So this is Christmas
For Christmas this year, we got Dutchie liposuction. The vet removed a one-lb. lipoma (fatty mass) from his chest. It was ruining his looks. Plus we're in a two-story house now, and when he went up the stairs, his hump, as we'd taken to calling it, would often catch on one of the risers, and the poor guy would slide all the way back down to the bottom of the staircase. Most days he was exhausted.
After the operation, we had to take him in for a bandage change every couple of days, and the doctor was very creative. I know it looks like he's just got a shirt on or some kind of outfit, but those are bandages all right. I stress this because several people have already accused me of being a freaking pet pervert. The doctor is the freaking pet pervert. I just happen to own a purple shirt and a Santa Claus hat.
No pictures of JJ yet this holiday season. He's in California returning presents I haven't even given him yet. It's a long story. Let's just say that even though he's far away all the time now -- either in Columbia, SC, or out in So. California (and it's beginning to feel like 50-50; I think he's already qualified for frequent flyer miles), a day doesn't go by that I don't feel his presence in some very real, and usually expensive, way.
No pictures of Sarah yet either. Sarah's living in Tampa with her toy dog. A miniature Pincher about seven inches high. A small thing that came in a big package. This dog cost more per ounce than Beluga caviar. She kept him a secret for months and when she finally came clean she had to lie to us about how much she spent. So Sarah's expensive, too, but hell, she's always been expensive. My mother used to say you can get used to hanging. That's about where Sarah's had me for years. Supposedly she's getting a salary now. All I can say is, somewhere she must have some fine bank account stashed away.
No pictures of Tracey. She's home but has a strict no-pictures policy unless there's a trained stylist available. She has many policies, most of which make her as easy to get along with as North Korea. Tracey's not expensive, she's just impossible. I'd be willing to pay to see her get into an away school somewhere. Afghanistan perhaps. I think it would do her good. She brings out the literary side of me; makes me think of the words of King Lear.
No pictures of June either (well, one with the dog). I'm mad at her.
June's sister's husband's mother, who used to be my neighbor when I was growing up in Haworth, NJ, used to frequently bemoan her decision to have children rather than dogs. But I don't know. Dutchie seems to have gotten into the swing of things all right. The operation cost over $900 and the cost of all those different bandages? $30 a pop. Oh, and he bites.
Ho Ho Ho.
After the operation, we had to take him in for a bandage change every couple of days, and the doctor was very creative. I know it looks like he's just got a shirt on or some kind of outfit, but those are bandages all right. I stress this because several people have already accused me of being a freaking pet pervert. The doctor is the freaking pet pervert. I just happen to own a purple shirt and a Santa Claus hat.
No pictures of JJ yet this holiday season. He's in California returning presents I haven't even given him yet. It's a long story. Let's just say that even though he's far away all the time now -- either in Columbia, SC, or out in So. California (and it's beginning to feel like 50-50; I think he's already qualified for frequent flyer miles), a day doesn't go by that I don't feel his presence in some very real, and usually expensive, way.
No pictures of Sarah yet either. Sarah's living in Tampa with her toy dog. A miniature Pincher about seven inches high. A small thing that came in a big package. This dog cost more per ounce than Beluga caviar. She kept him a secret for months and when she finally came clean she had to lie to us about how much she spent. So Sarah's expensive, too, but hell, she's always been expensive. My mother used to say you can get used to hanging. That's about where Sarah's had me for years. Supposedly she's getting a salary now. All I can say is, somewhere she must have some fine bank account stashed away.
No pictures of Tracey. She's home but has a strict no-pictures policy unless there's a trained stylist available. She has many policies, most of which make her as easy to get along with as North Korea. Tracey's not expensive, she's just impossible. I'd be willing to pay to see her get into an away school somewhere. Afghanistan perhaps. I think it would do her good. She brings out the literary side of me; makes me think of the words of King Lear.
No pictures of June either (well, one with the dog). I'm mad at her.
June's sister's husband's mother, who used to be my neighbor when I was growing up in Haworth, NJ, used to frequently bemoan her decision to have children rather than dogs. But I don't know. Dutchie seems to have gotten into the swing of things all right. The operation cost over $900 and the cost of all those different bandages? $30 a pop. Oh, and he bites.
Ho Ho Ho.