“The physical exam performed on Brew today was within normal limits, except for the stick stuck in his mouth.  I removed it, he should be fine.”

I don’t know why, but that makes me laugh.

“What’s wrong?”  I asked, “Did I catch you walking on the treadmill?”

No, she said, she wasn’t feeling well.  When I pressed her, she admitted she had fallen down that morning at the church.  She is part of our church’s funeral lunch ministry and in fact, at 68 years of age, is the youngest volunteer they have.  So at 68, she does all the heavy lifting, and washes the big pots and pans.  At first that sort of annoyed me, until she told me the lady in charge of the ministry is 91.  Then I realized that yes, my mom actually *is* a spring chicken around those parts.

Monday she was helping to set tables and she tripped over the leg of a portable chalkboard that had been left in the room.  It wasn’t normally kept there and she just didn’t notice it. 

“I think maybe I broke a rib,” she said, panting a bit.  “But maybe not.  I can’t really tell.”

I asked if she was in a lot of pain, and she said yes.  So I offered to take her to the ER, and she said no.  What can they do for a broken rib?  she asked ….. nothing.  I finally convinced her to go anyway, with the promise of medication to help with the pain, if nothing else.

When we got to the ER, x-rays confirmed she had, indeed, broken three ribs.  Not a great start to her week.

I drove her home, tried to help her get settled comfortably (something that is apparently impossible with broken ribs) went to buy her pain meds, and kept her company for a few hours.  I finally had to leave to attend an end-of-the-school-year award ceremony.  I hated to leave her, but assured her I would be back as soon as the ceremony was over.

So I drove home, changed clothes, grabbed my camera, headed to the school, and sat there for ten minutes until the middle school principal came in and said there were bad storms headed our way and the ceremony was canceled.  Now, not to be shallow and vain, but I’m only four payments in on my new van, and visions of hail damage or broken windshields were not giving me warm fuzzies, so I promptly drove home and parked in the garage.  And sat there for an hour, while the sky got clearer, and bluer, and eventually the sun came back out.

(sigh)

Back to my mother’s I went.

Tuesday morning, I was getting ready to leave for work, and had let the dogs back in the house. 

Kellen, suddenly, became panicked, “Mom, Mom!  Brew is choking on something!”

I looked down, and you know that little dance that dogs do when they are trying to catch a fly?  And they sort of jump up and down, and shake their heads, and swat at the fly with their paw?  He was doing that, only there was no fly.  And he was swiping at his own mouth. 

“What do you mean, choking?  I can see him breathing.  I think he’s ok.”

But Kellen was adament, and in tears, insisting that the dog was choking.

(sigh)

So I put both Kellen and the dog in my van and drove to our vet’s office, which thankfully is also an emergency animal clinic and open 24 hours a day.  I went in, explained to the receptionist that *probably* nothing was wrong, and *probably* we were completely over-reacting, but that we thought our dog might be choking on something.  His breathing, I had to admit, seemed a little shallow.  And he was drooling like a madman.   But still …. pets and kids, they never perform on command, do they?  So I was totally prepared for the vet to examine him and tell us it was all in our imagination.

Imagine my surprise (and vindication!) when he reached in there with forceps and pulled a 2-inch stick out of Brew’s throat!

Yep.  Fun times.  I went on in to work and pleaded with my boss not to fire me, that honestly, these things really DO keep happening to me this week!  I’m not just playing hooky!

Late Tuesday afternoon, of course, was when the tornadoes came through.  We were fortunate.  The kids and I were watching the weather channels very closely, and had already put pillows, blankets, snacks, etc. in our storm shelter.  At one point, our small town was listed as directly in the path.  For those of you who might not live in areas with such amazing radar, the weathermen, based on the radar, can project the path of the storm and tell you, to the exact minute, what time it is predicted to hit each area.  I told the kids if we were still in the path with fifteen minutes to go, we would get in the storm shelter.

Then the tornado changed paths a bit and missed us entirely.

Others, of course, weren’t so lucky to the north of us.

Blaine was huddled in a ladies restroom at work with half a dozen maintenance workers and the new girl in his office.  That should make for some interesting co-worker bonding.   Luckily the storms missed the air force base, as well.

Others, of course, weren’t so lucky to the south of us.

A teacher at our school lost everything, and has had to put several of her horses down due to injury.  My brother-in-law’s father has land, and an entire barn was destroyed, and they are missing a John Deere tractor.  How can you LOSE a John Deere tractor? 

Saddest of all, to me, is the family who lost two of their three children …. a 16 month old boy killed instantly, and a 3 year old boy, sucked out of his mother’s arms and found two days later in a lake near their home.  The mother (pregnant) and 7 yr old sister are still in the hospital.  The mother was hiding with her kids in a bathtub in their home, and the father was out of town at the time.  I read the news updates about this family, and others who lost everything, and my heart hurts.

A friend of mine e-mailed me the next day to ask the name of the company that put our storm shelter in our garage floor.  She called them and not surprisingly, cannot even get an appointment for a consultation until mid-July.

My sister and her husband had no actual damage to thier home, but lost all power.  So they went Tuesday night to stay with my mom, who still couldn’t get up out of the recliner.  We had gone by Tuesday after school to check in with her, and tried to get her to come home with us for safety.  She doesn’t have a storm shelter.  She honestly didn’t think she could get in and out of my van, so she chose to stay home.  When the storms were headed her way, there wasn’t anything she could do but sit in her recliner and hope they changed course.  Thankfully they did.   Once the storms passed and we knew we were safe, the more pressing issue was my mother’s pain …. which had continually worsened since Monday’s fall.  By Tuesday night she actually seemed to be doing worse, and not better.  I was glad, when I left her house that evening, to know that Kelly and her crew would be sleeping there that night, and my Mom wouldn’t be alone.

My sister told me when she woke up Wednesday morning, my mom was in so much pain that Kelly called her primary care doctor and demanded he see her that morning.  Demanded.  None of us in our family are really DEMANDING kind of people, so that tells me what the scene must have been like.   Thankfully, he did.  Worried about pneumonia, he took another chest x-ray.  And said she didn’t actually break three ribs like the ER doctor said. 

She broke FIVE.

He promptly tripled her pain medication dosage, and instructed Kelly to run, not walk, to the nearest medical supply store and buy her a rib-brace-thing.

Although my mom is still hurting, she is doing better.  She’s a little fuzzy around the edges from the pain medicine, but its well worth it, if it makes getting up and down bearable.  If it makes lifting her right arm bearable.  If it makes BREATHING bearable.  I have never broken a rib, but I’ve always heard how painful it is.  I am beyond convinced now that must be true.

Its funny, I always think of my mom as a very healthy, very resilient woman.  Especially considering she is a 68-yr old widowed grandmother of seven. 

Of course, let’s not forget the time she broke her foot on vacation.  Or had a heart attack.  Or was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Or came to my house on vacation and wound up in the hospital having surgery for kidney stones.  Or pulled a muscle in her back, or the time she almost cut off her finger, both of those events also happening while at our house on vacation.  So I guess maybe in hindsight, she’s not so resilient after all.

I was grateful that my sister was with her on Wednesday, since it was the last day of school and therefore, Kendrie’s last day of elementary school.  Ever.  In her life.  And I was one of the parents helping with their promotion ceremony and All-Day-Extravaganza (big, booming, announcer voice for excitement!) and was committed from 8 until 3.   (pictures to come later ….. )

Which absolutely makes me want to stomp my foot and shout that it is NOT ok with me that my youngest baby will be going into middle school next year!!!  Then I think about the fact that my oldest baby will be going into HIGH SCHOOL next year, and the foot stomping begins anew.

Needless to say, let’s hope the first week of school this fall goes MUCH more smoothly than the last week of school just went. 

I don’t know if I have the stamina for another stellar week like that.

Oh, wait …. is that the back door opening ……. ??????

No.

(damnit.  here i go.)

Dang, I hate when stuff like that happens.

I simply opened the back door and let the dogs in. They had the whole mess cleaned up in about thirty seconds flat. So instead of having to pick up a gazillion oil-covered pieces of salad and nuts and seeds and ramen noodles and pieces of chicken, I just waited until they were done, then got down on my hands and knees with Clorox Wipes to clean off the floor.

If that disgusts you, well, you’ll know not to accept any invitations to eat at my house.

As for me, it balances out the eating of the shoe and all is forgiven.

(in other words, “What Would Barley Chew?”, a continuing series involving our dogs, Barley and Brew, and the innumerous household items they ravage during their time here.)

I don’t think it requires any great stretch of the imagination to guess exactly what I thought this was on my bedroom floor when I rounded the corner.

I also don’t think it requires any great stretch of the imagination to guess exactly what words came out of my mouth upon seeing this, the bewilderment about what on God’s green earth they had possibly eaten to make them this ill, and envisioning the clean-up that would be required.

Never in the history of the world has a pet owner been so happy as to discover it was only a nerf football.

Oh, wait. It’s just Brew and Barley, hanging out with each other like they do every day.

And to think I worried about them not liking one another, Barley being jealous, or Brew not fitting in.

It should be duly noted that for every minute they spend lounging together, they spend four or five playing. Wrestling, jumping, snatching toys from one another, chasing, tail-wagging kind of playing . USUALLY early in the morning, either in my bedroom or on my bed, with ME STILL LYING IN IT, TRYING TO SLEEP.

Stinking dogs.

PS. I love them both dearly, in case you can’t tell.

Evidence for the week of May 4th:

Scrubber brush for outdoor grill. I can only assume there were some meat drippings or fat particles or *something* on this brush because why else would one of them ingest four inches of wood? I seriously doubt dogs care that much about their fiber intake.

Noteworthy because: The brush was safely placed on top of grill, out of reach. How they got it? Who knows.

American Express card. Duly noted that this is a promotional American Express card, delivered in the junk mail. Not sure if the dogs are trying to make a statement about my spending habits, or just liked it because it was shiny.

Noteworthy because: I open all the mail, and don’t recall ever seeing this arrive. Beginning to suspect dogs are going outside, opening mailbox with their little paws, and taking items for themselves.

Various pens and pencils located God only knows around the house. Pens and pencils left ANYWHERE in the house are automatically fair game. Primary culprit: Barley. I can only assume she is stealing pens in an attempt to write her own ransom note, hoping to find a new family, preferably one that can afford a *real* American Express card.

Noteworthy because: Despite losing at least a dozen writing instruments, the human people in this house are still surprised every time it happens.

Shoe. Again. This is like, the fifth pair. Yet do my children think it might be wise to actually put their shoes AWAY when they take them off their feet? No, they do not. So prepare to see lots more shoe photos in future editions of “WWBC?” And prepare also to see the Escoe kids going around town barefoot because if they can’t be bothered to put their shoes away at night, then I can’t be bothered to buy more.

Noteworthy because: it’s not noteworthy at all. They’re shoes. They smell like leather and feet — of course dogs love them.

Scarf. A gift to Brayden, and the one chewed item she is most annoyed about. Especially considering it was hanging from a hook in her locker, exactly where it should be, and apparently the dogs grabbed hold and dragged it out before chewing a hole in it.

Noteworthy because: It’s such a fluffy, poofy scarf that I suspect she can still wear it and the hole won’t even be noticeable. Also noteworthy because if these dogs are smart enough to grab a scarf, hanging from a hook, then they’re smart enough to grab a dishtowel hanging from the refrigerator door, and bring me a Diet Dr. Pepper, right? Let the training begin!

Water jug. First, we took a plastic bowl outside to fill with drinking water for them, and they dragged it out into the yard and chewed it up (photo unavailable). So we bought a stainless steel water bowl, which they also dragged into the yard and dumped out all the water. Worried that they would go the entire day without water if that behavior continued, I bought this one-gallon water jug that you fill, and place upside down in its own bowl, and the water-pressure keeps the bowl full. Or some other scientific-y explanation like that. I filled it, placed it outside, and when I returned half an hour later, this is what I found.

Noteworthy because: I paid $15.99 for this water jug and bowl. They tore it up in less than half an hour. According to my calculations, that provided entertainment to our dogs at the impressive rate of $32.00 per hour, or $768.00 per day. I think next time I’ll just by another nyla-bone for ten bucks and be done with it.

And thus ends this week’s edition of “WWBC?” Tune in next time to see what other various and sundry household items the dogs have claimed for themselves and chewed into pieces …. we can only hope they chew up the vet bill from the exploratory surgery I have no doubt is in their future.

I mean, you can plainly see that he’s stressed to the max. All this tension can’t be good for him.

How long must he fret and worry that the kids don’t like him? That the other dog doesn’t like him? How long must he carry around this burden of anxiety???

I just hope he learns to relax before he gets an ulcer.

Introducing the newest member of our family (which is now closely starting to resemble a zoo around here, although I did put my foot down FIRMLY at Brayden’s request for a pet rat yesterday …)

Brew.

Blaine and I had always said we would have two dogs …. we bought Barley and then, quite frankly, just got lazy. Too much food required, too much maintenance, too much brushing, too much vacuuming …. in all honesty, the primary deterrent, in my opinion, was that there would be TOO MUCH POOP in the back yard.

Barley seemed perfectly content being the only dog for our family. She got plenty of attention and love, but a funny thing happened …. after we brought Blackie the cat inside and made him a house-cat (which by the way, is still going swimmingly) we realized how ….. how …. how …. how pathetic and lonely Barley must really be!

She would try SO HARD to play with the cat, and the cat was all, “Hummph. I am superior to you. Go away.” It was quite ridiculously sad, actually.

And we realized that although we love Barley dearly, she was spending a large number of hours each day, mainly while the kids are in school …. alone. Sad and lonely. So we decided a playmate was in order.

Wow. This was pretty much the best decision we ever made.

We went to the local no-kill shelter and explained we needed a dog that was good with kids, good with other dogs, AND good with cats. Kind of a tall order, but we were hopeful. We had taken Barley with us, and the first dog they brought out promptly growled at her, and was so (head)strong I could barely control him on a leash. Sorry, “Chester”, you weren’t the one for our family.

The next dog they brought out seemed nice enough, the kids liked him, there was no obvious dissension between he and Barley …. but I don’t know. It just didn’t feel like “the one” ….. so, keeping “Ronald” on our maybe-list, we asked for one more.

Then they brought out this guy, who they were calling “Walter”. I doubt he’s full-blood, but at least looked mainly like a chocolate lab …. calm, gentle, leash-trained, didn’t lick, didn’t jump, sat quietly and let all of us pet him ………….. granted, he and Barley didn’t have much to do with one another, but hey, by that point she had discovered the pond at the dog park next door and she wasn’t having anything to do with ANYONE who wasn’t throwing a stick in for her retrieve time and again. So we played with “Walter”, watched him interact positively with the other dogs at the park, watched one dog lump a lot of other dogs, and decided we would give it a go.

And so we brought Walter home, re-named him Brew, and promptly fell in love.

Kellen asked, “What is his middle name?” And I replied, “Ski”. Yeah. Because we’re still classy like that.

Our vet says he’s about two years old and in good health …. sadly, he had spent the last five months in the shelter, and they had no idea how long he had been in the pound before that.

With only a few accidents he appears mostly house-trained (hey, you can’t be angry when they haven’t figured out where the back door is yet) and the first few days he was extremely calm.

The shelter had a 7-day return policy, and at the end of the 7-days, I announced to the kids, “Well, I’ve decided to keep Brew because he’s better behaved and return Barley-the-spaz!”

Now, almost two weeks later, he is definitely coming out of his shell. The tail is wagging all the time, he initiates petting, and is playing more with toys …. although he still completely cowers if anyone raises a voice, which makes me wonder about the life he had before the pound (and makes me cringe a little on the inside ….)

Best of all, he and Barley are fast buds. Wrestling, jumping, running, playing tug of war ……. it’s been a great reminder to us that two dogs are better than one, everyone needs friends, and our only regret is that we didn’t do this months ago.

ALTHOUGH!!!

We’ve noticed, as he’s coming out of his shell, that it appears they didn’t feed him much at the shelter. I mean, how else could you explain hunger like this:

A book:

A whole set of books!:

A boot:

And the age-less, time-less classic …… the dog ate my homework:

(Yep, that’s Kellen’s “creative paper doll project” due this week …..)

Needless to say, yesterday afternoon saw us at Petsmart, buying some additional, more appropriate chew toys. And thinking perhaps we shouldn’t leave them inside the house without direct supervision.

1. Obligatory day at the park? Check

2. Obligatory day at the zoo? Check

3. Obligatory sleep over, pizza lunch, and matinee of Race to Witch Mountain? Check

We, however, did one additional Spring Break “thing” that was sort of fun and out of the ordinary for us.

Wanna guess?

Here are a few clues (I suspect it will take you about 1.7 seconds to figure it out):

“Just so you understand — I have always been, am now, and will always BE, the Queen. And don’t you forget it.”

“Ummmmmmmmm, what the hell just happened here?”