No, Seriously, I Really Mean it This Time.

Teetering precariously on the edge of the step. Just like me. Except replace "step" with "sanity."

Tiger teetering precariously on the edge of the step. Just like me. Except replace “step” with “sanity.”

It’s been almost two months. My goodness. I actually feel slightly awkward about this because if you did get any kind of kick out of my blog then you know that two months could not possibly have elapsed without incident.

Nay.

The past two months have included the following (just to catch you up):

  • A Calvin/Karmann near escape on Halloween, which resulted in me unleashing a torrent of questionable language while trying to shove bouncing puppies back into the house as legions of six year olds and their horrified parents gawped. I gave them extra candy.
  • A Karmann poopstrike.
  • Suggestions that Karmann may be developing Canine Cognitive Dysfunction.
  • Denial.
  • Barking. A lot of barking.
  • Running for Critters hustle.
  • Extreme Nighttime Naughtiness.
  • PLAGUE OH MY GOD.
  • Knee injury.
  • Mort parachuting from the kitchen counter onto Karmann’s back, in the middle of a dog snit that started because Calvin had the gumption to smell a smell that should have been her smell ENTIRELY.
  • Nigel being pretty benign.

The Karmann Poopstrike, barking, and possible CCD are all interrelated, so it probably isn’t fair to bullet them as individual occurrences. Essentially, Karmann was attempting to become hyper efficient and eliminate the need to eliminate. It frees up so much time, really–you can just walk forever and never have to take a poop break, naps are never interrupted, etc.

Unfortunately, however efficient and time-saving it may be, it’s also apparently uncomfortable. Out of the blue, our relatively peaceful evening existence was shattered by a loudly barking/growling/grumbling dog who clearly wanted SOMETHING, though she knew not how to express it, let alone how to make it happen. That something being to poop.

I knew, because Karmann and I are brain twins (and also because she had basically stopped pooping), that she was constipated and uncomfortable, however pretty much any time you take a dog to the vet and tell them, “This dog is freaking the hell out after human dinner every night” they will somewhat understandably assume that said dog is sundowning.

This will make you panic, because No. Not old enough. Not by a long shot.

I insisted we were poop crazy, and Karmann got a bit of a diet adjustment, with the addition of several tons of fiber, more healthy fats, fermented goat’s milk, and digestive enzymes. It takes around 20 minutes to prepare dog dinner now.

At first, we followed the directions on the box of dehydrated fruits and veggies and broke Karmann’s daily serving amount into two feedings.

DO NOT DO THIS.

Or, I mean, maybe do this, your mileage may vary, but in our case she went from not pooping to pooping (and freaking out about it) FIVE TIMES A DAY. It was like putting a dog on a colon cleanse–which, I’m sure, is basically what was happening. Now that things have simmered down, we are left with a regular dog who maintains very strong feelings about when and where she wishes to poop. There is very little wiggle room in the schedule. If you’re five minutes late with the poop walk, the entire neighborhood is going to hear about it.

So there’s that.

The other thing, in addition to knocking on death’s door with The Plague, has been Mort’s recent refusal to allow nighttime sleep of any variety whatsoever. Whereas he used to wake us up at 5am for breakfast, he now wakes me nightly at 3. Because reasons.

He does this via a very calculated routine. First, he tap-dances all over me. Then, he attempts to leap onto my nightstand (to knock over all of the things) from the bed. I arm sweep him away from the edge twice–exactly twice–before he re-groups, jumps off the bed (occasionally onto a sleeping dog) and approaches the nightstand from the floor. This is trickier, because it means I must hang my entire person out of the bed to shoo him away. Thereafter, he jumps back onto the bed to repeat the cycle one more time. After the second round of shooing and sweeping, he heads for the dresser, which requires me to actually get out of the bed before he will jump down.

The entire thing is so irritating to the other mammals in the room that Karmann will occasionally get up and lie down in front of the night stand to thwart his floor approach. I just go downstairs and sleep on the couch. Everybody is really enjoying this.

Running for Critters has been temporarily sidelined by an ambiguous knee injury, most likely brought about because I went from baby pneumonia to running four consecutive days while still rather tired and managed to tweak, like, my entire leg. Yoga planned for Friday, drinking in the interim, Monday is hopefully runday.

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