Fostering a Dog: Day 21

Has it really been 21 days?

I'm sure the dog is thinking the same thing.

Last Night's Dream: Tockey

Last night I dreamt that I was playing Tennis/Hockey with a small group of others. Or "Tockey" as I now shall call it.

I have no idea whatsoever whether Tockey already exists or not, and to be honest, I'm too nervous to Google it, for fear that someone in a small town in Idaho has already done it. Google spoils all the fun. Think you've had an original idea? Think again! Google will tell you that not only has someone else already thought up your "great" idea, but they muffed it up along the way, meaning your great idea will now be thought of as rubbish.

Anyway. Tockey. It involves two teams, two goals, a Tennis, sorry Tockey ball, and each player has two rackets. It's awesome.

You need to wear eye protection though. Well, you do the way I play.

Today is a Saturday. Yes it is! Who's a good Saturday?

Do you see the coloured square? Touch it with your finger. Go on. Give it a poke. Rub it with your fingers. Done that?

Right, I've been feeling Blue recently too.

I don't think I can put my finger on it, but I've just been in a real state of melancholy these past few days. Hang on. I'm not entirely sure that I know exactly what "melancholy" means.

I'll be right back.

Ok. Yep. Google'd it. Yes, that's what I thought it meant and yes, that's what I've been feeling.

I expect to be down sometimes. It's just this deep feeling of loss or emptiness that I don't like. It makes all of the simple things more of a struggle and I find myself getting stressed out and snappy over little things.

And no, I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm just venting I guess. Like one of those deep sea things, surrounded by tiny Prawns.

Fostering a Dog: Day 13

Well, where to begin?

First off, we had an outing to the Vet. His Kennel Cough seemed to be clearing on its own, but he had developed some new symptoms that weren't exactly pleasant for him. Let's just say that it resulted in a couple of spots on the carpet that even Damien Hirst would struggle to get rid of. (It was vomit).
It's not fun when you are sick, and even worse when you can't tell anyone how you're feeling.

So we popped him in the car, which really wasn't even a fifth as traumatic as the last car journey was with him. He was actually quite calm about it. I think I was more tense.

The Vet gave him an injection for his vomiting and some re-hydration salts for his water. She also advised us to starve him for 24 hours to see if his tummy settled.

So 60 pounds later, we're leaving the Vet's. The dog is mildly bewildered. I'm mildly bewildered. The dog is slightly dazed about the injection he'd just received, while I was slightly dazed about the cash injection I'd just given the Vet.

Then yesterday, after his "diet", he seemed to perk up a bit. Full of energy and couldn't get enough food. Now he seems to have "crashed" and is very lethargic with little or no interest in eating or drinking.

I'm starting to worry that he's either Diabetic or Bipolar. Joking aside, I hope he can pull through whatever is going on. We'll keep an eye on him and if he needs another trip to the Vet, so be it. Being a rescue dog, we have no idea of his background or medical history. I really hope that he doesn't have some form of long-standing illness.

He's a really sweet guy and doesn't deserve to be put through all this.

Last Night's Dream

Peanuts.

I dreamt that I was inside a large office building that was slowly being invaded by peanuts. Think of it as my "standard" Zombie-scenario type dream, where I have to barricade myself inside either a room or building, in order to escape from some sort of threat from outside.

Well this time it was peanuts and not Zombies.

Huge waves of peanuts flooding in through broken windows or cracks in doors.

I eventually managed to make my way to the top floor of the building, but was prevented from escaping onto the roof by a complex locking mechanism on the skylight. Apparently it had three slots for what looked like medals or medallions. Yes, that's right. My dream was borrowing from PlayStation games.

I don't know if you've ever played any of the Resident Evil games, but many of the rooms are locked and can only be opened with medals, crystals or keys that can only be obtained after you have performed various tasks.

The lab in Resident Evil can only be entered by collecting a number of medals. Some of which can only be obtained through the smashing of statues, burning of paintings, and solving of cryptic puzzles.

How the hell did the lab staff ever manage to get to work on time?

"Sorry I'm late for my shift Tom. But the Moon medal was in the statue, and I think Kerry smashed it and got that. As you know, without all of the medals, you can't open the main door to the lab."

"That's alright Dave, it once took me a whole week to get back in here after I accidentally left my car keys in my office. Wait! If Kerry has the Moon medal, how did you manage to get in?"

"I ate my way through the steal door. It seemed quicker and I just couldn't be arsed with the whole back and forth any longer."

"Oh fair enough."


Anyway, I woke up juuuuuust as the peanuts had broken into the room and were beginning to swarm towards me.

Past Happenings From "The Crypt of Shame!"

deleted

"Overheard Poetry"

Don't get excited, it's not nearly as interesting as it sounds.

A few years ago, I had this zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaany idea to write down or record any words, sentences, or snippets of conversation that I heard from passers-by, in a predetermined length of time or over the length of a journey.

Not their whole conversation or anything like that (I'm not MENTAL), just a line or word that clearly stood out from the rest of the background noise.

It made perfect sense at the time.

Anyhoo, some were made in coffee shops, supermarket checkout queues, etc. I came across one the other day that had been scribbled down while walking home from town.

Each line or word was spoken by a different person, and was overheard as I walked past them. Written in the exact order that it was heard.


"Swinging your glow sticks 'round with gay abandon"
"You've done what?"
"It's not busy out there"
"We can do it tomorrow"
"Bye!"
"I'm alright thanks"
"Get away from me"
"I'm stuck! I'm stuck!"
"Who told you that?"
"Do you think my chair ballet will catch on?"
"Uh-huh, oh yeah, alright"
"Okay, you're gay"
"Because this was Julia's first night"
"English to Japanese"
"Oui"
"It's like....."
"Right now I'm stepping into a yard"
"She's really massive"
"You can't beat them"
"Left-handed, one-handed for a fiver"
"They're alive, it serves you sodding right"
"In heels, stilettos"
"All the way down to Hell"


Well! What a fun little project that was. It makes you wonder just what on Earth most of us are talking about while we're wandering around.

Or is that just me?

(I'm not crazy.......)

Fostering a Dog: Day 7

Foster dog has Kennel Cough. We think.

We've spoken to a vet, and they seem to think he'll be fine with a course of antibiotics. While we're waiting on the arrival of those, the vet suggested some over-the-counter children's cough medicine.

I felt a right wally in the Chemist when the assistant asked how old my child was. I wasn't sure whether she was looking for an answer in human or dog years.

After much discussion, mostly involving her distancing herself from any legal repercussions resulting from her selling me drugs for a dog, I managed to purchase him some cough syrup for a "chesty cough".

The "Ally McBeal" of the pharmaceutical industry even threw in a syringe with the syrup (in case we have to launch it down his throat). That was kind of her. She also pointed out that if the dog didn't like it, then we could use it the next time we have a cough. I never would have thought of that.

He's doing ok. Really tired most of the time, and the coughing can't be fun for him.

Fostering a Dog: Day ???

I've lost all track of time. If it wasn't for my occasional glancing at clocks, I would have no confirmation that the passage of time was being recorded at all. Except perhaps by others, making me and the continual tick tock of the Universe solely reliant on the continual efforts of the watch-wearing, clock-watching people of the Earth.

Sorry, what was I saying?

There's a theory that goes something along the line of: Once everything in the Universe has either faded into nothing, and all matter has decayed, there will be no way to measure time or the direction of time's arrow. The Universe and time could "reset" and everything starts from the beginning again.

Of course, this makes the Universe sound like a gigantic electric oven or VCR (remember those?). Maybe the earliest moments of the Big Bang appear as a gigantic flashing 00:00.

Fostering a Dog: Day 3

I've never been so tired.

It's like he's trying to break us. I keep telling myself that his bad behaviour is not his fault, but we all know that it's hardly mine.