Me and Timber.
The weather. 107 heat index this afternoon. It's 75% humidity, and feels like 88 outside right now, at 10 p.m. As soon as I turned off the AC in the living room it started to heat up, the cool air didn't linger a bit, but there's no point in opening windows since it's worse outside than it is inside.
High humidity makes my joints ache--not temp, but humidity. My lower back, my knees, my elbows, my jaw, all hurt, and I have a hot-weather headache. I'll have to take aspirin to get to sleep tonight.
This stupid laptop is being more stupid than usual.
And Timber. I swear, I don't know what's happening with Timber. My bomb-proof boy has taken to spending all his time alone. I have to force him to stay in the air conditioning. I've got a baby gate across the bedroom door to keep him in here, and he had sort of settled down until I turned on the laptop. Then he just freaked, panted, paced, attacked the babygate and broke through it. I made him come back in and put him in his crate and he started pawing hysterically at the door. Now he's sitting by the door of his crate with his shoulders hunched and his head down and his ears drooping and looking so defeated and sad that it breaks my heart, so I'm going to do this as quickly as I can and turn the computer off so maybe he'll relax a little. Do you suppose it puts out some kind of frequency that bothers him? I've got dial-up, not wireless, so it can't be wireless signals. He had a blood panel done last month and everything came up okay. I'm having a nervous breakdown over his nervous breakdown.
My friends drove me out to look at the two vans today. Dean okayed both of them--it was pretty much 6 of one, half-dozen of another, except the blue one had a scratch on the hood and a warped hubcap, and Dean said the engine compartment looked like it had seen a lot of gravel-road miles, so I asked to bring the maroon one back to town for the service center guys to look at. We got back before they closed, so I was able to go in and ask if they would have time to look at it tomorrow and they said they would in the morning, so I guess we'll go from there. I'll have to try to remember to ask about transferring the CD player.
I've been so unhappy about having my van hauled off as scrap, but I remembered you can donate cars to charity. I don't care about the tax deduction--I fill out the 1040EZ form or its online equivalent, so I wouldn't bother with taking the deduction. But the idea of the van helping someone helps a lot. Some organizations will take them even if they don't run. An animal group would be good--like a GSD rescue. There's a for-profit group that will take the vehicle and sell it and you can specify a charity, which gets 50% of the selling price less the towing, and while I'd especially like the van to help Timber's rescue group, they'd probably wind up *owing* money to the car group with the van. So I'll have to research some different donate-a-car groups and see what I can find.
Okay, I'm turning this off and putting it far away and hopefully I can let Timber out of his crate and he'll settle down. Poor boy. I wish he'd let me comfort him.
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3 comments:
Poor thing. Hope he is okay. That is troublesome, I know.
My heart aches while reading this. Poor Baby! Dont' make laptops some noice when starting up? My dogs have both their own things over what they freak out about. I hate fireworks, because it distresses Sam so much, now every pop will do to send him hiding. Hope you'll figure it out and can help him get over it, or deal with it better.
Thanks, Jane. He's my rescue boy and my honey-boy, and all I want is for him to have a happy life. I hate it when something upsets him. Fortunately, not much does, but that makes it that much worse when he is unhappy.
My sympathies about Sam and the fireworks, Monika. I feel so fortunate that my two don't mind them. I've gone out of my way from the very start to try to make fireworks and thunder and things like that non-scary--We play the "Mr. Thundermonster" game, where I go, "Oh, what was that! It's Mr. Thundermonster!" and they bark, and we all run to the door and I open it and say enthusiastically, "Oh, look, you scared Mr. Thundermonster away! What good brave dogs!" and they get a treat and hugs. Stella developed a storm sensitivity later in life, but she was (I think)reacting to the change in barometric pressure--I always knew a storm was coming at least 24 hours in advance--but once it arrived, she was fine.
I've noticed both Ts watch me for cues--if I were to get upset about the noise, they would, too. So even if a clap of thunder has made me jump out of my skin, I still do the Mr. Thundermonster routine. So far so good.
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