Monday, February 23, 2015


Bright and early I sleep dialed the surgeon's office before they could get busy.  The person who answered reprimanded me for dropping Beau, then asked if he was walking on all four.

"No.  He's still on three legs."


She then spit out something in German that sounded like "calm down and have a beer"  or  "You are doomed to hell for all eternity".  

Twenty miles in 8 minutes.  Joe and I repeated the dire warnings to  the surgeon.

He told his nurse: "Find who caused this to happen.  They are nervous wrecks for no reason and the boy should NOT be using all four legs yet."

After his nurse left to find Adolf's offspring he said  "Forget therapy.  He's using his toe occasionally and that's how it should be at this point."

So Brunhilde will be placed in a stockade and Beau gets his stitches out Friday.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

JOE IS A KLUTZ (but I'm the one who dropped our boy)

Saturday, Feb. 21

Picture it.........go on........I'll wait...........

So, see, I'm supposed to be doing these leg exercises on Beau, but it hurts him and I didn't want to hurt him so........*pant pant* I was in the process of picking him up to put him on the couch where it's nice and padded and comfy and  *pant pant* I kinda..........(no Dana.  You're not getting off with a word like "kinda")  Okay.  I dropped Beau right onto his hip with the holes and wires and..............

He screamed.  I screamed.  He whined.  I whined.  I grabbed him and held him TIGHTLY against my chest and he stuck his head in my armpit and whimpered.  I whimpered.

24 hours later and he still hasn't used his leg in 8 days............

We'll be seeing the surgeon Wednesday to get his stitches out and I will ask him to put the leg through the required movements to see if I've done something long lasting.

But, we won't get to see HIMSELF.  We'll probably see Brunhilde - all 400 pounds of her, and she just OOZES this disdain for animals.

I just wanted you to know that Beau and I, and Joe, have appreciated and adored every comment that ya'll left on my last post.

I don't care what others say about you.  You are the very people I want in my life.  (just don't trust me to pick you up)

Thursday, February 19, 2015


Beau here: The surgeon warned mom and dad that all the drugs they gave me at the den of iniquity would wear off in two days and dayum.....they knew what they were talking about.

At 4am I managed to wake both of them out of their comas and there was nothing they could do for me.  I kept trying to climb up to mom's shoulders, but kept sliding down.

I finally fell asleep across her chest and she said she couldn't breathe.....but she must have been lying, cuz she's still alive.

Dad ran to a store (I saw him leave, and he was DRIVING, not running)*liar, liar, tail's on fire*  and he brought back this human life preserver.  

I can't wear won't let me chew on my leg, so I've gotta pretend I'm having a seizure or something.  

Dana here:  It looks like a good idea, but it's too small for him and there's points on the inner corner edge, beneath his jawbone, that poke right into his brachial artery on each side of his throat.  But I think when we let some of the air out, it will be fine.  

Until he's allowed to roam around, out of our sight, he won't have to wear it. 

It is an excellent replacement for the Cone of Embarrassment that is beyond stupid.


Beau here:  get away mom!

I tried to sit up, cuz then I can stare mom in the eyes and make her get all sensitive and ooey gooey. 

See my expression?  I was trying for "extra pathetic"
but came off looking drunk.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


I am on the couch - in the middle - with the back of a kitchen chair shoved up against the middle.  I am in doggie jail.  Dad sits on the left.  Mom sits on the right.  I am in doggie hell.

But if I start crying, they get all  "OMG!  What can we DO?"

Well, for starters, they can find that Shaniqua person who lives in the alley and get me some crack.

Last night, mom fell into a human coma on her side of the couch and dad (the easy one to fool) put me on the floor so I could...(what did he think).....RUN!!!!!!!!!!

I was trying to run away from my back leg, hoping it would fall off.  I don't need it.  I don't want it.  And it followed me everywhere!!

The commotion made mom come out of her coma and I then had to outrun mom AND dad.  (three legs are faster than two)

I heard all this whining and yelping, and they thought it was me.  (it was....but I'll never admit it:  "deny, deny, deny")

Then mom recovered her senses and pulled a dirty trick on me.  She said  "DOWN", and for some reason, when I hear some words my body obeys.  I obey traitorous words like "down",  "pee",  "stop"...... (it's a conspiracy)

I went into the 'down' position against my will and mom put me back on the couch and glared at dad until she passed out again.

This morning, dad crushed up all my pills into a quart of peanut butter.  WHO can eat a quart of peanut butter?

Mom, (the brains of the outfit) crushed some into a teaspoon of peanut butter, and some into Velveeta.  Me like peanut butter and velveeta.  But this shit tasted awful, and mom rubbed all of it onto my TOOTHS!!!   My TOOTHS!!

I had to lick that stuff off my TOOTHS!!

Okay then....I just saw the walls start to bend....and all these pretty colors.....and look at that!  A three headed chicken!  I think I'm going to sleep now.........sleeeeeeeeeeeeep.....

Oops. That didn't last long.....I think I'll pant and whimper for a while.

Mom says you all are good eggs....I like eggs.  If she likes you, then I like you too.

(send crack)

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


(I've been asked what, exactly, did Beau's surgery consist of and I apologize for not being more specific.)

The ligaments and cartilage that held his joints and leg bones together tore apart due to the three years of being malnourished in a puppy mill.  They basically disintegrated, and this is happening in the rest of his body.  He now has cushings disease which makes cortisol, that makes fat deposits leading to kidney & bladder failure among other painful illnesses as well as joint damage.  So his rotund appearance is not mom's fault for "over feeding" him.  

The doctor opened Beau's leg and drilled holes into the humerus and femur, then used wires to make figure 8s through the holes to hold the two bones together.


We figured he'd be in pain, but we didn't think he'd be in THIS much pain.  So now Joe and I need drugs and plenty of them for the stress.

The poor boy is crying pitifully, and this is WITH a pain shot before we left the vet's.  So what about later?  Tonight!   Tomorrow!

The first thing I did when we got him in the car was to use my teeth and toenails to rip the cone from around his head.   The second thing that happened was Beau maneuvering his tongue to the incision, but a firm "NO!"  *insert squealing noise* from mama stopped him.

We have gabapentin and remadyl for the pain, but they're not really pain meds and I'd know because I take them too.

The incision is larger than we expected, in fact I don't know what we expected, but this wasn't it.

The incision is above his knee, in a very "bendable" place.  

This is him sitting, with the leg kinda underneath his body and what you see is his knee.

The vet said  "Stitches out in 10 days.  He'll be in pain for 8 days, and he won't recover his full mobility for another 8 weeks."

Sounds kind of harsh.

Joe and I will be sleeping like bookends, on each side of the recliner sofa, with Beau in the middle, and a kitchen chair pulled up against Beau's cushion in the center.  
A human and chair 'cage of protection'.

We said  "We'll just buy a new couch after this is over."  because, trust me, this is also where we've been hand feeding him and there's no upholstery cleaner in the world that can save this La-Z-Boy sofa now.

Thursday, February 12, 2015


When Sandie's husband called me yesterday, I was my usual self:  picture Joe Friday saying  "Just the facts, ma'am."  and that's me in a nutshell.

I was stoic, processing an overload of information and not asking the right questions because I was focusing on being kind.

Knowing her husband had more on his plate than I had the right to add to, I asked how the kids were coping, and ended the call.

Joe was watching me like a badger eyeing a peanut, and when he saw me drop my forehead into my hand, he started crying.  He loved Sandie, and they would tell each other that in emails and phone calls.


I did not come with that button installed in my electrical system.  

Joe cries, then goes on.   I don't cry, and go on.

One day later and I feel as if my insides want to turn wrong side out and that I will start screaming gibberish in an alien tongue while throwing things.  Big things.  Like Joe.  Or the truck.

My hair decided to express itself by falling out to the point I'm having to comb it over the trashcan.  Then it just keeps sliding down my body throughout the day and I had to vacuum my pillowcase.


When I knew she had more chemo on the horizon, I made her an overnight case....which will arrive at her house tomorrow.

I'm wondering if she had any idea just how much I loved her, because I was limited in doing so many things I wanted to do for her. I wanted to fly out there and clean her house and cook the meals and care for her children, and she'd always say  "But Dana, if you fall apart while you're here, who will take care of YOU?

Life seems all for naught.  There was not one thing I could do that would have been THE THING that could have kept her from the pain she suffered.  I'm a mere human, but I would have healed her if I could have.  She had the faith of a saint and prayed for healing.  She had kids to care for. She prayed.  Joe prayed, and .....  all for naught.   

I'm in the middle of "why bother.  what's it all for.  what's the point", etc.

The same will happen when my sister dies.  


And I will go on automatic pilot and cook supper, scrub the floors, and comb what hair is left into the trashcan.

I never cried when my parents, or my MOST loved brother, died.  

I basically cannot cry.  I'll wail, but no tears. I am basically unable to cry.  Can't.   

It's an odd trait I share with my sister

It seems that no matter what you do:  you die.

Exercise?  Die healthy.  

Take the advice of your trusted doctor?  Die.  

Eat, drink, and gain 300 pounds?  Be on Doctor Phil, then die.

I had a long talk with my dentist regarding Beau.  She said "Sometimes, owners have to put their pet down DUE TO the harm that chemo causes......:"   Made sense.   

Treatment?  die.  

No treatment?  die.

I did make the decision that he will undergo surgery for his cataracts.  Seeing me means the world to him.  And he's scared to death of the dark.  So, no matter how much time he has left, whether it's a year or three days, he won't be in the dark.  He will see ME.  He will see Joe.

I miss my sister.  I wanted to be with her during her illness.  But Sandie died without my presence.  My sister will die without my presence.  And I will die without theirs.

If Joe dies before me, I will die without his presence.

It just seems that when it all boils down, we die.  And even if we're surrounded by loved ones, we die alone.

Boy.  I have to apologize for this post.  First time ever I didn't have anything humorous to say.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015


For any of my readers who may have been familiar with QUIRKYLOON and her blog.

Sandie has been my best friend for over 10 years, keeping in email and phone contact.

She fought invasive cancer for 8 years, undergoing rounds of chemo and radiation, which caused multiple other horrors to her body.

After recently telling the doctor of her extreme pain, she was told last week that the cancer had spread during her latest round of chemo - possibly causing the pain,  and more chemo would be administered.

She was admitted to the hospital Friday:  given chemo and sent home.

She called me, due to being in excruciating abdominal pain and wondering if it was, indeed, due to the cancer - or something worse.

The doctors, having tunnel vision, declared it was, and as usual, dismissed her insistence of worse than usual pain.

Upon admittance to the hospital the next day, it was only THEN discovered that her intense pain was NOT due to the cancer, but from a bowel blockage caused three months ago via abdominal radiation that had burst at some point prior to the full abdominal xrays they had given her!!

Even I can detect a bulbous intestinal blockage on an xray!  Why didn't THEY?

She ended up on life support Saturday night.  Her husband was told that IF they removed her from life support she would have to have a colostomy (no big deal) but might suffer from brain damage in addition to the advancing cancer.

Her husband called to tell me that he had to make the decision to remove her from life support this morning and allow her to pass. 

 Wednesday, February 11.

I won't be around for a while.  
Updates will commence after Beau's surgery.