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This is not a post about puke

1 Apr

I think my dad was trying to curse me yesterday, in the first sentence of the comment he left on my post. He remarked that although, yes, I had done a post on pee, and then one about poop, I hadn’t yet done one about puke. So, just to spite him, I am not going to blog about puke.

I will tell you that I went to check on Halia last night before retiring. She was sleeping so sweetly, breathing so gently, tucked under the beautiful quilt my friend Nita made for her. I’ll tell you how I tucked her in a little more securely and leaned in to kiss her on her sweet cheek.

But I certainly won’t tell you how my nostrils filled with the sour smell of vomit, or what my hand encountered in trying to tuck her in. And I won’t mention that this appears to be the third time this week that Halia has thrown up in her sleep. The other two times, I didn’t even discover what had happened until the next day. But I won’t tell you about that.

Nanuq has been doing so much better, too. For a while, I was worried there was something seriously wrong with him, as he was throwing up so frequently. Disgusting, too, since all he eats is raw fish. But after several vet appointments and making some changes to his feeding schedule, he’s been doing really well for several weeks. It’s been such a relief not to haul out the carpet shampooer every day.  (Haha! Like I actually did that every time!)

This week, we ran out of Nanuq’s fish and I tried to get some more, but the place where we get it was closed. So last night I concocted a mixture of rice and tuna (which he has tolerated fine before) and scrambled eggs (an experiment). He ate it up happily. Isn’t that a nice story?

I won’t add any sour notes to that one by telling you just how many puke puddles I found around the house this morning. It was a bit of a treasure hunt for the kids, since Jade found two and Halia found one… but you won’t want to hear about that.

I absolutely refuse to do a post about vomit.

Now please, people, don’t leave any smart-aleck remarks about snot, blood, or other bodily fluids. I think I’ve had enough, both of blogging and not blogging about these things.

Where Nanuq went

29 Jul

For those who missed it, Michael tells the story of how we lost and found Nanuq here.

Nanuq is missing

25 Jul

Guys, we need your help.  We’ve been posting this message everywhere we can, hoping someone spots Nanuq.

Our dog Nanuq has been missing since yesterday afternoon from our place on in Hillcrest. He’s a blonde-coloured lab-husky mix, a large dog, but not huge at 60 lbs. He’s very friendly with people and may have followed someone if they encouraged him to go with them. He’s got food allergies, which makes his coat a bit patchy-looking, and he’s on medication for arthritis.

He has a narrow red collar on, but no tags, as we lost them a little while ago and hadn’t replaced them yet.

If you spot him, please give me or Michael a call at 456-7917.

Nanuq when he's happy and perky

Fuzzy from being wet

After playing in a muddy pond

Rendezvous music

24 Feb

Those of you who live in Whitehorse already know that Rendezvous time is here again!  I’ll be singing at The Capital from 10 to 11 p.m. tomorrow night to help you kick off the Rendezvous weekend.  As you can see from the poster, there’s a lot of great entertainment lined up for the weekend.  I’m planning to get there earlier in the evening to really let the butterflies get hold take in some of the other performers before my set starts.

On Friday night, The Big Band will be playing at the Queen’s Ball at the High Country Inn.  We had such a fabulous time playing the Dessert and Dance two weeks ago, with over 200 people coming through that evening.  If you had fun then, or if you were unlucky enough to miss it, here’s your chance to do some swing dancing!  And see all the Rendezvous Queen candidates, of course.

And Saturday, we’re hoping to enter Nanuq in the annual dog-howling competition (which we missed last year).  That will be quite a musical event, since his cue to howl is the harmonica.  I wonder if they’ll disqualify him because he is clearly singing and not howling?

(And later Saturday evening, the Big Band will be doing the dance music for a wedding — how cool would it be to have a big band at your wedding reception?!)

As you can tell, it’s going to be quite the weekend, and that’s not even getting into all the Rendezvous events!  Whew… see you on the other side!

In which Crook makes an appearance

23 Feb

Those of you who have been reading since the early days (or those of you who know me in real life) may be aware that we have a cat who goes by the name of Crook.  Crook is aptly named not only because of his bandit mask, but also because of his propensity for making mischief.  He loves attention, any kind of attention, including the bad kind.  He is affectionate and sweet-tempered, but absolutely incorrigible.

Last week while Michael was away in Ross River, Crook suddenly decided it was time to start doing early-morning wake-up calls.  Jade had a couple of middle-of-the-night wake-ups and of course Halia still wakes two to three times a night, so having Crook yowling at the door (also waking Halia) at 6 a.m. sent me just a little over the edge.

The first morning he did that, I stomped up the stairs, picked him up by the scruff of the neck and threw him out the door.  It’s been very mild out these past few weeks, so there was certainly no danger of his freezing.  But when a cat has nothing on his mind except his food dish, separating his person (ahem) from the object of his desire is punishment enough.

The second morning he woke us early, he saw the angry signs coming at him, but that didn’t save him from having another delayed breakfast.  He even got to watch Nanuq get fed before he was allowed to re-enter the house and be reunited with his food bowl.

The third night, I decided enough was enough.  I put a soft blanket in a basket in the laundry room and moved the dozing cat from the couch into the basket.  Crook’s litter box is in the laundry room, so the door is fitted with a cat flap.  Fortunately, it comes with a removable panel that slides in place so that I could seal it off and keep him shut in for the night.  Or so I thought.

There, I thought.  I may not get a good night’s sleep, but at least you won’t cause any problems.

And he didn’t.

I was very surprised in the morning, though, to find that the solid panel of the cat flap had been completely removed.  I suppose that I should have been prepared for this possibility, given that I have to lock the closet door that secures the dog food, as Crook has been known to open the bi-fold door and help himself.

Crook was waiting at the top of the stairs and started meowing hungrily as soon as he heard us coming up.  I have no doubt that he spent very little time figuring out how to get that sliding panel off the cat door, which means he could have pulled his alarm-clock act again if he’d wanted to.

Which, I guess, means he actually learned a lesson.

Perhaps he isn’t so incorrigible after all.

Like a little girl

22 Nov

I am normally not a squeamish kind of person.  Needles don’t bother me.  Frank discussions of bodily functions don’t faze me.  As a kid, I was the one who took the dead, squished mice out of the mousetraps and helped my dad bury the dead, trapped skunks, while my sister ran the other way.

But tonight, I came as close as I ever have to screaming like a little girl.

My mom and I went out to run some errands this evening, and Michael got both Jade’s supper and our supper cooked in the meantime — no small feat, especially with a toddler to supervise/entertain.  One of the ways he kept Jade occupied was by letting her play in the drawer under the oven, the one filled with all the baking pans.

Of course, there’s so much stuff in there, all the pans have to be arranged just so in order for the drawer to close.  And I’m the only one who can arrange it just so.  So, when I went to rearrange the bakeware, I found that the bottom of one of the springform pans had fallen back into the murk behind the drawer.

I pulled out the drawer as far as it would go without actually removing it from its tracks.  There was the bottom of the pan.  And look!  What’s that?  One of Crook’s toy mice!  Oh, yes, and there’s a green rubber ball of Crook’s.  And another toy mouse.  My mother was pulling them out with her rubber-gloved hand, but I had a better view, so I started retrieving cat-hair-covered objects, as well.  (Isn’t it amazing how pet hair accumulates in the spots we never sweep or vacuum?)

Why, here is the breastfeeding bracelet my friend Jenn gave me when Jade was born.  I thought it was in my nightstand, and had been contemplating digging it out.  And here’s one of Jade’s bath toys.  And here’s… um… another toy mouse?  No, it’s too big.  Um…

That’s when I shrieked.

Because what I had grabbed was not a toy mouse, but the cat-hair-covered, dessicated body of a bird.

A harmless dead body, to be sure, but when you’re not expecting to grab a dead anything, well, revulsion is a natural reaction, isn’t it?

I shrieked all the way to the bathroom, where I thoroughly scrubbed my hands as I shivered in disgust.  Michael, who was parked in the living room with a sleeping baby on his chest, pointedly asked me just who I thought brought that dead bird into the house.  (“YOUR cat,” he concluded smugly.  At which I cleverly told him to shut up.)

That space under the oven?  It is SO clean now.

The benefits of a tidy house

25 Mar

Yesterday morning, Jade and I were home alone because Michael was out spring camping with his brother and Norris and Nanuq.  I wasn’t at all ready to get up when Jade was, so I spent the first few hours of the morning reclining on the couch and on my bed while Jade played.

She had decided to put on her “Squeaky Feet” shoes, so I could hear her, even though we weren’t in the same room.  I could also hear her talking to herself, and some occasional thumps as she moved things around.  I did get up to check on her occasionally, but didn’t do anything to interfere with her fun.  By the end of my lollygagging, she had removed almost an entire set of “Children’s Nature” books from the shelves and piled them on the floor, pretty much in the main drag that leads to the stairs.  Instead of putting them away, I simply shoved them aside as we went upstairs to find a snack.

That sets the stage.  Next comes the part where the boys came back from their camping trip.  We looked at pictures of their adventures and Michael praised Nanuq for working so hard pulling the kicksled, which Norris rode most of the time because he’s got a gimpy knee these days.  As a reward, Nanuq had been given two big chunks of salmon and a goodly portion of steak.

At some point fairly late in the evening, I suddenly remembered that today was a work day, which meant packing lunches and such.  Hey, it’s been four whole days since this work thing happened; who can blame me if the routine was a little off-kilter?  By the time I finished packing lunches (which I’d had to actually cook, since there were no leftovers from our extremely mediocre A&W supper-on-the-run) I flopped into bed, forgetting to put Nanuq to bed in his crate.

So, what do you get when you have a pile of books on the floor and a dog full of unfamiliar people food and free to roam the house at night?  Well, Michael can tell you all about it because he stepped in it as he was coming upstairs this morning.  Dog diarrhea.  Multiple deposits.  Most of them strategically placed on the heads of highly educational grouse, moose, bears, butterflies, and other defenseless wildlife unable to run away, bound as they were to the pages to which their likenesses were affixed.

The good news was that these being hard-cover books, some of them could actually be salvaged.  It even gave me the opportunity to disinfect them, something I hadn’t done before, even though I’d bought them in a yard sale, and what was I thinking not disinfecting these books before, which might carry small pox or the plague, for all I know?  Thank goodness Nanuq crapped all over them and rectified that little oversight.

Alas, not every book could be saved.  Some of the effluent came in contact with not just the covers, but with the edges of the actual pages; these I did not even attempt to rescue.  Fortunately, only three books had to go.  Grouse was one.  Alligators and woodchucks was another.  How sad that these noble creatures are now extinct.  At our house, anyway.

And so, I am once again reminded as to why having a tidy house is so much preferable to an untidy one.  Wouldn’t you rather clean dog poo off the rug than off a pile of children’s books?