Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

My Hairy Ass.

Made ya look didn't I?
I had to take my Golden Retriever Moses (aka Hairy Ass) to the Vet.
Now me being me with all of my lovely disorders, I DO NOT go very many places besides work and family stuff, not even to the store, because I don't deal with attention/spot-light/focus on me very well at all........I usually "feel" like I'm in a fish bowl and I shut down to tunnel vision and if I'm really lucky chest pains and funky breathing.
SOO there isn't much opportunity, and I'm currently comfortable with that, but I completely got hit on today, and instead of breaking out in a rash, and/or hiding under the table, or saying something socially un-acceptable so he would run away screaming, I was flattered? ....Where the heck that came from I don't know, but it was a nice feeling. Not a normal feeling for me, but a very nice change indeed.
He was very subtle, he's one of those vets that truly loves animals.......and I've been in his office many times, and I feel comfortable there, maybe because I identify with him because he seems to be more comfortable around animals than humans.....and I'm rambling here......but he was so subtle, that it wasn't freaky. Or maybe it was that I was so worried about and focused on Moses that I just reacted without turning on my anxiety switch?
Who knows, but I liked it. Baby steps.
Moses has an ear infection. :o( My vet doesn't sell Daschund butt plugs. ;o(
The next time one of my K9's needs to go to the vet I think I'll just pin a note to his fur, push him in the door and wait in the car. (but i liked it)
Praise Petunia and pass the peas, I liked it.
"So she was turned away/ To hide her face, her lips, her guilt among the trees./ Even in their leaves, to haunt caves of the forest,/ to feed her love on melancholy sorrow/ Which, sleepless, turned her body to a shade,/ First pale and wrinkled, then a sheet of air,/ Then bones, which some say turned to thin worn rocks;/ And last her voice remained. Vanished in the forest,/ Far from her usual walks on hills and valleys,/ She's heard by all who call; her voice has life."
The Metamorphoses by Ovid.


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