The good news is...well, I don't know what the good news is.
The bad news is that Nemo has to go back to the good folks at the rescue. He started manifesting some of the problems that Penelope experienced, and we're just not ready to deal with that right now. I think he'll make someone else a good pet, but he's not for us.
For once, it's not the cat's fault, either.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
A new addition to our family
This is Nemo:
Nemo is a rescue greyhound.
He is very calm and well-mannered, to the point where someone asked me the other day if he was old. No, I said, he's three.
Getting Nemo has been like having a puppy with a large bladder--he's never lived inside a home or been by himself (greyhounds live in kennels when they race) so he's housebroken and hesitant to be by himself.
The first few days with him were HELLISH. Ben and I had both gotten sunburnt while visiting the rescue kennel, he didn't sleep at all that evening and cried and cried, and then the next day we were both feeling sick. We both also missed Penelope something fierce.
Since then he has calmed down and begun to sleep through the night, although Ben accurately accuses me of having "separation anxiety anxiety." I worry about him getting stressed and barking or crying while we are gone and disturbing the neighbors.
So far I have been working on "away training," where I leave for just a minute or two at a time, to teach him that yes, I am in fact coming back when I leave. Ben wanted to go across the street for breakfast this morning, and I was too worried to go out :/
He is a very sweet pup, though, and I think in the long run it's going to be worth it.
Nemo is a rescue greyhound.
He is very calm and well-mannered, to the point where someone asked me the other day if he was old. No, I said, he's three.
Getting Nemo has been like having a puppy with a large bladder--he's never lived inside a home or been by himself (greyhounds live in kennels when they race) so he's housebroken and hesitant to be by himself.
The first few days with him were HELLISH. Ben and I had both gotten sunburnt while visiting the rescue kennel, he didn't sleep at all that evening and cried and cried, and then the next day we were both feeling sick. We both also missed Penelope something fierce.
Since then he has calmed down and begun to sleep through the night, although Ben accurately accuses me of having "separation anxiety anxiety." I worry about him getting stressed and barking or crying while we are gone and disturbing the neighbors.
So far I have been working on "away training," where I leave for just a minute or two at a time, to teach him that yes, I am in fact coming back when I leave. Ben wanted to go across the street for breakfast this morning, and I was too worried to go out :/
He is a very sweet pup, though, and I think in the long run it's going to be worth it.
Friday, July 22, 2011
So it looks like I might have found myself a job tutoring at Dawson, a local Anglo cegep. More news will be forthcoming when I have it. Academia gets a touch of the South about it in the summer, when things get ruhl slow-like and things will get done in their own sweet time. Y'want some iced tea?
Speaking of things being Southerny, it is hot as 3-syllable Hell (hay-ell-uh) here this week. It got up to 35C/95F yesterday, setting a daily record for Montreal. Luckily today looks like it will be more in the 31C/88F range, which is much more bearable but still pretty unusual for Montreal this time of year.
Nick and Sara visited us at the beginning of July, and I felt guilty because we got hit with another heat wave, albeit slightly cooler than this one. They were hoping to come up here and get some of our gloriously temperate summers, but no luck--of course, in our defense, it was like 10 degrees F hotter in DC that weekend.
After one night of roasty-toastyness during their visit, we went out and bought an air conditioner. It's relatively small in the grand scheme of things, and while it doesn't keep the apartment super cold, it does cut down on the humidity and cool things off on days like today. Last night we ended up moving out onto the futon in the living room to be cooler, and were able to sleep well. Except for the cat playing with her crinkly ball at 4:30 am. I solved this issue by putting it under my pillow when she wasn't looking and she mellowed out. Such is cat.
Yesterday, some people from greyhound rescue came and did a home visit, which a lot of rescues (dogs especially) require before you can adopt. They want to come and make sure that you're not a crazy pet hoarder who is going to let their dog run off-leash and eat the neighborhood cats and the contents of the medicine cabinet.
I busted out with some dog-savvy lingo and they announced that we were the easiest home visit they'd ever had. She asked if the dog was going to be allowed on the couch or bed and I was all blah blah blah resource guarding and she was all like have a zillion of our dogs please. See how I let you in on a variety of secret tips and tricks in my blog? Also, rubbing alcohol is really good for getting the chrome on your bathroom faucet really extra-spotless. Try it--it's fun!
Speaking of things being Southerny, it is hot as 3-syllable Hell (hay-ell-uh) here this week. It got up to 35C/95F yesterday, setting a daily record for Montreal. Luckily today looks like it will be more in the 31C/88F range, which is much more bearable but still pretty unusual for Montreal this time of year.
Nick and Sara visited us at the beginning of July, and I felt guilty because we got hit with another heat wave, albeit slightly cooler than this one. They were hoping to come up here and get some of our gloriously temperate summers, but no luck--of course, in our defense, it was like 10 degrees F hotter in DC that weekend.
After one night of roasty-toastyness during their visit, we went out and bought an air conditioner. It's relatively small in the grand scheme of things, and while it doesn't keep the apartment super cold, it does cut down on the humidity and cool things off on days like today. Last night we ended up moving out onto the futon in the living room to be cooler, and were able to sleep well. Except for the cat playing with her crinkly ball at 4:30 am. I solved this issue by putting it under my pillow when she wasn't looking and she mellowed out. Such is cat.
Yesterday, some people from greyhound rescue came and did a home visit, which a lot of rescues (dogs especially) require before you can adopt. They want to come and make sure that you're not a crazy pet hoarder who is going to let their dog run off-leash and eat the neighborhood cats and the contents of the medicine cabinet.
I busted out with some dog-savvy lingo and they announced that we were the easiest home visit they'd ever had. She asked if the dog was going to be allowed on the couch or bed and I was all blah blah blah resource guarding and she was all like have a zillion of our dogs please. See how I let you in on a variety of secret tips and tricks in my blog? Also, rubbing alcohol is really good for getting the chrome on your bathroom faucet really extra-spotless. Try it--it's fun!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
My father passed away sometime last night.
It's funny--I've spent the past couple of years working on remembering the positive things about my childhood instead of the negative ones, but I had not thought to remember anything good about my father.
So here is something:
I don't remember when it was, but at some point, when I must have been in my teens, my father and I went to Fallingwater, about two hours away from Pittsburgh. I wonder if the only reason I even remember this is the photos that I have of it--he wore a bright pink Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap.
My father had esophageal cancer. A little over a year ago, I accompanied him to a lot of his treatments at the VA hospital in DC and Martinsburg, WV. They were able to remove the cancer, but it eventually spread into his liver and, as I said, he died last night.
I did not have much of a relationship with my father over the years.
Now that my relationship with my mother is no longer so fragmented, I can think of a vast sea of actions and moments that point to the fact that she cared very much about me and did the best she could, despite both of our defects. The best I can come up with for my father is my hazy memory of our trip to Fallingwater. I remember being surprised at how ugly the faded orange furnishings were after having baked in the sun for years and years of nobody living there.
I traveled back to the US at the end of June, in order to sell our car and visit with my father before he died. We spent maybe three hours together at a restaurant in Western Maryland. He had become...small.
Perhaps I am too practical, but it seems to me that if I was only going to be able to make one trip down to Maryland, visiting my father while he was still alive did him a whole heck of a lot more good personally than going to his funeral. This, and all of the other decisions I made concerning him in the past year and change, are now mine alone to remember and negotiate.
It's funny--I've spent the past couple of years working on remembering the positive things about my childhood instead of the negative ones, but I had not thought to remember anything good about my father.
So here is something:
I don't remember when it was, but at some point, when I must have been in my teens, my father and I went to Fallingwater, about two hours away from Pittsburgh. I wonder if the only reason I even remember this is the photos that I have of it--he wore a bright pink Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap.
My father had esophageal cancer. A little over a year ago, I accompanied him to a lot of his treatments at the VA hospital in DC and Martinsburg, WV. They were able to remove the cancer, but it eventually spread into his liver and, as I said, he died last night.
I did not have much of a relationship with my father over the years.
Now that my relationship with my mother is no longer so fragmented, I can think of a vast sea of actions and moments that point to the fact that she cared very much about me and did the best she could, despite both of our defects. The best I can come up with for my father is my hazy memory of our trip to Fallingwater. I remember being surprised at how ugly the faded orange furnishings were after having baked in the sun for years and years of nobody living there.
I traveled back to the US at the end of June, in order to sell our car and visit with my father before he died. We spent maybe three hours together at a restaurant in Western Maryland. He had become...small.
Perhaps I am too practical, but it seems to me that if I was only going to be able to make one trip down to Maryland, visiting my father while he was still alive did him a whole heck of a lot more good personally than going to his funeral. This, and all of the other decisions I made concerning him in the past year and change, are now mine alone to remember and negotiate.
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