Keeping Busy in Covid Times and Emotional Support... Dog or Human

A couple of totally different thoughts...

My sister from another mother is retired military.  Thanks to her time in GW1, she has PTSD.  Because of that, she has specially trained dog, Cally.  This dog is amazing, and she has allowed my sister to live a normal life, doing everything she wants to do.  

My issues are different (we All have issues, get over it!), and I don't need the level of support that a dog such as Cally provides.  But I do need the emotional support of my dogs and have been told than an ESD (trained) would be helpful for me.  

I already have THREE dogs.  Couldn't one of them become an ESD?  Realistically, let's look at this.  Piper is 10, and until her health became such an issue, I do believe that with some training she could have been certified as a Professional ESD.

Tyson is the youngest, and I believe he, too could become a PESD, if we could find a trainer to work with us.  He already acts as an amateur ESD.  I keep looking for someone who could provide this.

Tripp?  I love him, he adores me, and he's Very Smart.  However, I am his Emotional Support Human.   There isn't enough training in the world that could make him a PESD.  He's too intense, too wary of other people, too excitable.  It's just not in his personality.  He's likely to nip someone if he perceives them as a threat.

left to right: Piper, Tyson, Tripp

Piper looks put-upon (she often is), Tyson looks alert and ready, Tripp looks... a little too alert and ready (okay, he looks Nuts and he often is)!  Oh, the intensity of Tripp's stare.  It gives him away.

On to other things on this Cold and Blustery day.

It was 9 degrees F this morning, with wind howling about.  There is Nothing I need so much as to make me go outside in this.  I'm not letting the pups stay outside long (more than five minutes) in this either.  Tyson is wearing his coat (he loves it).

One of the things I've always enjoyed is wood-working.  Over the years I've learned my limits and discovered that making walking sticks is quite rewarding.  Perhaps this spring when I "start" some sticks, I'll actually remember and take photos of the whole process. 

I've made several of them and given them away as gifts.  However, I've been looking for something to make that I could sell.  These might be it.  Below are photos of one I made for my friend, Mary for Christmas.  

The first picture shows the top of the pole.  I braid leather string for the loop, and put a leather wrap for the hand grip.  I use the same leather string to hold the wrap in place.  The pole itself has Mary's first initial carved in and at the bottom of the pole I carved a simple round, capped it with a copper under the rubber cap.

There is a lot of sanding to make the entire pole as smooth as possible, while leaving as much of the character of the wood intact.   The pole is finished with multiple thin coats of spar urethane, sanded with 500 or greater grit paper between coats.

It is amazing that this started out a long stick that I might have cut for kindling for the stove, and instead became this lovely walking stick.  The darker color is from leaving the wood outside to "weather" for a couple of years, the wood "develops" as it ages.  I think it's lovely.

All of this takes a considerable amount of time, which keeps me out of trouble.  Usually!

 

On Hold

I was out collecting maple sap and my cell phone went off. My hands were full, so no answering that ring. Too bad, so sad. 

Well, it was the vet at Pieper Veterinary Hosp., wanting to check up on Piper and discuss her on-going meds. Within 10 minutes of her call, I called back. 

I've now been on hold with PVH for almost an hour... 58 minutes and counting. Several times the phone has gone from hold to a single ring and is immediately put back on hold. 

This is soooo rude. 

Considering the amount of money I have spent there in the last six weeks, they should be leaping to answer my calls, and frankly with what they charge No customer should be left on hold for this amount of time. 

By the time someone bothers to answer my call, the doctor is likely to have gone home for the day.  Reprehensible customer service.  

We're now at 62 minutes.  I'll update this when/if they ever bother to answer...  but I'm only giving them another 30 minutes. 

1 hour, 26 minutes.  OMG.  

Then on hold again to wait for the doc.  Jeez.  Then doc not available...  supposedly will call back.  Total time on phone, 91 minutes, time speaking with an actual, real-live person: less than 60 seconds.

Unbelievable.

Waking with a Smile

 Most mornings I wake up and am immediately dive-bombed by two dogs, Tripp and Tyson.  Then a large, wet nose comes up over the side of the bed and a long, wet tongue swipes the side of my face.  Repeatedly, if I don't move quickly enough.

It's a great way to wake up.

Piper came home on Saturday afternoon, and Sunday morning she still wasn't feeling up to par.  No tongue swipes.  Still not eating (home-cooked chicken livers!).  As the day wore on, she gradually got better.  Dinner was eaten, slowly.

Monday morning, I got dive-bombed and licked!  

SHE'S BAACCKKK...  still on lots of meds, still don't know what happened, but my baby girl is herself again.  This morning she leapt up onto the bed from the floor, not using the "climb."  

Of course, she's got more shaved areas and the place where the fentanyl patch was placed is raw, she's gone blond-er (white) in more places.  She's aged in appearance around her head, but her attitude is Hyper Piper all over again.  

Blackie, Tripp and Tyson are happy she's back, too.  

Piper in Texas, 2019

2013

October 2020

Piper's mom is an insomniac

I have frequent bouts of insomnia.  They used to be infrequent.  But in the last five nights, I've had two nights sleep.

 

Last night as I was trying to compose myself to sleep, Piper started making weird, distressed sounds.  At first I thought she was having a nightmare, but then she got up and was pacing, intermittently making the strange whimpers.

 

I let her out at 1:30 am, thinking maybe she had to go.  Of course, Tripp went with her.  They were back at the door in moments.  

 

Piper came up on the bed and we cuddled, but she still was occasionally whimpering.  At around 2:30 am she and Tripp went out again.  Again, they were at the door to come in quickly.

 

At 3:30 (AM!), I decided I should go out with them and see exactly what (if anything) was going on outside.  Piper decided she didn't want to go out.  That's when I decided to get dressed and take her to Bolton Vet.  Tripp wouldn't leave her alone, so he came too.

We were there for about an hour and they discovered that it's her neck that's causing her pain.  And she's running a slight temperature.  They referred us to Pieper Memorial hospital in Middletown.  As good as they are, they don't have the diagnostic equipment that Pieper does.  By now it's after 4:30 and I'm in desperate need of coffee.  Dunkin Donuts supplied that need and we raced down the highway.  

 

Upon arrival, we only had to wait about 15 minutes before a tech came to take her in.  When we got to there, Piper climbed into the front seat and tried to hide under the dashboard. So adorable, she didn't want to leave us.  The emergency vet told me "she knows where the door is."  She really wanted out, but our sweet girl is admitted while they try to determine what is wrong Now. 

 

Dawn was lovely as I drove Tripp and I home. We got there @ 7:30. He wouldn't leave his Piper...  Truth to tell, we did not want her to go. 

 

Early this afternoon we got a call from the neurologist at Pieper.  They have no idea what's going on, and she was in a LOT of pain.  Tomorrow morning she will be sedated, anesthetized and MRI'd.  All of her.   As of this evening, her temperature has dropped but she's still in pain and not interested in eating.  That is so not Piper.  What is also NOT Piper is letting other people see that she's in discomfort.  That she's allowing them to see her pain tells me a lot about how she feels.

The MRI is ridiculously expensive, but I have to know what's going on and give her every chance.  

Tripp, Blackie, Tyson and I are hanging on and missing our Big Piper Girl.  Lots.  

Hopefully I'll sleep tonight.  I hope Piper does, too.

Missing her and hoping she'll be well and home SOON.

 Piper in 2011, the young pup

 

Keep the Home Fires Burning?

 

In the category of memory is not as good as it used to be…

The other night I decided to go to bed early, read a while and then put the dogs out for “last outs.”  I had cooked a small prime rib (Delicious!) so the bone and leavings were in a large dutch oven on the stove with about a gallon and half of water for the dogs.  The unit was on medium.  I was going to turn it down to simmer when I let the dogs out.

So what happened?  I forgot all about it and fell asleep.  The dogs never got “last outs” and the unit never got turned down.  In the morning, I noticed a slight scent of smoke as I went down the hall to let the dogs out.  I walked right past the stove.  It wasn’t until I realized the lights were still on in the breezeway that the scent of smoke truly registered.

I shut the unit off, lifted the lid and immediately replaced it.  Flames had leapt up as oxygen reached the blackened grease left in the pot.  OMG, we should all be dead, or homeless and burned.  WTF was I thinking??  Oh, right,  I was NOT.  At All.

I turned on the kitchen exhaust fan and the ceiling fan.  An hour or so later the pot was cool enough for me to put it in the sink and view the damage.  I thought sure the pot was ruined.

Well, there was about a half-inch of thick, black grease in the bottom of the pan, definitely wedded to parts of the metal.  I used newspaper, paper towels, straight ammonia, dawn (did NOT get the grease out of my way), easy off oven cleaner, more straight ammonia, steel wool, scrubbies, etc. until I was down to that which would not come off, Even the pot itself appeared discolored.

 

I was quite disheartened.  So annoyed with myself.  I finally resorted to using fine sandpaper.  Guess what?  It worked!  The pot is not perfect, but it’s useable and while I’m still shocked at the close call, well, we’re all alive and no real harm done.  Just my psyche affected.

 

In the category of “some things aren’t worth fixing”

Next, I decided to try and determine what was wrong with the Black and Decker Dust Buster Mel gave me when she moved.  I’d plugged it in to charge and it wouldn’t.  So, downstairs we went and I took the “charger” – a wall mount unit apart.  The charger is 18 volt, so I used my multimeter and determined that the charger was kaput, it was actually discolored on one side.  I tested the unit itself and discovered that it would take a charge.  I hooked up another 18 volt charger to the wall mount and it appeared to charging fine, the red charging light was on.  Quite pleased with myself, I brought some things upstairs to throw away.

About 10 minutes later I went to the top of the cellar stairs, time to bring some laundry up, move more around between the washer and dryer. Funny thing, I smell electrical insulation – that stink of something too hot.  So…

The 18 volt charger was Very warm, so I disconnected it and noticed that the dust buster was a little warm too.  That charger is not ruined but I’m not risking trying to charge that little vacuum.   I checked and it only had about a 5 volt charge.  Well, it burned out one charger, not going to risk a fire or another burned out charger.

That discoloration on the original charger should have been a warning.  At least I only left it for a few minutes, and there was no immediate risk of fire. 

Okay, so in the last week I’ve been blessed to avoid catastrophe twice.  All I can say is I’ve kept my guardian angel very busy.  Not at all on purpose and I’m very grateful.

Never again will I leave the kitchen without turning a unit off or at least down to simmer.