Sunday, April 02, 2006, 18:45
April Showers
It is raining today. A cold, wet, drippy, foggy, rainy April Sunday afternoon. It has been mostly rainy and wet and drippy and foggy and cold for the past week. So now I am reminding myself that April showers bring May flowers!
I really don't mind the rain, though. We could use the moisture. Better to start out the growing season with plenty of moisture in the soil than to start out dry.
I went to another craft sale yesterday. This one was in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. For those of you have seen the movie Titanic, you may recall that Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio) was from Chippewa Falls -- "the Chippewa Falls Dawsons" he said when asked which Dawson family.
The craft sale was at the Catholic high school. The school is located in a very old section of Chippewa Falls, full of lots of huge, old, glorious Victorian houses set on very large lots. I couldn't help wondering what the city was like during the time of the lumber barons who built the Victorian houses. Many of the huge old houses look like they are slightly in disrepair now. I would imagine it is quite expensive to keep them in tip-top shape.
The craft sale drew a fair number of shoppers. Once again, I sold 7 books (3 "Christmas in Dairyland" -- 3 "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam" -- and 1 "Cream of the Crop"). As I did at the last craft sale, I held a drawing for a free copy of "Cream of the Crop." On the signup form, I am asking people to place a check mark if they would like to be on my mailing list. Each time, about half the people who are signing up for the book drawing are asking to be on the mailing list, so I am developing quite a nice list.
One funny thing that happened involved a gentleman who was signing up for the book drawing.
"I suppose I will get on somebody's mailing list now," he said in an extremely grumpy tone of voice as he folded the slip of paper and put it in the big clear glass vase I had brought along to hold the book drawing slips.
I looked at him for a moment. "No," I said. "You will not. Not unless you tell me that you want to be on my mailing list. I am NOT going to waste almost 40 cents to send something out to someone who is not interested."
"Oh," he said, instantly contrite and sheepish.
Another funny thing that happened involved a mother with a little boy, although I'm sure she did not think it was one bit funny. The kid, who looked to be maybe three or four, was a kid who apparently loved to throw temper tantrums. At one point, his mother picked him up and carried him.
"Help!" the kid said. "Help! Somebody please help me! Help! Help! Somebody please help me!"
The kid's older brother was along, too, but the older brother apparently knew how to behave himself in public.
One lady who was right in front of my table turned to another lady with her. "The next thing you know, that kid is going to start yelling -- 'this is not my mother,'" she muttered to her companion.
The mom with the fit-to-be-tied kid set him down again. He started running around and ran back over toward my table. As long as he was running around and touching things he wasn't supposed to touch and running smack, dab into people and generally being a little brat, he was happy as a lark.
"You're not being very good," his mother told him when she caught up with him again. "Before we left home, you promised me you would be good."
The kid took one look at his mother and went into his worst tantrum yet, yelling and screaming and all but lying down on the floor and kicking his feet.
His mother watched dispassionately, and when he had calmed down a tiny bit, she picked him up and headed for the door.
The last I heard of him, he was yelling, "Help! Somebody please help me! Help! Help!"
I wonder if they taught the kid that in pre-school as the proper way to ward off being kidnapped. Maybe the teacher said, "if anybody ever picks you up and carries you, yell 'help! somebody please help me!.'" Or maybe they taught him that at home.
Either way, it looks as though it backfired.
I really felt sorry for the poor woman. And so did everyone else in the place.
I have one more craft sale scheduled for next weekend, and then I don't have anything booked until June. All of the June shows are outdoor shows, so I'm hoping for nice weather!
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, March 31, 2006, 21:22
Marathon Runner
I feel like I ran a marathon this morning. I always feel that way after taking our Springer Spaniel, Charlie, into the vet for his annual vaccinations. At right around 70 pounds, Charlie weighs a little more than half of what I weigh. So that means when he wants to go someplace, we're going -- even though my heels are dug in and I am leaning back with all my weight.
I really wanted to get Charlie in for his vaccinations now, too, especially for Lyme disease, since the deer ticks will be out soon, if they're not already out. The deer ticks are able to tolerate colder weather than just about any other insect around here.
The ride into town went fine. Charlie LOVES to ride in the truck. He also LOVES to visit the vet clinic. He's the only animal I've ever had who truly enjoys going to the vet clinic. Then again, why not? There are all kinds of nice people there who give him attention and who pet him on the head and who talk to him.
The ride into town went fine. Charlie panted happily and tried to lick my hand every time I reached for the gear-shift.
Once we got into town, as usual, Charlie dragged me to vet clinic door when I let him out of the truck, and then when I opened the door, he dragged me inside. We always enter the vet clinic with such speed and energy that I have to be careful the door doesn't bounce back on its hinges. The door has glass panes on the top half, and I wouldn't want to have to pay for the door in addition to the vet charges.
"So," asked the vet tech, who only started working there a few weeks ago, "who is this?"
"This," I said, struggling to hold onto Charlie, who was digging his claws into the carpeting in an attempt to cross the room to say "hello" to the German Shepherd cross sitting there with his owner, "is Charlie."
"I see," she said.
At that moment, the vet called the German Shepherd back to the exam room, so Charlie and I sat down.
Well, actually, I sat down. In spite of my repeated commands to SIT, Charlie only managed to crouch on his haunches. He was much too excited and happy to sit.
Twenty minutes later when the German Shepherd came out and passed through the waiting room, I made a grab for Charlie's collar. Charlie lunged toward the German Shepherd, panting happily, and very nearly yanked me off the chair.
"I'll just put my dog in my car," said the man with the German Shepherd, giving Charlie a worried look.
"You can bring Charlie back now," said the vet.
Charlie knew what that meant. He lunged forward and this time succeeding in yanking me off the chair. He dragged me down the hallway and around the corner into the exam room where I convinced him to stand on the scale.
"Sit! Charlie -- sit!"
Charlie did not sit on the scale, although he did manage to crouch.
68.5 -- 70.5 -- 68.5 -- 70.5 -- 68.5 -- 70.5 -- went the digital read-out on the scale.
"Charlie," I said. "Stop wiggling."
Asking Charlie to stop wiggling is like asking the wind not to blow.
"Oh, that's close enough," said the vet. "Just so we've got some idea of what he weighs."
The vet leaned down to pick Charlie up and put him on the exam table.
Sluuuurrrrrrrrrrrp! went Charlie's tongue as he licked the vet's hands and arms.
"I love you, too, Charlie," said the vet with a smile.
The vaccinations took no time at all. Drawing blood for the heartworm test went quickly, too (the test was negative, thank goodness).
The vet did, however, have some trouble hearing Charlie's heart and listening to his lungs. It was all that happy panting, you know.
"As far as I can tell, I think his heart and lungs sound okay," the vet concluded, taking the stethoscope out of his ears.
"Charlie runs around too much and has too much energy for there to be too much wrong with his heart and lungs -- at least right now anyway," I said.
The vet grinned.
Then came the part where I pointed out that Charlie had a lump on the back of his neck. The vet clipped away the hair, felt the lump and thought it seemed like an abscess.
"I'll just go and get a scalpel so I can lance it," he said.
When the vet returned, we put Charlie on the floor. I sat on my haunches in front of him to hold him still and the vet sat on his haunches behind him so he could lance the lump.
As it turned out, the lump was filled with clear lymph fluid, and the vet thought that Charlie had broken a blood vessel at one time.
The long and short of it is that now Charlie has a hole in the back of his neck. He can't wear his collar until it heals up, plus, he's got to have antibiotic twice a day for a week to make sure he doesn't get an infection. As I pointed out to the vet, there's no telling WHAT he might roll around in outside to contaminate the wound.
When we were finished in the exam room, Charlie dragged me down the linoleum-tiled hall toward the waiting room.
"Is there anybody out there?" I asked the vet as I dug in my heels and leaned back.
"Yes," he said. "Here, go into the lab until she gets by with her dog."
Charlie and I went into the lab, and I looked up in time to see a woman with a worried expression on her face rush past the door, dragging her Border collie with her.
Okay, so that's two people in the space of a half an hour who looked at Charlie with worried expressions. What's the matter with them? Haven't they ever seen a boisterous, good-natured dog who LOVES everyone and who LOVES life and who LOVES to visit the vet clinic and who would LOVE to say hello to their dogs?
Then again, maybe they thought all the precaution was because Charlie was vicious.
Hah! -- Hee-hee-hee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee.
That's a good one! Charlie -- vicious.
Charlie is never vicious. Except when he's got a turkey bone I don't want him to have. Then he SOUNDS vicious enough.
The ride home from the vet clinic was an anti-climax. Even Charlie thought so. He laid down on the seat and took a quick nap for all of a minute before he was up and looking out the window again.
Okay, now all we have to hope for is that the Lyme vaccine has a chance to kick in before the deer ticks get too numerous. Charlie has already had Lyme disease four times in his life, and that's in spite of getting the vaccine every year. They tell me at the vet clinic that about 15 percent of the dogs they vaccinate don't develop a good immunity to Lyme disease.
People have asked me how you can tell whether your dog has Lyme disease.
The hallmark for Lyme disease is that the dog does not want to eat -- and in fact refuses food of all kinds, even treats that the dog normally loves and wouldn't pass up for anything. The other thing is that the dog is reluctant to move -- does not want to go for walks and would prefer just to lie still.
And for a dog like Charlie, when he does not want to eat and does not want to go for a walk, I KNOW there's something wrong. . .
LeAnn R. Ralph