Bits and Bytes: playdog, itchy pooch, and the tax man calleth

Hidey ho Bloggers and Blogettes,

Isn't this picture wonderful? Personally, dog person that I am, I'd vote for her for 'Playdog' of the month! Picture poochie was a Katrina dog, adopted by kind dog-loving Judith, who once upon a time in a galaxy long ago and far away was nanny to my now grown up daughters. Said picture also reminds me that Easter isn't far away. Even if I didn't have the picture reminder, the oak pollen falling like golden rain from Heaven would remind itchy little me that Spring apparently has sprung. Bring on the antihistamines and eye drops. Where is the Kleenex? Achoo...

Speaking of antihistamines, and I was, my own Chilidog pictured in last night's blog, is now on Prednisone for a week for "over grooming" (the vet's words not mine). Then we wait 48 hours to start epilepsy treatments. Hopefully, the steroid will help her enough that Benedryl will be enough to stabilize her since she must start the epilepsy treatments asap. The Phenobarbital for seizures messes up or is messed up by steroids like Prednisone. I forget which. Anyway, you can't take both at the same time. As the vet explained, each Gran Mal seizure kills brain cells. Chili is having too many seizures not to begin treatment. Poor little dog. Between the broken hip, the allergies, and the epilepsy, she's been given a bum rap.

I finally got the green light from my accountant that he has everything he needs to file my three tax returns for 2007. Yes, I said three tax returns. Your eyes did not deceive you. I had to collect all my own stuff, my mother's 2007 tax stuff, and the estate tax stuff as executor. That's mountains of forms, folks. Especially for a person who never files the stacks and boxes of papers that built up on my office floor. (I hate filing almost as much as wearing hats but not as much as spiders and liver.) It took many hours, dare I say days, to find and organize the stuff. A trip to the post office and moola to mail the copies and forms. Three e mails to the accountant. Three phone calls. But, 'tis done. And even better: I overpaid my taxes for 2007. So did Mama. I get two refunds. Whoo hoo. Ain't life grand?

I also got my first quarterly royalty check from my publisher on my first 'all by me' book. Hey guys, that makes me legit! Also got a request to speak to a book club. Finished a new poem. And got e mail orders for eight books. Good day on the write front. So what if its raining outside.

Tomorrow we go to UCF to get Danny's 'staff' parking pass. He's happy to be starting a full time job, especially since its in the technology sector. We're looking forward to dog agility class with Super Ginny on Thursday evening and the Knight's Templar Convent events on Friday and Saturday. Ta ta for now.

Puppy Poem and Pix

Tonight's photos are dogs currently adoptable from Catahoula United Rescue Society (Curs). If you are looking for true love and devotion and are willing to give up satin bedspreads and oriental rugs, check out their site or Google your favorite dog breed. Most have rescue groups. Adopting a dog from a rescue group saves not only that dog's life but also enables rescue folks to pull another dog from a kill shelter. Most of the dogs end up in shelters for really stupid reasons. Owners abandon them when they move. They say the dogs won't come when called, or have fleas, or jump on their kids, or bark. Apparently, most of those folks are too lazy or self indulgent to get a dog training book or sign up for a training class or apply flea prevention products. But lucky me, that's how I got my Ginny and Abby.

Note to single folks who like dogs. Dog parks are full of other single people with dogs.

Here's a puppy poem from my upcoming book, Between The Lines (working title)

NEW PUPPY

By Nancy Wayman Deutsch

Busy buddy,
rapscallion
in constant motion.
Searching, finding
hidden treasure:
a discarded bit of tissue,
carried proudly off,
scavenged from my office trashcan.
Or one of my socks,
escaped from my walking shoe.

You ate my white summer sandal,
while I drifted somewhere in sleep.
Only one before I awoke
although I needed a shoe for each foot.
Or so I believed, before we met.

My Waterford vase must find a new home.
It’s silken flowers, bent over
several missing, now.
Why must you walk across the sofa table,
when the floor is nearer your paws?

You pounced on a lizard,
there in the grass
who left his tail behind
when he shimmied up the screen.
You didn’t notice his escape,
nose already calling you away
to some new smell-vision adventure.

Unrolling the toilet paper,
you ran from the bath,
because I caught you that time.
On the kitchen counter,
the meatballs sang a drool song
but, I heard them, too.

Why do you remember to bark at six o’clock,
for a puppy’s breakfast,
though you can’t remember to go outside,
when you need to pee.
I walk you for an hour.
Somehow, you wait,
keeping everything you’ve got inside
until we get home.

Your favorite toy
a fuzzy yellow duck,
which still quacks,
despite his missing foot.
Second to that lopsided duck
anything that our other dog already has
between her paws.

When we rescued you,
I thought you had lost your joy.
Though I know dogs,
this time, I was wrong.
Joy was there, hiding
behind your mismatched eyes,
waiting to be set free.

Live long and prosper.