It was very dark when I pulled into our driveway Sunday night after the seminar. The two hour drive home seemed never-ending. All the way along the thirteen mile stretch of Highway 12 from I-5 to our road, I kept thinking how horrible it would be if a deer ran out in front of me and I hit it. They come out of nowhere at night and freeze (hence the expression, “deer in the headlights”). Well, I didn’t want the actual deer to be in my actual headlights, so I used my high beams whenever possible and was on the lookout for those telltale shiny eyes by the side of the road.
I hate driving at night! I don’t see well in the dark, and I am so afraid of hitting a deer, elk or some other four legged creature. I obsessed about the deer all the way home. As I turned into our driveway, relieved I had not come in contact with that dreaded deer or elk, I saw it; a poor little deer, not even a year old, lying dead on the side of our driveway. Poor little Bambi. Well, at least I had not killed her myself, but dead is dead. Had I manifested her with my twenty minute meditation of dear deer? If I am that good, I need to start manifesting some great things! 🙂
Pankies and I pulled in tired but ready to face the hoard of canines awaiting our return. Pankies and her sister greeted each other with their typical growls and accusations of their mother wearing army boots. Silly really, ‘cause they have the same mother.
Whenever I go away without Sir Cussalot, he nests. It is one reason I love going away! When I come home, he has fixed or made something I have tried to get him to do for years. He is kinda like that bird that builds shit to attract a mate. It is called the “bowerbird,” here is a link http://creagrus.home.montereybay.com/bowerbirds.html
This was no different. Since he was going to go in for back surgery the next day, Sir C decided to make a set of stairs for me so I wouldn’t break my neck trying to get Xoom out of the Global Warmer to potty. We are supposed to carry her down stairs, but at thirty something pounds, NO WAY was I going to risk falling down the GW stairs with her in my arms! Poor thing would be flatter than a pancake if that happened!
Anyway, while I was gone Sir C made this “beautiful” entry for me from spare parts. He used the stairs he made for me to train contacts, added some scraps of wood from our pig pile of crap, attached a lovely railing made of PVC, placed an x-pen on the other side so Xoom wouldn’t spin and fall off, and finally, he added the pièce de résistance; a “lovely” porch light to show us the way. I think this masterpiece belongs in House and Garden magazine!
It was dark when I got home Sunday night and still dark when we got up to get ready for Sir C’s big day in the hospital. He was scheduled for surgery at 10:45 but had to be there by 8:45. I was hoping for a miracle that would have removed poor dead Bambi in the night. No such luck; the little lifeless body remained undisturbed, right where it had been the night before.
As we drove down the road, Sir C at the wheel, I called the “Animal Control” guy. Turns out, if a deer dies on your property, the homeowner is responsible for its removal! CRAP! Some A$$H0!E kills Bambi and we have to pay to remove the carcass!
“How much?” I ask
“WHAT???” I reply incredulously.
I continued telling “Jack” what a rip off it all was and how I should have drug Bambi back into the street so the county had to get her…
“Whatever, come get her!” I finally said.
After I hung up, my daughter-in-law, Joey, sent me a text telling me there was a dear deer in the driveway. I texted back and told her I knew, and that somebody was coming to get her that evening. Then I wrote, “150!!!”
Joey wrote back, “YOU SOLD IT?”
OK, I laughed about that off and on all day long. I am still laughing as I write this. I needed a good laugh. When I told her that I had to pay them to remove it, she said she would ask the “rednecks” who go into the place where she works if any of them wanted to come get Bambi for dinner.
Sadly, no takers. I guess hunters are picky about how long a deer is dead before it is gutted. Something about poisons or some other lame excuse. Too bad Sir C and I are squeamish about such things or the dogs could have enjoyed some venison for their dinner!
We arrived at the hospital about 8:30. There was a waiting room full of people, but not a one waiting to check in. They checked in Sir C, placed his croak bracelet on his wrist and told us to have a seat. He kept telling me to go home and stay with the dogs, but I wanted to stay with him. It was an hour and a half drive home and not really worth it to drive all the way back, just to turn around and drive back down to pick him up after surgery.
We waited only a few minutes before somebody else came over to let us know what would happen next. No sooner did she leave when somebody else came over and took us back to the pre-op area. Turned out that Dr. Le was running AHEAD of schedule and Sir C would be next to go under the knife! How often have you heard of a doctor running an hour early???
They had Sir C dress into the lovely gown, placed an IV into his vein, took his blood pressure, listened to his heart and lungs and placed a lovely cap on his head. There were two nurses doting over him and making sure I knew what was going to happen.
Then the surgeon came in and spoke to us! I told him to make Sir C twenty-four again. Shortly after that, the anesthesiologist came in to talk to us! I have never seen a hospital so efficiently run and so informative! They were INCREDIBLE! If you ever need a great place to get sick hot foot is to Peace Health SW Medical Center in Vancouver, Washington! (I know Carol, too may exclamation points!!! 😉
As they wheeled Sir C off to the operating room, I was worried, but felt certain that he was in great hands!
I walked down to the car and took the two ailing Border Collies potty. Xoom and I went for a walk around the buildings, while Crushie cried for Sir C. She was very upset that I had come back but he had not. She cried and cried for him while scanning the surrounding area for a glimpse of him. The sun was moving higher in the sky, so I moved the no longer shaded Stinkmobile to the underground parking lot. Then I walked back to the waiting room with my new dog training book, “Behavior Adjustment Training” by Grisha Stewart, M.A.,CPDT-KA (I am still stoked about the seminar I attended this past weekend but that is for another blog).
The surgery was scheduled to last two hours, but it only took an hour and a half. The nurses and volunteers, kept me posted the entire time. I couldn’t believe it! When I had my knee surgery, they left Sir C sitting in the waiting room for three hours after they were finished! Nobody ever told him I lived, or got him or anything! The surgeon left for a convention the second he was done with my knee, and poor Sir C sat waiting for an eternity! Finally, I asked somebody to go find him. It took a while, but they finally did. Now that was a poorly run place if ever there was one (but I wrote all about that in a blog four and a half years ago).
The surgeon came out to talk with me in the waiting room. He said, “Well, will thirty do?” I looked up at him, scrunched my eyebrows and cocked my head. “Well,” he said, “You told me to make him twenty-four. The best I could do was thirty!” He reamed out his backbone to make room for the nerves. Sir C should be painfree and runin again in no time.
They took me back to the recovery room. There lay Sir C, groggy as hell, but alive J. I had told them all not to croak him because I couldn’t drive the Global Warmer and I was too old and too fat to find somebody else who would put up with me. I was grateful life would go on as usual (well, once Sir C was healed enough for me to not have to do all the chores by myself).
They wheeled him down to the Stinkmobile, Crushie screamed with joy at the sight of her “Grampa!” Xoom screamed for the sake of hearing herself. Groggy and drugged, Sir C dragged himself into the car and off we went.
Back surgery at 10 in the morning – home at 2 in the afternoon! Pretty amazing! Xoom stayed in the vet hospital for 5 days for a similar surgery!
Thanks to everyone whrote asking how he was doing. We really appreciated the concern and support. It has been a rough couple of months in the King household.
So life goes on. Sir C is recovering along with Crushie and Xoom Xoom. He says he’s “Just like new.”
CALGON! TAKE ME AWAY!
Helen Grinnell King