Roxy, the Rottador Princess

So we picked Roxy up from the vet Friday evening, after Slogger got off work. She was a bit sleepy and groggy from the anaesthetic, but still sweet. The folks at the shelter (may their lights ever shine!) gave us a collar, a leash, a crate, and lots of advice. Really, we are VERY happy with them. Well, except that we found out yesterday that Roxy's mom was put to sleep after they determined that she was too dog-aggressive to be adopted. I'm trying to imagine what Cesar would say about that.

That makes us a bit sad, but the good news is that we have our new little puppy to keep us entertained and smiling. And really, we are both amazed at how much she makes us smile.

But anyway, to get back to the chronology. Friday night we put Roxy in her crate when we were ready to go to bed. We had decked it out with a hot water bottle, lots of old towels, a clock, and some chew toys. She cried for about 20 minutes and then -- with a sigh that I've heard from MANY teenagers in my years as a teacher -- she went to sleep. We got her up twice during the night to go outside and pee, and each time she cried a little less before she went to sleep. I think she's going to be fine with the crate in just a few days. Saturday night she only cried for 10 minutes, and less every time we got her up. Of course, on Monday we'll have to leave her in her bigger crate while we go to work. We'll both be coming home at lunch -- or on some days both of us will -- to take her out and get her some exercise.

On Saturday, we had planned to drive over to the nearest big city to buy some things at Petco and to to pick up our new hot/cold water dispenser. We were just about ready to go when Roxy came running into the kitchen, dripping blood all over the floor. After a few moments of freaking out, we calmed down, picked her up, and called the vet. I guess they glue the skin together over the incision, and she had knocked that loose jumping over a low fence in the front yard. Most of it was fluid, but the vet kindly came in on Saturday, stapled her shut again, and wrapped her in a beautiful blue and white bandage. AND didn't charge a cent for the staples, the time, or the antibiotic. We decided to head on over to Petco, where Roxy was the CUTEST DOG THERE. And that's not just me saying -- everyone else was captivated by her. Of course, she's a puppy, and there's nothing cuter than little puppy faces. She was not afraid of anyone or anything -- people, huge dogs, etc. Very friendly and outgoing, consistently. Plus as we were heading out the door, I looked down at her and realized she had picked up a little pink stuffed animal to carry out with her. Shoplifting! At such a young age!

The cats have not yet come to terms with the interloper. Loner is hanging out with us, but he's gotten chased a few times. Marty has adopted the space behind the washing machine in the basement, but she did come upstairs for a few moments last night. I feel certain that all will be well in that arena with time.

In other news, classes start on Monday, plus we have two candidates for our big search coming in. This means I'll be having breakfast with the first candidate on Monday at 7. Erg.

I Blame Facebook

FACEBOOK. Slogger got me started on Facebook a couple of months ago, and I have become pretty much addicted to it. Status updates, wall posts, photos, games, etc. I find myself spending most of my few moments of spare time hanging out on Facebook, seeing what my friends (i.e., people I know in real life, and one person I know through blogging) are up to. I play Scrabble (or Wordscraper) with Slogger, friends from grad school, and friends from across town. All of this has not only cut down on my blog posting, but it has also made me wonder why I should keep on blogging. Isn’t it better to be hanging out with friends than with the nameless, faceless blogging community? I don’t know. The fact that I’m blogging this should tell you that I have yet to make any firm decision.

TRIPLETS. For Christmas, Slogger and I drove to Big Western City, to spend Christmas day with his sister and her kids. That was really great, we spent the night, and then drove back to High Plains City the next day. On Saturday, my brother, his wife, and the triplets arrived in Big Western City and used loads of guilt and manipulation to get me to drive back there. Loads. Slogger, of course, was not to be manipulated in this way, so he stayed home. Brother, sister-in-law, the triplets and I hung out and shopped, had a nice lunch, and then headed for High Plains City.

And then the madness began. Imagine, if you will, four adults (two of whom are over six feet tall), and three five-year-old boys, all in a 1000-square foot home with one bathroom. Now, my brother and his wife did sleep in the basement bedroom, and I’m not including the square footage of the basement in my account of the house’s footprint. HOWEVER. The one bathroom thing was quite interesting, to say the least. Every time my sister-in-law or I saw a young man headed into the bathroom, we would point at them and sternly pronounce “You should lift up the seat when you pee.”

This didn’t exactly work the way we planned it to.

Howsomever, we had loads of fun with the boys and their parents. We went skiing, we went sledding, we went to the movies, we went out to eat. My favorite was the sledding, since it didn’t involve much more work than just plodding back up the hill with the sled after roaring down it. Have you ever tried to get skis on three five-year-old boys who have never skied before? That’s an interesting proposition, involving kneeling in the snow, grabbing a boy’s ski boot, the boy grabbing my head, and saying “point your toe, ok, point your toe, point your toe, good! Now press down with your heel really hard. Press down. Press down with your heel. Press down hard. Ok, great!” And then, when faced with a tiny incline, not even the bunny slope, two of them get all scared and clingy while one races down it backwards. Then you follow them down the hill, get them out of their skis, and trudge back up the hill carrying the skis. Start all over again. Whew. That was hard work. And all of this while their mom and dad were taking a ski lesson. Poor Slogger got so worn out that it took him a couple of days to recover. Sledding was much easier.

AND IN OTHER NEWS, HERE'S ROXY. I wrote most of this post sitting outside the animal shelter, waiting for it to open, so that we could adopt a puppy. That’s right. A Rottweiler mommy and her NINE puppies were dropped off at the shelter. They seem to be a mix of Rottweiler and black Labrador retriever. We adopted one of the runts – a little female that we’re going to name Roxy.


They came up for adoption today, and on the assumption that everyone else in High Plains City would be beating down the shelter door to get one of those puppies, and because we wanted ONE of the puppies, a particular one (Roxy), and because the shelter operates on a first-come, first-served basis, Slogger and I thought it would be a good idea for me to get to the shelter early. So, I sat in my car for the three hours. By the time the shelter had opened, there were about 10 people in line. But since I'd been there for three hours, I was first! OK, it is possible, perhaps, that we overreacted just a bit. But the good news is that Roxy will go to be spayed on Friday, and we'll pick her up Friday evening.