Paradise, frankenstein bikes, and the Dingo

Well yesterday did not go as planned at all. I woke up at about 4 am to Socks dry heaving... if you're a dog owner, you know that sound. It makes you wake up, jump out of bed and make it to the nearest door to let the dog out in .5 seconds. It doesn't matter how cold or tired you are, you instinctual get a vomiting dog OUTSIDE without even thinking about it.
So on a very cold [to me] Davis morning, I found myself outside at 4 am with Socks, who seemed like she wanted to vomit, but was not producing anything -- just retching. Mark, who managed to bring himself to full consciousness this early in the morning, suggested that I call the UC Davis Teaching Hospital, which is the 24-hour vet around here. I am kinda against calling in these situations.... if it's an emergency, take the dog in. If it can wait, then wait. Very simple. A phone diagnosis is next to impossible. I called anyway, and the student that I spoke to served more as a therapist to me and helped calm me down.
The reason I was so concerned was because retching can sometimes be a the indicator of GDV, otherwise known as bloat. It's the #2 killer in dogs, and occurs in deeper chested dogs, like Dobies. More about bloat here. Luckily, all the other bloat symptoms were absent, and that is what ultimately made me go to bed and not worry about it until normal business hours.

So at 9am, after more retching, I made an appointment with a local vet that a few neighbors recommended. I had to call a cab to get out there, since EZ LUBE RUINED MY ENGINE and I have no way to get my old girl across town.

Dramatization

End result: Socks is okay... but the suspicion is that something is up with her esophagus rather than her stomach. She's on a rice and cottage cheese diet for now, and she's getting some Pepcid AC with her meals. That, added to the anti-inflammatory she's taking for her lower back and the joint support pills... Socks is one old lady. But I love her and so I'll keep her going as long as she wants to.

So no farmer's market. Instead, I ordered groceries online and had them delivered this morning. I'm not bike confident enough yet to hang groceries from my handlebars, so this was a great alternative. I hope to never use this option again, because it just felt sorta bourgeoisie having a Safeway.com truck in front of my house.

In the evening, I hopped on my bike to explore the neighborhood.
I ventured into an area which reminded me of the Secret Garden... I went through some path and all of a sudden I was in the most beautiful neighborhood ever. There were tons of bike paths and I almost felt like I was discovering some mystical land. There were homes with large gardens, people cultivating, sunflowers and green everywhere.... and then a tiny vineyard. Oh and few parks thrown in there, the sounds of kids playing, people playing Frisbee.... what the hell is this place? Is this normal around here? Do these people know the paradise they're living in??? I later found out that I had found myself in the middle of Village Homes, one of the nicest places to live in Davis. Not bad. I'll take a camera next time and get some nice shots so you'll at least have an idea of what I'm raving about.

On my way home, I ran into a bunch of kids riding crazy looking bicycles. As it turns out, my neighbor down the street is Peter Wagner, famous in this town for making the most unique bikes you've ever seen. When I first passed by his house, I assumed his front yard was some sort of bicycle graveyard. When a kid on a penny farthing rode by, I couldn't help but laugh. I soon found out that I was riding through the neighborhood block party.

Really? There's such thing? Neighbors that know each other and talk to each other? I went home and changed and went back to check it out. I can't remember any names at this point but the people were awesome and very friendly. I sat at a table and engaged in some great conversation with people that I didn't even know. It was really nice... something you'd never find in the desert. Crazy.

Which brings me to the favorite part of my evening... A neighbor asked, "Are you the new neighbor with the two large dogs? My boys were telling me about them. They said one of your dogs is part Dingo!" Socks, my geriatric mutt... straight from the outback! So now her son has told all the neighborhood kids about the new Dingo down the street.

I also got to meet my other next door neighbor. I am going to endearingly refer to her as the crazy cat lady. She's not crazy... but she does live alone, she has a bunch of foster cats and bunnies, wears crocks, doesn't eat meat, drives a 1989 Honda with liberal bumper stickers all over it, is a self proclaimed pack-rat, and talks A LOT. I know her life story already. Her house is hardly visible from the street because of the overgrown shrubs and there's no clear path to her front door. But she likes animals and doesn't mind barking... which means she's the perfect neighbor.

Today's plan is to bike into town to Rite Aid to pick up Socks's pepcid and not get lost. I was also contemplating biking into campus to map out my classes... so that I look like I know what I'm doing on the first day of class.

I'd better make some rice before I go.