As you guys probably know, your Crissy is obsessed with naming things.  I love, love, love it.  But making a final decision is where I fall flat on my face.  If it were up to me, Homeslice would be named LucyCarolineFionaLydia.

Alas, Mister put his foot down.

I have a plant named “Ladypants” and a sweater I call “Sunday Girl.”  So, naturally when Ehpa adopted a doggie, I had to get involved because that’s what I do.  I get involved.

You guys remember when Crissy got  Vivian and I couldn’t decide what to name her and soI had to ask the Queefies about it?

Well, you guys get to help Crissy name Ehpa’s new baby boy.  Ehpa gets to have final say, of course  (I suppose) since its her dog or whatever.

Isn’t he marvelous??

He’s HUGE–kind of like a horse or The Imperial Walker.

He’s very sweet and calm and gentle and of course everyone is madly in love with him.

So, name this poor dude because his track name, Cal, isn’t totally working for Crissy.

Ehpa has narrowed it down to these names for you to vote on.

Ehpa's new greyhound should be named:

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PS: Other suggestions are also welcome in the space provided below.

PSS:  I’m dead against naming him Milo, but that’s up the Ehpa and the Queefies to decide.  *SIGH*

Have a splendid day, Queefies!!

There’s another post coming soon!

VIVIAN!

We call her “Vivi” for short just like in Ya Ya Sisterhood.

Now, I know you all voted for Fiona, and we started calling her that, but it shortened to “Fifi” and she’s totally not a “Fifi.”  We decided to go with Vivian instead because it means “alive” or “lively” and that is what she is becoming–a very lively and mischievous girl!

She has mastered the stairs and is very interested in the cat box crunchies in the basement. I’ve caught her nosing around in there a few times.  When I scold her, she slinks away like, “I wasn’t doing anything.  My nose accidentally fell into the kitty box. I swear!”

I’ve had to rescue Girlfriend’s Care Bears from her several times.  She’s particularly fond of trying to relieve Grumpy Bear of his stuffing and I can’t say I blame her.  Grumpy bear is kind of a dick.

My mother-in-law bought her a gift of a Costco sized box of dog cookies. She steals from the box whenever I open the pantry door, but I pretend not to notice because she needs to fatten up. Sadly, Alice is a little too, ahem, fluffy and does not need to fatten up, but she’s right behind the tall girl, stealing cookies. And they run over to the rug in the play room with their treats–thinking they got away with something, and then they make a crumbly cookie mess.

This makes me incredibly happy to see them doing a caper together, and I don’t mind cleaning it up. After all, I have a really nice vacuum cleaner.

But oh my God, you guys, she pees on the orange porn carpet!

I KNOW!!!!

Very, very, naughty Vivian.  The only one allowed to pee on the porn carpet is me and that’s only on Very Special Evenings with Mister. (Not really.  Nobody is allowed to pee on the porn carpet because it’s too nice.)

She has started trying to play with Alice, but due to the size disparity, there have been bumps in the road.

They kind of remind me of Uma Thurman and Jennine Garofalo in The Truth About Cats and Dogs.

Unlike the movie characters though, they’re only sort of friends.  Alice can be a little snotty toward poor Vivian. The way Vivian plays scares the bejeezus out of Alice, and she gets really low and still and looks around like “whoa. What the hell was that?” and when Vivian does her Super! Excited! Greyhound! laps around the yard, Alice takes that opportunity to hide under the deck. I keep telling Alice that doing a few laps with her sister won’t kill her and it might even take some of that extra, ahem, fluff out of her fur, but she’s not much of runner, you guys. She’s more of a sleeper or a stand around-er.  Hence the fluff problem.

But we’re not judging, Queefies.

Hopefully, they’ll figure out how to be playmates. It’s only been a little under two weeks.

Oh, and she walks pretty well on a leash and stays so close to me that she bumps into me sometimes.

And she plays with toys now!

And I caught her sitting in a chair looking out the window with Alice!

She’s…becoming a dog!

But she hasn’t barked yet.

It’s so much fun to watch her grow into her new life. Family and friends have been bringing her gifts and coming to visit her like a new baby.  In fact, I don’t even think Homeslice got this much attention.  My mom got her a crate, and  Bat Cave Twidget even sent her a very fancy collar you’ll be seeing in pictures very soon.

I highly recommend this experience to anyone considering adopting a retired racer. They are totally lovely and sweet and I’m so glad we did this.

Big Pussy continues to not give a shit one way or the other.

Once upon a time, I had a beautiful Greyhound named Tashi.

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She was the love of my life, and I still get all teary when I think about her. I was so devastated after she died that I vowed that I could never own another Greyhound again. And then last week I was thinking about her and how she would have been great with Alice and Big Pussy and Homeslice and Girlfriend and so I made a phone call to Greyhound Pets of America and got an appointment to look at some Greyhounds.

It was EASY. They answered the phone on the first ring and said we could come any time to look at the dogs. Nobody ignored me. Nobody treated me like I was inconveniencing them, and nobody was going to stand me up. No more messing around with these Rescue groups. This is a national organization and they don’t mess around.

On Friday, we picked Girlfriend up from school instead of waiting for the bus to arrive, and made the hour long trip on a cold and raw day. The adoption coordinator kept the kennel at her house, and was very sick that day. She kept having to go inside to throw up due to some heavy medication she was on. She could have canceled, and had good reason to, but she was there with a volunteer, dedicated to finding a home for one of her dogs. They stood out in the cold and the damp with us, discussing and choosing the best 5 candidates out of 28 dogs to show us.

We spent time with each and every one of them, and they were all wonderful, but one in particular hit us all in the chest. This one showered Homeslice with kisses and walked nicely with Girlfriend on the leash.

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And when I bent down to pet her, she kissed my face and put her head on my shoulder and leaned into me.

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It was all over at that point. AFC’s Allison, fresh off a track in Pensacola Florida was destined to be ours. We went home and started making preparations to bring her home with us the next day. Girlfriend picked out a brush and a fluffy bed.

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We even got her a seat belt for the car ride, which, by the way, was pure comedy.

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It was exactly like trying to stuff a giraffe into briefcase.

Greyhounds aren’t great at sitting down, and so it took massive effort to get her to sit in our front seat. The adoption lady had walked us to the car and was standing there the whole time watching us trying to stuff this mass of gangly legs and claws into our clown car. She had concerns, I could tell, but she still let us take her.

Allison didn’t stay seated for long and preferred to spend her first ever car ride standing up, panting in Mister’s face and stepping on the center console window controls. When she wasn’t doing the windows up and down, she was farting. When she wasn’t doing that, she was trying to wiggle out of her seat belt to come and sit in the backseat with me and Homeslice and Girlfriend. She was all legs and claws and drool and farts for the entire ride and we had to pull over to re-situate her. And of course there was traffic. And of course, Homeslice thought it might add to the occasion by screaming her head off for 40 out of the 60 minutes. And Girlfriend kept asking the kind of ludicrous questions only a five-year-old can come up with.

We finally got her home and introduced her to Alice, which went well, but as soon as we got into the house and she encountered the hard wood floor, she was exactly like Bambi on ice. Her legs splayed out all over because she’s never been inside a people house before. Shiny, slippery wood is not a surface she’s ever walked on.

She’s still struggling with that three days later, but she’s getting better. She kind of skates from carpet to carpet. We still have to carry her up and down the stairs because she’s never seen those before either. She’s desperately thin with chunks of fur missing and lots of scabs and scrapes just starting to heal from track life. There’s fur missing from around her eyes and behind her ears from where the muzzle rubbed it away, and she’s kind of depressed. This is like a re-birth for her and she needs time to adjust. She hasn’t had one accident in the house and is really good at holding her pees and poops.

We feel privileged to have the opportunity to help her learn how to be a spoiled and beloved pet instead of a money making slave. She is a sweet and gentle soul and we are already madly in love. She’s standing next to me right now with her head in my lap. How cool is that?

Alice likes her, too.

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And Big Pussy doesn’t give a crap one way or the other.

The only problem we have is that her name is Allison and every time we call her, Alice comes running, but we’re still calling Allison and poor Alice is like “I’m here! Why are you screwing with me!?! WHAT IS HAPPENING???”

So, we need a new name and you, marvelous Queefies, get to help us. You can vote for up to two names or leave us a suggestion if you think we suck with our old lady names.

Allison's new name should be...

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So we’re going to start with the thing that’s bothering me the most and work our way down to the mildly irritating and/or totally stupid.

First up we have Homeslice’s lymph nodes in her little groin area.  The one that was swollen over a month ago is still swollen and now there’s another one right next to it that keeps getting bigger although it’s still smaller than the other one.  And then sometimes they seem to be almost gone, and then sometimes they swell back up again.  I’m hysterical. I think I’m going to bring her back to the doctor because my anxiety disorder is pretty much demanding a blood test at this point even though she’s acting perfectly fine and healthy and has no fever and the swellings don’t hurt her at all and the original one hasn’t gotten any bigger than it was since it first appeared.  But then I think maybe I won’t have her tested because  I’m really scared of the blood test BECAUSE WHAT IF SHE’S REALLY SICK?

I need to know but I’m really afraid to find out.

And I’m giving up on the dog adoption situation.    I had an appointment with a guy last night and he was supposed to bring 2 dogs for us to meet, but then it was just one dog and then he changed the time and THEN HE DIDN’T SHOW UP OR BOTHER TO CALL TO TELL ME HE WASN’T COMING OR ANSWER HIS PHONE.

This is a totally different organization than the other one that blew me off like this FIVE TIMES.  They still haven’t returned my call after blowing me off the fifth time.  It’s been two weeks.

I guess doing this to people and not respecting their time and the fact that adopting a pet is an EMOTIONAL thing and telling someone they will get to meet a potential new family member and then not even having enough respect for them to tell them you need to re-schedule and instead just letting them clear an entire day or a whole weekend and then completely blowing them off like they don’t matter is the way to run a dog rescue.

They’re always whining about how hard it is to be volunteers and that they have lives, you know, and that people need to be patient and blah, blah, blah, WHAT ABOUT ME?  AM I NOT A PERSON TOO?  I also have a life and I’m trying to do the right thing by adopting a homeless animal, but I’m getting treated like shit by these people.

I don’t understand.

I’ve learned a lot about people through this experience and it’s not good news, you guys.  It’s not good news at all.

So, I’m giving up because I can’t deal with the disappointment and heartbreak anymore.

And moving back to Saturday night having gone to bed late after our Zombie Prom, I woke up at 3 in the morning feeling sticky and wet to discover that Alice had thrown up in our bed, under the blankets, and that I had been sleeping in it.  At first I only noticed that I had slid my foot into something, so I checked it out and it was a HUGE pile of super-chunky something.  I didn’t know what the hell it was, so I got out of bed to take a look and determined that it was  some sort of really putrid contents from something (ass? stomach?) and so I limped into the bathroom to wash my foot off and re-group a little bit.

Mister got up to scrape what he determined to be vomit off the bed when I noticed that my back felt cold and wet, too.  I had barf chunks stuck all over my shirt and I had left a trail of them behind me on the way to the bathroom.  I had to take a complete shower and rinse the chunks out of my pajamas while Mister stripped the bed.

It took two trips to get all our bedding down to the basement washing machine, Alice following me the whole way and throwing up more little piles of goodness as we went.

It was…very special.

I never got back to sleep after that, so  I basically got about 3 hours in before all the specialness was discovered.

That was the second night of sleep deprivation because on Friday night, we went to my friend Gina’s annual Halloween party and when we got home, Homeslice was wide awake and hanging out with the babysitter.  She never went back to sleep for more than ten minutes at a time.

That was also a Very Special Evening.

We won best couple’s costume at Gina’s party though, so that was something good riding on the shitwagon that was our weekend.

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(huge version here)