Tag Archives: Riggins

Oh Riggins!

12 Monday Apr 2010

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So my parents, being the NICEST people on the planet, and fully understanding that I’m a basket case, were sweet enough to drive to my house (45 mins from theirs) to check on Riggins at lunch.

I hear he is doing “great”. He was excited to see them (he always is) and thet played ball with him for a bit. He seemed to be doing so well that they left him in the backyard (his normal “during the day” location) to frolic and play until I come home. This is a HUGE treat for him as he hasn’t been allowed out back by himself for a week now. Mostly because I didn’t want him to eat anything (berries, fruit, leaves, grass) that would continue to upset his stomach. So DON’T EAT ANYTHING RIGGINS.

With the parent check up coming back a-okay I went ahead and turned in his insurance claim form with numerous visits listed. I refuse to tell you the total cost of it all …

Poor Riggins

12 Monday Apr 2010

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Poor Riggins has been sick the last couple of weeks. That lead to a couple late nights of being helpless as he cried and threw up and cried and threw up and repeat non stop for 8 hours. His last bad night was last Thursday and I thought he was getting better until last night.

Last night as we were going to bed something was wrong. Riggins was having a hard time breathing and couldn’t get comfortable. He seemed to only want to stand in the middle of the room, with his tail between his legs snarling a bit while trying to suck in air. It was VERY upsetting.

I’m not a firm supporter of emergency vet trips unless necessary. I tend to think they don’t usually know much (well for that matter neither does the daytime vet) and it costs a lot of money and takes a lot of time. BUT my baby couldn’t breath. I carefully loaded him in the car and took off into the stormy night (it was raining — stormy). The emergency vet is super close to my house but due to panic and rain it took me a bit to find it the whole time saying out loud, “it’s okay we are almost there. You are okay just breath.”

When we got to the vet we had to be buzzed in. Apparently not the best area as not only were we buzzed in but the receptionist was behind glass. Since the place is emergency only they triage all patients. They came out to look at Riggins to see how bad off he was. A quick exam while standing in a brightly lit waiting room about the size of a walk in closet made her say he was okay. I tried to explain “this” wasn’t normal and that “this” wasn’t Riggins. When she turned back she agreed. Riggins breathing was getting worse and she said she was worried and would get the oxygen ready. I sat down with him while those in the waiting room asked me questions. I tried to be nice. I tried to answer sweetly since they were just trying to help. BUT I wasn’t okay and I just wanted them to zip it as I concentrated on not losing my shit. The nurse then came and took Riggins away. So there I sat. In a brightly lit glass closet sobbing quietly to myself. I put the hood of my sweater up since everyone knows that means I want to be invisible (a tactic that usually works on a plane, movie theatre, work, etc.). I did go through a laughing fit at one point when I heard the receptionist tell some f**ing moron on the phone what to do because his dog got into his pot stash. Really? Moron. My poor sweet, lovable Riggins couldn’t breath and some idiot was allowed to have a dog and couldn’t be smart enough to keep him away from his “stash”. Sigh. Moron.

A nice man with his adorable lab, Whiney, tried to make me feel better. He said he was sorry I was crying.

Another man told me it would be okay. This was after he found out Riggins was male. He was there with his pregnant dog … and pregnant wife … to him not pregnant was better!

My parents got out of bed and drove to the vet to be with me. Mostly because I was sobbing on the phone when I called them.

A nurse came out to get someone and when she saw me asked if I was okay. When I couldn’t talk and just waved to her she told me she didn’t think it was that bad and to just hold on. THAT DOESN’T HELP.

So I sat there and just kept hoping for the best. A yappy little mean dog came in (in the dog’s defense he had broken his leg and if I had his owners I’d yelp too) and I kept thinking, Riggins is too sweet. Please make him okay. He is so sweet just make him okay.

Finally we were called in to see the vet and Riggins. Riggins — who was fine. Seriously fine. Happy to see me and my folks. Panting but other than that breathing normal. Fine. They didn’t even give him oxygen. Just fine. His x-rays … fine. His temperature … fine. The vet didn’t know what to tell me (not surprising). So we all left.

Riggins slept through the night. Better than I did as I kept getting up and making sure he was breathing. He seemed okay when I left for work this morning. He got up and ate his food and, as usual, wanted more. He went and laid down. He seemed sad. Morose. Maybe trying a little hard to breath but not bad.

I’m now thinking that maybe he had an asthma attack? Maybe? How would I know?

My mom thinks he is just overly sensitive. A momma’s boy (she didn’t say that — I’m translating for you) whose normal routine had been turned upside down the past few weeks.

My dad thinks it is because he hasn’t been out on his hikes the past couple of weeks. I haven’t taken him since he has been sick … it seemed like a dumb thing to do.

I’m at work. I hope he is okay. I wish my office was closer so I could check on him at lunch. I wish I didn’t have to work. I wish he wasn’t sick. Poor Riggins.

Cutier Than any Baby

22 Tuesday Dec 2009

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Okay loyal readers (all three of you). I may have had a day yesterday that quickly spiraled out of control and ended with the need for a box of tissues. I’m shaking it off and moving forward. My mini-breakdown came for no specific reason. Just an overall boringly crappy day. It started with me having to work when I’d much rather be off the week before X-Mas playing with friends and family. It wasn’t helped by the horrific holiday traffic and level of stupid being shown by humanity. This alone lead me to throw a fit so horrific the poor man at the parking structure in Pasadena had no choice but to allow me to pass without paying the required fee. The residents of my hood where no help as they took up all block space leaving me no room for my garbage cans at the curb not to mention cutting my driveway entrance in 1/2. (Day before trash day is always a coin toss as the drive down the street leads to the question, “will there be room for my trash cans today?” The answer is almost always, “nope.”)

The one bright shinning light of my day was the delivery of my “sneak peak” of the pictures I had taken of Riggins of me. That was tarnished with the self discovery that I wouldn’t be able to share this pictures with many others as it would only cause discussion and rumors (on my behalf but not necessarily to my face) about why I don’t have a boyfriend/husband. Just add it to the list folks. It was started by others before you long ago. You can nestle it right there between, “doesn’t cook” and “has short hair”. (BTW my hairdresser once told me when she meets a guy the first thing she asks is if he likes women with short hair. If his answer is anything but positive she walks away. Ha! She is so cool!) Here are my, admittedly, over dramatic points as to why I now own professional photos of my dog and me:
* I don’t have super gorgeous photos from my wedding day looking all shinny and happy.
* I don’t have adorable pictures of my children in all their cuteness.
* No husband and no children does not mean I don’t f*ing deserve some g*dd*mn professionally pretty photos too — so suck it!
(I apologise for my outburst and unlady like language. It all started yesterday. I couldn’t be stopped. I screamed curse words I’ve never heard before. It was impressive. I’m pretty sure my neighbors think I have tourettes. It worked though … the car blocking my driveway was “magically” moved forward.)

BUT I will happily share my sneak peak with you — enjoy. http://fusarophotography.com/blog/2009/12/riggins-sneak-peak/

I may consider it the best money I’ve ever spent!

Aaaaaaahhhhh!

02 Wednesday Dec 2009

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I give up. Done. Out. See ya. Men are morons (sorry you are — all of you — ALL OF YOU). I’m marring Riggins and living happily ever after. If that freak in Japan can marry a computer avatar I can marry my dog. It will probably be legal in CA before my gay friends can get married so take that Yes an Prop 8ers and shove that up where the sun don’t shine. (http://features.csmonitor.com/innovation/2009/12/02/man-marries-video-game-girlfriend/)

Here are just a few things that have sent me jumping off the edge:

* Hey online daters. POST A PICTURE A HOLES. Seriously. POST A PICTURE. What is wrong with you? I am NOT going to suggest we meet for drinks if I haven’t seen a picture. Call me shallow. Fine. I’m shallow. But I have about 5 pictures of me up there and does that seem fair? No. Stop being such a holes and post your picture.

* Take the douche photos off. I find it SERIOUSLY HARD TO BELIEVE that the only photo you have of you is with your shirt off. Really that’s it? You live in a world without cameras and when you happen to see one you whip off your shirt, throw on your ray bans and strike your pose. That isn’t hot. That isn’t cool. That’s douch-y. Might as well put that Ed Hardy shirt back on (I know that is what it is) and just move on from my cyber life.

* Hey guys old enough to be my dad or grandfather. I realize I would totally be brilliant arm candy but unless you have added the words, “rich and near death” and have a doctor and banker’s note to prove it move along. I already admitted to being shallow so I don’t feel I have to apologise for this statement.

Lessons in Online Dating Rules

11 Tuesday Aug 2009

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(I’m assuming this will be an ongoing posting theme so let me set the rules. These are my rules. Now I realize I am actually much less crazy than most single females. Therefore, what works for me may not work for some of those other “ladies” online dating. In fact I have a friend that is also on this particular site and would suggest some of my rules aren’t true. For the sake of this blog let’s just assume I’m right and she is wrong.)

For this lesson we will look deep into my email archives to earlier this morning for an example of what not to say in an intro email and then I will illustrate the correct way to write one.

WRONG WAY:

The 2nd pic with you & your doggy is precious:)

var d = new Date (1250019718 * 1000);document.write(makeSmartDateString(d,HQ_CONTEST_FORMAT))
And the 3rd pic of you is so sexy that…Well, it’s just plain beyond cruel!
Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and have a good cry now…

Wendy’s notes: Okay. I realize this one doesn’t seem too bad on the surface but let’s break it down.

1. Gross. That’s right you heard me. Gross. I realize you think calling someone “sexy” is a compliment but don’t you think you went a little overboard? I mean the visual of what you are doing right now is not okay. It doesn’t help that…

2. Your pictures are insulting. Really if I wanted to possibly get fired from my job I would have stayed on the site long enough to report them. I don’t need to see a full nudie shot of you that leaves very little to my imagination and I CERTAINLY don’t need to see what your bare butt looks like peeking out of some sheets. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? You are 47 for gods sake. Grow up. (By the way the fact that you are 12 years older than me also adds to the gross factor of your statement.)

3. Why are you crying? Are you upset that you are not that bright?

4. How do you expect me to respond to this?

(Although he is correct Riggins and I are adorable!)

CORRECT WAY:

Hi I just read your profile and would love to meet up sometime this week for drinks. When would you be available?

That’s it. Clean. Neat. To the point. Not insulting. No need for the non-stop back and forth emails without meeting. Done and done. BTW this totally won’t work if you have a picture of your nudie butt up. Nothing can help that person.

All This & Craft Skills Too!

11 Tuesday Aug 2009

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Over the past month I’ve managed to pull out my sewing machine not once …. but (wait for it) … twice. That’s right. I’m a craft making machine! I’ll start this story with the not so successful blanket –

When my nephew (the adorable Logan) was born I did my auntly duty (I swear I almost spelled that doodie and just had to pause my blogging for the laughter to stop) and hand sewed him a blanket. When sweet little Kira (my niece) was born I was a little behind but she just turned 2 months old so I figure I haven’t completely failed. Sadly her blanket (in the picture being modeled by Riggins) is a bit of a disaster. Don’t let blankets fool you. It’s their simplicity that sucks you in. You think, I don’t have to pin this …. it’s a freakin‘ blanket. Next thing you know your on hour 4 of the Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant marathon on TLC (brilliant by the way) with a seam ripper in one hand and sweat dripping off your brow. But now it is finished (well almost … I just found one more mistake that I have to fix before Friday.)! Yah!
The more successful project was for my highly talented fake nephew’s (aka sparkly common friend’s son) birthday. He is in the picture modeling his very personalized super hero cape.
2 projects and the score is Failure = 1 Success = 1. Neck in neck ….

Who, What, When, Why & Where

10 Monday Aug 2009

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Why a blog you ask? Who would read this silliness?

Well the answer to that second question is no one. I haven’t told anyone I’m doing this so right now it’s just literally “Me, Myself, & Riggins.” I’ll read it to him out loud every night so he is kept up to speed (I’m only 1/2 kidding).

Why is a loaded question. Why not? I constantly have thoughts and Riggins is a good sounding board to a point but I feel like I could get more from a bigger audience base (I realize this doesn’t make sense with the 0 follower fact).

Here is the reason that pushed me over the edge:

One evening last week my good friend Martha came over to hang and drink wine. As always our discussion covered everything from the brilliance of Toddlers and Tiaras to the excitement of her going to grad school. AS ALWAYS the conversation turned back to my overly exciting dating life (something I’m sure will fill many of my blog posts). As an avid online dater in LA I make it a point to give my “killing information” to a friend prior to meeting someone and check in after to alert them of my safety. So for all you men out there reading my profile on one of those dating sites be warned … if you kill me you will be hunted down. She had mentioned how I hadn’t given her killing info for my last date and I shared that one of our good friends had read about a guy who stalked women online and rapped and killed them on their date (I may be making part of that up but you get the point). For that reason our common friend demanded I give her the killing info and handing it over to more than one person seemed like overkill (no pun intended). Here is how the rest of the conversation played out (this is from memory so it is possible these exact words were not said … ):
Martha: That’s really scary.
Wendy: Well you are supposed to decide ahead of time if you are going to fight or not, if attacked. When it happens it is all too fast and if you are going to fight it has to be instinct. I’m going to fight.
Martha: Of course you are.
Wendy: That mo’fo (although I’m sure I actually used the full curse words. I was, after all, a couple glasses of wine in by this point.) isn’t going to know what hit him. He’ll be sorry he ever laid eyes on me. Seriously just look for the guy bleeding in pain as he stumbles around with his eyes poked out.
Martha: (heavy sigh)
Wendy: (With a grin that is rarely seen other then on a small child at Christmas time) I can’t wait!
Martha: Please get therapy.

My response was wild laughter. You see my brilliant friend Martha is right. I do need therapy. I realize that. I admit it. I’m still not going to get it. That would require WAY too much effort on my part. I can’t even imagine trying to carve out 2 hrs / week to sit in someones office and glare at them meanly (which is what I would do. Freakin’ head shrinkers.). Not to mention my insurance is crap and if my insurance appointed primary care physician is an example of the scholastic genius available I’m sure I’ll end up laying in a pool of my own vomit from an od of Valium.

So here you go. This is my therapy without actually going to therapy. Enjoy!

(BTW names have been changed to protect the innocent and stupid. Except Riggins and Martha. I thought of the whole “change the name” thing after I wrote this and since I called her brilliant I think it’s all good.)