in the evening, but kind of zoned out again when Clayton accidentally gave him too much pain medicine (Clayton's defense?: "I've taken several vicodin at once and I was just fine."). We took him on a few walks to help him get his sea legs, and I made his dog food nice and soggy so it wouldn’t agitate his sore mouth (I play the role of Nurse Courtney with flying colors). When I went digging through the baggie of medicines from the vet, I noticed that they gave us a pill bottle containing Joey's extracted tooth (Um, thanks for the souvenir?). Clayton and I then started a rousing game of “Who Wants to Smell This?” that ended abruptly when I started dry-heaving.
Joey is much more himself today and he’s not acting as if he’s in pain from the tooth extraction. I am incredibly thankful for that! His mouth is really sensitive, so he won't really let us pull up his lips to see his teeth, but when he opens his mouth to pant, you can tell that his teeth are sparkling clean and whiter. And his breath? Wow. HUGE difference. His breath used to offend everyone thanks to his affinity to getting into the garbage, but now his mouth smells like nothing ... and it's heavenly. I still feel guilty because really, he had no say in the matter. He didn't ask for us to get his teethed cleaned. However, Joey has made it perfectly clear that I can make it up to him in belly rubs.
In other news, Geeta found her forever home yesterday! Another co-worker in my office expressed interest and after meeting Geeta, they fell madly in love with her. She now has a permanent, loving family and a giant, wooded backyard to play in for the rest of her life. What’s even better is that her new mommy works with me so I can get regular Geeta updates whenever I want!
The number of inquiries we received about her overwhelmed me. It was really encouraging to see that so many people wanted to step in and take care of her!
This is totally unrelated to anything, but I just wolfed down an entire bag of trail mix. I feel sick now. But I kept fishing out more and more to get to the MnM’s at the bottom (priorities). It's my own fault. I was perusing Ebay for a softball window cling, and without realizing it, I methodically crammed handfuls of trail mix into my mouth. The good news? I found a cool softball sticker for my car's back window because I want people to be able to know what my hobbies and interests are without ever having to actually talk to me. The bad news? I may have overdosed on a healthy, delicious snack. I'm going to go take a nap now.