We’ve decided that the only thing we can do to contain her is to dig a trench at the base of the fence and fill it with concrete. So that’s on our agenda, hopefully for next week. When we came home the other night I did my usual count. We were missing someone- Blondie. I called and called for her, but no Blondie. I looked inside, Doug outside, no Blondie. We got a flashlight and looked for holes under the fence or a broken picket- no holes, no broken pickets. The gate was still locked and needed a key to open it.

Now I’m starting to freak out and my calling for Blondie is becoming urgent. (I didn’t think the aliens had beamed her up to their spacecraft after all.) After calling for a couple of more minutes I heard whimpering. I got Doug and we headed towards the sound coming from the garage. Most people have cars in the garage; some have boxes, bikes, BBQ grills and even Christmas trees. This is what I have thanks to my resident hoarder-

(I took this photo today. Believe it or not, it was worse the other night. )

So Doug started climbing into the heart of darkness AKA the garage, trying to find Blondie. Of course, the bulb in the overhead light had burned out long ago; so he was crawling over the clutter in the dark. I was aiming the flashlight towards the whimpering. He finally found her in the garage, on the opposite side right by the big garage door, which of course doesn’t open since the electrician jammed it while opening it last summer. Apparently she’d gone in there, then all the clutter shifted and she had become trapped. Even when he found her, she wouldn’t move- probably for fear that something else would come tumbling down. Doug had to carry her out. (Lucky for Doug she wasn’t hurt.) Blondie was very happy to see me when she was finally extricated.

Blondie doesn’t seem to have suffered any ill effects from her experience. However, she does now seem to prefer being in somewhat confined spaces. She makes her bed during the day in an Elfa drawer at the right of my desk; and at night, she now likes to sleep in the corner closet in our little home office.

Now I make sure that the door to the garage is ALWAYS closed; at least til I can get Doug in there with a steam shovel and a dumpster nearby. (Of course he may have to be darted before we start to clean.) Anyone know where I can rent a tranq gun?

Post surgery

I spoke to mom today. She sounded a little better to me. However, she said she still felt bad. Apparently a whole herd of different docs had been in to see her, including an oncologist. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get the straight poop on what’s going on with her from her primary physician tomorrow. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. However I’m afraid it won’t do much good. We’ll see.

Evelyn really stepped up again today to help me out. I cursed, then I cried out of frustration and she just patiently listened. What a fabulous friend! She kept me from whacking Doug in the head with my big cast iron skillet. (He promised me that our fence would be dog-proof, that is dog-escape proof, months ago). He knew I was PO’d this morning. We didn’t even have to speak about it; One of the perks of being together since God was a child I guess.

I’ve had my fill of drama today. I’m exhausted. I’m looking forward to something funny tomorrow. For as Scarlett always says “Tomorrow is another day.” Maybe I’ll go find my hoop skirt, fix a mint julep and sit on the veranda. BTW- I’m planning to be back from my trip to Crazyland in the morning.

Mom in 1943

My mom had to be taken to the ER late Wed. night. She said that her abdomen was rigid and she just wasn’t well. I called her today. She said she was still feeling bad, but insisted that I not come over today. There was nothing yet to tell. They were just starting to run tests. I did have a long talk with her nurse, Carmen. She was extremely cool and able to tell me exactly what was going on, what tests were ordered. The thing that scared me most today was that they were running a full body scan to test for metastases. I haven’t heard when we’ll get the results. I have mixed feelings about how fast I want them. If it’s good news, bring it on. If not, it can wait.

Even if it’s good news, there will have to be some changes made. My brothers have had mom parked in that apartment for 6 months now. She DESPISES it. She has no friends there and she won’t cook for herself. She doesn’t leave her apartment except to get her mail. It’s almost like being in prison- but it’s safe and cheap. And my brother likes that. More money for him later you know. The bastard. I intend to speak to the social worker and the doctor tomorrow about having them insist that she move somewhere else. The place before the apartment was $5K a month. I knew she couldn’t stay there forever. There are other options though. She’s got to be someplace where she can interact with people again, be happy again. Mike will fight this with all he has. I know that as well as I know my own name.

If it’s bad news, then that will be that. Mom will be 86 in December. A few years ago, the last time she had a cancer scare, she was told that no doctor would treat it if it had recurred. There’s no way she could tolerate chemo again. And with her lungs, ravaged by 30 years of smoking and damage from cobalt treatments for breast cancer, anesthesia is always a dicey proposition. So I’m sure she’d probably go straight to hospice. My dad died suddenly at home one night 28 years ago. I had played cards with him that day and before I left their house gave him a big hug goodbye. That was the last time I saw him and how I remember him. I was never angry with him for leaving so abruptly. He was on to bigger and better things. The older I get, the more I realize just what a great way to die that that was.You’re here- then you’re not. I fear my mom will be not be so lucky, whether now or later. Only time will tell.

Blondie

Evelyn and I went to the gym today and then to her house to work on a project for her church. I received a call about 5pm from 24 hour Pet Watch. A neighbor down the street had one of our dogs. I freaked out and called Doug. He ran home and counted furry heads. Four dogs were still inside the house.  Blackie was in the front yard. Doug went and got our escapee Little Bit, filled the hole where they’d escaped and came to Evelyn’s to get me.

When we arrived home at 11pm, the pack was rowdy as usual except for Blondie, who was just laying on the floor. I approached her and noticed a three inch gash on her thigh. The wound wasn’t bleeding but it was gaping, open and deep. Doug somehow hadn’t noticed it when he did the head count earlier. I immediately called the emergency vet and described her injury. They assured me that by this time I could wait to take her to my regular vet in the morning. I carried her to my bed, covered the wound with a sterile pad and wrapped her leg with gauze. Luckily I had some Clavamox here, so I was able to give her a loading dose of antibiotics. We’re off to the vet early in the morning for stitches. I am so tired, but not sleepy- just too much on my mind I guess. I hope I can get some sleep tonight. However, I’m not very optimistic about that.

You know I can almost always find something funny in any situation. Right now I’m just not feeling it. No trivia right now- sorry.  If tomorrow doesn’t totally suck, perhaps I’ll post again and include some trivia.