Out on My Ass Again

I knew today wasn’t going to go well. I got up early, the sky was black with clouds and one of the dogs had thrown up. On the bed. There was nothing but a bill in the post.

Being my cheery self, I put all this aside and headed for the kitchen to get a cup of tea. There is nothing that tea won’t cure. My dear lady wife went out with the dogs and I sat down to enjoy my tea and read the news on the text TV. After this, the morning went as it usually does and at one thirty, I set off for work.

I got to work OK and we all got ourselves organised for the evening shift. There was a lot to get done. We started. My boss appeared out of his office and called me in.

The company is restructuring, he said, he had made a tough decision. Not lightly, he assured me and with deep regret, he fired me. The evening shift is no more. I am allowed to take the next three months off with pay and then I need to find a new job.

I’ve been here before. I’ve worked at several places during the last ten years, all with about two years between start and stop. Two places closed down while I was there, one I quit because it sucked, and one place fired me, but wrongly. I sued the guy and won.

But this one is a bit different. I was happy there. I liked the place and I had a good team working for me.

Ever the optimist, I’m sure something will turn up. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’m going to sort my garden out, explore a few possibilities and generally relax for a month or so. Life has taught me that when you’re at the bottom there’s only one way it can go. Up.

I daresay the dogs will enjoy having me home. I could always become a full time dog walker!

I Pity The Fool..

.. who says the Blues is dead, or all one number. This is a piece of modern Blues that will blow most people’s socks off.

Robert Cray and Shemekia Copeland. Cop this, break down over your coffee and believe. The Blues lives.

 

Now Ear This..

I was off to see my doctor the other day. I have been suffering with a minor irritation in my ear for a while now and decided he should have another look at it. I know it’s a form of eczema and I think I have infected myself around my eyes, having been sticking a finger in my ear to scratch the itch and then using the same digit to rub my eyelids and so on. That appears to be true, but while he was peering into my ear hole, the doc said something along the lines of, “I don’t like the look of that…”. “What?” I asked. “That sore.” he replied. I knew it was not going to be good news.

I was sent to a skin specialist yesterday. He peered into my ear hole too and said pretty much the same as my doctor. I have a skin cancer in my left ear lobe. It isn’t going to be any fun getting that removed. He took a biopsy sample of it. That hurts.

I’ll have to wait fourteen days for a result. The “result” being a confirmation of the type of cancer. I don’t really care what type it is, I just want it removed. The specialist is convinced that I will have to go to an ear hole expert, who will then recommend a plastic surgeon who will finally do the operation. I asked if I couldn’t be sent to a real surgeon instead of a plastic one, but the joke didn’t seem to work on him. This is serious stuff, apparently.

I’m having mixed feelings about this. After the scare we had a couple of months ago with my wife and the possibility of her having cancer in her throat, which luckily it wasn’t, it now appears to be my turn. At least I can see this little bugger. I can see it with the help of a webcam. It isn’t large, but it’s there. I can visually direct my hatred at it. I couldn’t do that in my dear lady wife’s case. Luckily, I suppose, this is external and get-at-able. I have had small skin cancers before. I have had one removed from my left cheek and one from my arm. Both were of the non-aggressive type, small and fairly common by all accounts. I hope this is the same. We shall see.

I suppose now, I will have to give up smoking through my ear.

Oh well. It could be worse. This is only my ear hole.

I could think of far worse holes to have this happen to!

Fat and Happy

We took the dogs for what is becoming the annual check up yesterday. The vet looked at them last year when we first adopted them. They have been with us a year now. The smaller one of the two was the immediate problem for us. She was underweight, depressed, apathetic and not really the happy go lucky young dog she should rightly have been. Months of being moved around from home to home, kennels and goodness only knows what else had really had it’s effect on her.

Her sister, the larger one of them was in somewhat better shape. Weight OK, happy enough, playful and generally in good health. Actually, she weighed a tad too much according to the vet. By about 500 grams.

This year things are different. Both dogs weighed in at 10 kg’s. Which means the little one is as heavy as the big one having gained 2.5 kg’s in a year. They both need to lose a little now. The little one has livened up no end. No longer depressed, curious about everything, lively and sometimes a real little bully. I don’t know why the larger dog doesn’t put her in her place. Maybe it’s sisterly love.

They have come along nicely in the past year. My dear wife treats them like children. They eat very well too. She fries liver, chicken, small steaks and pork chops, lamb chops, chopped meat and who knows what else for them, to compliment the dry food they otherwise get along with all the goodies they get as rewards throughout the day. They have each their own bed, complete with pillows and eiderdowns, not to mention the mattresses. These are abandoned in the middle of the night and they end up on our bed instead, filling the space between my dearest and myself. The sofa is their preferred resting place. They harry us to take them out for the morning, afternoon and evening “walkies”. They have toys to play with. They are getting used to being bathed and combed. We can handle them now without them growling or whining. They trust us now. They defend our property with all the bark they can muster. I rather think they enjoy the barking. They do it a lot. They come when we call them. They greet us when we come home, even if we have only been gone for minutes, with a real concert of bark and squeak and showing of plundered socks and slippers. I have very few socks left. They steal them and chew them up and then proudly present me with the remains.

All in all, I love having them around. They are the perfect distraction, a source of endless amusement and great company. They changed our lives and I wouldn’t be without them now.

I may be barefoot, but I’m happy.

And if you think I’m fat, you should see my dogs!