Well, it's 2012. My son remarked to me that he was surprised the world didn't end last night - he apparently believed that the Mayans predicted the world would end at midnight as 2012 began. I had thought the world was supposed to end NEXT New Year's. I guess we'll find out in about a year.
I started the new year of eating off pretty well, with chicken & waffles & a flight of mimosas. No complaints about my first meal of 2012! But, the new year of everything else? Yeah, no. Not so great. I was awakened this morning at about 6 AM by a panicked phone call. I'm not going to say who made the call, but suffice it to say it was not someone on the list of people ALLOWED to call me at 6 AM on New Year's Day. The caller was freaking out because apparently someone had knocked over their fishbowl during the evening's revelry, and the fish was missing, and they wanted to know what to do.
I'll just wait while you let that sink in.
You read that right.
Now, maybe our blog audience isn't the right group of people to ask, but I'mma ask anyway - Really? When you knock over your goldfish bowl and you can't find your goldfish, the first thing that comes to mind is "I better call my cousin's friend's old neighbor's ex-girlfriend's brother's co-worker's former roommate, the veterinarian, and see what to do?" Even "gosh, I'm going to call my veterinarian with whom I have a warm and mutually respectful relationship to find out what to do" is a stretch, IMO. What was I supposed to do other than say "Hmm. I guess you should continue to LOOK FOR IT until you FIND IT, or else wait til it starts to smell and follow your nose!" ? Right?
So. That happened.
I also had the subject of a relative's newly-acquired dog come up in conversation. Changing the details - the dog had some outpatient surgery, and was acting weird when it went home, and cried all night. I suggested to the relative telling me the story that perhaps the dog had a) been discharged before it was fully recovered, and b) not had adequate pain medicine. The storyteller advised me that was impossible because a) the vet called the owner to say the dog was ready to go, and b) the vet told the owner that that particular surgical procedure was nonpainful. I didn't have the energy to argue. I just calmly said "oh, well, without knowing more details, I couldn't say what happened. Hey, who's watching the game today? What game? Um, I don't know. Isn't there a game today?" and then the kids and men started talking about game schedules. Phew. But in my secret heart of hearts I have to wonder: who doesn't just automatically KNOW that surgical procedures are by definition going to be painful, and that a dog who is up crying all night the night after a surgical procedure IS IN PAIN?