My religious beliefs are being tested.

I'm the type who believes that silly prayers just irritate the pee outta God. You know: "pray for my stubbed toe" or along that line. Now, I admit to sometimes having my moments, usually during a migraine .... but praying, "Oh God, please make it stop" is not the same as "I bind these headache demons and demand God do something about it." And before you laugh, there are groups who do this "binding" stuff, and it freaks me to no end.

I figure God can't solve the problems of world peace, war, etc. because we're too busy bombarding him with silly requests. Not saying God doesn't care for our welfare, but I figure he says, "You know, instead of praying for that mashed toe, how about hauling your carcass to the doctor at the very least, and check to see if it's broken? I'm busy trying to keep the Sunnis and Shiites from killing each other."

Well, my beliefs are now being tested -- and with my dog, of all things.

Maddox had his yearly wellness checkup along with his vaccinations on Saturday. Routine drawing of bloodwork, easy-peasy sendoff. No big problems expected. Except.... Monday, I get 3 frantic phone calls from my mom telling me to call the vet ASAP. I spoke to the practice manager, and he was as dumbfounded as I was. Two panels came back elevated -- both connected to the liver functions. The thyroid panel (which just SIX weeks ago was normal) was now below the low end of normal. We were going to switch his diet immediately and keep him on some sulfa that he's been on for six weeks for a skin infection.

I went to my car at lunch, called my mom with the update, and we both cried. And she said, "I have cried every time I've looked at him. I've even prayed for him. I called (my cousin, also a dog owner) and told her and she's gonna pray too."

There went my religious theories on prayer, right out the window. Serious prayers went up to God, St. Francis, and whomever else was listening.

As it is, this morning, I spoke to the practice manager again. After some further research and consultation, the doctor is thinking that a different approach might work. Boost the thyroid with medicine, back to regular food, and hope (and pray) that the liver functions come back down normally. Test again in 30 days. See what happens.

If it means I give him a thyroid pill every day for the rest of his life, fine by me. I just want him here with me for many years to come!

L-town's biggest problem??

Apparently, our town fathers have now determined L-town's #1 problem: Number 2.

Crime, poverty, unemployment -- bah!!! Not in our little piece of perfection. Our biggest problem is dog doo. Or so you'd think by reading our latest town newsletter, mailed recently to all citizenry. There were at least 4-5 sentences about how our town is dog-friendly, but something's gotta be done.

I can agree, to an extent. Let's face it -- the town is also walker-friendly, and none of us particularly enjoy the piles of dogpoo. That especially holds true for those little "gifties" found on the sidewalk (arrrrgh!). As a dog owner, I want to be a good responsible pet owner. I also admit I haven't always been handy with the scooper either. And the times Maddox has gone, it hasn't been in private yards. He's a dog; neither his bladder nor the other outward digestive waste machine have the ability to hold it. When he's gotta go, he's gotta go -- sometimes, **it literally happens.

The scooper is almost like a talisman. 95% of the time I take it, Maddox doesn't have to go. This morning was an exception. I stopped right then, and cleaned up the offending mess (especially given the fact that we were about 100 yards and around the corner from the mayor's house!) I also noticed that other dog owners apparently did NOT clean up their messes. Either that, or it's those truly irresponsible ones that imagine the town is one big yard for their pets to enjoy off-leash.

And therein lies what I think is our biggest pet problem --- FLIPPIN' IDIOTS WHO OWN PETS!!! Other than the two Houdini-like incidents, Maddox doesn't go out that front door sans leash. Fenced-in backyard -- well, that's another story. That's his place, and he's definitely welcome to roam at will. But in the city at large, NO NO NO!!!! On most of our walks, though, we run into at least one dog, off-leash, roaming the town at will. I've seen plenty of dog-torn trash bags; those times, I pull Maddox away in the prayers that he won't follow suit. There's enough poo all over the grounds -- and the sidewalks too -- to tell me that these dogs are giving the other dogs in town a bad rep -- and the idea that it's okay to go there themselves. Then there's also the occasional traffic nightmare when they get out in the street; let's face it -- no one wants to hit a dog (although I'm sure the more idiotic just hope there are no witnesses if they do).

Friends and regular readers know my feelings about the "14 yapping inbreds" down the street. No, it's not really 14 dogs, but there are at least 5 or 6 (if not more) in a 10x10 covered kennel. Oh, don't get me started. I do offer a small prayer of thanks that they are not out roaming the streets. I still think their caretakers are just as irresponsible as those who allow the ones to roam at will, but .........

So. Is there going to be a leash law (if there isn't one already)? Registering our dogs with the city (I'd gladly do it)?

Much as it pains me to admit it...

my mother was right.

Many years ago, we were discussing her sleep or the lack thereof. I told her that nothing would ever rouse me from my sleep (think, like the dead). She said, "Don't plan on having children. You'll never get a real night's sleep again."

All these years later, she was right. I may not have an actual human child, but I have felt it with my canine companion.

Sunday night/Monday morning, around 1:45 AM, I awoke to this awful whimpering noise -- "oooooooohm oooooooohm pant pant ooooooooooohm." I thought it was a dream at first, that Maddox was dreaming. A very short time later, I realized it wasn't a dream, it was him in obvious distress. I took him out of his crate, then outside. For ten minutes I stood by as he ran for his "corner" and assumed the position ... many times. I brought him back in, but didn't shut his crate door. I just let him lie on the floor.

In a way, I'm glad I chose that option. I awoke on Monday morning to find my backporch was a disaster area. Couldn't blame him -- after all, he had no alternative, as we don't have a doggie door. So I spent the time before going into work hosing out the backporch. I called the vet and got an appointment for today.

Last night, he didn't want to go in the crate so I left him there on the porch with the crate door open. But it was hard to sleep again. About 1:15, I woke to the sound of my radio and the jingle of "Sporting News -- FLASH!" I never got back to a full sleep again. I thought of everything that could have happened to give my baby such a rough time. This morning, I got up to go in early (and drop him off at the vet). The porch again had a couple of accidents, but nothing like the night before. But once again, another hose-down.

PetSmart luckily had some deodorizer -- a big ol' mamma-jamma supersize bottle. Of course, I got it -- their recommendations were superb. I cut a tire coming out of the parking lot (a whole 'nother story for another time). Finally, after a few things transpired, I ended up taking a half-day and going to get my doggie.

Poor Maddox --- he had some distress all right. E. coli is its name! So there are a few prescriptions for him to take over the next few days, as well as special food. In the meantime, my dad and I bleached the backporch twice, and allowed it to sit as recommended on Clorox's website. We rinsed it out, and used the deodorizer on it (also twice). Cloroxed everything that he had been in contact with. The backporch probably hasn't been that clean since the day it was built.

I have a feeling that he and I will both sleep well tonight........