Tuesday, March 11, 2014

A Night of Dubious Distinctions

Some nights are OUTSTANDING and they live in our memories like the warm glowing embers of a companionable campfire.

Other nights are memorable for other reasons.

It was a two-fer

Last night was the second kind of night and will be memorable for two reasons.


One of the landmarks that tells countryfolk that spring is irreversably on the way is olfactory.  It is the pungent odor of skunks.  Skunks are awakening from their slumber and start a ceaseless search for food.  They walk about dazed from their long sleep and their single-mindedness of purpose (They may also be searching for romance but I have not interviewed one to to confirm this theory).  They are mowed down by owls, automobiles and other ravenous animals who are also walking about in a stupor.

I ran over a skunk last night. I was west bound on a gravel road about a quarter mile from my house.  I was driving at about 35-40 mph when the skunk popped out of a driveway near a trash can.

I had almost no time to react on the icy/muddy gravel road.  The skunk turned westbound.  I gave the Cavalier a slight course adjustment and neatly bracketed him so as to miss him with both the right and left sets of tires.  I watched the black-and-white blur disappear astraddled by my vehicle.  Imagine my joy at having no fragrance adorn my car!  It was miraculous given the low ground clearance of the Cavalier.  That skunk certainly got a haircut. Karma in action.

Approximately 10 minutes later Belladonna asked me if it was OK to give our Boston Terrier an entric coated baby aspirin.  Apparently he had shown up on our doorstep with a dreadful limp.

Boston Terriers, in addition requiring no functioning brain cells to negotiate life, also have the ability to GI Joe crawl.  I attribute it to their (terriers) original use for crawling down holes to do battle with all manner of vermin back in Jolly Ole England.

Yes, your mental picture is correct.  I ran over my own dog.  His left, front leg is tender but he can put weight on it.  He will live the life of pampered luxury for the next couple of days.  He will drink milk and get to eat hot dogs.  He will stay inside so as to not get roughed up by the other dogs.

There are times when the reaction to "Hit the Dirt!",  one of those reactions that are so fast that they transcend conscious thought, is the only thing that keeps us alive.  Last night was one of those nights for the Boston Terrier.

The second dubious distinction

One of the dubious distinctions of being the parent of teenagers is that one becomes a connoisseur, a sophisticated consumer of emergency medicine services.  I got to spend last night in the ER^2.  That is, the Emergency Room in Eaton Rapids.

Relax, it was nothing 'splody or cutty.  Nor did it involve anything that runs on fossil fuels nor was hemorrhaging or pulmonary insufficiency involved.

I enjoyed the hospitality of the fine folks in ER^2 from about 10 PM onward.  I arrived back home at 6:30 AM.  My role was that of "Responsible Adult".

They really are fine folks.  They understand that most of their visitors had other plans for the evening.  They know that most of their clients are anxious.  They gave us a private room.  They provided me with a roll-away bed even though I was not the patient.  They discretely popped in every thirty minutes and plied the patient with solicitude and loving.

I highly recommend ER^2 when things go south and serious professional medical attention is required.  You have enough going on in your life.  Their calm, soothing, professional manner went a long way to making our evening endurable.

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