So you know I've been angling towards getting a dog. Yesterday Robin, for whom I need a better title than "the mother of my son-in-law" or "my daughter's mother-in-law" took me to the County Animal Shelter and we looked at the dogs and I saw a dog with the characteristics I want so I put down the money and tomorrow she's available.

It was not love at first sight. It was "I can fall in love with this dog."

First, the things about her that are not what I was looking for: she's a puppy! I was looking for an adult dog. I was also looking for a dog who, if she turns out to be a ratter, could kill a rat with one snap of the jaw instead of having to mess around: she has a smallish muzzle (but not small in proportion to her size, not a tiny face or a mushed-in snout: it's a normal dog muzzle and she will breathe normally). But she won't be a puppy for long, and I have no idea whether she'll be a ratter. She's part chihuahua, which shows in her bark (though she isn't a big barker). She does that weird little howly chihuahua bark. But mostly she just huffs.

Now, the things about her that are what I was looking for: she's lively, energetic, playful, independent-minded and yet friendly and affectionate, engaged, and smart. At six months she will chase a ball and bring it back, and that's special. She jumps a lot, which I'll have to teach her not to do, but it's not a bad sign in a six-month-old, from my point of view.  A puppy who jumps a lot has energy, is eager, and is just asking to be taught tricks.  So I figure I'll give her some jumping tricks to do and teach her not to jump just for sheer exuberance.She almost comes when called, which is great considering she hasn't been taught that yet. She orients to the person she thinks is "hers" before a stranger, but she pays attention to anybody. I'm not looking for a one-woman dog.

Notice the only things I mentioned in terms of appearance so far was her face, and that only in terms of function. I wasn't looking for appearance, though I knew for sure that any dog who reminded me of Truffle in looks as well as behavior would have an edge,. And she does, a bit. She doesn't have a barrel chest or a broad head, but she has a long body and half-flopped ears and expressive eyes. She's blond, with amazing red-orange eyelashes. Of course she sheds a lot. I'm resigned.
( here's the picture Robin took at the shelter: )

She comes with the name Nala, which Keith points out is from the female lion in The Lion King. And so therefore I think I'd like to change her name to something not Disney. I also prefer names that are not human names. Any ideas?

edit:What do you think of Žlutá? It means "yellow" and it is not a human name, unlike Zlata. It is pronounced "Zhluta."

( Probably boring. Just daily stuff. )

Anybody local-ish have any use for thirty to forty year old stereo equipment in okayish condition (dusty and neglected but they worked okay last I paid any attention to them)?  There's a couple of newer pieces also.

No, not healthcare related things at the moment.
( TMI to follow: trying an lj-cut in rich text editor because I fail at it in html )

1) My doctor's office called me today to tell me that the FDA has cut the recommended dose for Simvastatin in half, because the old dose was causing muscle deterioration.  I've been on the standard dose for years and years and years. I asked "how would you know if you were getting this muscle deterioration?"

Muscle pain and weakness, she said.

So, I had thought that I was experiencing the various weird muscle cramps and not being as strong as I used to be because of sedentary habits and possibly insufficient potassium (being on diuretics raises your need for potassium).  Of course, I actually still could be, and honestly I've had less of the pain since I started making sure I get more high-potassium foods, and I have had less of the pain since I have been making sure I walk the dogs and work in the garden and stuff.  But, well, it could be part of the picture.  So I'm cutting my pills in half.  The bonus is that I just filled my prescription, so a month's supply of simvastatin will actually be two months' supply this time.  Too bad I can't keep getting the 80s -- next time I buy the drug it will be a 40.

2) Yesterday I had a coughing relapse.  At first I thought it was another wave of the bad cold I had last week.  It probably was, partly, because my nose has never stopped being weird. But I realized part way through the day that I was also having especially bad coughinf fits soon after I ate, and I've been aware that I had drifted into eating way more starchy food and sweets and dairy than I ought to but I was just too lazy to work out what to eat instead (that's why the irreproducible recipes posts last week).  So I figured that at least some of the relapse is due to bad diet.
Then this morning I discovered that (a) I had forgotten and left accessible food on the counter overnight for the first time in a long time and (b) the rat that I thought had left because there was no obvious sign of its presence had not gone, and in fact had gnawed a hole a bit bigger than a ping-pong ball in the hunk of parmesan cheese.  As the day progressed I became convinced that part of my relapse is in fact due to the fact that I have had a rat for two months and I am intensely allergic to rats (and no other thing, though I have some non-allergy sensitivities, obviously).  And I don't know if it's the power of suggestion but my skin is prickling like it always used to when we had pet rats and I keep getting that horrible unsatisfying cough that goes on and on and doesn't dislodge the thickness back there.

Why have I had a rat for two months?  Because I am a wuss.  First I tried to sic the dog and the extra dog on the rat.  Unfortunately, both of them lived in households with pet rodents in their youth, and while Truffle will in fact kill a couple of gophers, voles or wild rats in the field every spring, they both seem to think that a rodent in the house is a scary authority figure they dare not even bark at.  Then I had to go all the way to Capitola to buy a rat trap because where do you buy one in Santa Cruz? (I just thought of a place I will go to tomorrow)  Then I had to work up my courage to set up the rat trap.  And it was even harder because Zack said to put it into a paper bag so I wouldn't have to touch the rat.  And then I got desperate and I finally tried to set the trap and it sprung immediately and then wouldn't reset again for drugs or money.  So no rat trap anymore.

Tomorrow I buy several rat traps of different designs (all in the spring type: no bait, no glue: I want the thing to die as quickly and painlessly as possible.  No catch and release because what would that accomplish?  We're talking about a serious threat to my health here) and I will set them carefully with no extra flourishes but just yummy bait, one at a time.

This condition threatens more than my daily health.  I can't do anything really vigorous while it's in sway because the slightest movement causes a coughing fit and urinary disaster (no, dears, kegels have kept this manageable when I'm not having overwhelming coughing fits, but they don't cure it, and nothing seems to help when I am having these coughing fits except to sit on many layers of folded towels and do lots of laundry).  I can make it through a day of work by spending a lot of time in the bathroom and taking a wide variety of drugs (antihistamine, antacid for the acid reflux component which is there even with the right diet and acid-reducing drugs during the periods when coughing fits are likely to happen, and demulcent/menthol cough drops -- Hall's or Luden's or Ricola, like that).  But I can't dance or run or be embarrassed (yes, dogdamn it, being embarrassed or otherwise emotionally stressed overpowers both my cough control and my bladder when I am in this kind of cycle).

The good thing about this noise is that there appears to be some reason to think I can get back on track, health and activity wise.

(tell me if I managed to get an lj-cut to work?  I had given up on using them because they never seemed to work)

A month or so ago we went on down to the best little winery, River Run, out on Rogge Road in Watsonville. For the first time we took Truffle, because we thought it would be a good outing for her. And it was. The dog there -- whose name I remembered until just this minute -- was a little grouchy with her at first, becaause she is an elderly dog and didn't want no young'uns getting no rambunctious ideas. But Truffle, who can seem pretty well dominant on the dog field, knows how to kiss ass, and the old dog tolerated her well after the first moments.

However, their relationship cemented when a couple of neighbor dogs went walking through the fields just below the winery (deeply plowed with square tops to the rows, so I think it's going to be berries). Their person was heading for the beautiful Pajaro River at the other side of the field. The dogs were fun to watch, especially the poor dachshund who kept disappearing into the cuts and reappearing with his ears all a-flutter.

Ginger, that was her name (she's a mutt but she looks -- and acts -- more like a Chesapeake than any other thype of dog), didn't take these dogs well at all. She had some harsh words for them. Truffle took her cue from her new-found friend, and barked her fool head off in the classic lieutenant position -- a little ahead on one flank, but clearly oriented to pick up any more cues.

So yesterday at the goodbye party for lovely Rosemary, Truffle met a lovely white white standard poodle named Nicky. They sniffed butts and declared amicability. They did not declare association, as I discovered when Truffle's prior friends Andie and Bradlee (expensive dogs, both. I wish I made in a month what one of those dogs cost). Andie's a Wheaton terrier, a lovely apricot thing, and Bradlee is a very expensive dry mop. Andie, who will always remain clueless and juvenile, rushed Nicky with her head in a submissive drop, working that tongue to inspire kindness, but Nicky took offense to something about this action -- maybe the suddenness of it, and maybe the fact that Nicky's twelve-year-old girl was behind Andie -- and roared quite definitely, raising her front feet to push Andie down.

Andie was also alarmed by this turn of events -- again, the unexpected response to her approach, or maybe the crowded quarters there in the kitchen doorway, and instead of rolling over like she might usually do, she talked back, making Nicky angrier. Just as the people were leaping to separate the dogs, here comes Truffle -- who moments before had been delighted to make Nicky's acquaintance -- ready to defend her friend against the relative newcomer. She actually pulled back her lips in a true snarl, which I've seen maybe four times in seven years. I've seen the half-snarl which means "pretend you are Darth Vader, and I'm Inigo Montoya! This pull toy is the key to the kingdom of Westsylvania! You'll never get it from me, you dastard!" But that's clearly different if you know dogs. If you don't know dogs don't assume a damn thing. Yell and flap your jacket, and then go away calmly from a snarling dog the same way you would from a mountain lion. Seriously. The domestic dog is prone to all sorts of dysfunctional upbringing, most of which is not at all dangerous, but don't count on catching the subtleties of dog communication. For one thing, people who raise dysfunctional dogs are unlikely to be effective at recusing you if things go awry.

On that note, I'll return to my stated theme: my dog is a natural sidekick!