Guiliani, our black cat, was my first pet. My first real pet that I had living on my own, that is. He was my baby for 2 years, until we got Layla, our little Siamese. Their personalities are opposite, but after Isaac was born, they finally began to tolerate each other to the point of kitty friendship. Layla is very skittish, very afraid of strangers, but very very sweet. Guiliani is fearless, very friendly, and has a load of attitude. When we moved across the country, Layla claimed the basement and was barely coming upstairs. Guiliani was fine.
And then we got Luna Lu.
The cats hate her. She tries in vain to play with them with no avail. They HATE her. Layla refuses to even look at her, and when Luna manages to get close to her...it isn't pretty. Layla arches her backs or hunkers down and hisses. Growls. Guiliani is more tolerant, until Luna tries to play. Sometimes he indulges her, but most times he acts pissed. And swats. And hisses. At the old house we used to have a baby gate up in our bedroom door so Luna couldn't get in. The cats would sleep up there. Layla ran from the basement to the bedroom, never really figuring out there was a whole front half to the house. Guiliani went where he wanted. When we moved, we opted not to put up the baby gate. Partly because it was broken and I didn't want to buy a new one. And partly because it seemed like it was a good time to let Luna into the bedroom. She sleeps on the floor next to the bed.
Guiliani doesn't approve. He likes to sleep on the bed, preferably on my head. Having Luna in the bedroom, even on the floor, cramps his style (Layla is once again a basement kitty and we hope to see her upstairs sometime in the next year). He sits atop the bedside dresser, watching and scowling as Luna sleeps.
Every night before we go to sleep my husband sets out his prescription painkillers for the next morning. Three of them. This morning he woke me up. There was only one on the edge of the dresser, balancing precariously.
I'm pretty sure Guiliani knocked them onto the floor and Luna ate them. Because LUNA EATS EVERYTHING.
What do signs of narcotic overdose look like in a 75lb Siberian Husky?
We aren't sure when said acts happened. Isaac came into my room about 4am and I got up to take him back to bed. At that time Guiliani jumped off the bed and Luna chased him out of the room. Nine times out of ten, I don't put my glasses on to stumble the 10 feet to Isaac's bedroom from my own. So I don't know if the pills were on the dresser then. However, Luna came back up to the bedroom after a quick jaunt into the yard and wolfing down some food (munchies?!). Guiliani did not. Why return to the seen of the crime?
Luna seems fine. I called the vet, and they assured me that a dog of her size could handle a few pills. I watched for any signs of strange behavior, but for Luna that would mean behaving and being calm. None such behavior was seen today.
And I am pretty sure that upon seeing Luna reenter the house this morning, Guiliani gave her a look that cleary said "What are you still doing here?!"
Tonight the pills will not be on the dresser. Just in case Guiliani takes another stab at offing Luna. .
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Friday, September 2, 2011
It's Only 8AM and I Feel Like I Should Have Been Drinking for At Least 2 Hours Already...
I get up at 6AM every morning, regardless of when I actually have to be on campus. This is really the only time that works for our family in terms of showering, etc. I need the time before I wake Isaac up to get ready uninterrupted. I need the time to walk Luna. I need the time to prepare for the day.
And it is not enough time. By far. But I am unwilling to get up any earlier unless absolutely necessary.
By 8AM, sometimes sooner, I am ready to tear out my freshly washed hair, lock myself in the closet with a bottle of wine, and rock back and forth in the fetal position (although that may be counterproductive to the drinking...never really tried it except in my mind).
As you may recall, I recently uprooted and moved across the country, took massive paycuts and started new lives. He got a new job. I started graduate school as a PhD student and TA. Isaac is 2 1/2 and potty training and starting his new life with a new school, new room, and new friends. New everything. That's alot to deal with. To make things more complicated, we got a puppy. Before I say anything more, I will say that I love my life. I am happy. We made the best decisions that we ever could have made. But those decisions came with an elevated stress level that I am still trying to figure out how to deal with and balance.
Let's back up. Isaac has not been sleeping well. This is in part because his crib broke. IT WAS THE ONLY THING THAT BROKE DURING THE 2700+ MILE MOVE. Of all the things packed into that moving truck, I would have rather it been the TV...or my leg. I had already ordered him a toddler bed for when he was ready for it, but had planned on keeping him in his familiar bed until he was adjusted. I could justify buying a new TV. I can't justify buying a new crib for a few weeks or month.
I should have shelled out the cash. In all fairness, people have offered theirs up for us to borrow. But at that point we had been trying to get Isaac into the toddler bed for about 3 weeks and the idea of backtracking was blaring warning sirens and red lights. All signs point to keep working on it.
Sigh.
In addition to him not staying in bed, he now had a 3 hour time difference to get used to. I didn't know that small children had such circadian rhythms that needed a massive overall to adjust to living in a new time zone. Even though we drove and adjusted time over a period of days, he still believed that 12am or later was perfectly suitable for a bedtime, since he was still operating on PST.
If I wasn't up with him, I was up with Luna. God help us if there is a massive thunderstorm. No one is sleeping then.
Anyway, the point of this is that Isaac isn't sleeping well, I am not sleeping well...and waking up is a pain. Isaac wakes up like his father...a grizzly bear coming out of an exorcism. That brightens my day. After I finally convince him to change his diaper and put on clothes, I have to haul him kicking and screaming down stairs. Some days, I get really lucky and get to tell jokes and make funny noise and sing songs to keep the whining and crying a bay. It's short lived though.
You know what's fun before you have had enough caffeine in the morning? Trying to referee a puppy and a toddler. One whom does not seem to understand that when he runs and screams across the house, the puppy thinks he is playing. Luna is a Siberian Husky. She's a puppy, but she's massive. She weighs more than him. And she nips. Try explaining to a Husky puppy that she can't body check and bite my son's arms and legs like she would a puppy brother or sister. No one outside her species thinks that is affectionate. At least not in this house.
Once I can get Isaac set up on the couch with Mickey Mouse and Luna chewing a frozen carrot, my hair has frizzed out and I have to restyle it. Most times I have to change my shirt because it's all sweaty. I have now figured out to just keep my AC on full blast and put on a ratty Tshirt. If my husband comments on the amount of laundry I create in one day, he better think the couch is comfier than our Cal King. Then comes the task of breakfast.
Did I mention Isaac is 2 1/2? The independent age that requires him to do everything for himself and make his own decisions? Oh, sorry. My bad.
He likes to eat his breakfast on the couch 4 days out of 5. Sometimes he will sit at the breakfast nook. Those are blessed days. He carries his food around. He leaves it laying and wanders away....see where I am going with this?
This morning for example, I made him a waffle. I made myself one too. I cut it in half and put it on his plate. I walked him to the couch and gave him the plate. All was quiet.
Now, given his mood, Isaac has the tendency to scream if Luna looks at him wrong. Like, looks at him at all or even walks in front of him. The screaming...oh, the scream. After a few times of checking on pointless screams, I hear him offer Luna his waffle. Like, he put it in her MOUTH. Then he realizes he doesn't have more and Luna won't give it back. So I give him mine and explain that puppies don't eat waffles and Luna has her own breakfast. Back to restyling my frizz.
I then hear a scream that Luna, who now thinks Isaac shares waffles, has taken her half of the new waffle. And now I am forced to put Luna, who really has done nothing wrong, back into her crate only to have her splash water all over so when Isaac runs into the kitchen, he will slip and fall. Meanwhile, since I haven't been able to take her out again, she has gone potty somewhere in the house. I know she has, because I can smell it. The carrots keep her from chewing anything of value...but they don't do wonders for her digestive system some days.
By the time I am able to take Luna for her final walk, I have to keep Isaac distracted because Lord help me, I cannot walk a toddler and a puppy at the same time. And we are running late. When I get back in the house, Isaac has spilled milk that he tried to get out of the fridge all over himself and somehow there are 14 soggy dog bone treats in Luna's cage. The cats have appeared and are demanding food. Isaac is screaming that he doesn't want to see his friends today and that Luna is not allowed to stand near Buddy, the blue bunny.
I stare longing at my stone cold coffee, mentally check my bank balance to ensure adequate Starbucks funds, and can't help but wish that I had a mimosa thermos. These are just my mornings before I get to school. I go a full day with meetings, classes, seminars, research...and then pick up Isaac, make dinner, and finish up what I didn't get done for the day. The house is messy. I am messy.
It's ok that my hair is frizzy because I probably will pull it all out soon.
And it is not enough time. By far. But I am unwilling to get up any earlier unless absolutely necessary.
By 8AM, sometimes sooner, I am ready to tear out my freshly washed hair, lock myself in the closet with a bottle of wine, and rock back and forth in the fetal position (although that may be counterproductive to the drinking...never really tried it except in my mind).
As you may recall, I recently uprooted and moved across the country, took massive paycuts and started new lives. He got a new job. I started graduate school as a PhD student and TA. Isaac is 2 1/2 and potty training and starting his new life with a new school, new room, and new friends. New everything. That's alot to deal with. To make things more complicated, we got a puppy. Before I say anything more, I will say that I love my life. I am happy. We made the best decisions that we ever could have made. But those decisions came with an elevated stress level that I am still trying to figure out how to deal with and balance.
Let's back up. Isaac has not been sleeping well. This is in part because his crib broke. IT WAS THE ONLY THING THAT BROKE DURING THE 2700+ MILE MOVE. Of all the things packed into that moving truck, I would have rather it been the TV...or my leg. I had already ordered him a toddler bed for when he was ready for it, but had planned on keeping him in his familiar bed until he was adjusted. I could justify buying a new TV. I can't justify buying a new crib for a few weeks or month.
I should have shelled out the cash. In all fairness, people have offered theirs up for us to borrow. But at that point we had been trying to get Isaac into the toddler bed for about 3 weeks and the idea of backtracking was blaring warning sirens and red lights. All signs point to keep working on it.
Sigh.
In addition to him not staying in bed, he now had a 3 hour time difference to get used to. I didn't know that small children had such circadian rhythms that needed a massive overall to adjust to living in a new time zone. Even though we drove and adjusted time over a period of days, he still believed that 12am or later was perfectly suitable for a bedtime, since he was still operating on PST.
If I wasn't up with him, I was up with Luna. God help us if there is a massive thunderstorm. No one is sleeping then.
Anyway, the point of this is that Isaac isn't sleeping well, I am not sleeping well...and waking up is a pain. Isaac wakes up like his father...a grizzly bear coming out of an exorcism. That brightens my day. After I finally convince him to change his diaper and put on clothes, I have to haul him kicking and screaming down stairs. Some days, I get really lucky and get to tell jokes and make funny noise and sing songs to keep the whining and crying a bay. It's short lived though.
You know what's fun before you have had enough caffeine in the morning? Trying to referee a puppy and a toddler. One whom does not seem to understand that when he runs and screams across the house, the puppy thinks he is playing. Luna is a Siberian Husky. She's a puppy, but she's massive. She weighs more than him. And she nips. Try explaining to a Husky puppy that she can't body check and bite my son's arms and legs like she would a puppy brother or sister. No one outside her species thinks that is affectionate. At least not in this house.
Once I can get Isaac set up on the couch with Mickey Mouse and Luna chewing a frozen carrot, my hair has frizzed out and I have to restyle it. Most times I have to change my shirt because it's all sweaty. I have now figured out to just keep my AC on full blast and put on a ratty Tshirt. If my husband comments on the amount of laundry I create in one day, he better think the couch is comfier than our Cal King. Then comes the task of breakfast.
Did I mention Isaac is 2 1/2? The independent age that requires him to do everything for himself and make his own decisions? Oh, sorry. My bad.
He likes to eat his breakfast on the couch 4 days out of 5. Sometimes he will sit at the breakfast nook. Those are blessed days. He carries his food around. He leaves it laying and wanders away....see where I am going with this?
This morning for example, I made him a waffle. I made myself one too. I cut it in half and put it on his plate. I walked him to the couch and gave him the plate. All was quiet.
Now, given his mood, Isaac has the tendency to scream if Luna looks at him wrong. Like, looks at him at all or even walks in front of him. The screaming...oh, the scream. After a few times of checking on pointless screams, I hear him offer Luna his waffle. Like, he put it in her MOUTH. Then he realizes he doesn't have more and Luna won't give it back. So I give him mine and explain that puppies don't eat waffles and Luna has her own breakfast. Back to restyling my frizz.
I then hear a scream that Luna, who now thinks Isaac shares waffles, has taken her half of the new waffle. And now I am forced to put Luna, who really has done nothing wrong, back into her crate only to have her splash water all over so when Isaac runs into the kitchen, he will slip and fall. Meanwhile, since I haven't been able to take her out again, she has gone potty somewhere in the house. I know she has, because I can smell it. The carrots keep her from chewing anything of value...but they don't do wonders for her digestive system some days.
By the time I am able to take Luna for her final walk, I have to keep Isaac distracted because Lord help me, I cannot walk a toddler and a puppy at the same time. And we are running late. When I get back in the house, Isaac has spilled milk that he tried to get out of the fridge all over himself and somehow there are 14 soggy dog bone treats in Luna's cage. The cats have appeared and are demanding food. Isaac is screaming that he doesn't want to see his friends today and that Luna is not allowed to stand near Buddy, the blue bunny.
I stare longing at my stone cold coffee, mentally check my bank balance to ensure adequate Starbucks funds, and can't help but wish that I had a mimosa thermos. These are just my mornings before I get to school. I go a full day with meetings, classes, seminars, research...and then pick up Isaac, make dinner, and finish up what I didn't get done for the day. The house is messy. I am messy.
It's ok that my hair is frizzy because I probably will pull it all out soon.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Luna Lu
One of the many changes we have gone through since moving is adopting a puppy. She's a Siberian Husky and she will be HUGE mongous. I swear every time she goes behind the sofa and comes back out she is bigger. Her name is Luna. Her full name is Luna Lu Elizabeth Lahman (Remember, I have a disease where I have to name all my animals with full names). We love her.
Well, most times.
I mean, she's a puppy. She cries. She isn't house broken. I have a two and half year old who is potty training.
My husband fell in love with her. I couldn't say no. The agreement was that he would house break the dog and I would potty train our son. Guess how that is going? Guess who is getting up with the dog at 3 am to walk her? And guess what else? Sprinkling carpet deodorizer on white carpet is a BAD idea. My carpet looks gray now. And I have gone over it 3 times.
She pisses me off to no end. She chews things, like my husband's Tumi wallet and our brand new floor lamp. She craps all over. She splashes toilet water all over the house. It's hard to explain to a toddler that if he runs around and screams that Luna thinks he is playing with her and that's why she bites. The cats hate her. Layla has become a basement-bedroom kitty. Guiliani has become rather indifferent and tolerates her unless she gets too close.
But by golly, do we ever love this doggie. :)
Well, most times.
I mean, she's a puppy. She cries. She isn't house broken. I have a two and half year old who is potty training.
My husband fell in love with her. I couldn't say no. The agreement was that he would house break the dog and I would potty train our son. Guess how that is going? Guess who is getting up with the dog at 3 am to walk her? And guess what else? Sprinkling carpet deodorizer on white carpet is a BAD idea. My carpet looks gray now. And I have gone over it 3 times.
She pisses me off to no end. She chews things, like my husband's Tumi wallet and our brand new floor lamp. She craps all over. She splashes toilet water all over the house. It's hard to explain to a toddler that if he runs around and screams that Luna thinks he is playing with her and that's why she bites. The cats hate her. Layla has become a basement-bedroom kitty. Guiliani has become rather indifferent and tolerates her unless she gets too close.
But by golly, do we ever love this doggie. :)
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