Dogs V. Wildlife, Round Two

Last night, mom found the dog(s?) attacking a decent-size opossum (which, by the time I got out there, was playing dead and probably going "omg leave me alone aaaaaugh!")
So she was all like "remember that last time the dogs got a(n???) opossum and I ran in to get you cause I don't want to bag dead things if I can possibly help it, and you came out and it was gone cause it was playing opossum like opossums are wont to do? Yeah they have a(n??? nah, "an opossum" sounds stupid) opossum again and it might actually be playing dead this time too!"

So I said, "seriously mom you can't take care of it?" and she was all "nooo way," and since I'm mean and spiteful, I made Chris come with me too since he happened to be here. Sure enough, Loki was pulling a 10ish pound opossum around by the tail (She-Ra was watching him somewhat disinterestedly,) but, some Chris-footed encouragement got the dogs to leave it alone. Anyway, I went in and grabbed the shed key so I could go get the shovel if necessary, and Chris was complaining that Loki was all bloody, so I told him to just wash the dog already*. I got the shovel, and when I came back the opossum had his head up and was being very still, so I just watched him. Apparently he decided I wasn't being threatening (though I was planning to bust his head in with the shovel if he couldn't walk away,) and he got up and started high-tailing it out of the yard as well as he could with an injured leg. Well, I'm not about to run after a opossum and smack it with a shovel if I don't have to, and I wasn't really looking forward to getting blood and brains everywhere, so I watched him wander off until I couldn't see him anymore.

Chris was sortof washing Loki in the garage sink and was being all wussy about the blood and going "eee don't let it touch meee!" so mom and I made fun of him a little bit about that. Okay, I guess I'm used to blood cause of the whole vet-thing, but what's mom's excuse? Maybe she's just a little psychotic?

She-Ra had some blood on her cheek, so I washed it off and decided that brushing their teeth would be a good idea and why the hell didn't I brush their teeth after the skunk incident, gross.

Turns out She-Ra at some point had her mouth on said opossum cause her teeth were bloody too.


This is why I don't let the dogs lick me.



*(# of baths Loki's had this week: 5 and counting, apparently?)



I was going to post a picture of the skunk but I decided that'd probably be in poor taste.

Funk

So, Sunday night, I was supposed to work 12 hours because I was covering my shift as well as someone else's. I ended up working 9 hours because it was slower than molasses and I was allowed to go home. When I got home (thinking, of course, that I could like...go sleep or something,) my parents were fighting about the dogs, who apparently got skunked not ten minutes before I got home.
Which meant instead of sleeping I got to wash two smelly dogs.
Loki got a full-on face spray (divined from his face-funk, watery eyes, sneezing and rubbing his face all over the floor,) so I washed him first with Dawn, which actually cut down the smell a lot more than I would have thought. Then I washed him with the regular dog shampoo, and it was around that time that mom showed up with two cans of tomato paste, which she refused to dilute like I asked her to while I was washing She-ra outside. Have you ever tried to keep dogs from eating tomato paste off of themselves? Probably not, right? It's kinda hard.
Anyway, She-ra seems to have gotten a peripheral hit, as she doesn't smell nearly as bad.*
Two and a half hours and about thirty mosquito bites later I give up and shower and go to bed. Somewhere near this point I realize my hands smell kinda skunky courtesy of not wearing gloves. Shit, I guess I'll not be so tired next time.
The next day I tried out the baking soda/H2O2/Dawn trick, which seemed to work reasonably well, but every time the dogs (or my hands) get wet they smell skunky again. At least it's a faint skunk. Or I think it's faint, I might just be accustomed to it now.
It's all dad's fault for letting the dogs out at 9, which we never do.
They killed the skunk, but it was a baby and I know there is at least the mom and one other baby out there, maybe two babies, cause I saw them last month walking around the side of the house. Maybe the dogs won't be so retarded next time.



*This is what I think until I go to bed, when I discover that she does, in fact, smell pretty bad.


I had a dream in which I had a remote-controlled plesiosaur and could glide around not-really-flying and Robert Ott agreed with me that New Moon was a terrible movie, but I am 90% certain that the movie I had to watch in my dream was about 300x better than the actual movie, considering that it didn't have vampires or werewolves or literally any of those actors in it.

I seem to have mostly forgotten that dream, I guess I should have typed this bit before the skunk bit. Oh well.

Title Apathy

It is a strange strange thing to be coming home from work when the sun comes up. It's an absolute perversion of ...everything? But it's worse when your housemates wake you up. Also the neighbors. And planes. Cause, the real problem with going home at sunrise isn't that you're going home at sunrise, surprisingly, but that literally no one else in your general vicinity does so they're all...awake. And presumably chipper.

The other problem is I'm better at this staying up all night working thing than I am at getting up in the morning to work thing.

Also my phone hates me and doesn't believe in calendar alarms or something. Someday I will figure out what the hell, phone.

On the bright side, it was deliciously cool this morning when I got home. Summer over now, yes? Maybe? ...Working on it???

The real, totally unrelated question is: zombies or vampires?

Hospital Blues

Well, just an update for everybody, I guess it's about that time.

My grandmother had another stroke a couple weeks ago, was in the hospital for four or five days, and then we moved her to a rehab facility like...Wednesday or Thursday, I guess?  Anyway, as soon as she was able to sit up they discharged her from the hospital so we moved her to that rehab center.  Well, mom tells me she had another stroke at the rehab and that my aunt is displeased that they apparently didn't notice before she got there (I guess?) but she's back at the hospital again.

Let's say that I personally didn't have much hope of her living independently after she was discharged from the hospital, and now I'm thinking she's having too many strokes, too close together, to be able to recover enough.  So I'm not really sure what's going to happen with her.  Maybe she'll actually pull out of it, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

I miss walking around Tristan with her and my grandpa.  Now I just want to carry her because she's so slow and frail.

She keeps reminding me of Max.

It's really really late.

Razzle Dazzle

Yes, I did just want to name a post "Razzle Dazzle" cause that was the first thing that popped into my head.  In case you haven't heard yet, I did finally manage to get a job at an emergency vet clinic.  I'm not sure why, because they were adamant that I didn't have enough experience, but on their little test thing I answered questions in a way I guess they really liked.  (Note to self: I know you hate acronyms, but you could at least have remembered that CRT stands for "capillary refill time."  Ugh.)
Anyway, a lot of that test was "what are these acronyms!?" and I was like "noooo, my mortal enemy!"
But, I finally (even if it was like 10 months after I started seriously looking and 5 months since I applied there) got a job at a vet's office.  And it's not a boring vet's office!  I might have gotten a vet tech job in League City, and I liked the vet, but...nothing ever happened.  Regularly, there'd be fewer than five clients in a day and most of the time, there were no surgeries.  (Also he could barely afford to pay his rent.)  However, at an emergency vet, either nothing happens at all or you're totally overwhelmed with interesting/depressing cases.
My Petco manager tells all my co-workers she's afraid I'm gonna quit.  Come on, I'd give notice, and I already told you I wasn't quitting unless I was literally incapable of doing both jobs.  Besides, there's a really expensive parrot there that I could never afford, so I have to keep working there so I can play with it.
Now I just need to bother one of the vets for a recommendation...

Also, vet school applications are going as well as could be expected.  Mostly need to round up recommendation letters and do each school's application cause they're all jerks and want me to write everything twice.

Next Time

So today I was picking up prescriptions at the optometrist (which I was apparently supposed to be getting mom's contacts and I just heard prescription for some reason,) and there was an old man crying really quietly in the corner.  I was going to go talk to him, but when I turned around he was looking everywhere but at the people in the room.  He was trying so hard to not draw attention to himself (and I'm pretty shy,) so I left.

But...I wish I had talked to him.

Happy Fathers' Day

If you want an extremely long and polarizing read about the corruption of family courts, here you go.  At first, I thought, this guy is crazy.  Then again, I think this is exactly the reason there are so many angry misogynists on the internet (look around and you'll find hordes of them in blogs and comments.)
Even the comments on that page totally miss his point, which is that the family court system is broken and needs to be fixed (or in his words, burnt down, which I can't say I condone.)
Guess it's time to start studying up for election day again, and I wonder if this incident and essay will be ignored or a platform point.

Of course, the candidates for next year aren't looking too good for me...Bad Choice #1, 2, or 3?
It's so hard when I feel like writing in Jesus or something as the next President.  Then again, Jesus' running mate would probably be the Devil or something.


Anyway, Happy Fathers' Day, don't let me and the news get you down.