I think we were studying, and then planned on rolling around on the floor together for a couple of hours. Nothing fancy. No roses. No dinner out. No expectations -- just togetherness. His answer to her "EVERY day is Valentine's Day for Doug and Chris!"
She laughed at us.
This morning Geoff told me that Valentine's Day was canceled. I told him, "But honey, EVERY day is Valentine's Day!" which is, of course, true when you are Doug and Chris.
He was pissed and closed himself in his bedroom.
Dude just isn't immersed in all the love and joy his daddy and I obviously swim in daily.
So -- whether you're solo or hooked up... may today just be a good day. No matter what your plans or your state of romantic involvement. Have a great day.
If it's treacley and sweet and your love spent way way way too much on some flowers, hopefully that brings your heart joy and you don't get all pissy and say "what, red and white roses? Why not all red you fucktard!"
If you're rolling around on the floor with someone, watch out for furniture. There's nothing worse than snogging and then bashing your head on the corner of the desk leg. Believe me. I've been there.
If you're sitting by the phone cursing every beat of that dickhead's heart (because he hasn't called you yet) and hoping you could grab it through his rib cage and throw it through the cement wall of the nearest parking garage -- hopefully the sun is shining in and your plants are doing well.
And remember -- this is a big fat commercialized bullshit day where one half of the couple usually expects too damn much in the name of romance, and the other half feels compelled or doomed to oblige.
Screw that. Send him or her flowers in August for "no reason." Make every day valentine's day.
Alright -- that's my little VD screed. On with the rest of this entry. The icky part. You are forewarned as of this point -- if you are easily squicked out and barf at the mere mention of things oozy, you better just close the browser window now, or hit the back button or click here to go somewhere less squicky (well, I think it may be squicky to some but it was the first thing that popped into my head).
I've a story to tell about my dog. And it's not charming, cute, fluffy or cuddly.
Yesterday I came home from work, having been handed my ass in a hat and sent packing, knowing that I am now unemployed and without income. I was kind of bummed out. I wanted doggie friendship and companionship. I walked into the house and it smelled nasty. Totally nasty. Bloody shitty nasty. I couldn't figure it out. I sniffed every surface of floor, couch, bed, tile, toilet -- everything.
I then figured out that it was Kinger that stank. It seemed to be coming from his mouth. I thought "Damn! Dog -- you need a friggin biscuit!" and I fed him one. The smell didn't go away. It followed him from room to room. I thought "perhaps he's sick and has gas or something..." so Jessie took him out and he peed, but didn't poop. She said even outside that he reeked to high heaven. The two of us were stymied.
I decided to give his mouth a good look. I pried his jaws open, and the smell wasn't coming from inside his mouth. I went to pat him on the chest, and my hand encountered the source of the stench.
Under his collar was this huge mass of bloody, brown, stinky oozy shit. I pulled my hand away, and almost passed out. I whipped his collar off, and it was coated in this bloody mess. Jessie just about barfed (I've never seen the girl gag) and she tossed it out the front door as I threw the dog into the tub.
I realized that the mess wasn't on his fur, but that he had some sort of sore under his collar. I thought to myself "How is this possible? Is his collar that tight? No... I could slip all four fingers of my hand between the collar and his neck so it isn't like I'm some sort of deadbeat that would be profiled on Pet Detectives."
There was this oozy sore on his neck. We washed him up, dried him off, gave him two of Jack's left over antibiotics, and he was happy. He went to sleep on the floor. After I while I looked down and there was this ooze all over the floor, so I got a towel and put it under his head.
This was the nastiest thing I've ever had to deal with in dog ownership. I spent a restless night, checking on him and the towel. He slept as much as he could but sat up panting for a long time and I was really worried about him.
I called the vet this morning, thinking some sort of tumor had erupted from his neck and out into the world. She had me rush him in -- it turns out this is a "hot spot," a kind of allergic reaction that dogs get. I was worried it was because of his collar, and the vet assured me that it just happened to be at that spot. It's an easy access scratchy spot, and he must have gone to town on it over the last few days.
She shaved his neck, and Lord have mercy -- what a mess! It is HUGE, bloody and nasty. I almost passed out, but our Vet is the bomb. She's all cool and laid back and not a squickster at all. She washed him up (commended me for doing the same yesterday) gave him some meds, some spray, encouraged us to find a way to cover it up but still get air to it. Luckily for us Kinger is a big sleeper, so he'll crash out and sleep all day and not scratch at it. Between watching it carefully, the meds, and perhaps some black/green tea as the guide linked above suggest (not to drink but as a cooling compress) and me being home an unemployed, we'll have this thing cured quickly.
But man -- I've never seen anything like this. I remember the first time Missy picked up a tick. I had no idea what it was. It was on her face and had blown up to huge proportions. I think one of the officers at the college where Doug was working knew what it was, but my naïveté about ticks and what they look like didn't make him laugh. He handled it well, extracted the tick and then destroyed it in the parking lot (much to my squickiness).
Having dogs has greatly reduced my super squick factor. I can deal with almost anything now without passing out. Blood, dead animals in the woods, mess, skin disease, ticks, vomit, mud, fleas... They've changed my life! Sort of like the kids have. Before them, I couldn't handle holding someone while they were sick, or not pass out while changing a diaper of extreme toxicity. Now, I'm all laid back and professional.
And isn't that what love helps you become? A rock. Fully entrenched in the relationship and situations that arise. Which is why every day is Valentine's Day for Doug and Chris, and all the dogs the kids and the life we have. And I couldn't be happier.
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