Black Doggerel

Added a new LJ friend today, which prompted a rush of ridiculous embarrassment at the sparsity of intelligent words in my journal of late. It can't be helped. Deathtired is bigger than I am and I can't even let myself think too hard about everything I want to be doing.

Have some linkspam as a cunning substitute for an actual entry. Many of these are regurgitated from my Facebook: I actually hate Facebook, but you wouldn't know it these days. It's just that I can forgive myself for short meaningless entries more easily on Facebook. Every time I try and write more than five words about my life it turns into bitter self-pitying whine; better just to keep my face shut.

( This got bigger than I thought it would )

Today, for the first time EVER, my dogs gave me an opportunity to shovel handfuls of treats into their faces as a reward for watching Big Brindle Dog out of the window without one bark.

WIN.

spring has sprung, and the suburbs are alive with foxes busily and noisily making more foxes. it makes after-dark dog walking into a bit of an extreme sport. in fact if I marketed it right I could probably charge local thrill-starved teenagers to walk the fuckers for me.

snoooow dogs. complete with me puffing and flopping like a diseased grampus, LOL, but I enjoyed myself anyway.

THIS IS THE BEST SQUISH PIC EVER. slave2tehtink took it.

( this is what Spike is looking at )

Dear Diary - Today my collie got bathed and the entire flat got soaked. Afterwards we went out and played ball in the park.

( It was the best day ever. )

aargh fuck oww. My twisted knee was nearly BETTER. I could nearly walk again. Then last night I bent over to slide Spike's cushion from his spot by the Uncomfy Chair over to be by the bed, and my knee unexpectedly made this sharp crack-pop sound.

I have a friend with a chronically bad knee and I've heard her use the phrase "my knee exploded" before. I hadn't realised how literally she meant it. EXPLOSION OF PAIN. I couldn't sleep last night despite the icepack and painkillers, there was no position I could rest it in that didn't throb with pain and I couldn't stop fretting about how the fuck I was going to walk dogs like this. Getting from the Uncomfy Chair to the bathroom or kitchen is just about possible but unprecedentedly difficult. Down the stairs didn't seem likely.

In the end I scooted downstairs on my arse with the dogs offleash and let them out to piss in the communal back garden. This is strictly not allowed in the tenancy agreement and it worries fuck out of me to resort to it, even though downstairs neighbour does it every day with his greyhound. But it was either that or have them both piss on the floor in here, what can you do? Spike didn't drink for a day and a half after he had that accident on the floor last week and I'm not risking that again.

happier news: Spike had his stitches out yesterday, barring a few inside his mouth that he'd broken. The vet put those back in with dissolving sutures so we won't need to go back. The lab results are back on his poor departed nose, and all the indications are that we got a good clear margin and Mouth Thing is no more. YAYYYY WOOO HOOO YAYY!

they also both really enjoyed the back garden. I was too paranoid to leave them out very long but they ran and bounced and were happy.

my cat boxes need emptying and my kitchen is an unholy shithole. I was looking forward to ...not doing those, but having gotten them done. Now I can't even fucking stand up without a piece of furniture to lean on and fuck fuck fuck OW. Did I say ow? OW.