Don't Let The Cat Out of The Bag

It was a typical day at the office, we were all hanging in the lab, reading fecals, expressing anal glands, venipuncturing a jugular on a wiggly Yorkie, etc. You know, the usual. Prego returns from a room she just got done working up with a big grin on her face, and a giant suitcase dangling from her fingertips. "Hey, where are you going?" I inquire. "Can I come?" "I'm not sure" she says while looking at the tag, "but I know I'm flying Delta." HA! So there was a cat in the suitcase, apparently the owners didn't have a carrier to transport him in. Now that I've actually seen a suitcase used as a carrier, I'm surprised I've never seen one toting a critter before. It makes sense really. I HAVE a picture of the luggage, but it won't upload, I tried 4 TIMES. @#$&$(*)@ technology.
Our feline friend was very ill feeling AND ill tempered. We had to pull blood for a cbc and chemistry. As we were trying to decide the best way to restrain the beast while keeping all of our limbs in their original condition, I suddenly remembered. The Cat Bag! Recently acquired, we had yet to put it to use. You see, you zip the cat's entire body into it, so only his head is poking out. There are two little zippers on the front so you can pull out his legs if needed (which we did later for catheter placement). Because he was as likely to inflict damage with his choppers as he was his talons, we put one of our cat muzzles on him too. We refer to these fondly as our "bondage equipment". I was so delighted with the end result, that I actually willingly smiled and posed for a photo with the puddy tat.....

heeheehee. He's pushing on it as hard as he can with his front paws. HA! So as this picture demonstrates, the cat bag and the cat muzzle combined allow you to cuddle a creature that would otherwise rip your head off and use your neck as kitty litter. It was faaabulous! It would've taken three rather than 2 people to put a catheter in Fluffy here if not for our gremlin gear. Woo Ha!
So we took these pictures with one of our cameras at work, and Ca -cas downloaded them and sent them to me. When she was done she called me to tell me and said "I also sent you two other pictures I found on there." Woohoo! I went into my e-mail, giddy with anticipation. One of the pictures is a pile of crap. As you can imagine, we see dumps of all shapes, sizes, colors, textures, smells...you get the idea. For the most part, a loaf is not picture worthy, simply because it's such a common occurrence. You know, it would be like taking a picture of one of the books in your office if you're a lawyer. Or taking a picture of a trash can if you're a sanitation man. A dime a dozen. However, this particular excrement was special, and I'll tell you why: A) it was especially foul smelling B) it was especially foul looking C) it was one of the HUGEST dog dumps I have ever seen D) it came from a dog that wasn't much bigger than it was. I'm not kidding. I don't see how this dog lost such a giant part of itself and lived to tell about it......

The other picture she sent was of our former favorite co-worker- I'll use her name now since she's long gone- TRACY. Ugh. I WOULD'VE put it on here but for the fact that she's actually in the background, and there are two other employees at the foreground. One I was fond of, but she no longers work with us. The other....let's just say if she found out I put a picture of her on my blog without asking, she would probably press charges for displaying her image without permission. Or at the very least she'd be a beeitch about. Probably send out a memo about respecting the privacy of others and not discussing work issues with outsiders. What Happens at _____Animal Hospital Stays At _____Animal Hospital.

Also, Tracy is wearing make up in the picture!!! Come on! She probably wore it like 3 times in the 3 years she worked there! Where are the pictures of her in her grotesque natural state!!! Not that war paint did her much good. As Aaron (and Simon) would say, you can polish a turd, but it's still nuthin' but shit....or something like that

In Your Dreams

I rarely remember my dreams, and when I do they are vague and random, and most of the time I know I'm dreaming WHILE I'm dreaming. It's like I'm watching some boring artsy short film.
It seems like I'm more likely to remember them when I wake up then fall back asleep.
In my most recent remembered dream, I have left the house and realize as I make my way down the sidewalk that I've forgotten to put on my bra. That would NEVER happen. As I'm jiggling along, destination who knows, I realize I have missed several of my classes and wonder how I'm going to make up all of the work. I'm not in school. Then suddenly I'm at the top of this brick tower (it's actually more like a chimney), and it tips over and crashes to the ground. Jamie Fox was in there with me, and we are holding each other in the rubble, rocking back and forth and sobbing. My boss (a veterinarian) examines us for injuries. The End.
Come to think of it, most of the dreams I remember have someone famous in them, but not in any kind of cool or exciting way.
There was what I refer to as my "Patrick Swayze Period" in highschool (rest in peace). I mean, yeah he's a talented guy and attractive, but I it's not like I was a huge fan or anything. But I kept having these dreams where we were like best buds, we'd joke around and I'd ask him questions about life and for advice. There are two I remember specifically. In one he is on the deck of a yacht painting on an easel, I sneak up behind him and sprinkle some shredded cheese on his shoulder. "Hey" I say. "Has anyone ever told you that you have cheddar cheese on your shoulder?" HOHOHAHA. And then there's one when he's standing in front of me, and I turn so my side is pressed up against the back of him, and then I start jumping up and down yelling " I'm a wedgie! I'm a wedgie!" What?! Like you don't have effed up dreams?! Oh yeah, you're SO normal. Whatever. Anyway, my friends gave me a tremendous amount of hell for those. Patrick was referred to as my "soul mate" and/or my "spiritual advisor".
Then there's my only remembered Eddie Vedder dream, who I DID love and adore, for the music and his raw passionate sexiness. Anyways, in this dream I am in a HUGE crowd of people, all cheering and screaming for Eddie. He is slowly walking through the mass of bodies, shaking hands and smiling. It seems like an eternity as he creeps closer and closer to me. My heart rate increases, the anticipation is killing me. He FINALLY reaches me. Then he smiles. Shakes my hand. And keeps walking.
This reminds me of a dream Ca-cas told me about. HA! She was lucky enough to have one about Paul Rudd. However, he was a lousy kisser, and he kept doing a horrible Jackie Chan impersonation. "I'm Jackie Chan!!" HAHAHA!
I do actually remember having a dream once where someone was chasing me trying to shoot me. I ran down a hallway that had a bunch of cement alcoves and I ducked into one of them. I made the mistake of peeking my head out to see if this person followed me, and they shot me in the head. I've heard that if you die in your dream, you die in real life. Craaazzzy. I didn't die all the way though, I woke up while the warm wet blood was still oozing down the side of my head. It was probably actually the warm wet drool oozing out of the side of my mouth.
Completely unrelated, I had walked a client to the front desk to check out the other day, and he said "Can I have some of this candy?" We have a basket of halloween candy on the counter. "Help yourself." I say. "The more you eat, the less left for us to eat." "What are you talkin' about?" He says. "You could stand to gain a few pounds. You could turn sideways and become a memory! You could dry off with a washcloth when you get out of the shower!" I laugh and tell him he sounds just like my husband, who tell me I have to "run around in the shower to get wet." When I'm telling this story to my sister later, she says "My favorite is the Dorito one." I had completely forgotten it, and it is probably the funniest!! Aaron likes to say I'm so skinny I could "hang glide with a Dorito". It makes me laugh because I picture myself sailing through the air, gripping the corners of the corn chip, cheese powder caked on my fingertips, my legs flowing behind me. Oh yeah,and I'm wearing aviator goggles and a leather cap. heeheehee

We Come In Peace

I was pounding the pavement this morning, flowing along on my usual route. I passed a little white house- one that I've passed several times, probably a hundred or more. It looks like a place someone's sweet, cheery grandparents would live, complete with hanging plants, comfy porch furniture, and a garden gnome or two. I never really paid special attention to it- until today. Now I would HATE to think that this cause for pause has been there all along and I just noticed it, but it's possible I guess. Sometimes I'm in the zone, Ipod blasting away, and I'm looking without seeing- you know what I mean. So anyways, all of the little ornaments and plants are on the porch or right in front of the house, except for one stone statue. It's in the middle of the yard, and about 3 1/2 to 4 feet tall.....

Can't tell exactly what it is yet ? How about now?

HELL-O! What in the *%$*#*$?! Can you tell what it's gripping with its long, pointy fingers. If you guessed "the earth", you would be correct. Okay, maybe these people are just rabid sci-fi fans or something, but I think it probably goes a little deeper than that. Like probably they are TOTAL WHACKJOBS. My theory is that they are firm believers that we are either under the control of or soon to be invaded by extra-terrestrials, and they are kissing some intergalactic touche. "Hey, we know you're better 'n us, and we ain't gonna cause you NO trouble. Me and Eunice, we think you're swell, so don't be cuttin' us in half with yer laser beam eyes."HA!

I took these pics super fast, then hit the gas and peeled around the corner. What could be worse than a schizo paranoid taking down your license plate because they think you're a member of some special alien task force, like the Jen in Black. Or maybe I AM an alien, and I'm taking pictures of all the places we're going to collect new specimens for anal probing.

In related news, Wolf Boy moved out of the shack with the shed behind it. I'm kinda sad, no more melting pelts. The stains are still there though, so I do have that to remember him by. The new renters did hang up some cow horns, so they have potential.

Personalized License Plates

My neighbor has one that says "SHARI" and everytime I look at it I see "SHART".

It's About Damn Time!!!

Aaron came prancing in from the back yard last week, hootin' and hollerin', both arms raised in the air like he was carrying twin torches in the Olympics or something. Clutched in each meat hook.....


There've been about 3 or 4 more since then. I figure after we've collected about 300 cartons worth, we'll have broken even.

I know I said that was my last vacation blog, but I forgot something. The picture below...

This picture was taken in the exact same spot 5 years ago...

It's crrrazzzy how fast time goes by.

Here we have one of many drawings by Tatum that all look almost exactly the same. She brought them to me to look at, and after perusing them I said, "These are great Tatum, but why do all of them have an eye patch?"

Appalled by my interpretation of her art work, she informed me that it's NOT an eye patch, it is part of her hair hanging over her eye. That's how her older cousin, whom Tatum much admires, wears her hair. All of the girls in the sketches are also wearing cheerleading costumes, belly buttons exposed. Now when I pull Tatum's hair back in the morning, she insists on hanging on to one strand of hair to leave dangling in her line of vision. Have I mentioned that I wish my girls could skip from like age 10 to age 20?

Anybody that knows me well, knows I really don't give two craps about how my vehicle looks. As long as it gets me from point A to point B without any trouble, I'm happy. My saturn is dented and scratched in multiple places, and I leave things (like water bottles, wrappers, receipts, the occasional banana peel) in it until until it either inhibits other people from riding in it OR someone other than my kids is going to be riding in it. And even THEN, Aaron's usually the one that ends up cleaning it out. Even if he's not the one driving it, it irritates him. And that's what I tell him too- "If you don't like it, YOU clean it out. I've got enough stuff to do." I don't live in it, so it's last on the list. Washing it?? VACUUMING it?? You've got to be kidding me. And I can't even remember the name of the spray you're supposed to use on the steering wheel and what not.
I got in the driver's side a couple weeks ago, and caught a brief glimpse of an immobile object in the corner where the dash meets the front windshield. It was dark, a couple inches long, and seemed to be segmented with some appendages. "Big bug" I think to myself, as I'm putting my key in the ignition. By the time I turn it, the insect's corpse has already been forgotten and replaced by a bazillion other things. Over the next couple weeks, I'll give it an occasional glance, but it's presence barely even registers with me. So the other day, I'm getting in the car, I see it, and it's shifted positions. It's then that I realize, it's not a bug at all....

Poor Kermy. I know what all of you are thinking- "Even if I thought it was just a bug, I would've gotten rid of it right away! You're so gross about your car!" (my sister's exact words). Unfortunately, like some other things in life (i.e. my yard), I just can't seem to make myself care. AS A MATTER OF FACT, I never went back to throw it away after I took the picture, so unless Aaron disposed of it, it's still a mini-mummy on my dash. How's THAT for disgusting? HAHAHAHAHA!

Here's more nasty for ya. This client of ours came in the other day with one of her dachshunds. I've never had a problem with her, but she can have a tendency to be bitchy, rude, cold, and condescending. She wasn't that day, as a matter of fact she was probably the nicest I'd ever seen her. I'd just gotten done going over her dog's go home sheet with her, and she was trying to get her dog to take him out of the room. He was hiding under her chair, and she was leaning down in it as far she could, trying to reach him. All of a sudden "PLERB PLAPPA PLIP". I guess the pressure that she was putting on her gut forced out the GIANT fart waiting there. The seats are vinyl too, so the acoustics were incredible. "Sorry" she says, face a little red. "That's okay", says I, and I walk her up to check out. Of course I go back and tell everyone, and I'm cracking up. "How'd you keep it together in there? I would've been dying!" I told them I think it just caught me by such surprise I was in shock for a minute. Or maybe I'm just really professional. Yep..that's what it is...

Let me ask you something? If you were a petite person, and you had calves bigger than your thighs, would you be on a stairmaster? This lady was, and I can't imagine why she was on a machine that would bulk them up even more. I guess she likes her lower legs to look like Popeye's forearms.

My Last Vacation Blog

I know, don't cry.
So we went to the Pittsburgh Zoo, a very cool place. I like the 10 story escalator you have to ride up to even GET to it, it's on a mountain just like everything else around there. Again, many of my pictures are of one animal or another, you've seen one, you've seen 'em all. Discovery Channel, National Geographic, the zoo- lions and tigers and bears, etc etc. As I did last time we went to a zoo, I only included pictures that may be a little out of the norm.

This one's for you Christy....


Okay, I SWEAR I never saw the message on the glass, and I took like five or six pictures. Aaron actually pointed it out when I was done-"No Flash Photography". Actually if you want to get technical, it says "o Flash Photography." I mean if they were really serious about it, you'd think they'd go to the trouble of pasting an N back on. I blame them. Aaron, trying to make me feel better about it, says "Good job Jen, you probably just killed it." I consulted a vet friend who volunteers regularly at an aquarium, and she said it actually just startles them and will make them go hide. SO THERE! And it didn't go hide, which means it's probably used to having it's picture taken, which means I'm probably one in a LONG line of octopus paparazzi.

This was taken in the bat area, which smelled like a giant pile of rancid spicy diarrhea, that someone threw up anchovies and tuna on, that some human sized dying amphibian crawled on top off just before it kicked the bucket, and someone found it after it had been baking/rotting in a humid climate for a week. I was taking a picture of one of the bats that were hanging upside down, and I didn't even realize this happened until I checked my pictures-

How cool is that??!!! A still of a winged rat in motion! It's like the ones behind it were changing clothes and he was blocking the view. "Move along people, nothing to see here..."

And last but not least, the wildest but cutest animals of all...

It was doing a fair amount of raining, so Gram and Gramps bought them some gear.

On the way to PA, there are a couple of long tunnels. They go under the mountains in Virginia. When we were heading back, Aaron thought it would be a great idea to start blasting away on the horn when we were going through one. At first I was like "Stop it!" Then all the other cars and trucks started honking, and the tunnel became a symphony of echoing toots. The kids loved it, and we exited the tunnel feeling a little closer to and more positive about our fellow man.

We entered the second tunnel (an hour or so following the first), and Aaron starts blast way again. Unfortunately, only one person responded this time, and only once. It was an 18 wheeler. Aaron continued to give it his best effort until we reached the end, but we didn't get any other responses.

After we were out, we started to come up alongside the 18 wheeler. I started smiling and raising my hand to wave, my way of thanking him for being decent enough to be the only other person to honk. We're right next to him, and I look up to see his arm raised as well- the back of his hand pressed to the window, middle finger extended. I started CRACKING UP, and I told Aaron what he did. Almost as funny was the fact that Aaron refused to believe he flipped us off. "Maybe he was giving us the thumbs up, or an a-okay sign." Um, I'm pretty sure I know what "the bird" looks like, it's a gesture I'm QUITE familiar with.

Crappers and Nappers

There are old homes aplenty in Pittsburgh. When I say old I mean they are 100 years or more. They also have several floors- the 1st, the second, the attic, and the basement. Despite all of the extra room and rooms, the majority of these buildings were constructed with only one bathroom. Maybe they didn't use them as often back then, due to a lack of food and/or the hassle of getting in and out of tight/multi layered clothing. Maybe if you were a lady it was impolite to excrete more than once daily. Who knows. My parents' house is no exception. They put in an extra bathroom when they lovingly restored their house. They also have what they refer to as a "Pittsburgh toilet." This phrase describes a commode that stands alone in the basement- no shower, no sink, no DOOR even....

Apparently it's a pretty common household item, and sort of a running joke. "3 bedroom, 2 bath, eh? The second bath is probably a Pittsburgh toilet...."
My mom was really excited that the only picture I took in her beautiful house with the intention of blogging was the pooper in the dungeon. HA! Seriously though, look at those decorative touches- a flowered shower curtain, an end table, even a fluffy mat around the bottom so you don't get your hooves cold on the concrete. And can you spot the spotted dog toilet scrubber holder? Delightful.
I can tell you this, my husband and my brother-in-law love it. And so do the rest of us, for the same reasons- they don't pollute the entire house with their gut garbage.

Whenever I visit my mom and dad, I'm so LETHARGIC. I'm like this pile of useless mush that sludges around everywhere. I'll get like 10 hours of sleep, then be sitting an hour later with my feet propped up, all yawning and droopy eyed. I suppose it has to do with feeling comfortable and relaxed, and in an environment where I'm not responsible for getting everything done. Actually I'm not really responsible for getting ANYTHING done. It's friggin' awesome. While I was pretty much a boneless heap, I didn't take it to the extreme like some other folks. They were a little TOO relaxed. Comatose even....