Zorro keeps looking up at me with big liquid eyes that beseech me to make him feel better, and help him breathe, and I can’t do anything but soothe him and stroke him, and tell him he’s a good dog…and shove pills encapsulated in cheese down his throat.

We’re trying to keep him warm, but not hot, and comfortable. To that end, we’ve taken his collar off him, so now he’s naked, and I’m paranoid that he’ll escape, as he is want to do. He isn’t one to run away, but he was a stray, and loves to explore. He knows where home is though…and I know that this is an irrational fear: he isn’t even coming to the kitchen to beg for treats when there are food sounds, and this is a dog who lives for treats.

Miss Cleo is subdued as well, and is being nice to him – not roughhousing or stealing food, or any of her normal little-sister-type behavior. She went to him a moment ago, and licked his ear, and then came to me and put her head on my leg, and sighed.

The meds are – slowly – kicking in. Last night we slept in fifteen and twenty minute snatches, between his coughing fits, but this evening, he’s going for an hour between attacks, and they’re shorter, and less severe, but still wheezy and awful. He just had his evening meds, so hopefully we’ll ALL get some rest tonight, him included.

I had planned to dismantle Christmas today, and reclaim the house, but instead I spent half the day sleeping and the other half trying to, though we did watch the first two episodes of Numb3rs on DVD, since we’d never watched the show live…I quite like it so far.

I’m tired and cranky, and worried, and I feel so helpless. How do parents of human children get through this stuff, when it’s this difficult with a dog?

Escribition Expedition: a Textual Safari

“We are all going on an Expedition,” said Christopher Robin, as he got up and brushed himself. “Thank you, Pooh.”

“Going on an Expotition?” said Pooh eagerly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on one of those. Where are we going to on
this Expotition?”

“Expedition, silly old Bear. It’s got an ‘x’ in it.”

“Oh!” said Pooh. “I know.” But he didn’t really.

“We’re going to discover the North Pole.”

“Oh!” said Pooh again. “What is the North Pole?” he asked.

“It’s just a thing you discover,” said Christopher Robin carelessly, not being quite sure himself.

“Oh! I see,” said Pooh. “Are bears any good at discovering it?”

— A. A. Milne, Winnie The Pooh

The first of a new year seems as good a time as any to restructure, re-evaluate. I’ve a new mission here at MissMeliss: Escribition. While I’ve always said my blog is writing practice, something to keep the juices flowing, it’s also a personal voyage of discovery. Sometimes I’m discovering things about myself. Sometimes I’m discovering things about art, literature, culture, the world. Either way, if you’re reading this you’re invited along for the journey.

Of course, I don’t camp, as such, so on my expedition, picture yourself in an African Safari from the 20’s: white clothes, white tents, staff to keep the coffee hot and the biscuits served, and camp beds rather than nasty sleeping bags on the ground. On my safari, the espresso flows freely, wifi is always available, and style and substance merge into a harmonious marriage.

Do join me.
After all, like the North Pole, life is just a thing you discover.