In Other News

I saw Jonathan Coulton at the Variety Playhouse on December 13th. It was awesome and nerdy. I like the Variety Playhouse especially because this is where I saw my first Bellydance Superstars show. Honestly, I haven't seen a second one since the first one, but still. Good memories. That's the point.

After the show there were two queues in the lobby: one for merch so you can buy stuff and then get it signed by Jonathan Coulton, and then another for people who had things to him to sign and then you could take a picture with him.

My friend Rebecca brought her ukulele and got it signed by him. She then asked if it would be okay if she could kiss him on the cheek. He said of course, because he's a lovely person and is probably used to being propositioned for strange things.

So they froze in time while I snapped a picture.

Next in line, I didn't have anything for him to sign. If I had the cash, I would have definitely gone through the merch line and purchased something, like a CD.

Alas I had nothing.

I tried to think of my excuse--why did I even need one? Everyone else was in line maybe for just a picture or a handshake. I suddenly felt the need to explain why I was even standing in line.

Holding the camera, my arms suddenly went T-Rex, and they tucked closely to my chest. Kind of mumbling as coherently as I could, avoiding eye contact, I said, "I don't have anything to sign... I just.. I just wanted... uh... YOU!"

And without thinking I grab his waist and give Rebecca the camera.

Like a champ, he laughed it off and posed with me.

I still couldn't look at him after that.

I thanked him and ran outside into the cold.

Western Heroes

I am standing in the bathroom.
My hair is dry  now, but honestly I never actually washed it. It looks pretty good though. Like it was teased on purpose. Looks kind of sexy, actually.

I've got on my layers and am buttoning up my long jacket. It's a jacket I got in high school. I've always called it my "Civil War Coat" because it reminds me of that era, however I've recently discovered that if I wear it with some fingerless gloves and a hat, I look like a rough cowboy.

With my sexy hair and my amazing jacket, I look at myself up and down, holding on to what I pretend are lapels (they are just the unbuttoned portion of my jacket).

I say to my reflection, "You are the new Western Hero."

Then I realize I forgot my earrings and rush out of the bathroom.

Animals all Over

On Xmas Eve Eve I'm actively driving out of my driveway to go and meet my brother when all of a sudden I stop my car abruptly so I don't hit this tiny little black puppy that's frolicking around.

I look at him and he looks at me, and that's it.
I'm in deep trouble.

Not sure what to do, I open my door. I see there's no collar, but he's super friendly and approaches me in my door. He puts his paws up on the seat, lets me pet him and then insists on a lift.
Baffled, I give him a lift.

Up-and-a-hop, he's in my lap and in the car.

Still not sure what to do, I put my car in reverse and sit in the driveway for a moment.

He's a friendly puppy.
Pint-sized, obviously a baby but not getting much bigger. Healthy looking, both physically and mentally. And is he...? It's dark and I feel around with my hand. Yup, he's intact.

So, what the hell is a young puppy doing, running around at night with a healthy body and healthy disposition, his balls still nestled between his legs, no collar or identification, and on Xmas Eve Eve?

I immediately think he must be some kid's Christmas present and folks are looking for him.
I shift my Volvo into drive and we are off around the dark neighborhood, looking for anybody looking for a dog.

I stop at one guy who is standing outside next to his car. The car's door is open and music is blaring out an incredibly loud version of Jingle Bells from the radio. He's leaning against the car, drinking a beer, and glaring into the darkness.

Normally, I probably wouldn't stop and inquire, but our neighborhood is the kind that lets their dogs run loose and off-leash. It's not that they trust their neighbors, I think. It's simply that they don't know any better. I say this especially with all the lunatic drivers and crazy meth addicts in mind.

So I stop the car and holler at the top of my lungs so the man can hear, "Are you looking for a dog?!" The man snaps out of his glazed-over look and looks at me. I repeat the question.

"What?" he yells back. He's a large man, holding a very tall beer can of I don't know what, and looks like he's Hispanic but its hard to say because it's dark.

I repeat my question a third time and the man starts coming close to my car. The pup in the car starts barking madly and I think at this point the gentleman drinking beer and listening to Jingle Bells is probably not looking for a dog at all.

He leans into the car and the puppy goes crazy with the barking. I repeat the question once more, even though by now I know the answer. The fellow shakes his head and says, "No" and I thank him for his time. As I begin to roll away and down the street, he yells "Merry Christmas!!" to me.

Still not knowing what to do about this dog, I just drive home. Parked in the driveway, I think about everything that has happened the past couple of weeks.

Momobella having cancer and those vet bills, which I paid off with a  credit card.
And then Bingley's teeth and possible head tumor, and how I used all the money I had earned for pet-sitting my friends rabbits on that.
And then also that I'm pet-sitting two rabbits, which are hanging out in the room with the rats and the other critters aren't allowed in that room anyway.

And then I thought of all the things that could go wrong with bringing a strange puppy into the house.

What if somehow this dog was sick and I just couldn't tell? He looks healthy and well-taken care of, but that doesn't mean he has had his shots or anything. For Pete's sake, his balls are still there.
What if he and Mary Jane don't get along? How long can you handle the fighting and supervising?
What if he does something somehow where he gets his teeth on the ferrets? I'll never forgive myself if that were the case.

I took a deep breath.
One step at a time.
Can't leave him in the car, can't really let him go back into the darkness. If he got hit, I'd feel awful and guilty all over again.

Besides, someone is probably looking for him.
So I held onto him firmly, noticed he didn't have a problem being picked up or handled, and brought him into my house.

He went into the kitchen, where I closed him off with the ferret gate.
I called my brother and canceled dinner then called Eddy to let him know what was going on.

It is currently DAY 3 of having the puppy in our house. We are calling him Riley (after going through two other names, Barkley and Riker).

Mary Jane loves wrestling with him, although it does seem sometimes she wishes he would stop, and he's made himself very much at home. Eddy and I still intend to let the Shelter know about the puppy, just in case people ARE looking for him. We wanted to make flyers too, but its been raining.

Still, he's very sweet and well mannered. He growled at me a little when I pushed him over last night as I tried to get comfortable in bed but I informed him that was "inappropriate behavior, young man, and I am the alpha in this household, not you!"

We'll see what happens to him. If no one claims him, I am not putting him in a shelter. No way in hell.

Happy Sad

Momobella got home on Thursday and it was supreme jubilation. She ran around the living room in a frantic frenzy before even approaching the boys.

The boys were napping, the cage doors were closed.
She stared at the closed door; stood on her back paws and touched the door.
When I finally opened it for her, she climbed in as frantically as she could, her back paws kicking at the air below her.
I gave her bottom a little push and up she went. Off like a rocket, speeding up the ramps into the slumbering part of the cage.
Jack was first because he was closest. She tackled him with vicious and insane kisses.
She licked his ear and licked his face. When he began to wake up (because how can you stay asleep during that?) he gave her kisses back.
When she felt like she had enough of Jack, it was Rudyard's turn (whom we know is her favorite). He was slumbering in the pirate ship hammock, and she stood on her back paws peering into it. Almost as if watching him slumber before deciding he'd had enough of a nap.
Again with the kisses.
Vicious and intense, licks with no chomps. All over his ears and his face.

Momo pulled the boys out of bed and made them interact with her. She was so happy.

Whenever I visited her at the vet's office,  she never gave me such emotion.  It was very much the same interaction I always get with Momobella. Some kisses, definitely chomps, not really playing or interacting with me personally.

This is okay, it doesn't bother me. I understand that a ferret's best mate is another ferret. I knew when I lost Edgar years ago and Rudyard was an only child for a short while that I just couldn't keep up. I couldn't provide the energy or vigor that a ferret needs and thrives from with another ferret.

But nothing proved it more--how important a ferret family is. It's always recommended that when you adopt a weasel, you adopt a pair. I say that its more of a recommendation! It's a must. The best "toy" you could ever get them is someone who can work and play on the same level as them.

I wish I had videotaped their reunion, but there was no way in hell I was going to make Momo wait any longer than she had to.

So now, Momo is on prednisone for the rest of her life. For a few days she has to take a high dose of a liquid form, then we get to go to the pill-crushing, ferret-vite mixture (which she will ultimately enjoy more). I don't know how long I get to keep her.

She's eating food but she's not gaining any weight. She lost weight in the vet's office, but she could've also been depressed. I mean, I sure as hell was and I was only in the vet's office an hour a day.

In the mean time it's tumor city for my rats, who are reaching the ripe age of 2 years come February. I took Bingley to the vet yesterday.  This vet is new and I really like her. She likes explaining what's going on, so in turn I know exactly what's up with Bingley. Or as much as she does.

Bingley's top incisors have "disappeared," meaning they are twisted around and not in the normal place. Because his top incisors are "gone," his bottom ones have nothing to stop them from being ground down. I took him to get his teeth trimmed when we made the discovery. What's worse is that there is a mass at the roof of his mouth. This distortion could be a number of things (trauma, for instance, or an inflamation due to the stabbing of his bottom incisors), but what it most likely is is a tumor.

Rats getting tumors is so commonplace, its rare to hear of a rattie just dying of old age. It's usually, "They are old and they have a tumor."

So Bingley very likely has a tumor in the roof of his mouth. I have to keep an eye on it. Basically, I have to see when his quality of life begins to diminish so I can make The Decision. It's rough and its shitty. It's not what I wanted to hear after bringing MomoBella home.

I really like this vet though (Sycamore Clinic, Dr. Mackey). She took pictures during Bingley's surgical procedure (the trimming of his bottom incisors; he had to go under) and explained to me what was going on. We hypothesized together about what things could be. She's very good with people and very good with animals. During Bingley's physical exam, Bingley was very comfortable with her and she never forced him into to doing anything uncomfortable. Dr. Mackey told me she likes to "go with the flow" in regards to animals. I really like that.

So there we go. Link probably has to go in soon too. He's got some weird dental issues too; I think the messed up teeth is genetic. I heard another rat from the litter was also having teeth problems and needed a trim.

Early Release

MomoBella is coming home a day early!

I've been visiting her every day. I try to stay with her an hour, but sometimes I can only do thirty minutes.

Today I did 45 minutes.

All of our visits have been good so far. She will sometimes play, mostly sleep, occasionally be curious and sniff around the room we stay in together. Every day she bites me.

Today, I was trying to clean some of her coat--it looked a little sticky.  We struggled a bit to the point where this scab on her ear opened up and she started bleeding. I was able to stop the bleeding. I gave her a treat so she would calm down and then she vomited up some bile. Momo's always kind of vomited sometimes and I was worried that the stress of our previous struggle upset her tummy some.

I got a call from the vet's office tonight saying they were going to probably do some blood work tomorrow morning and give her the rabies vaccine tomorrow afternoon, then I can pick her up around 3:30pm. I can't wait!

Bundle of Crazy

I'm visiting Momo everyday at the vet school until she comes home (which will be next Friday, Dec. 21st). Here she is poking her head out of the tote that she gets to keep with her.

Her caretaker is Ashley, who is super sweet and friendly. I really like her and she seems to be pretty fond of Momo.

She said this morning that she likes my ferret art (I will ocassionally take a sketch pad with me when visiting), so maybe I will draw her something as a show of appreciation.

The New Word is Cancerous

It doesn't feel like the holidays to me. I don't even want to hear Christmas music on the radio. I'm just not in the mood.

I found out on Monday that my precious MoMoBella has lymphoma. There are large nodules spread throughout her body--intestines, kidney, liver, etc. The vet showed me the ultrasounds they took and pointed the lymph nodes out to me, but they were large enough that I could see it without any help.

To help with the discomfort, she's been given predinosone that she has to take twice a day for the rest of her life. It was explained to me that the drug will shrink the lymph nodes down, but eventually the cancer will get wise and overcome the drug. "And when it does," the vet told me, "it will come hard and it will come fast."

I was told that predinosone is a type of chemotherapy, but you "get what you pay for." It's extremely inexpensive ($6 a month for a bottle) and it isn't the best option. I was told that there are other options, other types of chemotherapy, that I can consider.

I don't know what to do. MoMoBella is six years old. She's my baby girl, but I know she's also an older ferret.

To make matters worse, she bit a doctor while she was getting her check-up. I told them before they took her back that she is feisty and is a biter. She also doesn't have a rabies vaccination, which I didn't realize was required in the state of Georgia. I knew dogs and cats needed their rabies shot annually, but because ferrets are typically indoor animals it did not occur to me that they would fall under the same rules.

MoMo doesn't have rabies, but because I didn't vaccinate her she is being held in quarantine for ten days. I won't be able to get her back until next Friday on the 21st.

So happy holidays everyone! Maybe it'll feel more like Christmastime when my whole family is home and in my house.

Ferocious and Fierce

Today I found out that MomoBella has an advanced stage of lymphoma.

Happy Belated Vegas Post!

I realized that I shared my adventure with Spider Man when I went to Vegas, but I didn't share the rest! Damn and BLAST my busy busy life.

When I wasn't dancing my ass off or inhaling the dry desert air, I was out and about trying to see all the places I could.

Hard Rock Cafe in Las Vegas
I didn't actually go and eat in the cafe, but I went to the gift shop. It's where I got my musical family gifts from-- like, guitar picks, and earrings, and pins that I think you are supposed to attach to your guitar strap.

Geisha Moth
Geisha Moth is an AMAZING artist who creates all of her belly dance clothing by hand. She was one of the vendors at the Intensive Bellydance Festival and I bought a couple of things from her. She takes care of her customers and put my stuff in this cute bag, gave me a peacock feather, and some mini m&ms. YAY!






Large Pizza for $5
This is not special to Vegas, but I was amazed I could find it. I was so broke and could barely afford the food in the restaurants (strip or hotel, hotels being the worst). This was a HUGE find and saved my ass several times. The strip also had a McDonald's, but I couldn't find it. I saw the Big Golden M and wrappers on the ground, but the actual place had disappeared and was a mystery. Maybe that's what the Big M really was for....

Hello Kitty Wine in Adult Novelty Store
Porn Shop had Hello Kitty Wine! I wish I could've bought it for my friend Rebecca who is crazy about Hello Kitty. Alas, we'll just have to thin about it until that day comes.








That's all I've got for now! Tune in until next time..... when I remember things!!

Undestructable

I've just picked up some rat food and pig ears at the Pet Smart. As I'm leaving the parking lot, a song ends in my CD player and the next track on this particular mix is "Undestructable" by Gogol Bordello.

It should be noted that I do indeed like to play my music loudly. I enjoy music best when I feel like I'm being drowned in it.

So, yes, my music is playing a little loudly while I'm driving in the parking lot.

A fellow and the lady he is with begin to cross in front of me, which I of course yield to. As I slow down to a stop, the gentleman turns to face me fully, grabs his junk through his pants, and shakes it at me. Meanwhile, his lady-friend barely gives any sign of caring.

Its a very obvious and big gesture, so I really doubt that the chick didn't notice it.

And it was very much directed at me because, somehow through his douchebag sunglasses and backwards hat, we made eye contact.

I'm very confused.
Did I miss something?
Does this mean something in Gogol Bordello Land? I know he can be vulgar in his lyrics, but as far as I know shaking your junk at another person doesn't mean you like Gogol too. Or does it?