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This photo of Sabrina just about says it all. The kitchen window faces southwest so we gets us some afternoon sun.
Me, I haven’t been up to much lately. Mostly just lazing around the house. And trying to look busy so Mrs Myron won’t try to find me a project. I have been baking a bit of bread with my new bread machine thingy. I found a rissipy for honey wheat that was okay but needs some fine tuning. I’ll post it when I get it to my liking.
I still need to make some jam in it just because I can. Looks easy enough but I really wish I could find a recipe for orange marmalade that I could use in the machine. I can eat me some marmalade on toast.
And just for grins here’s Sabrina. I submitted it to I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER so let’s see if it gets posted there.
moar funny pictures
you are out of your ever lovin’ frickin’ mind. Click on the thumbnail to see a larger image. And yeah, he was trollin’ for sharks. Kinda. “Trey was just one of a team of scientists hoping to discover why a large group of great whites, which travel off southern Africa’s tip during the summer, regularly swim so close to the beaches.”
Hell, there’s food on the beaches. Any dumbass oughta know that.
Felix, the oldest had another seizure last night. This was his second. The first was about a year and a half ago. That one happened while the outside patcher uppers and painters were making all kinds of racket with power washers, nail guns, etc. The vet gave him Valium at that time. Well, last night it happened again.
Felix had been fidgety and restless most of the evening. Whining and whimpering for no apparent reason. A couple of times he came flying up into my lap and wouldn’t get down. But he would get up and walk a circle and lie back down. I had put them in their crate in the family room about 10:30 or so. Mrs Myron stayed up watching the TV box and I toddled off to bed. About 11:30 I awoke to the most blood-curdling howl I have ever heard. I jumped out of bed and went flying into the family room. Felix was on his side, back bowed, head back, legs straight out and howling. Poor little Ginger was at the back of the crate scared as she could be. I opened the crate and tried to get him out. He was stiff as a board. When I finally got him out, he had urinated on himself also. I let him lay on the floor awhile and then I lifted him up. He started walking around as I was talking to him and petting him and that little tail was curved up over his back and just wagging away.
I sat on the couch and he jumped up with me. But he was restless as all get out. Seemed like he couldn’t get comfortable. I took him to bed and the same thing was going on. He lay by me a moment, got up, got on Mrs Myron’s pillow, got off, sat between our pillows, got up and walked across me to the edge of the bed, etc. I got up again and called the emergency vet for our area.
The young lady said that the good thing was he survived with apparently all his faculties intact. She told me that it may take a while for him to return to normal behavior and the best thing I could do last night was put him in a quiet, dark place with minimal brain stimulation. So the crate went into the bedroom and the dogs went into the crate. He sat up for about 5 minutes or so and then lay down and went to sleep.
Seems pretty all right now. He’s whimpered and whined a few times this morning but he’s napping now.
I did a bit of on-line research on canine seizures this morning. One comforting thing I read was that the vocalizing is involuntary and not an indication of great pain as one would think upon hearing it. This could get interesting. Think I’ll go boil him some chicken and taters.
A guy is driving around the back woods of Tennessee and he sees a sign
in front of a broken down shanty-style house: “Talking Dog for Sale”
He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the
backyard. The guy goes into the back yard and sees a nice looking Labrador
retriever sitting there.
“You talk?” he asks.
“Yep,” the lab replies.
After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says
“So, what’s your story?”
The Lab looks up and says, “Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA and they had me sworn into the toughest branch of the armed services…the United States Marines. You know one of their nicknames is “The Devil Dogs.”
In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with
spies and world leaders; because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.
I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running, but the jetting
around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger. So, I decided
to settle down. I retired from the Corps (8 dog years is 56 Corps years) and signed
up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals. I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired.”
The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.
“Ten dollars,” the guy says.
“Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?”
“Because he’s such a bullshitter …. He never did any of that shit. He was in the Navy!”
Stolen from donmac over on Martini’s BBS
And by us, I mean submarine sailors. A couple of days before payday.
"You sleep safe in your beds, because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do you harm."
George Orwell
