A dog, a cat, and a grandson

 

Sophie on the mend.
She looks pretty raggedy, poor sweet baby.

Update on Sophie: as of this morning, her pancreatic enzymes are down though not yet normal. She is better but still has a long way to go, and truthfully, she looked pretty pitiful and sad when I visited her this afternoon. I think partly she just doesn’t feel good but partly she wants to be home—she headed for the door several times. The tech said she is a good patient, sweet and docile during baths (she had three today because of a pee problem). I did tell Sophie she had a whole internet army praying for her. I am so grateful for all the prayers, concern, and care you have sent. Christian said, “Having a sick pet is like having a sick child,” and he’s so right. Sophie’s health problems have turned my life topsy-turvy.

The diagnosis is pancreatitis, and the vet is guardedly optimistic. If I got what he said right, dogs recover from pancreatitis better than people do. There is a strong possibility she is also diabetic and may have to be on insulin—we’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. Meantime, Soph is to stay at the vet’s clinic until Friday. As I told her today, “Only two more sleeps.”

I guess I’m pet minded today, but I discover treasures when Windows or Microsoft or whoever pops up my memories daily. Today those invisible forces sent a picture of Wynona Judley, the only cat I have ever loved. Wywy was a stray kitten on a Minnesota country road when Jamie found her—don’t ask, he was in college, selling encyclopedias door to door. He carried Wywy around in his truck all summer and brought her home—at least we assumed it was a she until the vet corrected us. Sometime during Wywy’s reign at our house, Jamie moved out, married, and moved on. I insisted on keeping the cat and had him until he was nineteen years old and had to be put down for his own sake. He was gentle, sweet in nature, beautiful, and a true gentleman. We think he had a bit of Maine Coon in him, because of his size, coat, and disposition. I might have another cat if I could be sure it would be like Wywy.

But today the vet told me Sophie does not like cats. One wandered close to her cage at the clinic, and she went ballistic. I don’t think she’s ever been around a cat that I know of. And I’ve had her since she was eight weeks old.

Kegan chatting with George Mitchell

My grandchildren are pretty cute too. The Tomball Alters spent a day in a nature reserve in The Woodlands (Houston suburb, a planned community, for those of you outside Texas). Along the way they came to a statue of George Mitchell, and Kegan, my youngest grand at fifteen, decided to have a chat with him. Kegan’s mom sent me the picture. Immediately I had to find out who George Mitchell was, so I went online. The first entry by that name was a two-time senator from the State of Maine who held several other government positions. Didn’t seem likely there would be a statue in Texas. But then I came across a George P. Mitchell, who had much to do with improving fracking (as an opponent of fracking, I’m not a lot impressed by that). But he was also apparently the force behind the development of The Woodlands. He had ten children, so the children on the bench with him are some of those ten. Kegan hasn’t yet commented on what they talked about.

We’re done with turkey! Oh, there’s enough in the freezer for soup, including the broth that Christian made from the carcass. Jordan is put off by the idea of cooking a carcass, so the soup will wait until late January when she travels. I’ll fix it for Christian, Jacob and me. (Not sure where she thinks the meat comes from if not the carcass, but I won’t pursue that!). Much as I love the traditional turkey holiday dinner, I am glad to move on. Last night we had a pork tenderloin that I was only medium happy with—if I could find a recipe I really liked, I’d be a happy camper. It just doesn’t have enough fat to make gravy, and yet I find sliced tenderloin dry and a bit bland.

Tonight we had sockeye salmon—the deeper orange color is a real contrast to Coho or King salmon, but then so is the price. So we had sockeye, with an herb topping, which I didn’t think was much, but Jordan and Christian raved about. Central Market didn’t have watercress which I think is the basis of a good herb sauce, so this one had too much basil. I made a cucumber salad but discovered one cucumber made a skimpy salad, so we added halved cherry tomatoes and artichoke hearts, with a yogurt/lemon dressing. That was really good!

My fixation now is on caviar—but more about that in tomorrow’s Gourmet on a Hot Plate column.

Again, my deepest thanks to all who have expressed concern for my Sophiedog!