Can't get it on, can't even get high.
May. 28th, 2006 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceLeory-the-new-dog is progressing nicely, you'll be happy (I hope) to know. I picked him up from his second, and final, heartworm treatment on Friday, and he's doing fine; in another week he'll be able to go for walks and off-leash runs again, and I am looking forward to next Friday, no question. He's gained ten pounds since he first went in for his shots, as well. The food, the biscuits, and the total lack of exercise have all worked together and you can't feel the minute curves of his hipbones, now, or each individual vertebra. He doesn't feel fragile, anymore. He feels solid, like a dog who'll be around for a while. He's healthy again, and that's nothing but good.
Have I mentioned he's not neutered? He's not, and while I feel very strongly that one should spay or neuter pets, it can't happen yet, because I've just spend upwards of a thousand dollars getting him healthy again, money that was pretty much carefully budgeted for other things. And now Flannery's overdue for her shots, and they have to happen next paycheck. And only then can Leory'smandoghood be attended to.
He's healthy, and I guess he's feeling better, too. He was restless tonight, couldn't settle to anything, but I attributed that to the lazy day we'd had and didn't think anything more about it until he started hovering over Flannery. In such a way that immediately called Fred-the-badass to mind, Fred who twice in his illustrious badass career sent Flannery to the emergency vet for surgery, and jumped her on several other occasions with murder clearly on his mind. So I kind of freaked out, I admit it, and spent a paranoid hour with a finger hooked through his collar, making sure he didn't get close to her. I did eventually let the collar go, and he immediately tried to mount Flannery. Which, thank goodness he wasn't out to kill her, but let's just make this clear, Flan's never had sex in all of her fifteen years, has never apparently wanted sex. Is arthritic and can't support her own weight easily, much less fifty extra pounds of horny dog. Takes pretty fiercely against dogs who sniff around her privates, not to mention try to insert things into them. So as relieved as I was to see him sexed up rather than raged up, I put him in his crate for a while, and he came out of the crate in a calmer mood, and is now asleep and wuffling gently at dream-squirrels. No sex for you, Bud. Sorry.
I can't get Leory fixed until July at the earliest; such is life at chez Cammy. So I hope that this urge was just a one-time thing, because god, we're all in for an unpleasant couple of months otherwise.
Have I mentioned he's not neutered? He's not, and while I feel very strongly that one should spay or neuter pets, it can't happen yet, because I've just spend upwards of a thousand dollars getting him healthy again, money that was pretty much carefully budgeted for other things. And now Flannery's overdue for her shots, and they have to happen next paycheck. And only then can Leory's
He's healthy, and I guess he's feeling better, too. He was restless tonight, couldn't settle to anything, but I attributed that to the lazy day we'd had and didn't think anything more about it until he started hovering over Flannery. In such a way that immediately called Fred-the-badass to mind, Fred who twice in his illustrious badass career sent Flannery to the emergency vet for surgery, and jumped her on several other occasions with murder clearly on his mind. So I kind of freaked out, I admit it, and spent a paranoid hour with a finger hooked through his collar, making sure he didn't get close to her. I did eventually let the collar go, and he immediately tried to mount Flannery. Which, thank goodness he wasn't out to kill her, but let's just make this clear, Flan's never had sex in all of her fifteen years, has never apparently wanted sex. Is arthritic and can't support her own weight easily, much less fifty extra pounds of horny dog. Takes pretty fiercely against dogs who sniff around her privates, not to mention try to insert things into them. So as relieved as I was to see him sexed up rather than raged up, I put him in his crate for a while, and he came out of the crate in a calmer mood, and is now asleep and wuffling gently at dream-squirrels. No sex for you, Bud. Sorry.
I can't get Leory fixed until July at the earliest; such is life at chez Cammy. So I hope that this urge was just a one-time thing, because god, we're all in for an unpleasant couple of months otherwise.
