Updating on Dixie and My Perpetual Laziness...
I've neglected my blog lately not because I'm a total LazyAss but because I've been drowning in work and school. I've even been pretending to be someone who puts on clothes and gets out of the house to be social.
I did that last weekend, put on a forty dollar tank top and eighteen pounds of makeup, styled my newly-cute haircut, and walked through a perfect mist of perfume before I went out. I ended up in a bar where most of the patrons were wearing Jogging Pants. And I spent the whole night thinking, Like, where was this bar when I was all depressed and couldn't get out of bed? Because no matter how much my life reminds me of a giant pile of ass, I think I could ALWAYS make room for a public facility that promotes drinking alcohol in one's jammies.
As promised, a picture of Dixie looking hilariously pathetic in her lampshade collar. Unlike when Copernicus had her surgery, I DID NOT invite my friends over to laugh at Dixie while she got stuck on the furniture around the house. I really have matured that much in the last two years.
Dixie feels like I do about the mornings, and the Thursday after she got home, she was not pleased to be greeted by me toting a camera. She didn't have much to say to the camera, other than a pathetic, beagle-y little look that said "Please, Dear God, why didn't you shoot me behind the barn rather than subject me to this humiliation?"
She is feeling completely back to her old self again, and once more lives to lie unconscious on the couch with me. We take a nap every day together, Dixie and I, and that is how I justified a dog being worth as much money as we spent on her. I figure, hey, I never get out of the house, or go out to dinner, or take myself to a movie or buy new clothes. I come home and nap with my dog. And really, if I can get four more years of napping with my precious little Muppy Wuppy (And yes, I do call her that, out loud and often, and frequently in the presence of others) then it is an amount of money worth spending.
Here is a close-up of Dixie's incision and how beautiful it is. I've been on a farm my whole life, and I've been privvy to many an incision. And I know how my mom told me to quit calling her surgeon an ass on the Internet, and after I called him an ass a few more times, I vowed to stop.
But, we were discussing him the other day, the stupid fuckwit that he is, and I realized, Hey! It's been a long time since I called him names on my blog! And my mother and I were admiring Dixie's incision as she lay stretched out on the couch, and my mother said "Wow, that's a perfect incision. It's beautiful. I only wish my scar looked like that."
Yes, that's right. A frickin' VETERINARIAN made a better scar on my DOG than a surgeon managed to make ON MY MOTHER.
And I have to say that I'm quite glad that Dixie was in such capable hands, and that if we ever have to deal with cancer again in this family?
I'M CALLING THE DAMN VET.
I did that last weekend, put on a forty dollar tank top and eighteen pounds of makeup, styled my newly-cute haircut, and walked through a perfect mist of perfume before I went out. I ended up in a bar where most of the patrons were wearing Jogging Pants. And I spent the whole night thinking, Like, where was this bar when I was all depressed and couldn't get out of bed? Because no matter how much my life reminds me of a giant pile of ass, I think I could ALWAYS make room for a public facility that promotes drinking alcohol in one's jammies.
As promised, a picture of Dixie looking hilariously pathetic in her lampshade collar. Unlike when Copernicus had her surgery, I DID NOT invite my friends over to laugh at Dixie while she got stuck on the furniture around the house. I really have matured that much in the last two years.
Dixie feels like I do about the mornings, and the Thursday after she got home, she was not pleased to be greeted by me toting a camera. She didn't have much to say to the camera, other than a pathetic, beagle-y little look that said "Please, Dear God, why didn't you shoot me behind the barn rather than subject me to this humiliation?"
She is feeling completely back to her old self again, and once more lives to lie unconscious on the couch with me. We take a nap every day together, Dixie and I, and that is how I justified a dog being worth as much money as we spent on her. I figure, hey, I never get out of the house, or go out to dinner, or take myself to a movie or buy new clothes. I come home and nap with my dog. And really, if I can get four more years of napping with my precious little Muppy Wuppy (And yes, I do call her that, out loud and often, and frequently in the presence of others) then it is an amount of money worth spending.
Here is a close-up of Dixie's incision and how beautiful it is. I've been on a farm my whole life, and I've been privvy to many an incision. And I know how my mom told me to quit calling her surgeon an ass on the Internet, and after I called him an ass a few more times, I vowed to stop.
But, we were discussing him the other day, the stupid fuckwit that he is, and I realized, Hey! It's been a long time since I called him names on my blog! And my mother and I were admiring Dixie's incision as she lay stretched out on the couch, and my mother said "Wow, that's a perfect incision. It's beautiful. I only wish my scar looked like that."
Yes, that's right. A frickin' VETERINARIAN made a better scar on my DOG than a surgeon managed to make ON MY MOTHER.
And I have to say that I'm quite glad that Dixie was in such capable hands, and that if we ever have to deal with cancer again in this family?
I'M CALLING THE DAMN VET.
posted by Amanda at 21:47
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