4:19 a.m. That's what the clock read when Murphy suddenly bolted from the bed, ran to the back door for a half second, then ran into the living room, and the sound of explosive diarrhea, followed by the smell. The clock usually goes off at 5, and if he'd just held out 41 minutes, he'd have made it. I'd have made it. Good Morning, and Welcome to Hump Day! Wake up and smell the dog shit. This all took place on tile flooring, thank GOD. The rude awakening was the worst part.
Murphy's pooping has a pattern of sorts - normal, normal, normal, slightly runny, runny, normal, then explosive like this morning, then normal, normal.... It's mostly normal, but not completely. I forced a dose of Prednisone into him, and after dinner gave him a dose of antibiotic as insurance. He seems perfectly chipper and oblivious to his innards, no vomiting, plenty of energy and personality, and his weight is holding, so I'm afraid this is just how it is, which the vet hinted was going to be the case - it's pretty much the pattern since his exploratory surgery last August. But what a way to start my day - my life really is wall-to-wall shit lately.
Work. We shall not speak of it. But suffice to say that the 4 a.m. exploding dog was not the worst part of my day. That was an incident that could be fixed with cleaning products. The rest of the day's problems, not so much.
OTOH, Girl's day involved a virus attack at school and a classroom of developmentally disabled teenagers reenacting that famous scene from The Exorcist, so I shall not bitch. At least the vomit I'm dealing with consists of words on paper, not actual, um, yeah. I won't complain to HER about my day. She truly works hard for her money, honey.
And it's good to still live with tile floors (see above), so this is bad, but, OTOH, tile floors are handy right now. See me looking on the bright side?
And in the virtual bike shopping world, we have
another contender. This one strikes me as mindless fun, and well suited to this flat world in which I will be for who knows how long (see above).
Although the "flat-foot" concept seems kind of, I don't know, a concession to the reality of age that I'm still vaguely resistant to making, I have to remember how my left knee does not even enjoy walking down stairs anymore, and admit that the flat foot thing would be comfy for The Knee. I will definitely test drive that option before making a decision, and try to get over the idea that it's like giving in to elastic waistbands and sensible shoes. Okay, so I'm fine with the sensible shoes when I'm on my feet a lot, because see reference to left knee, but the part of me that is still fighting the good fight against elastic waistbands and gray hair (I admit I surrendered on the sensible shoes, but dammit, not the rest - yet) has to be convinced that the Lime or something like it is the way to go. I suspect this will take about 3 minutes. Like the shoes, I think this is an easy sell.