Sooo, I’m a little behind. Not surprising considering how crazy this time of year is. Graduation checks and honors ceremony and scheduling for next year. Just all manner of crazy shit. I’ll just try to give a quick rundown on all the things that my people need to be briefed on.
Josey: She’s back on all four legs like serious business. There is running and jumping and bumpusing, but still some donkey kicking. When she first gets up from lying down, I think that knee is a bit stiff, and so she’ll kick it out to loosen up. Invariably, she’ll kick it out directly behind her when I’m standing there. So I’ve got a pretty regular series of bruises from her donkey leg.
Biggie Bigs: She doesn’t let anything slow her down. As soon as she had her stitches out, she was ready to go back to her general bullheaded craziness. For whatever reason, she has discovered a love of mud. She never used to get muddy before, but now when we go to dog park, she loves to romp around in the mud. She comes home with mud up to her asshole, which is saying something, since she has a high asshole. Luckily, she seems to like a bath, so she doesn’t mind hopping in the tub to get demudded.
Here she is going mudding:
Cats: Flanny is being such a little bitch I just hate her right now. She nags and nags and nags and breaks shit. Basically unless I’m feeding her or petting her 24 hours a day, she is not happy. And even if I could manage that, she probably wouldn’t be happy. Sippy is making me worry, because she’s her usual sweet self, but her heart murmur related cough is getting more frequent. It’s about time for her annual vet trip, and I worry that the news will not be good. Because she’s so skinny, there’s nothing they can really do about her heart–most treatments are premised on the heart problem being caused by obesity and hers is not. Otherwise, I think they are looking forward to sunnier days, and a dog vacation in May.
Work: Still earning my raise the hard way. I’ll just offer one example to illustrate what kind of hijinx the faculty get up to. The professor who was most recently diagnosed with a brain tumor asked me to set up a meeting with all the other undergrad directors in our relevant field to discuss this new outcomes assessment reporting. She specifically asked me to do it without using DoodlePoll. (It’s an online scheduling poll that is in popular
use abuse around here. When done poorly, it’s a nightmare.) So I sent out an email to these 8 people, suggesting half a dozen time frames that worked for Prof. BT. 5 of them responded with which times did/did not work. Professor Twat (aka Prince Cufflinks), however, after waiting for a week, responded with a snotty email to Prof. BT and me, saying he preferred that we do a DoodlePoll.
Naturally, the academics stick together, so Prof. BT returned to me and said, “Do a DoodlePoll.” So I did a goddamn Doodle-fucking-poll with THE EXACT SAME INFORMATION, and sent it back out to the 8 people. The same 5 people promptly responded. Can you guess who never responded? Yep, Prof. Twat. By then, it was two weeks after the initial meeting request, and I went to Prof. BT with the results, and the ONE day/time that all 5 people could meet? The time she’d originally said she was available? Oops, she went and booked it for something else. No meeting.
Blurter: Every time I think he’s done, he pops back up. Texted me yesterday all chatty about things. WTF, dude? You traded in a good dog and a good woman so you could work more? Now what do you want?
Hillbilly Holiday: I survived, of course. Now that my bio father is out of the drug business and into wild hog hunting business, that’s what it’s all about. They have a contract with a multinational bottled water company that bottles out of Texas, to keep the wild hogs out of the natural springs. So they do a lot of that. They also run a lot of hunts for middle aged suburban white dudes who want to go out and kill a wild hog with a knife. Yeah. We also did a lot of riding around in the SE Texas wilds in an Argo, shooting at shit. Also took a nice boat trip down the Neches River, and saw my first real live armadillo! (I have only ever seen them flatted by the side of the road.)
Pickle sisters on the river. I’m armed with the snake killing gun. Just in case.
Elephant and a very large array of guns
In the evenings we sat around and played dominoes and drank moonshine.
Yep, that’s a Coke can pipe for smoking in the rough.
And on the way there and back, we ate fried pies. Lots of fried pies.
Of course fried pies are cheaper by the dozen! Hell, buy two dozen!
It was great to see my sisters and their kids. We also got to see lots of cute puppies, because hog hunting involves dogs. Lots of dogs.
Nacho. Or Queso. At any rate, one of the cute cute cute puppies running around under foot.
In the midst of cute puppies is where this story takes a turn for the worse. Hog hunting involves a lot of dogs, but not all of them are treated as members of the family. Most of them are treated like livestock, and what we saw when we saw my father’s dog pens was nothing nice. Small pens, uncleaned, lack of access to shelter and clean water. Dogs penned in such small desperate circumstances that they fought each other. It was bad enough that we all simultaneously thought, “This is not ok.” Our granddad, who always kept dogs for hunting raccoons, he would have come down on our father like a hammer for keeping his dogs in those conditions.
We didn’t come down like a hammer, but we spoke out about our concerns, and happily it had some effect. Our father agreed that conditions were not good and that they needed to be improved. While we were there, we helped put up a couple extra pens, but we worry it’s not enough. We worry that the stoner cousins who are in charge of dog care are not dog lovers, and are spending way too much time smoking dope, and not nearly enough time caring for the dogs.
So on the whole, it was a good trip, but it ended on a bit of a downer.