Zion Curtain

Well, I'm back behind the Zion Curtain again waiting for Wednesday when I jet set off to Oz. My husband and I actually got packed for our 2 week adventure on Saturday. This is officially the earliest I've ever packed for a trip in my life. I realized for the millionth time why I am grateful I married this man when he thought of random details like taking photo copies of our passports just in case, checking into our abroad health insurance coverage, etc. These are things that just don't cross my mind.

We packed while listening to a lot of Midnight Oil. As J would say, "What's not to like about a tall white guy who can't dance?" He's referring to Peter Jaret who is the lead singer and if you've ever seen him in concert, he looks like he's having a grand mal on stage. I didn't realize this, but Peter actually broke up the band to pursue his political career. That is something I can respect considering that their songs are so politically motivated.

Edgar had a few mishaps on his flight over here. For one, I followed Delta's guidelines for flying an animal (even though we were flying Frontier). I taped an extra bag of food to his crate just in case, as it is advised. I packed about 6 cups thinking that it would also serve as a nice blend/introduction to whatever my mom is feeding her dogs these days while minimizing GI issues. When Edgar and I were reunited I noticed his bed was a bit wet. Then I noticed that his food bag only had 3/4 c. left. Then I noticed a note that read: I gave Edgar the rest of his food and some water. He is a very nice dog. Fernando, Denver Ramp. Holy cow! Edgar only eats 1c., 2x a day!! I even woke up at 2:30 AM to give him that cup before our flight knowing that he couldn't eat right before. This means that Edgar ate approximately 8 cups of food in less than 24 hours or so. Holy GI issues from hell.

To say that the dog was bloated was an understatement. Then the poor guy got into a scuffle with a Great Dane. The Dane belonged to one of our Sunday night dinner guests and she was beautiful! I just know that her owner is dying a thousand deaths, but truly these things happen. It was all over a tennis ball. At any rate, I missed Sunday night dinner and landed in the Pet ER about 7:00 PM. Over $180 later, Edgar has the top of his skull shaved and a nice crusty scab where he was gouged. He now was a sleepy, GI distressed, sedated, PTSD, Frankendog with a horrible case of the hot farts and involuntary bowel issues. It was quite the night.

This morning he seems to be back to normal and enduring his new nicknames of "Scarhead," "Frankendog," "Head-wound Bubba," and "Patch." I'm off to see "The Jerry" for my hair appointment to correct whatever he sees fit that the other scissor wielding bastards in Indy did to my mane. Then I'm off to see the puppies who seem to resemble more dog like form than other embriologic entity by now.