Because the universe hates me...

My new adventure begins Tuesday. Tuesday at 1015. That's when Abe gets to see the vet specialists because his right kneecap is now doing the same luxiating thing that his left kneecap did, which required surgery to fix. A luxiating patella. Or at the very least, a something starting with the letter L patella. At least this time I didn't have to feel his kneecap sliding around. Although I am certain I will hear more about bones and shaving and cracking and slicing and gross and stop talking to me about bones and surgery, because that just grosses the hell right outta me.

Because of course I just got our taxes done, and we are getting a really decent refund. Which should nicely cover Abe's next vet bills. I shouldn't complain, I am very happy we have the money to waste on our dog instead of vacation or a new car (the Suburban is 14. And I still haven't fixed the emergency brake release, so that if I accidentally set the parking brake I will have to have the truck towed. Plus I have to get the snow tires removed and the passenger door inside handle replaced, because pretty soon you will have to roll the window down and open the door from the outside. And the leather seats -- which I am certain were a lovely grey leather at some point, are now stained and ripped and slashed in a couple of places. Dogs and old leather seats not an ideal combination.)

Plus I have been driving the Honda whilst Mark is gone, and my IPod connects to it. I have 484 songs at my fingertips. In the Suburban, I am limited to CDs and NPR.

On the other hand, I don't care if the dogs are in the 'Burb, I can throw a dead sawed-up Christmas tree in the back, haul icky recycling or seven kids.

Right I was discussing the dog. He has been limping for a couple of weeks. I was trying to decide if it was just stiffness from his other surgery -- cold mornings in Anchorage are tough on him sometimes -- or if there was something more going on. But he has been tripod dog in the last few days, not putting weight on his right hind leg. So poor Abie is going to go through all that again -- surgery and recovery and limping and being confined and ugh.

There is the great potential for fun drugs for him, though...morphine makes him the calmest and limpest dog I have ever seen. He just lays there, eyes glazed.

So at least I don't have to make a decision about poor Abie based on what we can afford. And I can be very hopeful that surgery will correct things, and he will go back to being cheerful and goofy, although with what seems to me a death wish, considering that he willingly engages in combat with Mojo...