Monday, October 6, 2014


After walking the boys this morning, I had to take Ozzy to the vet for his semi-annual heart checkup. Every time I hope he's improved enough to drop even one of his five meds. He's just a wee dog but has to take eight frigging pills a day.  To say I worry about what's ahead for him doesn't come close.

The place is mobbed.  I'm glad I have an actual appointment because nearly everyone in the waiting area are drop-ins.  Bad weekend for critters it seems.

So, long story short.  I tell him Oz has been doing this weird cough thing and after an intense listen to his heart and lungs, the vet whisks him away for a chest x-ray. Back in twenty--I paced for fifteen--to hear that his heart has enlarged a bit more and is pressing on one of his bronchial tubes--hence the coughing.  My own heart expands with every frantic hammer blow as I wonder what this means.  Then I wish the doc wasn't such a good guy as he shares each and every problem with me as I stare at the x-ray. Ozzy weighs ten pounds.  His heart looked nearly as big as mine and I could see it squishing stuff in his chest.

I hate knowing this shit.  Now I can't look at my boy without imagining his Frankenstein heart or his bronchial tube looking like a collapsed subway tunnel, or his tiny little ribs keeping it all in.  Dammit.

Anyway.  Sorry...I said long story short, didn't I??

Bottom line:  He has to take a cough syrup-like concoction.  Whatever happens over the next few days will determine where we go from here. I guess the stuff is supposed to do something for his tubes--relax or shrink or widen?--unfortunately, the vet was explaining whilst I was frozen in horror looking at the x-ray, a quivering dog in my arms with a heart as big as mine.

It sucks, getting old.


On the way home, I decide to stop for a coffee after the bad news and the vet's bill so pulled into my favorite drive-thru.  I like all the baristas--they're funny and goofy and really nice twenty-somethings. I'm handing my money to the girl and she notices the bracelet I wear on my left wrist.  I love this bracelet, it's cool, handcrafted in Tibet and the beadwork is amazing.  I've got several bracelets on my right, but only this one on the left.

She hands me my change, then takes my hand and turns my wrist so she can see what the beads spell out.

Frowning, she says, "What's a tibbet?"

I blink.  What?

She shakes my hand back and forth like I'm a dolt, then says again, pointing at the bracelet, "Is it a whale or dolphin or something?"

Free Willy blazes across my frontal lobe. I thought she was kidding and I start to laugh but immediately realize she's looking uncomfortable, wondering why I might be about to laugh at her.

Biting my tongue, because really, it's totally unacceptable to laugh at someone when they're genuinely clueless, I twist the bracelet around my wrist--showing first the word FREE, then the Tibetan flag, and finally TIBET, all spelled in beadwork, and I read, "Free Ti-BET.  You know, that country over by China."

Another frown, then she grins.  "The place where the Buddha man came from.  The one who's always smiling."

My tongue is sore.

"Yes, and my bracelet is saying to Free Tibet from China, so the...ah...Dalai Lama can come home. To Ti-BET."

She nods sagely.  "Yeah, that's the Buddha guy."

I nod back, smile, and drive off. I get across the parking lot and can't help laughing. Oh come on...tibbet???  That's definitely funny.  And I needed the humor after the vet stuff. We won't look deeper into this odd conversation to question the American educational system, or the fact this young woman is in her third year of college. I'm serious.



Moving on.


Another reason I love Fall, especially while on this mountain: The mists begin to wind around the hills and dales in the valley below the house.  I can watch them slither and undulate, crest and fall like otherworldly waves.

Up early this morning, dawn just breaking...

Even a Monday can have some redeeming value...yeah?


  1. That is lovely photograph.

    Tibbet? I have no words for that. Although, the nice Tibetan man at the import boutique down valley has the most interesting way of spelling/pronouncing the legal variant of my name; Robort. If I ever get a Facecrook...

    Luck with the hound. This sort of thing is hard, I know.

    1. was a beautiful way to start the day.

      I know, right? And although I'm still laughing at tibbet, Robort just joined in the hilarity... ;D

      Scary and sad...and hard. And yeah, I know you know...