I Guess That Would Make Me The "One-Armed Bandit"

I had my first follow-up from last week's wrist surgery with my hand doctor today. They actually did let me stay awake during the surgery, but I remember almost nothing about it. Sort of like freshman calculus except for the staying awake part.

I do know that they let me watch some of the arthroscopy, but I don't have the foggiest idea what I saw. Fortunately they gave me a picture that they took of the ligament damage. It probably won't find its way into the family scrapbook, but it's neat to have.

One thing I do remember is that I was pretty chatty throughout the whole surgery. Probably a combination of the nerves and the anesthetic. When the surgeon came out to talk to Danelle afterwards about how things went he mentioned to her I asked the same questions over and over. I asked him today if I'd said anything embarrassing, and he just smiled and replied, "The operating room is like Vegas -- what happens there, stays there." I'm sure that policy comes in handy for malpractice suits, but I still appreciated his discretion.

So now I have a spiffy hard cast protecting my wrist. Even got to choose the color. I would have picked green, but the only shade they had was a garish fluorescent one. Then I thought how much Taryn would like it if I went with pink, but Danelle wryly commented that it might not be the best choice if I get an interview. So I ended up with just a nondescript blue which has been considerably improved by Zak and Taryn's artwork.

I've actually never had to have a cast before. All my previous injuries have been sprains or strains or other things that don't need to be cast to heal. I do remember when I was a kid that our family dog, Meghan, hurt one of her front legs and had to have one. She couldn't really move the leg well, so she just sort of dragged it around. Eventually she figured out that when our cat was asleep if she walked over her just right the cast would smack her right in the head.

So Danelle better keep being nice to me. You never know what unfortunate mishaps could occur during the night when I'm leaning over to adjust the alarm clock, or something.

I Don't Even Mind Her Pooping In the House As Much As I Used To

In the past two days we've caught and returned three lost dogs that all ended up belonging to people right on our street. There was never any question of whether we'd try to help when we saw them. You see, we have a bit of a karmic debt to repay.

Our dog, Kimi, got loose about a month ago. I was washing our car and the best we can figure is that one of the kids left the door from the garage to the house open for a little too long. Unfortunately, it took us about five hours to notice. For a while everyone just figured she was just somewhere in the house they weren't.

Kimi's an eight-year-old Havanese (kind of a cross between a Maltese and a Poodle) who Danelle used to show. Former champion now turned couch potato, and definitely NOT used to running around on her own.

In an eerie case of foreshadowing she'd actually gotten out a few weeks before and we had an extremely tough time catching her. Danelle was out of town and Kimi wouldn't let ANYBODY near her, including me. Like she was savoring her little taste of freedom and wanted to make it last as long as possible. Another guy and I finally cornered her, but not until she made us look pretty silly running from us.

We noticed someone had left the side gate open after she'd only been gone a few minutes that time, and she was already a block away when we found her. After five hours there was no telling how far she'd gotten this time.

After an hour of driving around and asking people it they'd seen her it turned out she had gotten pretty far. Someone said they'd seen her in the open space behind our neighborhood, a good mile and a half away. So Danelle and I and another nice lady walked around back there for another hour calling her. Danelle saw two rattlesnakes, but none of us saw Kimi.

We went back home, made a sign to put at the entrance to the neighborhood and called the nearest vet and animal control with her description and our number (she didn't have a collar -- show dogs never do since they mat down their coats, and even though her show career had long since come to an end we never got around to getting her one). I went out to the open space one more time on Danelle's road bike since my mountain bike had a punctured tire, but still no luck.

By the time the sun went down we were resigned to the fact that she was gone. An old, small dog with no outdoor experience in open space after dark seemed bound to end up as one thing -- a coyote's dinner.

I felt responsible since she'd again gotten out on my watch. Danelle was holding up pretty well all things considered. The kids had already very quietly asked her in the car why she was crying. She said the worst part was just thinking about how terrified Kimi must have gotten once it was dark.

Then about 9:30 the phone rang. Hoping against hope I answered, and the voice on the other end asked if we'd lost a little black dog.

I don't remember much else of what the guy said; I was too busy saying "thank you" over and over. They lived near the back of our neighborhood close to the open space and I was in the car in a flash on my way there.

There were about 10 people congregated under a streetlight as I drove up, one of them holding a small dark bundle. Turned out an older couple had seen her when they got home from grocery shopping about an hour earlier and tried unsuccessfully to catch her. Other neighbors joined the effort, using treats to coax her close until someone was finally able to grab her.

I couldn't believe the trouble these people had all gone to to catch a dog who clearly didn't want to be caught and wasn't even wearing a collar. None of them would accept any sort of reward, though one did ask that if I ever saw a white Persian cat out and about to please return the favor. I didn't even ask how they got our number; again I was just too busy repeatedly and profusely expressing my appreciation.

She was completely in covered in burrs which Danelle was only too happy to paintstakingly pull and cut out one by one. And I was happy to help, as much to work out my lingering guilt for my role in the mess as anything.

Kimi now sports a sassy pink collar with our last name and phone number. It may have taken one lesson more than it should, but her old owners are still able to learn new tricks. And any stray dog we happen to see will reap the benefits for a LONG time.