Coffee heat rising

How to Annoy a Puppy…

 

Puppy takes it out on outrageous mop
Puppy takes it out on outrageous mop

heh heh heh heh…I yam SOOO cruel! Pup is highly annoyed with me because she’s in stir. Every moment she’s under a roof, she’s trapped in the Panopticon. Poor beast.

For reasons unknown, her house training has come undone. What we have here is a formerly house-trained puppy. A de-house-trained dawg. And, as you can imagine, quite the little nuisance.

Yesterday I cleaned up three messes, and Luz cleaned up another one. That’s become about par for the course.

One could believe this was a sign of the supposed urinary infection. But a) it’s not confined to puddles and b) she’s been on Clavamox and special urinary diet for the past week.

This is a dog that can pee and dump at the speed of light. No joke: my son was over here last night and she committed BOTH offenses in the same room while we were there! And neither one of us spotted her in action. She is an accomplished stealth pisser. I’ve never seen an animal like this in my life, and I’ve seen a lot of animals. Especially dogs.

So. Out of storage came the X-pen. It’s back in the family room, where I spend a fair amount of time. Whenever I’m in there, in the dining room, or in the kitchen, she’s in the pen. Lovely piece of furniture: so graces the decor.

When I’m in the office, the door is closed and she’s in here with me. If I leave the house, she goes in her crate. If I lay down for a nap, she goes on the bed.

So far, so good. It’s 8:00 p.m.; we’ve been up since 5:30 a.m., and she hasn’t defiled the floor once.

Uhm. Not as far as I’ve been able to tell.

But ooohhh this dog is mad at the human. Peeved. Irked!  And increasingly determined to escape.

Well, this is ornery on my part, but it’s working. I think. She doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable, so I guess that if she had a recurrence of the  UTI, it’s not bothering her much. The dog herding is a nuisance, but nothing like cleaning up mess after mess after mess.

Now whether Ruby Doo will ever forgive me…that remains to be seen.

Of Dancing Dogs, Kitchen Counters, Cheap Expensive Hardware, and Morning Interrupted

Did you know that Dogs Got Rhythm? That you can train a dog to dance with you, pretty easily?

Wynton Marsalis is on the noise-maker just now, and of course that marvelous acoustical jazz has a strong, distinctive beat. When you dance to that beat, all by yourself, your apprentice dancing dog is captivated. She comes over and stares up at you, astonished. If she’s a herding dog, as, for example, a corgi is, she may try to get you to shape up there! by feinting at your feet. She will dance around you with great delight. And if you hold your hands out at her height, she will rare up on her hind legs, place her front paws in your hands, and actually jig with you.

Heh! The simple things in life are the best things. 😉

It’s been a morning interrupted about every ten or fifteen minutes by stuff like that. I have done NOTHING since rolling out of the sack at 6:30, having overslept an hour by dog standards.

Well, almost nothing: I did write a fairly lengthy e-mail to a client and review the copy I wrote yesterday for Fire-Rider Book II.

Damn, I’m good! It’s an unusual chapter, unlike anything I’ve written before: all three scenes consist of the characters’ interior reflections. So far I’ve only got three brief passages of dialogue — but still have the third scene to write. Took some doing to convince myself to try this technique, if “technique” it is: I was afraid it would feel too static. Too Proustian, one might say. But it’s working. The characterization positively smokes, and IM-not-very-HO, it actually moves the thematic issues forward by a great leap.

But every time I sit down to write the final scene, something happens (or I cause something to happen), breaking any nascent train of thought that might be in progress.

The phone rang at 8 a.m. Dougie: he has eight new glass crosses in the kiln for me to convert into rosaries. I’m to drop by his studio this evening, after he gets off his day job.

Pup has conceived a great craving to visit the out of doors. Of course, the out of doors happens to be hotter than the hubs of Hades just now, so these junkets don’t last long. She’s out. She’s in. She’s out. She’s in. She’s out. She’s….argh! Mercifully, the dancing lesson exhausted her, and now she’s crapped out on the cool, cool tile floors.

While trudging back and forth between the back door and my work chair, I noticed the cleaning lady had done a nice job of polishing up the sink. Decided to fill both sinks with water and drain them, by way of helping to keep the plumbing unplugged. This reminded me that the garbage disposal has been backing up into the large adjacent sink. Many gallons of water surging through the two drains, between concocting of pots of coffee, did little to help. Called the plumber; left word.

Ran some ammonia down the offending drain. Filled both sinks with hot water. Drained. Twice. This seemed to help some. Hm.

Noticed the cleaning lady had not cleaned the hard-water spots off the brightwork around the drain in the big sink. Scoured it and the fitting around the garbage disposal with Barkeeper’s Helper. Little avail there.

Soaked a paper towel with vinegar and patted it down around the regular drain’s brightwork. Fifteen minutes later, came back to find that, yes, that worked pretty well. Scrubbed it with some Weimann’s glass stovetop cleaner and a toothbrush. Nice. Extremely nice.

Repeated the process on the brightwork around the garbage disposal. Worked there, too. The plumber will be sooo impressed with “my” housekeeping…

The radically expensive faucet set that I installed back in the day when I had a steady income had developed rings of hard-water deposits around the four parts that protrude from the back of the sink. This elegant set, which I purchased at an upscale interior design and hardware store, cost a freaking ARM AND A LEG! It was billed as brushed stainless steel.

Well.

Make that made-in-China-style fake stainless-steel veneer laid down over base metal and, in the case of the spray attachment, over plastic. Get vinegar on this fine stainless steel, and it eats right through to the base. Not stains it, as acids will if left very long on on real stainless steel: eats it off. So trying to get the crust off the enameled sink around the bases of the faucet set presents a challenge.

Tried Barkeeper’s Helper again: no luck, again. Apparently BKH can be declared impotent against Colorado River water.

Finally decided to try rubbing the vinegar-soaked towel over the crud and wiping off the vinegar as quickly as possible. This worked…eventually. But it took a long, long time. And it didn’t do the fake stainless-steel finish any good.

What junk we Americans have resigned ourselves to furnishing our lives with, now that most of our manufacturing has moved offshore. I need to buy a new set — the plumber advised not replacing it with another high-end set, because, says he, no matter how many dollars you spend on domestic hardware, it’s all trash. He says Home Depot carries faucet sets in similar styles that are the same junk. They’ll have to be replaced no sooner than the expensive junk, and so you lose nothing by buying cheap junk: over the long run, the cost is actually less because the alleged good stuff is engineered to crap out just as fast as the HD special.

Jeez.

And speaking of spending money on the kitchen, one of these days I’m gonna have to replace the kitchen counter, or if possible get it repaired. Tracking down a tile guy or deciding what else could replace the Mexican tile and finding someone to install that is more than I can bear just now. But soon, soon I’ll be forced to it.

Shortly after Mike the Bosnian Godfather installed this particular counter (the guy was a tiling genius, in addition to running an empire of skilled craftsmen), three or four of the tiles developed some hairline cracks. He was reluctant to replace them (knowing, in a way  you and I could not possibly know, what a PITA it is to pull out and replace individual soft-fired Mexican tiles…), because he thought the cracks must have resulted from some settling and suspected more cracks would develop. He suggested waiting some months before proceeding with any repairs.

Then Mike fell off the roof of one of his rentals (yeah, he has a rental empire, too, that includes not only several houses and an apartment building here but also an apartment building and a villa in Bosnia) and busted up his ankle. As you can imagine, the delights of hauling boxes of tile around no longer called to him. So he retired from the tile business.

No more cracks appeared until quite recently. A few weeks ago, the countertop on the righthand side of the sink pulled away from the tiled backsplash, splitting the grout and cracking several of the field tiles.

Damn!

I don’t even know whether these can be repaired, nor do I have any idea where to find a tile guy with the kind of expertise necessary to do the job. You’ve got to be pretty good at this kind of thing to know what you’re doing and to do it right. {sigh}

I suppose I could replace the tile counters with granite. But y’know…secretly, I just don’t like granite countertops. They’re very nice,  I’m sure (assuming you don’t use lemons, limes, or vinegar when you cook…). But…meh!

When granite first became the rage, I recall thinking that it was going, one day, to be just like all that damn avocado green and harvest gold everyone put in their houses when I was a kid. You’d walk into someone’s house and think, “Ohhh! You redecorated this kitchen in 1979, didn’t you!” Ugh.

So, OK, granite counters haven’t gone out of style. Unfortunately. Now what I don’t like about them is that everybody has them. They are, in a word, B-O-O-O-O-R-ING

Besides. If tile can settle and crack, why can’t granite settle and crack? Ditto the briefly popular concrete countertops?

The kitchen in our old house in Encanto had two sinks. One of them — the one I used the most — was set in a countertop make of a large slab of butcher block.

Yes. A wooden kitchen countertop with a sink in the middle of it. I just loved that thing! It was wonderful to use and easy to take care of — all you had to do was rub a little mineral oil into it every few months. It stayed gorgeous, and it was totally, completely DIFFERENT.

The counter where the present huge double sink resides is 10 feet 8 inches long. So…hang onto your hats… What if the sinks were flanked by small platforms of tilework, and the rest of the counter were butcherblock?

Would that look weird?

Uhm. Possibly.

So what if the whole open, unobstructed 10 3/4-foot-long counter were topped with butcherblock and the small backsplash at the far right end retained its pretty tilework, which matches the tile around the stove on the opposite side of the kitchen?

Now that…that could be cool.

$$$$$$$$

How Much Does Home-Made Dog Food Cost…

…compared to a comparable canned dog food?

Cassie and Ruby eat a diet of real food — about 1/2 high-quality meat protein, 1/4 dog-friendly vegetables, and 1/4 starchy foods, plus a daily vitamin. It’s comparable to an ultra-premium canned food, except that rotating the ingredients doesn’t make either dog sick, as changing up commercial pet food is apt to do (yes, this should tell you something about commercial dog food).

By way of preparing for the upcoming surgical adventure, I’ve been cooking up piles of dog food in advance. Just finished shoveling another 10 pounds’ worth into the freezer, and I’m not at all sure it’ll be enough to last for a week or ten days after the surgery, which is about as soon as I figure I’ll feel like shopping for Costco-sized packages of meat and frozen mixed veggies, cooking it, grinding it, and packaging it.

Because Pup is eating half again as much as Cassie, they’re going through a pound and a quarter of food a day. (At her present age, Pup really should get twice as much as the aged Cassie, but there’s a limit to what I can handle, and besides, she looks pretty healthy — she surely isn’t emaciated!)

Lordie, but that’s a lot of food, even though just half of it is meat. And holy mackerel is it a lot of work to lay the stuff up in advance! And…speaking of holy mackerel, how much does it cost for a pair of dogs to eat their way through a pound and a quarter of food every day?

And would it be enough cheaper to feed them commercial dog food to make it worth sacrificing the health benefit of knowing what they’re eating each day? Would it, indeed, be cheaper at all??????

Let us consider:

Cassie eats 8 ounces a day of Her Royal Highness’s Custom Cuisine. Half of that is meat, whose price ranges from about $2 to about $3.50 per pound. Let’s say, then, that the average is around $2.75/pound. That’s a little on the high side, because it’s a rare day when I pay as much as $3.25/pound, to say nothing of $3.50. But for the sake of argument: average cost of meat = $2.75/pound.

Just now, a package of Costco “Normandy-style” vegetables, the mix I favor, is $7.64 for 6 pounds, or $1.27/pound. The proportion of meat to veggie is 4:1 (i.e., 1/4 pound veggie to 1 pound meat).

The cost of rice, oatmeal, or other starch is essentially negligible. The proportion is the same: 1/4 pound cooked starch to 1 pound meat, and a package of oatmeal or rice, which is cooked with twice as much water as dried product, will last a couple of months, at least. Let’s say that is subsumed in the overestimate of the meat cost. Round up the $1.27 to $1.30, too. So the average cost of veggies + rice is probably about $1.30/pound.

One-half of that (i.e., 1/2 pound @ $1.30/pound) is added to each pound of meat to create dog food; $1.30/2 = $.65. So, to make 1.5 pounds of dog food we spend $2.75 + $.65 = $3.40 for a pound and a half of food, or $2.26/pound of the final mix.

Premium dog food costs, pretty much across the board, $2.60 per can. But a can does not contain a pound of dog food! It only contains 13 ounces of food. Together, Cassie and Ruby are presently consuming a pound and a quarter of food a day: that’s 20 ounces a day.

So how does that shake out, cost-wise?

Well, let’s look at the monthly cost of canned food first:

Cassie eats 8 ounces a day:

8 oz x 30 days = 240 ounces a month
Divided by 13 oz/ can = 18.46 cans per month

Ruby the Corgi Pup eats 12 ounces a day:

12 oz x 30 days = 370 ounces a month
Divided by 13 oz/can = 27.69 cans per month

18.46 cans Cassie food + 27.69 cans Ruby food = 46.15 cans/month
46.15 cans @ $2.60/can = $119.99 a month

Okay: so, $120 a month to feed both dogs a superpremium dog food that makes at least one of them mighty sick.

Total monthly cost of home-made dog food consumed by Cassie (8 oz/day)  and Ruby (12 oz/day):

240 oz (Cassie) + 360 oz (Ruby) = 600 ounces/month
600/16 oz per pound = 37.5 pounds/month
37.5 pounds x $2.26/pound = $84.75/month

That’s a difference of about $35.25/month, or about $423 a year.

And that’s pretty conservative. I’m sure I pay less than $2.75/pound on average for the dogs’ meat, sometimes much less. And we’re not factoring in the veterinary bills that you get to pay when you have your dog on commercial food: either the immediate cost of the resurgent diarrhea and vomiting or the long-term cost of ailments likely related to low-quality food, such as thyroid disease, obesity, and diabetes.

Obviously, it would be cheaper to feed your dog kibble than canned food (well…maybe not: ultra-premium kibble is darned pricey!). But…you do not want to know what’s in dog kibble. And most of it is made in China, where quality control is nil and manufacturers think it’s OK to add melamine to pet food and infant formula. The number of recalls for dog food, which come fast and furious virtually every week of the year, simply boggles the mind. You haven’t seen vet bills until you’ve seen the effect of tainted food on your dog…

Makes the crazy little old lady look a lot less crazy, doesn’t it?

Not starved yet...
Not starved yet…

Spayday

Ugh. Five o’clock in the morning and nothing will do but what the dogs have to get up. Pup has to be at the vet’s by 8 a.m., which means a two-and-a-half-hour wait  before leaving the house with her. During that time she can’t be fed, and so therefore neither can Cassie. This is going to cause some doggy outrage.

I’m s-o-o not happy about having to do the spay job right this minute. But it’s painfully obvious that it had better get done before I get rolled off to the ER, since a) we have no idea how long it will take me to recover and b) my son is coming over here to babysit, bringing his male dog in tow. Having to drag her off to the vet to be spayed while trying to recover from an incision in my boob sounds a lot less fun than accelerating the project, and having her come into heat while Charley is holding forth (and you just know that’s what’s gonna happen, because it never fails!) would make things just freaking impossible.

Yesterday’s Mayo adventures were not as bad as expected. Everybody was extremely friendly and nice, which made a series of annoying (and in one case mildly unpleasant) tests at least tolerable.

The time wastage wasn’t good. Though I hit every green light on the way out there, it still took 40 or 45 minutes one way. They moved right along, so I got out by 3:10 when my last appointment was scheduled for 3:40, but that meant I didn’t get any work done while cooling my heels in waiting rooms. I’d just get the damn computer open and fired up and they’d call me in again. The only exception was the mammography waiting room, where as usual one waits until one is blue in the face, but one’s gear is locked up in a cubicle — leaving you with nothing to do for an hour or so but look at pictures in sappy women’s magazines.

Noticed a BevMo on my way in and, remembering that a friend who’s coming to dinner next week favors martinis, decided to stop there on the way back in to pick up a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. I’d thought, earlier, to buy some at Costco but then decided I really didn’t need enough gin to fill the swimming pool.

Well, they had small bottles of the stuff for a more or less tolerable price, but did they have Q tonic water? Ohh noooooo….  Not because a place in tony Scottsdale doesn’t carry premium tonic waters, but because, dammit, they were SOLD OUT!

So that meant I had to stop at the Whole Foods at Tatum & Shea.

That store was undergoing some sort of remodel, and they had half the shelves emptied and discombobulated. Couldn’t find the stuff. A clerk recruited to help couldn’t find it, either! Finally, after traipsing all the way through the store three times, we found a small stash of Q, but the WF was also sold out of the large bottles, so I had to buy a four-pack of little bottles at great waste of funds.

By the time my friends show up next week, I’ll need more, since I drank one of the little bottles with dinner, feeling a great need for a gin & tonic by the time I got home around 5 p.m.

Think of that: two hours of trudging through traffic (every light turned red on the way home, not surprisingly) and traipsing through stores. Ugh.

Just to frost the cupcakes, now I’m getting those eye flashes and floaters in the other eye. So really, I should go back to the ophthalmologist and jump through the endless, unnerving eye exams again. But I just quail at the very idea.

I am so overwhelmed with this cancer flap and all the medical hoo-ha  around it, with all the time consumption and fear and pain and expense, I just can NOT deal with any more!!!!!!!!!!! Plus I think this is the same thing as before, and if it is, there’s really nothing to do about it. Plus I did not like that last guy I saw, which means somehow I’ll have to track down a competent ophthalmologist that I feel I can trust, not an easy trick in this town.

At the borderland between sane and stark raving crazy, I’m really past being able to deal with any more.

Weird Weather…

…portending what is going to be a bitch of a week. Along about 5 p.m. the dogs and I were rousted from a little nap by the sound of thunder. Got up to let the corgis out before it starts to rain. It was 112 degrees out there, black clouds, gusting wind.

{ugh}

Temp has dropped 12 degrees in the half-hour since then: down to 100. So it actually could rain. Normally rain will not hit the ground here if the air temperature is above 104. The weather service has one of its hysterical-sounding “WARNINGS” posted: Severe Thunderstorm Advisory. Apparently they think a storm cell down in the southeast Valley is capable of winds of up 60 mph.

LOL! Rain is SUCH a bizarre rarity hereabouts, that the local news stations fill the airwaves with photos of it. Eeeek! What is that?

Apparently 7,000 people have already lost power.

Ruby has to go to the vet’s to be spayed on Tuesday. (Ruby’s Tuesday…lovely) (sorry) (couldn’t resist that) I was supposed to take her in tomorrow afternoon and leave her overnight. But after that was arranged, the Mayo called and announced that they had unilaterally decided I will show up at 1:00 tomorrow and spend the entire afternoon having lab tests, more mammograms, EKGs, and on and on. Because the Mayo is an hour’s drive from my house, this will absorb the entire afternoon. I won’t get home before the vet’s office closes — and the vet is a half-hour drive from my house.

So that means I’ll have to show up at the vet’s at 8 a.m. on Tuesday morning, eventuating an hour’s drive through rush-hour traffic over a circuitous route to escape endless no-left-turn signs, speed bumps, and roundabouts.

Of  course, the cleaning lady is supposed to show up Tuesday morning. So to get her in the door, I’ll have to hide the key at  a neighbor’s house. I don’t have the cleaning lady’s phone number, so that means I have to call the neighbor who hooked me up with her and have her call the cleaning lady to let her know where the key is. Oh, cripes.

The vet wants to keep the pup overnight, presumably by way of inflating the bill. So I’ll have to schlep over there again through the rush hour on Wednesday. Then what we will have is a sick puppy to take care of for the next week. As though we hadn’t already had enough sick-puppy care in these precincts…

Thursday morning is the SBA meeting: another rush-hour drive across the Valley.

I have not started working on our new client’s project, mostly because I haven’t heard back from them about a question asked. This project will require coordination of sub-editors, since when I’m not too busy I expect to be too sick to do much editorial work over the next few weeks.

So next week is shaping up to be a whirlwind tour of some of the things I hate most, in descending order of hateworthiness:

boob X-rays
needles in the arm
time wastage
sick puppy
city driving through rush-hour traffic
city driving not through rush-hour traffic
cleaning lady hassle
stiff vet bill

It’s taking a calculated risk, this spaying thing: if any complications happen to the dog, we are gonna be in deep doo-doo. And you just know, don’t you, that this is going to blow up in my face… If anything happens to her as a result of the spaying surgery, she’s going to have to be boarded at the vet while I recover from being surged myself.

On the other hand, it’ll be just as much of a nightmare if she comes into heat when my son is here, trying to take care of me, with Charley in tow. Just imagine THAT circus!

Really, I still don’t know which chance is the worst risk to take:

that the pup won’t come into heat for another couple of months (she’ll be 7 months old on August 10; I’m surged on August 7); or
that she won’t have some untoward reaction, infection, or complication from the spaying surgery.

Holeee mackerel, what a pain in the tuchus!

* * *

A member of the church’s pastoral care team just called to offer moral support. She’s also on the choir, a very dear and lovely woman. Isn’t that nice? She offered to help out with running around or just to socialize, as desired.

I can always use socialization. 😆

1024px-Derobrachus_geminatusThe storm is over. We didn’t get a drop of rain here. She said they had rain downtown, where she lives, but it’s blown past there, too. It actually never blew in to our part of town. It’s dark, 100 degrees, and humid out there. Ruby took off after a paloverde beetle, apparently mistaking it for a gigantic specimen of her favorite snack, the cockroach. Besides killing your paloverde and citrus trees, the damn things pack a fierce bite.

There’s what I need to make my day: for the pup to get bitten by a four-inch-long beetle capable of bringing down a large paloverde tree.

If You’d Asked Me, I Would Have Told You…

Water-saving, power-saving appliances are about as ecologically unfriendly and consumer-unfriendly as it is possible for a device to be.

P1030121How d’you like what came out of my washer this morning?

The new, fancy, water- and power-saving EXPENSIVE clothes washer creates a massive tangle if I have the chutzpah to put a shirt in with a pair of blue jeans. To avoid a huge wadded mess, I have to put anything that has a strap or a sleeve into a mesh bag.

Today that strategy didn’t work. The entire load of colored clothes came out in a single gigantic knot.

This annoyance is characteristic of the Samsung top-loading high-efficiency goddamn washing machine I bought a year or so ago. I’m told it’s characteristic of front-loaders, too.

Before Samsung (BS, appropriately enough), I could run a load of colored clothes through the old-fashioned top-loading actually functional Kenmore washer, hang the knit tops and cotton bluejeans on ordinary clothes hangers, and let them air-dry on a laundry-room rack. Now, to beat the wadded-in wrinkles out of them — after I’ve spent ten minutes untangling the mess — I have to run them through the dryer!

BS, I hardly ever used electric power to dry my clothes. Most of them dried, with no need for ironing, on clothes hangers that could be carried, once the laundry had air-dried, from the wash area to the closet. Now all the jeans and most of the shirts have to be run through a dryer, wasting electric power and running up the power bill.

A twenty-minute wash cycle has morphed into an hour and ten minutes.

One might avoid the knotting conundrum by washing all of one’s pants separately from all of one’s other clothing. Consider what this would do for you (or to you):

Now you would have to separate out every pair of pants from every other category of clothing. This would, at best, present you with four loads of laundry: colored pants, colored shirts and underwear, white & beige pants, white & beige underwear. Two 20-minute loads (one white, one colored) now convert to four one-hour-and-10-minute “high-efficiency” loads. Four hours and forty minutes to do a forty-minute laundry job! At least two of those loads — the ones including the pants, whose legs will knot together willy-nilly, will have to be run through the dryer whether you prefer to do so or not, to get rid of the knotted-in wrinkles. This more than doubles your water and energy use on the washer, and if you are one of those wily consumers who figured out that few clothes really have to go through a dryer, it increases your power bill accordingly.

It’s in the same category, isn’t it, as the water-saving toilet. You know, the one that supposedly needs 1/3 less water to flush than real toilets used to need, but that has to be flushed three times to get the stuff down. And the ugly fluorescent light bulbs that make everyone in the room look green, that dump mercury into the landfill (and all over your house if you drop one), and that give you a migraine whenever you turn them on.

Big-Brother-Knows-Best good intentions lead people to find workarounds with counterproductive consequences.

The high-efficiency clothes washer and the water-saving toilets are obvious cases in point.

Another one: we know that in 2015 the city probably will institute water rationing. From California’s experience, we know the strategy will be to tell people they will face fines  unless they cut water use, as measured by the present smart meters, to 60% of their prior use. Some folks, then, realize  they need to use about 40% more water than necessary now, so that when the cutbacks come, enough water will be available to keep their citrus trees, energy-saving shade trees, and vegetable gardens alive.

More immediately, though: Our dearly beloved paternal city has installed counter-intuitive roundabouts up and down the ’hood’s main north-south feeder street, and they’ve put infuriating, alignment-wrenching speed bumps along the east-west feeder street. The result? Pass-through traffic is diverted off the feeder streets onto smaller, once-sleepy neighborhood roads. In the few weeks since I found my way around the damn things, I’ve noticed that LOTS more drivers are joining me in the several routes that take us around the stupid speed bumps and the wreck-inviting traffic circles. (Ever had anyone try to pass you in a one-lane traffic circle? I have…)

Want to slow down the passers-through who don’t give a damn about our kids, our pets, or our old ladies trying to walk off a few pounds? Two easier, cheaper solutions: a) install traffic cameras; or b) station a nice, sturdy traffic cop in the neighborhood during rush hours.

Dogs, like humans, should eat real food.

That means actual balanced, unprocessed diets consisting of cooked meat, vegetables, fruits, and healthy starches — not the junk food humans normally eat these days.

Ruby the Corgi Pup has made the transition, at last, to a diet of full-blown real food. Shortly after losing the ultra-premium dog food, she lost the chronic diarrhea. And now, a few weeks after having made her escape?

Her fur is so shiny it practically glows in the dark. Her eyes are bright and clear. Her mood is happy, rambunctious, and funny. She radiates good health.

Cassie the Elderly Corgi, who has never been off real food since she entered my precincts, continues in good health. Her fur is rich and radiant; her eyes…yes, bright and clear. Her teeth, good. Her everything, healthy and strong. No vet has ever been able to find anything wrong with her.

The difference in the pup since I took her off the commercial dog food is incredible. Reminds me of what happened when I started feeding real food to the aged German shepherd and the aged greyhound, in response to the Late, Great Melamine Scare. The Gershep, who at the time was so advanced in decrepitude she could barely haul herself to her feet, suddenly was chasing her ball across the yard, something she hadn’t been able to manage for a year or more. Both dogs thrived on a diet of 1/2 cooked meat, 1/4 cooked vegetables, and 1/4 starch (such as sweet potatoes, rice, or oatmeal).

Folks. Dogs do best when fed a diet approximating a healthy, balanced human diet, less the onion, the garlic, the sugar, the salt, and the chocolate.

Commercial dog food is a huge scam.

This morning I threw out a half-dozen cans of ultra-premium dog food. At $2.60 per can plus tax, that came to a little over $17, directly into the garbage. That expensive commercial dog food made Ruby good and sick — she had projectile diarrhea for a good ten days, until I finally gave up and took her off the stuff.

Do you think it’s in the natural order of things that when you switch a dog from one food to another, it should get gastritis, manifested by diarrhea and possibly even vomiting?

Well, no, my friends: it is not. When a dog  becomes accustomed to eating real food, it can shift easily and with no ill effects from one type of protein to another, from one veggie or fruit to another, from one source of starch to another. Ruby has readily adjusted to the following:

chicken
hamburger (i.e., beef)
pork
sweet potato
rice
oatmeal
peas
carrots
winter squash
banana
blueberries

But moving from Castor and Pollux ultra-excellent canned dog food to Wellness ultra-excellent canned dog food gives her a violent case of the doggywobbles???? Excuse me? What IS wrong with this picture?

Welp, think about it. Dogs have lived with humans for some 15,000 years. Along about 1860 — about 157 years ago — some entrepreneurial human came up with the idea that doting pet owners could be persuaded that their “pet children” should be fed special pet food! This idea redounded to the vast profit of said entrepreneur, and to that of all the pet industry entrepreneurs who came after him.

Before this genius came up with a scheme to persuade us that nothing would do but what we must feed our animals special pet food, unrelated to anything we as humans would ever dream of eating (would you put a piece of dog kibble in your mouth?), dogs ate whatever people ate. Humans, who at the time did not overindulge in Big Macs, french fries, pizza, and soda, would put down whatever was left over from their own meals, or whatever offal they took out of the animals they hunted for sustenance. Over the millennia, dogs evolved to eat what humans eat.

In just 157 years, they have not un-evolved. Dogs still thrive on the kind of food you and I would thrive on, were we not presented with over-processed, over-sugared, over-salted junk food! We would thrive on it, too, if we could be persuaded to fire up the stove and cook our own food.

At $2.60 per 13-ounce can, a puppy that needs to be fed 2 1/3 cans per day racks up a much, much higher food bill than she does when her human goes out and buys some hamburger, pork, or chicken on sale (it’s a myth that pork is bad for dogs, BTW), a few sweet potatoes or a bag of oatmeal, and some frozen vegetables. It is far cheaper to cook your dog’s food than it is to feed comparable food out of a can or a refrigerated roll. And the results, in terms of your dog’s health, appearance, and temperament, are far superior.

And now for the Conspiracy Theory of the Day: Does it not strike you as odd that once a dog is acclimated to real food, it can switch readily from ingredient to ingredient with no distress, whereas a switch from Purina to Science Diet or from Castor & Pollux to Wellness will cause spasms of doggy diarrhea?

Odd, indeed. IMHO, the only reasonable explanation is that dog food manufacturers spike their product with ingredients that cause gastritis when the consumer switches abruptly from one brand to another. It is, in a word, a scheme to scare consumers into keeping their dogs on the given commercial brand they start with. Dog food is jiggered to make dogs sick when they’re switched from product to product.

Real food decidedly does not have that effect.

Way too often, veterinary bills are  inflated by unnecessary testing, unnecessary “wellness” exams, and unnecessary procedures.

Remember when your vet tried to get you to come in once a year for an annual pet exam? Well, they’re accelerating that: today when my vet’s assistant left me on hold to listen to the endlessly annoying, uneasy-making advertising tape, I was informed that he now wants customers to bring their pets in twice a year!

If you’ve been paying attention, you know that many of the vaccines we’ve been told our pets must have, over and over world without end, lest they die of some dread disease are truly unnecessary. Endless annual booster shots operate, at many veterinaries, as a tool to get you back in the door, where you can be subjected to the Big Upsell: persuaded that any number of unnecessary procedures, from expensive dental cleaning to daily medications that require expensive semi-annual blood tests to routine over-vaccination…to god only knows what. These procedures, many of which may be unnecessary, cost pet owners some very big bucks.

And while we’re on the subject, humans also are subjected to massive unnecessary medical examinations and testing.

I tire,  so let’s abbreviate:

The annual physical exam (thank god) is going out of style.

Annual physicals are unnecessary.

Unnecessary, we say.

Annual pelvic exams for women are unnecessary.

Routine physicals lead to invasive, dangerous, and unnecessary procedures, even among the one-percenters.

Routine screening tests lead to exorbitant unnecessary costs.

Studies show unnecessary tests rack up 40% of Medicare spending.

Do I regret allowing myself to be subjected to the “routine” mammogram that has sucked me into a mutilating surgery and an uncertain future? Maybe. Maybe not. From what I can tell, the extremely low-grade entity discovered in my boob may or may not morph into an invasive cancer. Apparently no one can tell. If I were six or eight years older, cutting open my breast and yanking this thing out would be a destructive, pointless, harmful exercise in futility — I would die of some other natural cause long before this thing could kill me, if it ever decided to spread around. But because I’m  not quite 70…it’s ambiguous.

Probably nothing would have happened if this thing had never been discovered.

On the other hand, getting rid of it may insure — provided that I’m not subjected to radiation therapy, which over time will elicit some unpleasant and possibly life-shortening side effects — that I’ll have a shot at a ripe old age.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

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