Miscellaneous

Sometimes it just works out that way

Today I expected to lose a hearing (but preserve the record for appeal) and then euthanize my dog. 

Instead, I won the hearing (in front of a bunch of attorneys very much my senior, and vs. a name partner in an insurance defense firm).  There was a point at which I realized the judge was leaning my direction and I was thinking, WTF?  This might actually go my way?!  It was an awesome feeling, walking out of that courtroom.

And Norris is still with us.  He nipped Peach last night, and that, frankly, was that.  I called the vet on the way to the office, fully expecting to drive home after the hearing, take him to the vet, and then go back to work.  (Yeah, I really did think that.)  But even vaccinated dogs have to be "quarantined" (which doesn't mean put into some Hansen's disease colony, just not euthanized) for 10 days after any bite, because, I guess, maybe a radioactive rabid spider slipped into the house and bit him or something. 

So after the hearing, I tried to call Matthew, but no response.  Somehow the tension and the stress of the day and the previous night morphed into an "oh my god, what if something awful happened to Matthew?" even though I knew that more likely, he was just napping off the effects of medication.  But all of that nervous energy had to go somewhere, and that's where it landed.   I drove from Oregon City to way out in Beaverton, checked on Matthew (woke him up) then drove back into Portland and did some work.  Somewhere during the afternoon, I realized just what a clusterf&ck the whole dog situation was (sure, I sound cold about Norris, but the fact is that I love this dog SO MUCH that I will lose part of my soul when he dies), and I had a minor breakdown.  And then I talked on the phone with a bunch of people and edited a pleading.

Small meltdown again on the way to pick up Peach, when I was able to chat vent blatther on to my sister.

Peach, by the way, is fine. She was moody and crying this morning and afternoon. She has a bruise and a minor abrasion, but has no fear of the dog and still wants to spend time with him.  The pediatrician did not seem to think this was the panic-inducing event that I did, which is nice.  (It's good to have someone around who stays calm.)  Apparently dog bites happen all the time.  Who knew?  She was her usual trooper, smiley self while we waited and waited and waited at the pharmacy for my script and her antibiotics (which hadn't been faxed over and so the pharmacist had to call the on-call doc, and so on).  We did donuts in the shopping cart and I let her drink some of a Sprite Zero and she let out an earth-rocking belch. I was proud.

The periphery of the day -- the commute, the errands, that sort of thing -- that's what did me in.  Can't remember if I mentioned the sinus infection, the exhaustion, the fact I am still the only functional member of the household after almost three weeks since Matthew's surgery, but that's where we are.  My hat is off to single parents, because the only thing getting me through the day is the realization that at some point, Matthew will feel better and can help again.  But that had better be soon.

And I would really like to know if someone out there would be willing to adopt a fiesty, 11-year-old, three-legged Belgian Malinois.  

Full post as published by The Menagerie on February 10, 2009 (boomark / email).