Progress for both Bathroom and Dog

I really need to get this bathroom remodel done because in my Facebook memories I'm starting to see one-year anniversaries of past prep work in the bathroom, including the $1,600 job I had to farm out to the professionals.

That's a long time to be without a basement bathroom, though we do have three others to choose from.

Good news is another few courses of tile and I'll have that wall done and can move on to finishing the tub enclosure. Then it'll be a lot of cleanup and setting the sink and toilet in place.

I'm a little irked that the pedestal sink doesn't meet the wall at a 90 degree angle, but in researching the problem online, it seems that's not an uncommon problem. Part of it might be due to the fact the sink is one we found at a thrift store and the bowl may have been attached crookedly to begin with. So I'll keep experimenting with that and seeing what I can do to make things right.

I had hoped to get more done, but I also had to spend some time babysitting/sitting with Dottie, who hopefully has a better night tonight than she did last night, where she woke us all up at 1:30 am crying. Poor little thing.

Crash and Burn

Last night, our weenie dog Dottie crashed and burned going down the stairs.

Had she waited five seconds, I would have had her in my arms to carry her down the stairs as we always do, but no, Dad was taking too long.

Hit the landing and started crying. Picked up the shattered remains and she didn't want to be touched and tried to bite me.

Nevertheless we manhandled her, got a compression bandage and a splint on her right front leg, and prepared to have a long night with her before we could get her to the vet in the morning.

That meant, of course, Dad sleeping on the couch with her in his lap because that's what you do. Dressed in your plaid shirt and jeans, belt and all.

She slept peacefully.

At 4 am, I took the dogs outside to use the potty. The bandage and splint came off during the night - it's ridiculously hard to bandage and splint a wiry weenie dog.

She's a little gimpy - slightly more gimpy than usual - but doesn't seem to be seriously hurt, even after a thorough poking of both front legs by our daughter at about 7:30 am.

Napping now because that's what she does every morning.

I may need a nap myself. That took a lot out of me.

Update: Vet gave Dottie a good bill of health, considering. He said her motor function looks good, and she was moving around a lot more while there, partly due to the adrenaline. But she's on doggie painkillers now, and hopefully on the mend.

DEATH TO SQUIRRELS!

Daisy treed a squirrel today, and the squirrel wasn't happy about it.

Wingus and Dingus, Listen Up

I just wanted to see how much this fancy dog food cost ($2.16 a day, they say, which is pretty expensive) but I didn't want to use my real name. Or the real names of our dogs. So these names came to mind.

I anticipate a lot of email from these folks over the next few weeks.

Do our dogs care? Not really. They eat their kibble and enjoy it. They get the occasional cheese tax, and other things. They're not overweight -- one of them is downright skinny -- and they're healthy enough for both being senior dogs.

They're always game when ol' Zapp wants to tell them the plan.

Treed

Do not doubt the war cry of the miniature dachshund. Daisy has a squirrel treed. Dottie comes in to take a look but isn't all that interested.

The squirrel, of course, ignored the dog and blithely went on eating the apricots.

#DadBrokeTheStairs

Proof that Dottie refuses to use the new stairs.

I can't figure out why. They are a different color -- new redwood vs. weathered grey; they probably smell different too. But there is no way she's using these stairs. Because dad broke them.

Daisy's Little Mac

Looks like Daisy created her own version of MASH's Little Mac: "A bird here, a flower there, pieces of dummy everywhere." Good thing Christmas is soon so she'll get new toys to destroy.

Speaking of Rat Dogs . . .

NOTE: I'm calling this a found poem. It was a Facebook post this morning.

Four degrees this morning, so I took the youngest to school.

The dogs also came.

They wanted the window down on the way home.

Four degrees this morning.

The dogs REALLY wanted the window down on the way home.

To reach the window, they both have to sit on my lap.

But the window is not down. It's four degrees this morning.

There's a problem because

1. The window is not down, because it's four degrees this morning.

2. I basically have 22 pounds of weenie dog in my lap to act as an ersatz airbag if I crash on these icy roads.

3. The window is not down.

4. Sitting in the other seat is not an option because

a. Without a lap to sit on, the dogs cannot see out the window.
b. Driving from the passenger seat is really awkward.

5. THE WINDOW IS NOT DOWN.

6. Crisis barking ensues.

So I put the window down and the crisis is over.

Except it's four degrees this morning.

Rat Dogs

Rat Dog No. 1. Daisy. She does not mind the snow.

Rat Dog. No. 2. Dottie. Technically our first dog. Tolerates the snow, but likes beds better.

Daisy again. Note the snow.

Dottie Follow-Up

Dottie is still ready to play -- but gently.

It’s more than two weeks now since our dachshund Dottie lost the use of her hind legs.

She’s still with us, in much better fettle than she was at the outset. She’s not in any pain, which is a big relief, and our vet believes the disk rupture in her spine is healing well. She cannot walk, but she does have some feeling back in her hind legs – she doesn’t like her toes pinched, she can stand on her legs with a little assistance, and she can twitch her tail. She’s also able to go to the bathroom on her own, though we have to help hold her up as she does so.

Things could be better. But they could still be a lot worse.

I don’t think she’ll ever walk again. But her primary mental challenge right now appears to be boredom – and distress when she wets or poops on her pad before we can get her outside. She doesn’t like making a mess, that’s for sure; it concerns her that she can’t move to take care of business on her own. But she’s happy to play with toys, chew on her rawhide, and occasionally get a visit from her sister Daisy, who still can’t figure out why Dottie can’t play much any more but is growing to accept it.

If there were a button I could push to make everything better, I would. That button would also include explaining to Daisy just what the heck is going on with her play buddy and why she can't play any more. But there isn’t. So we move forward.

She’s getting better at letting us know when she needs something, and we’re getting better at interpreting her barks and growls. About three-quarters of the time, she’ll tell us when she needs to use the bathroom, and we can get her outside to do her business before she has an accident. She also lets us know when she’s thirsty and when she wants to play.

Once I get our taxes done, we’re going to get her a wheelchair, so she can roam around at will in the back yard. I think she’ll do pretty good with a chair, as many other weenie dogs seem to do:

More updates to follow.

An Open Letter to our Dachshund Dottie

(Photo: A dozing Dottie, pre-injury).

When Michelle called from the vet to tell me your back legs were paralyzed, my inclination was to have the vet put you to sleep.

In those few moments, I knew we’d never see you running in the back yard again. Chasing after birds. Chasing after your sister Daisy. Catch-all phrases like “quality of life” formed in my head, ready to drop out as a justification.

Then another thought that crowded everything else out: “How big is your heart?”

It’s easy to love when things are going well. When the only concern is the pee spots on the downstairs carpet or making sure you’ve got your sweater on when you go out in the snow.

But when things went bad – why was my first inclination to end it?

That’s the world we live in now. If something’s broke, we don’t bother trying to fix it. Even if it’s obsolete but still working, we replace it and move on, leaving the old stuff we once thought useful to rot as junk in some forgotten box.

But this is life we’re talking about. And I thought about ending it.

Because it would be easier. Easier for me. That quality of life? Maybe it’s my quality of life. Because for the easy way out, you’d have no qualities of life at all.

My wife’s heart is naturally bigger than mine. She talked me into steroid treatments and acupuncture for you – not knowing what quality of life treatment would bring you, just knowing you deserved better than the Big Sleep. You deserved for us to try a chance because you are loved, even if that love now comes with a potentially higher price.

She bought the training pads for you to pee on when you get excited to see me come through the door but can’t run up to me like Daisy does, like you always did. When I reach over to you in your bed at night to offer a few comforting strokes as you fidget, it’s her hand I most often contact in the dark in search for your fuzzy head.

How big is your heart, the voice in my head asked.

Thanks to a little wiener dog, it’s getting bigger.

We don’t know if you’ll walk again – though seeing you occasionally wag your tail, twitch a foot, and, yes, go to the bathroom, is comforting. We tell Daisy as she watches, as she comes by with a toy she’d love you to play with, that she can’t take walking for granted. And I remind myself I can’t take life for granted, even though my first thought was to end yours to make mine easier.

Great Truths that Came to Me This Week

1) The best seat in the house for clipping your toenails is the toilet. It puts you right close to your feet.

2) Second runner-up is a bucket in the garage. Minus points for being in the garage in colder weather, but plus points for not having to dispose of the clippings.

3) If your wife hands you something and says "Give this to me for Christmas," it's probably a good thing to hide it rather than leave it in plain sight on your desk all week. Wives are known to get testy.

4) Smart dogs are the ones who can remember you've been around for more than five minutes so they don't have to give you a heartfelt greeting every time they see you throughout the day.

5) Rufus, the main dog of Brian and Jana Porter, is a smart dog.

6) The Porters have an emergency backup dog named Hurley. I'm not going to say he's any smarter or dumber than Rufus, but I am going to say that "emergency backup dog" is a great phrase. Thank you Dave Barry.

7) Finding a salted in-shell peanut in the bag of unsalted in-shell peanuts you bought from WinCo can turn an otherwise pleasant night into a night of wild taste sensations.

8) Forget about being in an echo chamber when it comes to news and commentary on the Internet. The real echo chamber is the "suggested video" column at YouTube.

9) It's hard to imagine how I wasted time before the Internet.

10) Rick Redfern had great insight today as to why the life of a blogger is not as glamorous a life as one may be led to believe.

11) Wiener dogs who want Dad to go sit on the couch and read are persistent little cusses. Not that she wants to read, mind you, but she wants a warm body to sleep on.

12) Getting caught putting up Halloween lights in the tree in front of your house is almost embarrassing as getting caught putting up Christmas lights in the tree in front of your house.

13) Suggesting it might just now be cold enough to begin playing Christmas carols will incite ire and indignation on Facebook.

'I Call the Big One Bitey'

Used under the fair use doctrine for commentary purposes.

We've had our weenie dog -- officially named Dottie -- for a week now. Her personality, subdued by separation anxiety and unfamiliarity with the family fate has tossed her to, has emerged.

She's a feisty one.

Her preferred method of play is attacking my wrist and giving it a good, vigorous chew. No teeth marks yet, but I can assure you that I can feel the teeth when she's chewing on me.

We have finally gotten her some chew toys, and she seems to like them pretty well. Not as much as chewing on Dad, though.