Poor pup!

Our Linus had an egg-sized swelling under his eye last week, and Linda and I, being the wreck nervosas we are where he is concerned, brought him to the vet. Well, I brought him to the vet, as Linda was in charge of lawn maintenance this weekend.

The verdict? Poor pup, he has a bad tooth--yes, following in his mother's footsteps--and must have it taken out this week.

This will be the second time he's had to be knocked out and operated on this year, for pity's sake. Our first reaction was to resist putting him through that agony again, but from what the vet told me, even one bad tooth can really wreak havoc on a canine. In fact, she asserted the bacteria in his tooth is more of a threat to him than going through the surgery. And in case she didn't have my attention after that pearl of wisdom, she also said that healthy teeth make the difference between a dog living 10 years and living 14-15 years.

As Linus is already 11 and we both love him like he's our own flesh and blood, what's a girl to do?

Schedule the surgery, that's what. For Thursday, the day I work from home. The good news is that this procedure will only be a day-long affair, and so I'll be able to drop him off in the morning and take him home that night.

It makes me so sad that he has surgery in his future--and that dogs have the "patch, patch, patch" problem as well. Poor Linus!

On other fronts, even though Linda is the lawn diva, I helped with the raking this weekend. I couldn't last week, because I had a tooth out and wasn't supposed to exert myself (yes, my patch-a-thon continues), and I felt bad about it. Particularly as we have ridiculously prolific trees in our yard--and our neighbors' yards, for that matter. Poor Linda!

So, I raked, and right now, my right wrist feels like I strained it. Good grief--one little episode of raking, and there's heck to pay.

Ah, the middle ages. What's not to love, eh?

Lastly, I must confess that I sometimes listen to Gayle King on XM radio, but likely will do so no more. She had served as a nice antidote to the dueling jerks on Young Turks on Air America (there is a third person, a woman, but she seems to only say wildly inappropriate things that have no relevance to the matter at hand--what's a talkshow without a Non Sequitur Girl? A relief!). Anyway, the Turks, young liberals with an attitude (their words, not mine), do occasionally get on my last nerve, so I turn to either disco or Gayle King for blessed relief.

Well, now I'm just turning to disco. Last week, Ms. King said something about the John Kerry botched joke mishap that was straight out of the Neo-Con Playbook for the whole tempest in a teapot, and she just plummeted down in my rankings of people I will listen to gladly. In fact, she's no longer on the list.

Just when I thought she was a nice lady with a smile in her voice and a candid view on life, she ends up sounding like Rush Limbaugh's kid sister.

Alas.

So now, I think of her as a FOO--that's Friend of Oprah, or fou, as the French put it, and right now, I'm leaning toward the latter.

And one last thought on John Kerry: If he didn't exist, the Republicans would make him up.

Or have they?