Intentionally Paving the Road to Hell Little Thoughts

All Bed Sides Are Wrong

I had something else I was going to say today, and if I manage to remember what exactly it was, maybe I’ll start to put it down. Our oldest pug, Walt, has seizures. Not horrible ones, like our first peke, Monster, did… they’re subtle as they happen, but they result in his clearly not being able to get his feet under him for a bit. And he doesn’t fully check out for these seizures… and he never looks fully checked in anyway,  if you know what I mean. He has them maybe twice a year, once every eight months… they aren’t frequent and he’s old enough yet still new enough to us that the vet agrees that this is probably just a thing that happens and uncovering more will… uncover more and cause unnecessary pain, suffering and stress (sort of like why the doctors and I have laid off on shit with me. Something weird and definitely not good is happening, but it is taking its sweet ass time doing anything actionable aside from making me miserable, so why do more miserable tests?)

Anyway, poor little shit had a seizure this morning, as evidenced by his not running down stairs and Tokyo Drifting his little ass into the kitchen for his eye drops. He’s fine now, relatively speaking. He is eating and drinking (well, and pooping and peeing because seizure). He is unnecessarily going up and down the stairs because FOMO. He isn’t quite being the in your face pain in the ass to Bruce that he has been the past few days, and I am wondering if that is part of the pattern. Bruce is being really good about it all. And Dee is like a little rock. Honestly, for a dog that had… at best… clueless owners in her past life, it seems that once they did the obvious damage (a shock collar for bark control on too tight, too high a setting… burned her hair off her chest permanently and her little voice is… certainly something to hear…) they seem to have just let doggy day care deal with her a lot. And actually, it wasn’t the worst thing. She’s really rock solid in a lot of extenuating circumstances and understands how to be a dog.

It seems that this event has thrown off my game more than the pups though. I guess that’s good, because it’s easier to get my ass together when I don’t have a screaming nuclear pug melt down going on too.

Yep, whatever I had been planning on saying is gone. Fuck it. Sorry.