This can be a problem. You would think that keeping my mouth shut would keep me out of trouble, but is the exact thing that got me into trouble. Sort of.
Something happened at work. I can’t say I was entirely right about the situation, but I can also say I wasn’t mostly to blame. I will say that I was so angry that I was shaking and crying and had to continually tell myself to breath and override my desperate desire to drop my apron and quit on the spot.
Restaurant Manager’s sparkling blue eyes stopped holding any appeal for me about a week after he started, maybe a little more. We had a minor run-in a couple of days ago, but yesterday, it was more like a major collision.
Unfortunately, I tend to be very persistent and I’m not really afraid to question or to even point out a more logical course of action. Most of the time I just throw my hands in the air or shrug and move on with it because its not worth it to try and have an intellectual conversation with an unarmed person.
Of course, I thought of my friend Juan who says I should examine my own feelings as to why something upsets me. Well, its because he reminded me of Jeff. Overbearing, interrupting, illogical, everything, right down to the booze on his breath. Except, given that he is my boss and this incident was instigated by him in front of my co-workers and guests, I can also say he’s unprofessional and when I tried to diffuse the situation by acquiescing and saying, “Okay. Its whatever you want,” and attempting to walk away, he dogged me, telling me not to walk away from him, etc. etc.
Well, far be it for me to just shut my mouth. The sky didn’t fall, tsunamis didn’t swallow New York, and the moon didn’t crack in half so you know I didn’t keep my mouth shut.
One part of our conversation just completely flabbergasted me. He said I should have asked my table if they wanted tartar or remoulade with their crab cakes so that we wouldn’t waste money on taking it out to the table if they didn’t want it. My response, “But you took the order.” Which was the God’s honest truth.
I normally do try and ask my guests what they want for burgers and fish and crab, because then I’m not wasting time running back to get it. Sometimes I forget, but I’m only human. I wasn’t trying to irritate him when he asked if remoulade normally goes out with it, because I had never served one before. I assume its whether or not the guest wants it and frankly, I had my mind on the table that was being sat, not whether or not the folks at another table wanted sauces. I would take them out, if they did, they did, if they didn’t, then on my next trip back to the kitchen I would bring them back.
Anyway, things just escalated from there. It moved on to how I see him as the enemy and how I’m always contentious, except he can’t use big words like “contentious.”
When I talked to GM about it, I also pointed out there was another incident, in which I felt he was purposefully just getting in my way. I felt as though he was provoking me into a confrontation. I even verbalized to him that I was very frustrated with him and his actions. He responded by saying that I was frustrating him and he was only trying to help while I kept reiterating that I didn’t need his help.
Of course, one problem is is that I won’t back down especially if I feel that I’m right or that I’m being wronged. Even if I momentarily acquiesce to keep the peace at that point, I will revisit it later if I feel the need to bring closure to a subject or to receive more clarification of what is expected of me.
I also told my GM that that had it not been for the respect that I have for her and Owner Boss’s wife, I would have walked. I’ve never walked on a job before, and I don’t intend on starting now.
What I really, really hated, is how it affected me and how it is so very hard for me to hide my feelings. I wear them all over my face. Luckily, there were some regulars there and knew something was going down but it doesn’t change the fact it should have never happened and it shouldn’t have affected anything. I shouldn’t have been hiding in the wine closet, drying my angry tears, trying to still my hands from shaking, and giving myself a pep talk to just keep breathing, keep moving.
I hate that.
Please don’t cry one tear for me
I’m not afraid of what I have to say
This is my one and only voice
So listen close, its only for today ( from Second Chance)
Thats how I want you to feel tonight.
You’re only here once, so do it well.
Find your own way to rise up and
Give ’em hell.
There is no reason to wonder if you
Tell them you can’t be bottled,
So break your silence and tell them
Who you are.
‘Cause they’re all witness to a shooting star.
He’s there to stare and
Tell you how to look.
I’m not even sure they know
You by name.
He’s there to share what they
Think of you.
Everybody in there plays the
Same fucking games.
Alright, alright, alright,
You’re such an energy.
Alright, alright, alright,
You’re such an energy.
Let me see your fire,
Put your fist up in the air.
Tell me, are you feeling strong enough?
Tell me, ’cause all eyes are on you now. (from Energy)
Thank you, Shinedown.
The good news is, I think we can work this out. I don’t think he shouldn’t give me direction, I just think he should let me do my job and if he has constructive criticism, then I’m all about that… when I’m not in the middle of working and he’s respectful. I may respect his position, but I’m very far from respecting him.
I mentioned a while ago that I wanted to start my own publication. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But I do and I’ve been thinking of this idea for almost two years, or maybe over two years. Anyway, as the forces of nature go, I’ve been thinking of it a lot more and actually talking about it, as opposed to just thinking about it, and then I saw an article in the newspaper about that very thing I was thinking about.
Whew! How is confusing is that? Anyway, I called and made contact with the gentleman referenced in the article and he has agreed to meet with me in April about my idea. Basically he has pretty much agreed to supply the information I need, I’m in charge of everything else.
That means… I need a media kit and I need to get in touch with a printer and find out how much its going to cost so I can set my ad prices. And I need distributors! And I need a business plan! And, HOLY HERA! I’m really going to do this!!!!!
I’M REALLY GOING TO DO THIS. I’M GOING TO PUBLISH MY OWN MONTHLY NEWSTHINGY!
I gotta get dressed. I got things to do. More details to come!!!!
Hooo-eee! A lot going on in this neck of the woods:
First, T-Bird’s eldest, J1, was admitted to the hospital yesterday for an emergency appendectomy. I went to sit with him today when T-Bird had to go pick up the little ones and drop them off with her sister (their egg donor). She told me J. had to walk from the bed to the door in order to get to go home tonight. Well, after much cajoling and little moves, J. made it into the hallway and was sitting up in the chair when she got back.
She called me later and asked, “Just how the hell did you get my son to do anything?” Obviously he was feeling less than cooperative once I left. I told her I probably just nagged him so much that he finally just did it to get me off his back. He’ll be spending another night. Send some healing vibes his way, and send T-Bird a little patience please.
Its March Madness mah pups. I’ve got my bracket filled out and await the insanity. I’ve picked North Carolina to take it all.
Jirachi is healing nicely. I think that he’s healed wrong though. Like, his scrotum is going to be permanently attached to his backside. It just sort of granulated that way and that was about it and … I’m not fucking with it. If the doc don’t like it she can cut it when she neuters him.
All I know is he’s happy as hell that we’re loving on him again, he doesn’t reek of the stench of a 1000 rotting carcasses, and he’s gaining weight again. Woot!
My boyfriend is really irritating me. Last night, he decided to text someone in front of me, and when I looked over, turned the phone so I couldn’t see what or who he was texting. I’m sorry, but if that doesn’t make anyone suspicious, male or female, I don’t know what does. If someone calls, I don’t care who or what gender, I’ll take that call in front of him. Whether its Jeff or Troy or Jimmy or Kevyn, I take the call in front of him because I have nothing to hide.
Men, remember, you have to sleep sometime and I’m a mother. I’m USED to not sleeping. And let us not forget that I have estrogen and a pulse, therefore I am evil.
Plus, day before yesterday when I was leaving work, he kissed me on the cheek. I gave him a, you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me look. Granted, one of the kitchen guys was outside when I was leaving, but, please, its not like everyone at Le Restaurant doesn’t know I’ve been balling him for four months and its not like we haven’t given each other a quick kiss goodbye in front of other employees before (at the smoke hole, not inside.)
Cut bait, young Padewan.
I’ve really got the dance itch. Its because of Kenny Wayne Shepherd. Many moons ago, Kenny Wayne and his band put out a CD called “Live On.” You may remember a song from that CD called, “In Too Deep.” However, its the second song on that CD called, “Was” that I’ve wanted to do a tap routine to forever!
“She was a crazy thought, a madman’s walk, she was. Oh no, she was.”
I would add the song but I can’t figure out how to do that.
Anywho, before I shell out for tap shoes (again, my first were smoke logged), and tap lessons (again), I’d better find out how much its going to cost to get Nate’s braces. Ugh.
I am continuing with attempting to consume more vegetables and fruits in my diet and less red meat. I loves me some red meat. I limit myself to consuming only three types of liquid: coffee, water, and red wine. However, I have been limiting myself to two cups of coffee, down from three, and I only drink red wine when I’m going to be off the following day. I’m off tomorrow… why am I not drinking wine? I haven’t had any since … Sunday. Be right back.
No need to let that Black Swan Merlot go to waste. Ahhhh.
Anyway, I guess no one thought to tell me that if you consume more fruits and vegetables, you don’t need to drink AS MUCH WATER. So, if you continue eating a lot of fruits and vegetables, even just a serving more, you will go to the bathroom more because, duh, fruits and vegetables have MORE WATER.
I drink a lot of water. On a typical shift, I drink anywhere from 2-4 16 oz. cups of water. I put it in my little styrofoam cup (so good for the environment!) and as I walk by I take a pull from the straw. Last night I had a huge salad from Mickey D’s (after scraping off the chips and dressing), and their fruit and walnut snack.
Then this morning, I went to work and drank 2 cups of coffee and then had the beginnings of a 16 oz. cup of water. I was ran to the bathroom a lot. This can be quite uncomforable when you’re busy and don’t go when you should.
I was reasonably good today. I had the worst chicken noodle soup of my life, mainly picking out the chicken, a Mediterranean panini, with eggplant, squash, and zucchini with feta and chevre cheese, fruit, and a salad with onion, cheese, tomatoes, peaches, and cottage cheese.
In my quest to lessen the red meat in my diet, I had pecan fried catfish. Okay, so fried is bad but that’s not the point. Half a baked potato, and a big fat ugly hot fudge cake and ice cream, because I know how to eat healthy. ICE CREAM IS A FOOD GROUP!!!! The point is, there was a cherry on top, and we all know how I’m trying to put more fruits and vegetables in my diet. This is why a glass of wine two days a week is a good thing. Wine is a vegetable, I mean, a fruit. How much have I had?
I also had five Tagalongs, because you all know Girl Scout cookies, along with ice cream, red wine, and chocolate, IS a food group. Plus Tagalongs have peanut butter in them, which ups the iron and protein content of said cookies. Hey, I read labels mah peeps!
Jirachi really does coo like a pigeon when he purrs. I know this because he’s eating my earlobe as he purrs. For him, earlobes are a food group.
Sometimes I give my co-worker, Emile, a ride to work. I have her hooked on the new Nickelback CD, especially “S.E.X.” I mean, who’s not hooked on it. It was playing when she got in the car this morning and she said, “Oh man, I was hoping you would have this in and I would get to hear this. It pumps me up.”
Guess what the song is about? Yeah, imagine that. My favorite line from the song is: I love to try to set you free, I love you all over me, love to hear the sound you make the second you’re done.
Emile just likes hearing Chad Kroeger scream: YEEEESSSSS!
Okay, maybe I am a little hooked on that as well.
We also listened to “Burn it to the Ground” and then heard “Something in Your Mouth” while listening to XM at Le Restaurant. I may have to make up the first rock ‘n’ roll work out video. I’m so tired of canned music. “Burn it to the Ground” would be a great song to include in a kickass fitness video because we got no class, no taste, no shirt and shit-faced.
The warm-up section includes a shot of Crown. As a matter of fact, all workout videos should include shots of various types of alcohol as part of the routine. If you’re still standing at the end of the video, well, you’re fit.
Alcohol is a food group, along with red wine, which is fruit.
Speaking of alcohol, once you get people lit, you can tell them anything and they’ll believe you. Such as, a guest asked me what the difference between Cuervo 1800 and Patron tequila was. Instead of saying, “A shit-ton of money,” I said, “Well, Patron is a higher quality, meaning it has less impurities, is better filtered, aged, and stored.” Which means, I don’t fucking know! Maybe they keep the desert rats from pissing on the agave.
Next, we had a dude ask, on St. Paddy’s day, if we had any Irish Scotch. Dude, Scotch is whiskey made is Scotland. No, we do not have any Irish Scotch. That’s like asking if I have any Arkansas Bourbon. NO! Bourbon is whiskey made in Bourbon County, Kentucky and they are the only ones allowed to call it Bourbon, everyone else has to call it Whiskey, except for the Scottish who call it, SCOTCH.
Its like calling a yam a sweet potato. A yam is not a sweet potato. A yam is a yam and a sweet potato is a sweet potato. They come from different plant families, different plant groups, have different flowering characteristics, the sweet potato is over 50,000 years older than the yam, and the sweet potato is healthier for you as it is high in beta carotene, just like a carrot.
All of these are the vegetable food group.
Well, I’ve sucked the last of my fermented fruit from the glass and its almost one in the morning so I shall bid you adios. Drink more agave!
Ugh. It was such a whiney post yesterday. Gawd.
Anywho, a few weeks ago I purchased Billy Blanks Tae Bo Boot Camp Workout. I was a big fan of the original Tae Bo and thought since I was getting all fitnessy that I would give it a spin. Eh. I made it through, I sweated, I didn’t do all reps of all of the exercises.
First, I couldn’t quite get some of the moves down. Second, they were too fast. Third, I have to work tomorrow and I have to be able to move. The first time I worked out to Tae Bo I couldn’t move for a week. My body said, “YOU FUCKING BITCH! DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!”
Having said that, I like the original Tae Bo better. I’ve learned some things today. First, my arms are as strong as I thought they were… until I had to do push-ups. They said, “Are you kidding me? I don’t think so.” I could only do five or six and then had to do girly push-ups. Ugh.
Second, my ass is not as strong as I thought, nor are my thighs. Squats, I do them everyday, but… ugh, not 400 at a time! I do have a fairly good right hook, though.
So, then I came in and smoked a cigarette because fitnessy does not equal healthy. I decided to give my Dance it Off Ballroom a run. Because I’m a glutton that way and I’m always looking for some new dance moves. I danced to the “step moves” section that teaches you how to do certain moves. Some I remember from ballet, jazz, and tap.
I think I should have danced through it more than once because although I worked up quite a sweat doing the cha-cha, I could have done better if I would have run through the breakdown of the steps a few more times. I paused it at the samba. I’m not ready for that.
Oh, and I have sweat trickling down my neck and back. I lost my sweatshirt somewhere within the first 5 minutes of Tae Bo, so I’m running around my house in sneakers, a bra, and my dance pants.
Nate is at my parents’ place for part of Spring Break. Working out is going to be a bitch when he comes home. I don’t want to ruin him for life so I’ll have to find a sports bra in my size or just wear my dance shirt. I don’t get the difference between a regular ole bra and a sports bra. THEY’RE BOTH BRAS and note, I do not wear a bra unless it has underwire.
My first goal is to strengthen my body. Billy has shown me that I’m not as strong as I could be.
My second goal is to have a waistline that doesn’t wrinkle when I put clothes on.
My third goal is to tighten up my saggy skin. Yes, it can be done. When I worked out with Tae Bo (before my unfortunate fall down the steps at my old job, hyperextending my ankle, lest you think I’m some kind of slacker), it really helped in firming up my skin as well as my abs.
My fourth goal is to have some kind of ass. I may have been blessed upstairs but they totally passed over my backstairs. The only time I’ve had an ass is when I was pregnant. It went when Nate came out. So, I have to build up my gluteus maximus to keep my jeans on.
Here’s my problem, if I buy jeans to fit my ass and stay there, then I have a serious case of muffin top. YECH! So, those are my goals.
Do you have a goal, ya gotta have a goal!
I do not call in sick unless I’m so dead that I can’t crawl out of bed. However, my boyfriend tends to call in sick quite frequently, not to work, but to me. Especially on Sundays, which is normally his day off. And you know what? That’s just fine because I still have my right hand, my imagination and I’m not a fucking idiot.
Why I’m still in this relationship, I have no fucking clue. Our conversations are boring, if not borderline comatose, and our sex is boring, okay, that IS comatose, at least by my standards. I knew our sex life was in trouble when he declined a backrub. I mean, backrubs are second behind blowjobs okay? To me, its the same thing, because they both lead to the same thing… sex.
Well, most of the time, at least some form of sex. Not to mention, I had gotten my all-time fave massage oil – Eucalyptus Spearmint from Bath & Body Works. I love it! It smells great and it really works to help sore, achy muscles, which I happen to have a lot of.
Now, I tend to be very generous, but, when paying for dinner tonight (I took T-Bird out for her birthday, but actually, it was for both of us), I realized just how hard I had worked for the money I sat down on the table. I worked damn hard. I’ve worked until I’ve had to have Candyman straighten me up because I had stayed bent over at the sinks too long, I’ve worked until the muscle in my lower left lumbar area pops out, which causes my hip to ache like hell, I’ve worked until I’v come home and can’t sleep because my legs won’t stop moving.
I work damn hard and so does he, so it kinda pisses me off when I do something to help us both and he’s like, nah. Doesn’t even want to give it a try.
Then, there’s the “talk.” Talk all ya want, but back it up. Oh, and get over your body image problems. Good Lawd. I have stretch marks ALL OVER MY BODY and my BELLY IS SQUISHY AND POOFY. My stretch marks will never change and I don’t give a fuck. You may be able to bounce a quarter off my ass, but my belly will always be squishy and poofy! No one is perfect!
However, I really do care about him. We don’t fight, of course, I’m not sure if this is because we don’t give a shit enough to fight or if its just we get along that well and if you don’t talk about anything other than work, then, what’s to disagree about? And I get tired of initiating all of the “deep” conversations we do have, which are far and few between and I’m not even certain I would call them “deep.”
And the bad thing is, he’s very intelligent, but I can’t jerk an intellectual conversation out of him.
Either I’m going about this the wrong way or I’m with the wrong guy.
I just purchased my ticket for Rock on the Range. Driving to Columbus is not nearly the hassle as driving to Pittsburgh and flying somewhere, plus, they have a great bead shop!
Of course this would mean I need to stop staring at my design for Alice in Chains and actually start beading it. I’ve been patiently waiting for Alice to throw us a bone and tell us the name of the new CD so I could integrate that into the design. No such luck and I’m running out of time.
However, I also didn’t want to do the same ole basic Alice in Chains sun symbol, but also did want to deviate too drastically from the same ole basic Alice in Chains sun symbol. I like the sun symbol, I’m a sun lover!
So, I’m keeping the rays of the sun, the center part of the sun has been in flux for some time, yet, I do believe I have reached a final verdict on what the design will be. This is what the design is loosely based upon:
The color scheme rocks, so I’ll be keeping that, but just in a different way. I may or may not include the hot pink “Alice in Chains” around the center. However, the center where the green “AIC” is, nope, it won’t look like that. It may resemble that but in a different way because I like different.
Its hard to find time but soon the sun will be out full-force and I won’t want to be inside. But, wheels are in motion…
After the death of his wife Betty, Hoss wrote: “Many times in the past when some of you were having a particularly bad time, Old Hoss has offered “counsel,” which consisted largely of this: When you can’t do something about something, let it go. Say to yourself, “So it goes,” and get on with your life. So, so it goes. Thank you, all.”
Yes, Hoss, so it goes. There isn’t a damn thing I can do about you moving on up to Big Ernie and I hope you at least got to say hi before you reincarnated as a dung beetle. I will always be kind to dung beetles.
And, as it goes, I also wanted to post a picture of a rabbit, even though it isn’t the first of the month.
Hoo boy, Hoss would have loved this BIG OLE BUNNY!
I’m also posting a picture of a frog:
But not just any frog, but a Spring Peeper. Someone had claimed to hear one the other day when it was 16* and I though they were shitting me, but, on the way home Sunday, before finding out about Hoss, I too heard the Spring Peepers. However, it was 70*, not 16*. I have been looking forward to Spring a great deal and was so pleased to hear their peeping and croaking. They say that in Alzheimer’s patients, the last part of the brain to die is the part that recognizes music and the emotions they are attached to.
Hoss may have passed on March 7th, but I know each year when I hear the Spring Peepers and their music, I will know this is the day he moved on to Big Ernie.
And so it goes.
Nate has sinusitis. I took him to the doctor yesterday, my day off, and they gave him ginormous horse pills for his nose. He is also coughing and feverish.
Jirachi went to the vet yesterday afternoon, my day off, and his ass is healing very well. They clipped some more hair off so it doesn’t get stuck in the antibiotic ointment. The vet says we have to wait until his balls and scrotum heal so he can get them cut out. Thinking about that statement makes my eyeballs wrinkle.
Tango escaped from the house, right after Macy did. When I wasn’t at some kind of doctor’s office I was walking the neighborhood, on my day off, trying to find Tango, as I knew Macy was on a short hunger strike, for whatever reason, under my house.
This morning I filled out an online missing pet form with our local humane society. It read something like: Lost in —- block —– Ave., Small WV Town, black cat, green/yellow eyes, answers to Tango. Loves feet, please call ###-####.
He does love feet, loves to rub on them, then loves to chew and bite on them.
I pressed “send,” walked outside onto the porch, hollered his name, heard his little Tango “barrupp” and there he was. He couldn’t decide whether to eat breakfast or love on my feet. I went back to the computer and penned a note to the Humane Society.
“Hi, this is Nanner. I just sent a missing pet form regarding a black cat named Tango in Small WV Town. He obviously knew this because he came home. Thanks anyway. ”
I have felt like a new woman since the sun has been out and we have changed the clocks. I feel – rejuvenated.
I’m not sure if I remember telling anyone but I stepped down from my lead position at the restaurant so I could work more bar shifts and evening shifts. This is a good exchange. However, I was supposed to work just two bar shifts a week and that lasted about two weeks, and now its three or four. Which is, hey, fine with me!
However, I went to buy some new work pants, which I never do unless I have to because I hate shopping. However, a lady who had come into the restaurant had a really cool pair of pants on and was kind enough to tell me where they were on sale at the local mall. Anamoly No. 1: So, even without needing them, I went to get a new pair of those pants.
Since I hate shopping, I just generally guess at what size I need and then deal with it. I haven’t tried on clothes since Christmas of 2007 when I bought my last pair of jeans. Anamoly No. 2: I actually tried the pants on before buying them. Naturally, I got the size I thought I wore and when I could put both hands down the front of them thought… hmmmm… maybe I need a smaller size.
Yes, I had the joy of going shopping and finding I had dropped a pants size. I think this is due to the extra bar shifts and I will admit, I have been trying to eat healthier. I took one of those online test thingies about nutrition and found… well, I don’t eat so healthy. I love fruit and veggies but they are seriously lacking in my diet. I eat may too much red meat, which is likely to continue, and not enough fish or chicken.
I’ve just been making some small changes and being more conscious about what I’m eating. But make no mistake, I still eat what I want. For instance, I decided to eat at Wendy’s this evening because Nate had already eaten with his dad and in line with my new nutrition outlook, I ordered the side salad (which isn’t THAT healthy since it has iceberg lettuce versus the darker, more healthy lettuce/spinach) with a side of mandarin oranges, plus a baked potato with butter and sour cream and one of their strawberry shakes.
So, I got my starch and dairy, my fruits and veggies, and ice cream, which you all should know IS a food group. I had 1/2 a steak burger at the restaurant so I’d had enough meat for the day.
I made a crap-ton of money today, even I was shocked. Now I can buy more fruits and vegetables.
I’m so happy it is Springtime!
Our Old Horsetail Snake has moved on up with Big Ernie. Godspeed, Hoss. We’ll miss you.
Just can’t say anything else right now.
Yes, my friends, another chapter in the saga of Jirachi, our beloved but oft sick kitty. Since having his abscess drained, little Jirachi was thriving, gaining weight, beautiful coat, and although still sneezing copious amounts of snot, Little Man was definitely on the mend and on his way to getting neutered and living a long, happy life.
Then Jirachi developed diarrhea. Jack and Tango made themselves at home in the garbage can and of course, Jirachi was the only one who got sick from eating our cast-offs. Now, long hair and diarrhea don’t mix. So, instead of just following him around wiping his nose, I had also resorted to wiping his ass. “Dingleberries” doesn’t even come close to what Jirachi was experiencing.
He developed a “Poopcake” or “Poop pancake” on his butt. This was not pleasant for any of us involved. A) He didn’t like it because, really, who wants to carry around a poopcake and B) I didn’t like it because it STUNK WITH THE INTENSITY OF A THOUSAND ROTTING CARCASSES. So, I snipped and manipulated and eventually said poopcake was removed during the regular course of litterbox business.
I had also started Jirachi on some food which was supposed to help the poop situation. A mixture of pumpkin, chicken, and rice, which all of my cats love and is supposed to be very good for their bowels and poop. Well, it started working, but not before Jirachi developed another poopcake.
This one was a different beast than the previous one. It wasn’t a poopcake, it was a poopROCK! He also began fussing with me, scratching, biting and generally trying to kill me when I would mess with it so I knew something was going on there. On top of that, the pumpkin/rice/chicken diet was really working. His stool firmed up quite nicely, except now he couldn’t get it out because of the pooprock.
I had planned on taking him to the vet on Monday, but this evening when I came home and felt the base of his tail, I knew he had poo in there that wasn’t coming out and knew we had reached critical mass (no pun intended), as well as my concerns about what was going on UNDERNEATH the pooprock because of the change in Jirachi’s demeanor and distress with any clipping of hair and fussing with the pooprock.
I took him to the Emergency Clinic and they took him back and within a minute came out to tell me they were going to have to sedate him. I figured as much as Jirachi is my love bug – takes his medicine without a fight, wants love all the time – and when I couldn’t get him to lay still, I pretty much figured they weren’t going to either.
Well, it was pretty bad. Not as bad as it could have been, said the vet, but bad enough. Poop is acidic and what Jirachi had underneath the pooprock is probably the worst case of extreme diaper rash I’ve ever seen, but worse. Much worse.
Before the pooprock, Jirachi still had a nice set of balls, now he barely has a scrotum left. When they neuter him, they will probably have to remove what is left of the scrotum. Literally, his skin was eaten away by the acids in the poop. This happened in three to four days. His ass is raw but the scrotum just looks fucking painful. He’s pititful. Just fucking pitiful.
I walked in and was just sickened by my poor pitiful Little Man as they were cleaning him up. The vet said he still had an anus, which is good, because she said she has seen it where the acids eat all the way to the actual opening of the bowels. He’ll probably have some poop problems until he heals completely but if we keep him good and clean he should be okay.
The good news is, he had a normal bowel movement after the removal, duh, he was full of shit, and I’m hopeful that if I continue him on his chicken/rice/pumpkin diet, that it will act like a stool softener and keep the pain at a minimum. To his credit, he’s sitting beside of me, after getting lots of love, licking his ass. He’s still a little groggy from the sedation but has only fallen off of the chair twice so far and is purring and loving like nothing ever happened.
We’ll see what happens when I have to bathe him and put Neosporin on his scrotum, yeah, then we’ll see. At least he doesn’t stink with the intensity of a thousand rotting carcasses anymore AND… believe it not, whatever bug he got that gave him diahrrea, it killed the other virus that made him snot and sneeze all the time. I shit you not.