I took my dog to the vet today for his annual check-up. This is not as easy as it sounds. Scooby is a ten-year-old Australian shepherd who still thinks he's two and has the energy and enthusiasm to go with the age of his imagination. Getting him into the car is no problem--getting the collar around his neck is more so, and keeping him in the back seat is a major undertaking. Last night on the phone Colin said to me, "Be very careful," worried about Scoob interfering with my driving. This morning the dog was absolutely beside himself because we saw bicyclists and another dog--he knew he had to get out there and herd them! When I got to the vet's office (on a very busy street corner), I simply called and asked if someone would come get him, which they most obligingly did. Then mid-morning the vet called to say he needed his teeth cleaned, which always scares me. I once lost a dog to cardiac arrest after he had his teeth cleaned (he had other health issues, although he was a young dog), but then I also once lost my mom's old dog to systemic infection which came from infected teeth. So I now grit my own teeth and go ahead with it. After lunch, however, I had a moment of panic and called to tell them he'd eaten this morning. He'd already had his teeth cleaned and was waking up, so tonight I have a healthy, shots-up-to-date dog and a much lighter wallet.
I asked about Scooby's weight, because he looks so much heavier to me, but it's just his winter coat which needs to come off. With the weather we've had, I'm afraid to have his summer haircut yet. I had hoped he'd gained a bit so that I could say, "Well, that makes two of us." But he hasn't. I have. I was appalled when I stepped on the scale yesterday--after losing the week before, I had gained almost two pounds. And I thought I was doing so well. I've gone back to watching my points according to the Weight Watchers system and fear it will be a lifelong process. The minute I step off I gain a pound or two. After that strict vow, a friend talked me into Chadra for lunch today, and I had the kids' portion of spaghettini with meat sauce--huge! I ate half, feeling guilty but managed to stay under my points for the day. And, darn, that spaghetti was good.
My hero of the day (really yesterday) is former Dallas mayor Ron Kirk, now a trade ambassador or something for the Federal government. At a news luncheon with reporters, he was asked about Governor Perry's comments about secession, and his answer was spot on about the poor state of Texas, the lack of money allocated to education and health care for kids, and a lot of other concerns for human beings that are lacking in our state. And he concluded by saying he'd grown up under Jim Crow, and he didn't want to go back to that. He was so lucid and clear about what he was saying that I cheered silently at my computer while reading. I really really hope he campaigns for Bill White, though some say he's positioning himself for a run for senator if Kay Bailey Hutchison steps down (which I don't think she'll do). But Kirk is a voice to listen to, and like most Texans I know, I'm ready to get rid of Governor Good-Hair and his macho two-faced talk about how good things are in Texas.
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