Chloe’s been gone for three days now and I keep getting hit by reminders of her. I keep walking into various rooms of the house, expecting her to be there and then realizing that she can’t be. I look out in the back yard and know that she’ll never run and bark there again. About five minutes ago I opened a cabinet in the kitchen and saw the bag of dog treats, and now I’m sitting here fighting back tears.
Damn, this is hard.
Chloe Gibson, 1993 - 2008
Back in 1993 Tammy and I went to PetSmart one day to get some cat food. As we walked in, we noticed that they were doing dog adoptions, so we decided to go over and have a look. We were just looking. They had several cute dogs who all needed a home, but we already had two cats and that was enough. Until I came to the last crate. In it was a small, black Terrier-ish dog with big, brown eyes and an enormous pink bow around her neck. I opened the crate, just to pet her, and when I did, she literally lept into my arms and started licking my face. After a few seconds of this, I turned to look at Tammy through the glass; she was already filling out the adoption paperwork.
As we talked to the people there (from Friends of Animals, BTW) it turned out that this dog was not supposed to be there that day. Some monster had slowed down on Hwy. 78 (7 lanes) and tossed this beautiful 6 month-old puppy out into traffic. Luckily, some other motorist saw what happened and was able to pick her up before she got hit. This person took her to PetSmart and the FoA people took her. That’s how we ended up with her.
She was one of the sweetest creatures I’ve ever met.
About six weeks ago, our vet diagnosed her with cancer. Her lymph nodes around her throat were expanding, and he told us that she had a month, maybe two, at the most. He gave us prednezone to help with the pain, but as old as she was, chemotherapy would most likely kill her. He said to just keep her comfortable.
She did OK for a while, but the last week or so, we could tell the end was near. Her tail didn’t wag as much, she didn’t always eat, and her breathing was getting more labored. Her nodes were so swollen that it felt like she had a bag of marbles under her throat. Getting her to take a pill was always hard, but it was doubly so now. When we could get the pills into her, she would generally have a good day, but not always. Tuesday, she had a great day. She actually played in the yard, nom-nomed her food like nobody’s business, and generally seemed happy. But yesterday, we knew.
Or rather, we thought. It’s really hard to know when it’s time for that final trip to the vet.
Her breathing had been getting worse all day. She wasn’t resting. She would either walk around, or just stand, with her head pointing up, to make it easier to breathe. Last night around 10:30, Tammy and I talked about what to do, with Chloe just lying there, not really paying attention. She alternated between looking scared and looking totally out of it. We decided it was time.
I called Thomas into the room and told him that I had to take Chloe to the vet, and that she probably wasn’t going to be coming home. Understandably, he didn’t take it well. He’s had three cats, two fish and a snail die on him, and he wasn’t ready to have Chloe leave him, too. After he and Tammy were done saying goodbye, as done as they could be, I bundled Chloe up and took her to the emergency vet.
After examining her for a couple of minutes, the vet told me that Chloe’s chest was full of fluid and that I probably knew what the answer was. I agreed, sadly, and ten minutes later our Chloe left us.
I believe that she is running, barking and chasing other dogs, cats and bunnies right now, in perfect health and happiness. I believe that after leaving my arms, she was soon met by our cats Nikki, Lukie and Abby, and that they are swapping slobber and stories and once again having a grand old time together. Thomas believes that, too, though it’s little consolation to him right now.
Goodbye, Chloe. We love you.
I was wrong about Pokey the snail. He died today.
I ran ammonia and Ph tests on the tank water and was shocked by the results. The ammonia test was off the charts. The Ph was also out of whack. I took the filter housing off and scrubbed it with an old toothbrush because it had some slimy gunk in it. I also changed the filter and added some drops that are supposed to help. I put about two gallons of fresh water in a bucket and put the de-chlorinator in it, so tomorrow night I will replace some of the water in the tank. After this, we’ll be testing the water weekly to make sure this doesn’t happen again.
Keeping fish is sure a lot of damn work.
As I mentioned two days ago, we had a goldfish die, buried him at sea, and then bought another fish and a snail to keep the remaining fish company. As Tuesday wore on, the new fish, Speedy, wasn’t looking so hot. He was hanging out near the bottom and just not doing much besides breathing, or whatever you call what fish do for oxygen. We took him out and put him in a bowl of water, just in case there was something in the tank that was affecting him.
This morning, I went in to check on him.
And found him floating. Damn.
Fortunately, we’d been preparing Thomas yesterday that things may not go well, so he was somewhat prepared. It hasn’t affected him the way Fred’s passing did. And for that I’m grateful. We buried Speedy at sea, just like we did Fred.
I’m happy to report that Pokey the snail seems to be in fine form, as does our older fish, Rocky.
I went to the pet shop today and got some tests to run on the water to see if we have an ammonia or Ph problem, which I’ll be running tomorrow. We need to find out for certain if there’s something up with our tank water before we get another fish.
For Christmas, my sister-in-law gave my son two goldfish. Without asking us. Needless to say I was not happy about this, but he had them before we knew what was going on. Anyway, he’s been very happy with the fish and has been feeding them the right amount, and talking to them and making sure they were happy. All the nasty work, such as changing the filter, was handled by me.
So this morning, as I’m getting ready to leave the house, Thomas calls out “Dad! Fred’s stuck in the plants!” There are several decorative items in the aquarium and as I looked, I could see that Fred was indeed caught in one of the plants. And he wasn’t moving. I took the little net and tried to get him out. After he was free, he floated to the surface.
Graveyard dead.
Oh. Crap.
Thomas’ first question broke my heart: “What did I do wrong?” I tried to tell him that it was nothing he did. He did everything right. But sometimes, for reasons we can’t understand, things just die. We then explained the “traditional” method of burying fish: flushing them down the toilet. Tammy said a few words and then we committed Fred’s body to the deep.
I talked to him a little while ago, and he’s doing OK. They went to the pet store and got another fish, a fantail he named Speedy, and a snail, named Pokey. These two new additions will keep Rocky from getting lonely.
And I hope they stay alive for a long time… Please, O please, O please let them stay alive.
Last night before I went bowling, I decided to get something to eat. I wracked my brain to come up with some place that I haven’t eaten at 900 times recently, and finally settled on Applebee’s on Hwy. 124. I was seated and after what seemed like about 5 minutes, the waitress finally came over. I ordered a Coke and the Crispy Orange Chicken Bowl, without the mushrooms. She responded, “I’ll see if they can pick them out for you. It’s a mix.” I responded that I have gotten the dish there before without mushrooms, so it shouldn’t be a problem. For the record, a better response would have been, “OK” rather than, “I’ll see if they can pick them out.” After placing my order I commenced to reading my book while waiting for my food to arrive.
After 10 minutes or so, the food arrived, but the chicken and broccoli pieces were too large to manage in the bowl, so I asked for a small plate to cut them up. As I started cutting the chicken, I noticed something: it was completely raw on the inside. Not just one piece, but all of it. I called the waitress over and showed it to her. She took it, but didn’t seem overly concerned. I asked for a manager. The manager came over and after I explained what happened, she expressed a modicum of concern, though not as much as she should have. She said, “I’ll have to check the grease temperature. Everything is on a timer.” Well, yeah. If your grease is not hot enough (or is laden with gunk) then your cook times will need to be longer. But since the kitchen staff at places like this doesn’t actually cook, they only warm things up and mix things, I guess expecting them to know that is asking a bit much.
Anyway, I told her that I didn’t have time for a reorder and I was just going to leave. She didn’t make me pay for my Coke, but didn’t offer anything else as a concession. Good management, there.
As I was leaving, I heard my name called. I turned and saw six of the people from my bowling league. I went over to talk and right as I walked up, one of them was calling for their waitress. Guess why. Her chicken was also raw! When I saw this, I said (rather loudly), “Hey! They gave you raw chicken, too!” I found out later that the manager didn’t even bother to come out to talk to them, nor did she take the raw chicken off the bill.
As it turns out, they got a 79 on their most-recent health inspection. I won’t be going back any time soon.
Oh yes, we haz it. Thomas has been playing for hours. I’ve played for an hour to two, myself. It’s very cool. We haven’t played online yet, but we’re working on it. Thomas and I have both created stages using the stage editor. I really like when you can customize a game.
There’s a new restaurant that’s opened up near us called the Snellville Diner. We keep saying, “We need to try the Snellville Diner,” but so far we haven’t gotten over there. And now, I don’t know if we ever will. They had a health inspection on Feb. 18 and they got a 29 out of 100!!! What the hell?!? How do you get 29 out of 100? Correction: how do you get a 29 out of 100 and stay open?
They had a follow-up inspection yesterday and this time they scored a stellar 62. From reading the inspection reports, not only were there problems from the first inspection that weren’t dealt with, there were new problems. Several of the problems dealt with not washing hands after hitting the restroom and improper handling of things like raw chicken and other things that are going to end up killing someone.
You can read the reports for yourself here. But the two egregious reports are
After the crappy BBQ place that was in that location before closed up, I was happy to see something new opening up. But if they are off to such an awful start, I doubt it’s going to last. I can tell you it’s going to take about 6 health inspections with 100’s on them before I’d be willing to try it.
Update: According to this article in the AJC, the Snellville Diner had a third inspection and received a 100. I’m still going to pass on trying this place, at least for a while. While you might be able to convince an inspector that everything is OK, continuing the proper practices long-term is what’s really important.
Two days ago the three of us were sitting around eating lunch. The topic of Thomas’ too-long hair came up and Tammy and I both agreed that he needed a haircut. The following dialog commenced:
Me: You really need a haircut.
Thomas: But dad, I don’t want a haircut.
Me: You should get your hair cut like mine!
Thomas: But daaaaaad! I don’t wanna be bald!
I’m not bald… just thinning…
Last night was bowling night. (164, 174, 129, in case you were wondering.) Thomas (my 9 year-old) goes with us and hangs out with us or in the arcade. Last night, his best friend went too, because his best friend’s mother was also bowling. So there we were at the bowling alley, having a good time.
Shortly before we were going to head home, Thomas and his best friend were running around (politely) and pretending to have some sort of ninja battle or Power Ranger fight or some other struggle against the powers of evil that kids do. The following dialog then ensued:
Me: Hey guys… this isn’t Fight Club, you know?
Thomas: The first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club!
Me: …
I laughed my head off.
And no, he hasn’t seen Fight Club. We were watching some kids show recently, some cartoon, and there was a bit of dialog something like “… the first rule of Fluffy Bunny Club is you don’t talk about Fluffy Bunny Club…” or something like that. I immediately cracked up, and so I had to explain to him why that was funny. I told him about that one scene in Fight Club and he obviously remembered it very well. Too well. I’m sure the other adults who were nearby now think I let him watch inappropriate films…
It used to be that going for a walk and taking your camera was called “going for a walk and taking your camera.” No longer. Apparently now it’s called Photowalking. So, to keep up with the cool kids, I will use the same name.
For the last two nights, I’ve been “photowalking” around my neighborhood. None of the photos I’ve taken have been “amazing” or “stunning” or “you’ve-gotta-see-this” quality, but I especially like this one of the trees silhouetted against the evening sky.
You can see the rest of the pictures at the following links:
A few days ago I went by the grocery store. One of the things I picked up were some 12-packs of soda. I had three 12-packs in my cart when I went to check-out, and the clerk said that they had a special running: 4 12-packs for $10, and you got three 2-liters for free. It made sense for me to go get some more soda, so I did.
When I got home, I was able to get everything except two of the 12-packs in one trip, with the intention of coming back out for the other two. But something happened, and I never made it back out. The 2 12-packs in question were in the back floorboard, out of direct sunlight, so I didn’t see a problem.
The next day, Thomas and I were going somewhere. I opened his door for him, and noticed that the 2 12-packs were obstructing his leg-room. I moved one of the 12-packs to the back seat, behind the passenger seat, and off we went.
On Friday morning, I needed to run an errand. I went out to my car, got in and started it up. I noticed a strange smell, but couldn’t quite place it. I then turned around and saw a 12-pack of Pepsi One on the back seat. Actually, I should say I noticed the remnants of a 12-pack of Pepsi One on the back seat. Remnants, because the whole bloody thing had exploded all over the inside of my car. It was then that I noticed the brown spots all over the car: the ceiling, the sunroof, the back window, the side windows, the windshield, the back seat, the backs of the front seats. Yes, pretty much everywhere that could have gotten splattered did.
I got out, went back in the house and got Thomas to come out and see the carnage. He was amused. I have to say, I was, too. I just couldn’t help but laugh at this absurd occurrence. I got the remnants out, and as I gently dropped it down onto the driveway, another can exploded. It missed me, but barely. There were three others that looked like they were near the bursting point, so I carefully knocked the side of each one against the edge of the driveway to puncture it in a “controlled” fashion.
So, of a 12-pack, 8 exploded in the car, one on its own, and three via “controlled detonation.”
The lesson to be learned: if you live in the South, don’t leave sodas in your car on hot Summer days.
Thanks to my sister and brother-in-law, wii are now the proud owners of a brand new Nintendo Wii system. Shiny! We just got it last night, so I haven’t had too much time to fiddle with it. Thomas and I created a couple of Mii’s and did a bit of bowling.
I also downloaded the Internet Channel, which is a special version of the Opera browser. Of course, the first site I visited with the Wii was my own…
I’ve only played with the unit for a short time, but I’m very impressed. The Wiimote is a very neat controller that makes the games more engaging, especially games like bowling and boxing.
My sister called me yesterday to tell me she had two extra tickets to see The Mythbusters at Georgia Tech last night, and did I want them. Yes, please. So Thomas and I set out eagerly for the show around 5:30 yesterday evening. After missing every single traffic light (save one) we finally made it to the concert hall.
Thomas and I both love the show, but I was a little concerned about how “colorful” Adam’s and Jamie’s language might get given how much swearing they do on the show, and since there wouldn’t be any Discovery Channel censors there. I told him before we went that if they started swearing too much, we’d have to leave, and he was OK with that. Well, they did get a bit colorful, but we didn’t leave. There were no “F-bombs” dropped, and several of the curses that were uttered went past him (I think).
It was a fun evening, with lots of stories from the guys, a video of stuff the “Discovery Channel wouldn’t show,” and a very strange (drunk?) woman in the audience talking about Adam and Jamie and microcosms and macrocosms…
I took several crappy photos of them, which you can see here.
Some of you know that we lost one of our cats a few weeks ago. He had stopped eating and seemed to be feeling bad. I was going to take him to the vet on the following Monday morning, and as I went to get him, I found him lying in the hall floor, gasping for breath. I got him to the emergency vet, but they told me he either had a tumor or congestive heart failure. He “went to sleep” about 2 hours later. It was very hard, because we’ve had him for a long time. My son didn’t take it well, at all.
Our 15 year-old cat, Allie (in the photo), has had a growth on her neck for some time now, but we assumed it was similar to the benign fatty tumors that our dog has. She scratched it bloody last week, and we decided to take her to the vet. We were told it was cancer and should be removed. We scheduled the surgery, but when the full blood results came back, we found out that she also had FIV, the cat equivalent of HIV. This meant that if she survived the surgery, she could no longer live with our other two cats, who had each tested negative for FIV. My son’s reaction when we told him about all this, “Not again!!!”
Well, she did survive the surgery and came home this morning. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain, and she is as friendly and active as she ever was. She will stay with us for two weeks, until her bandages come off. At that point, she will be going to live with my mother. Her dog is looking forward to Allie’s arrival.
Click on the photo to see photos of her with her bandage on.
I knew my birthday was coming up, but I didn’t realize it was today. But it is. I’m 35. So everyone sing to me. Or send gifts. Either one works.
Well, I finally did it, and it finally came. What’s that? I bought a TreadClimber, that’s what. And it was delivered on Monday by UPS in four big honking boxes. OK, actually there were only three boxes that were actually honking, but the forth one was not all that small. I didn’t have time to assemble the thing Monday night, but even if I had had the time, there was no place to put it. So last night I spent a few hours rearranging things in the Office of Death™ to accommodate it. I now have stacks of books that I’m going to donate to the library, and piles of old computers that I’m going to donate to the local thrift store.
Anyway, so I got a space cleared out for it last night, but by the time I finished, it was too late to start putting it together. So tonight was the night. I man-handled the boxes up the stairs, throwing caution to the wind and ignoring the big letters on the boxes stating “Extremely Heavy. Two People Needed to Move!” My boy Thomas (6 years old) stood at the top of the stairs shouting encouraging things at me, such as “I’m just gonna stand right here, ok?” Once the boxes were on the proper floor, I found the one marked “1 of 3″ and opened it. Once I found the instructions, I read them (yes, I do read instructions) and starting assembling. Four hours, three skinned knuckles and two-quarts-of-sweat later, I was done.
I’m sure you’re wondering to yourselves “Did he try it out or just bag it for the evening?” I’ll tell you, I tried it out. I calibrated it according to the directions, then fired it up. It has a very smooth motion, though I can really tell that one leg (mine) is shorter than the other… sigh… Anyway, I did it for a few minutes, whilst reading the instructions about other things, including the included heart-rate monitor. I got it out, strapped it on, and then got on the beast again to make sure it worked. It’s a Polar and is completely wireless, which is pretty cool. I could see my heart-rate moving on up as I walked, which means it’s working.
How long did I stay on? About five minutes, total. But I got a workout putting the darned thing together, so I don’t feel too bad about it. I’m going to go watch the video with the buff-and-busty models telling me how bloody easy the thing is to workout on, and then actually have a go on it tomorrow. Well, the TreadClimber, not the buff-and-busty model…
BTW, I got the TC5000, which has the most bells and/or whistles. I just can’t resist those bells and whistles.
And one more thing, beware of the “Payments as low as $45/month” and “nothing down” statements. It’s not a loan, but a revolving credit line. In other words, a BowFlex credit card. I went through most of the process of signing up and then they flashed the interest rate at me: 21.5%. Whoa, Nellie! That’s a heck of an interest rate. I stopped the process right there and went to check my existing credit cards for their interest rates. I discovered that I already had a card with a far, far better interest rate, so I just put it on that. Do yourself a favor and finance the thing yourself.
I’ll let you know in a couple of days how it’s going.
While driving home from somewhere the other day, I saw a sign for some sort of mechanic/tune-up joint. At the top of the sign were the words “Getter Done!” It took me a minute, but it finally occurred to me that the owners were trying to be funny and invoked the catch-phrase of Larry the Cable Guy. The only problem was they got it a little wrong. As any fan of Larry knows, the proper phrasing is “Git-R-Done!”
I resurrected an old HP printer today, but the ink cartridges in it had long ago, apparently, dried up. So it was off to Office Depot I went. Once there, I browsed for a bit, and then found the cartridges, paid and left the store. As I got into my car, something that I had seen whilst browsing came back to me. It was an amazing price on a hard drive. So back in I went to check it out. It was a Maxtor, 200 Gb, 7200 RPM drive, for $99. I just can’t get over how cheap drives are now. The first hard drive I ever bought was back in 1989. I paid $200 for a 20 megabyte drive. This drive today was $0.50/gigabyte; quite a difference.
Anyway, I thought about it for a while, since it was such a good price, but I don’t have any spare drive bays in my computer. I have already bought an external USB 160Gb drive, so I looked at buying an external enclosure for this drive, but they were $69, and I didn’t want to spend that much more. I actually left the store then, and was almost out of the parking lot, when it occurred to me that if I removed the 60 Gb drive that I use for backups from inside my computer, I could put the 200 Gb drive in, effectively gaining 140 Gb. So I went back and bought it. Once installed, this will bring my total disk space up to 460 Gb. Sweet. I’ll get an external enclosure later for the 60 Gb drive and strap it back on later…
Yesterday afternoon, around 17:30, Thomas, my wonderful 6 year-old son, came into the Office of Death™ and the following dialog ensued:
| Thomas: | Hey, Dad. Whatcha doin? |
| Me: | I’m about to quit for the day. |
| Thomas: | Really? |
| Me: | Yep. Hey, wanna shoot some hoops? | Thomas: | Cool. Can I go to the bathroom first? |
| [Thomas leaves the room.] | |
| Me: | No! You can’t! [Imitating the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld] No bathroom for you! |
| Thomas: | [From down the hall] That was a rhetorical question! |
He’s so smart…
