Dog, Interrupted

I have a dog. His name is Tucker – and he is an idiot.

No, I’m not beating up on the poor little guy. God knows he is the sweetest, most cuddly puppy dog anyone could ask for and I LOVE him to death, but the truth is he’s dumber than a box of rocks. He’s a moron. When God was handing out brains, Tucker thought He meant “trains” and he missed his. I swear he’s missing a chromosome or two. He barks when nothing calls for barking. He runs around in really fast concentric circles uncontrollably until he gets dizzy and falls down. This dog is so stupid he falls UP the stairs.

Case in point:

Over the weekend, I was down in the basement on my computer or, for those who have seen it, my “command center” checking online for my final Physics grade for the millionth time when Tucker, who had been keeping me company, all of the sudden started to pee on my rug. Believe it or not, this is not the reason I think my dog is “to the left of normal” - he’s just an old guy, never properly trained. It happens; I’ve grown to accept it. However, any chance I get, I will stop him from emptying the entire contents of his bladder and get him outside as soon as possible to finish his potty break. This occasion was no different.

I ran over to him and picked him up mid-stream to startle him and make the flow go no mo’. It worked, he quit peeing. I ran over to the basement door so I could let him out. I had not yet finished disarming my high tech home security system (removing the dowel rod that lies between the sliding glass door and the wall – hey! Cooks don’t cook at home, security professionals, well, same thing), when out of nowhere I see a white streak, in mid leap, come flying past me and WHAM! Just like that, Tucker whacked his little noggin as hard as he could into the glass door. It was amazing, actually. You could clearly hear skull-on-glass action. I could actually SEE the little stars and birdies circling over his head. Quite honestly, I’m surprised he remained conscious – that’s how hard he smacked his head into the door.

Naturally, once I got over the disbelief that my dog just plowed into the door, I was horrified for my little canine pal. Thoughts of concussions and comas were dancing a macabre little dance in my mind. He seemed to be OK. He just started sneezing uncontrollably. For about 10 minutes. Isn’t there an urban legend that says you can only sneeze so many times before your heart stops? Great, now add THAT to my mental Macarena.

I called the vet’s office to find out what kind of head trauma indicators in needed to be on alert to observe in Tucker. I spoke to a very sympathetic vet tech:

ME: Hi, my dog, Tucker, is a “client” of yours [I didn’t know what else to call him] and he just slammed his head into my sliding glass door. What kind of signs should I look for to know if he’s in trouble or not? All he’s done so far is sneeze. A lot.

VT: Is he still sneezing?

ME: No, he stopped. Tucker sneezes. Never mind, he just did it again.

VT: Well, I’d say the big thing is if you notice him stumbling around and walking like he’s confused or disoriented, he needs to come in.

ME: Ma’am, his natural gait is a permanent stumble and this dog is ALWAYS confused. This does not a good symptom make. What else should I look for?

VT: Laughs. Laughs more. If he starts panting while at rest, loses his appetite, or his pupils really start dilating, bring him in.

ME: Thanks! You’ve been vey helpful.

VT: Still laughing. No problem.

After two days of Tucker-watch, we were convinced that he was OK. Probably dumber now, but OK. I would like to thank Mama / Papa Q for sending Tucker such a lovely get well card. That was very sweet. When he saw it, he licked it. I think he wanted to eat it. I told you he was dumb.

By the way – I totally rocked the “A” for my Physics class and managed to eek out an A.S. in Science with a 4.0 GPA. Woot!!! On to Phase II!!!

They Love me...They REALLY Love Me!!!

So, it’s not really that big of a deal, but it kind of is a big deal. I got my acceptance letter from George Mason University in the mail a couple days ago. Yea!

To any normal kid who’s doing the post-secondary education thing the normal way (right out of high school), this is a very stressful time in his/her life. Filling out all those applications, writing all those essays, making mom/dad write all those checks for application processing fees – all so you can find out if you’ll be attending the college of your dreams (or if you’ll be stuck with Plan B).

This is what’s very nice about being an adult student, because you get to shrug your shoulders and make like you actually don’t give a crap one way or another as to the school you are going to attend. And why would you? You already have a paying job, right? Benefits? A 401K perhaps? Who gives a flying dookie?

Here you are, you’ve racked up some credits at a junior college, (presumably) achieved the best grades that you possibly could, and thrown out a couple of applications to the four year Universities closest to your house. If you get in, great. If not, better luck next semester. [That’s the cool thing about being a transfer student…you get to keep re-applying relentlessly every semester until you wear them down and they finally let you in.] Plus, you know damn well that you applied as a transfer student and, for all intents and purposes, you’re a shoo-in, provided you get a half decent GPA (at least that’s the way it works in VA). They’re gonna accept you. No worries. Right?

Uh-huh. Whatever. This is me we’re talking about. The one who worries about upper respiratory infections every time the cat snores. The one who won’t open up the manhole-cover-thingy that leads to the attic (despite the promise of a boat load of much needed storage space) because of the inevitable threat of eight-legged intruders breeching the inner sanctity of my arachnid-free home. The one who is currently undergoing a complete regimen of orthodontics to save ONE TOOTH. Yeah, that’d be me.

I admit it, I worried! I checked George Mason’s applicant website everyday to check for any new status on my application. I got mad when I kept seeing nothing. But I got my letter, finally, so yea!

So, if you can picture it, here’s me doing the cabbage patch. And the Roger Rabbit. And raising my hands in the air, wavin’ ‘em like I just don’t care. And hooting out 70’s disco noises to the songs in my head. And yelling out, “Who’s Your Daddy?” to random passers-by.

OK, maybe not all that, but it is nice to know that this is one less thing I have to worry about. Imagine what I’ll be like when it comes time to start submitting applications to vet schools. Yikes.