Saturday, December 26, 2009

Sneezing Diagnosis: Only Child Syndrome

Sean has been hounding asking me to step in and blog about Clarkson’s recent vet visit. The story isn’t as interesting as when he was attacked by that racist bitch as the Higgins Christmas drama – more on that later. But I’ll start here. So you are all caught up to where we are in the story: Sean has googled “dog” and “sneeze,” read about a dog that sneezed itself to death, and is balling like a little girl thinking about a tiny casket.


So I go to the vet. Clarkson sneezed with every breath all the way to the vet. It sounded like brain stem projectiles were about to fly out he couldn’t breath. As an aside: this is my first trip to the vet – or any vet ever. Sean talked about how the entire staff creamed themselves got very excited when Clarkson was there. And it’s no wonder. He’s small, cute and personable:



Other people are at the vet because they have disgusting morbidly obese diabetic club-footed belabored-breathing bugged-out red-eyed family members beasts. Ok, so Clarkson is sneezing in the waiting area uncontrollably. They call us and he sneezes all the way down the hall to the examining room.

The doctor comes in and suddenly the sneezing stopped. I’m not kidding. He did not sneeze once the entire time in front of the vet, the little attention grabbing bastard. Not. Once. So the vet is asking me what the problem is and, without sounding like an over protective nervous yuppie dog owner I tell her about his imaginary sneezing. Of course I feel a little foolish, but I’m sure she’s seen this all before. I expect the conversation to go one of two ways: (a) surely the vet will know the story of the urban legend dangers and risks of a dog potentially sneezing itself to death or (b) I will get a pointed pause, slight eye squint, condescending head tilt and a load of bullshit diagnosis. Let’s just say that fatal sneezing was not mentioned, and the vet proceeded to examine Clarkson.


Clarkson sneezed squirmed and yelped when she shined a light in his ear. Light – oh so painful light. He was a little brat with everything she tried do anything to him – except when she needed a temperature reading. She shoved inserted the thermometer up his ass and he purred was completely quiet and calm. Apparently, big tough Clarkson who takes on dogs ten times his size, has a secret soft side. The vet them blabbed some garbage about nasal mites gave us placebo antibiotics, and we were on our way to mom’s for an early Christmas dinner during which Sean brings up the unknown father of my sister’s bi-racial baby, accuses my mom of orchestrating the demise of my brother’s wedding (which was called off five days before) and shows my mom a picture of me on Halloween dressed as a bearded Hooter’s chick. But those are all better discussed in therapy other blogs.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

You Were My Strength When I Was Weak...

On Thursday night Clarkson started sneezing. A lot. He was eventually able to sleep after a few good sneezing fits, but as soon as he woke up on Friday, the sneezing came back. I'd say throughout the day on Friday and most of the day on Saturday, he was probably sneezing once every ten to twenty seconds, which if you think about it, is pretty horrible.

He would take his little paw, scratch at his nose, and growl to himself after each sneeze - a growl that seemed desperate, a growl that said "this totally sucks, Sean, when is it going to stop?"

As you can imagine, I basically fell apart. I immediately googled "puppy" + "constant" + "sneezing" and what came up? A quaint little story about a puppy who sneezed for a couple of days and then DIED.

"Hi, I need to see the vet right away, Sergeant Clarkson will not stop sneezing!"

"Um, let me talk to the Doctor and see if I can get him on the phone..."

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

Images of a puppy burial flashed through my head complete with black puppy casket, red roses falling in slow motion on black puppy casket, and Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me" played as black puppy casket is lowered into the ground.

"Um, hi, the vet said to just watch him and come in tomorrow if he's still sneezing, there's really no reason to race in just yet."

And there it was. In my head, the casket was lowered, and Celine sang those last sweet words: "I'm everything I am, because you loved me......."

Apparently, the vet tech at Blum Animal hospital did not share my concern. Somehow, I was able to take her advice and just watch the little guy sneeze and sneeze and sneeze...

Clarkson's sneezing did not subside by Saturday, so we (Joe) had to take him to the vet to see what the hell was going on. This is where I will leave off with this story, as Joe initially promised to guest blog, but suddenly he has "lost inspiration."

If he doesn't pick up the story in a few days (which includes some pretty damn funny moments at the vet, maybe not on the level of the racist remarks we heard the last time, but still funny nonetheless), I'll try to summarize based on what was relayed to me. Oh and FYI, it's Tuesday and Clarkson is still sneezing, though MUCH less.

Poor little muppet baby!!!

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Happy Holidays from the Sarge

We took Clarkson to Petco on Saturday where this creepy guy who seemingly did not like dogs was dressed up as Santa Claus. Naturally, we shelled out $20 bucks (absurd) to get this picture:




Clarkson: "Who the hell is this old guy and why does he smell like gin?"
Santa: "You can't spell gingerbread without gin!"

Although Clarkson looks like he was calm, I assure you he was not. In fact, he was a bit of a terror - which has been the norm lately. He barks, he growls, and he generally acts as if he were top dog...except around dumpsters and our car. The dog is PETRIFIED of all dumpsters and our car.

The car thing is understandable because nearly every time we take him for a ride, he pukes within about 30 minutes. It's almost pavlovian ;)

The dumpsters though? No idea. Guess he's not that tough...

Oh and yes, Clarkson did see the Season Finale of GLEE, which was brought to an exuberant conclusion with "My Life Would Suck Without You." Interestingly enough, this was his first exposure to his namesake and he loved it!!

At any rate, I think we may have some guest bloggers coming soon, so stay tuned! And Happy Holidays!

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Aloha Dogwalker

A peek into Clarkson's head yesterday when the dogwalker came in to let him out:

"Awesome. Dogwalker is here...I'm gonna bite her and then make her clean up my poop. This is the best."

"Weird that dogwalker is undressing."

"It's not bikini weather."

"Dogwalker has a pretty banging body I guess"

"Alright dogwalker, I gotta poop, let's go."

Let me explain...

So as you know, we hired a dogwalking service to take Clarkson on daily walks when we are away at work. When we first hired the service, we didn't actually meet the person who would be walking him, but Joe stayed home from work one day to meet who I shall now refer to as "Maria"

Maria is Hawaiian. The day that Joe met her, she decided to walk Clarkson in a tanktop despite the fact that it was not exactly warm outside. Apparently in her mind, acclimating to the Chicago winter would best happen if she were to walk around without appropriate clothing. She, unlike the dog, was unlikely to grow a winter coat, but we thought that it was really up to her how she wanted to do her job, just as long as she take the dog for walks and clean up his poops .

Earlier today we got an email from Maria and all it said was "Hi, I am [Maria's real name] and I was wondering if you found a key in your apartment yesterday." Unfortunately, neither Joe nor I had found a key, but with Maria's email came a very important bit of information - her last name.

Two clicks on facebook later and we had this staring us in the face:





OH. MY. GOD.


So, in my head, here's what went down: Maria popped in to Two Tommies one afternoon, she let Clarkson out of his little play area, she stripped down to her best bikini, and she nonchalantly walked him around lakeview in 20 degree weather.

Not four hours after we found this little gem on facebook, we received the following email from our dogwalking service:

"Sean,
I am sorry to inform you that [Maria's real name] was let go earlier today. I will be walking Clarkson until we can find a suitable replacement."

I immediately confirmed that Maria no longer had our key and that there was no foul play present (beyond losing someone else's key and being caught walking dogs in her bathing suit). All is good. Looks like no more peep show for the muppet baby.

He's getting neutered in February anyway.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Boozy Cuddles

So Joe does not allow Clarkson on our bed, mainly because "one day Clarkson is going to be old, fat, and smelly and I'm not sleeping with that..."

I hope I age gracefully.

At any rate, even though Clarkson is not allowed on our bed, he is allowed on the bed in the guest bedroom, which is starting to pose a bit of a problem. Nearly every weekend night over the course of the last month, Joe, Clarkson and I all end up (drunk) in the guest bedroom. Basically, it's two in the morning, we get home drunk, take one look at the muppet baby and then instantly decide we want to cuddle with him. Upon reflection, this is not very healthy for the dog. Here's how it goes down...

We stumble in around 2/2:30 and immediately rip Clarkson from his bed. Joe usually picks him up, at which point we poke and prod him, all the while thinking we are gently petting him. We're not. Next, we stumble, stumble, stumble our way to guest bedroom; Clarkson is tired, scared, and most likely confused as all hell, but nonetheless, we all pile in. It's essentially a large game of King of the Bed, a game which Clarkson will likely never win.

The poor dog is then subjected to hours and hours of boozy cuddles that reek of beer, nicotine, and poor decisions. Saturday morning I woke up to Clarkson puking over the side of the bed and I'm not even kidding. Clarkson had been immersed in our drunkeness to the point of nausea.

It's time to leave the dog in the crate, but honestly, how do you not want to cuddle with this???

Saturday, December 5, 2009

First Snow and First Sting of a Racist Society

A week of firsts...

So it snowed on Thursday and Joe happened to be working from home that day. Here is a youtube clip of Clarkson at his first sight of the snow, for the most part, he pretty much ignored it, but he does try to bite it (surprise, surprise, the dog would try to bite a great white shark):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xvDDHsz2R4

Today, I took Clarkson to the vet, and there he experienced his first cruel sting of a middle-aged racist woman ;)

Patty (I don't know her name, but I'm sure it was Patty, you just know a Patty when you see a Patty) asked what kind of dog Clarkson was. I replied with my stock "Shiba Inu, he's Japanese, kinda like a smaller Akita." Patty sang his praises and gave him some attention and then she came out with it...

"Am I crazy or is he slant-eyed like a Jap?"

Um, yes. Yes, you are crazy. Now just go away. I giggled awkwardly and hoped she wouldn't asked again. "He's totally slant-eyed, how did that happen?" God make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

I muttered "haha, I don't know...ha ha."

Clarkson and I had a little talk afterwards about race, society, and generally just life. It was a good talk. His feelings were hurt, but he knows we love him. Ya know, it's tough raising a dog of a different race. Not only do we have to deal with the usual stuff (potty training, chewing, behaviour, etc.), but we must also be decidedly mindful of racial sensitivities. We're white. He's Asian. Someday other dogs are going to notice...

Ah well, we'll cross that bridge when come to it. Until then, we'll continue to shower our Oriental baby with love. Oh shit, Oriental is derogatory...um, until then, we'll continue to shower our Asian-American baby with love.

Finally, click here for the trailer to a movie that I will NEVER be able to see:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaS37E3gKOU