While sitting on a roof earlier this week--unfortunately perched on said roof near but not next to a suicidal client dangling her feet over the edge (one never sits next to a suicidal person while on a roof, lest they take you with them)--I realized that I seem to have two themes going on in my life: eyes and roofs.  (Please ignore my cavalier approach to such a serious subject.  I mean no disrespect.  And, for cry eye, don't go getting all serious on me--neither of us were ever in danger. Just notice the theme of a roof and don't ask any questions.)  Eyes and roofs. I don't for the life of me know what this means.

You already know that  Freckles is the one-eyed wonder dog, but who knew we would soon have TWO dogs with a bad eye?  Poor Lucy, scratched herself silly with allergies and made her eye hang down like a bloodhound.  I gently explained to her that she had to stop scratching, lest she get stuck wearing the "cone of shame."  The scratching didn't stop and after two weeks of trying to ignore her pathetic eye and after losing countless hours of sleep due to her incessant licking, I took her to the vet.  Ca-ching!  One sad eyeball charged on the charge card.  Thankfully, it does appear to be an allergy issue and even more thankfully, it does not appear that the Bark of Poteidaia did any damage to herself.

It is important to note that it wasn't a tooth growing out of her eyeball. I did have a moment of concern about this--after all, I'm the one who missed the grossly infected tooth growing out of her snout.

She needs allergy pills and eye drops and time. Time to leave it alone.  Time to heal.  Time.  And, eye drops.  Did I mention the eye drops?

Sigh.  More dog eye drops.

It is infinitely MUCH easier to put eye drops into a dog's blind eye than it is to put eye drops into a dog's seeing eye.  Lucy can see the drop coming for miles away and thus she is like a greased pig when it comes time to get her drop.  With Freckles, I just grab her head, blop the drop and go. Freckles couldn't care less--even in the beginning, it was simple. With Lucy, it's sheer terror.  I have to open the bottle first, catch her second, get her in the death grip and then try and put a drop somewhere near her eye (preferably the eye that needs the drop).  I should probably take video because it is so dang humorous. So far, I think I've gotten two drops in after nine attempts.  I suppose those are relatively acceptable stats for a baseball player but it's not so good for helping a dog eye to heal.  I have to try again in a few minutes--if the wife were home, I'd get it on tape.  Maybe next time.

Lucy also has to take pills, which unfortunately (for me--it's all about me) kept her up all night with a need to poop.  I would have guessed the pills would have had the opposite effect but I was wrong. It was a LONG night but I gotta give that dog credit--she would never poop in the house. Never. She'd be mortified.  She has a rectum of steel.  Lucy just stood by the door, cried and waited her turn.   Good dog.

Taking pills is easy.  Coat with peanut butter, hold in front of the dog.  Gone.

I can't put peanut butter on the eye drops.

As for the roofs, I can't say much but can say I've noticed a theme here.  I'm not dreaming of roofs--I am experiencing actual roof adventures (hence, I found myself on the roof).  Come to think of it, I am the observer in all this, not the roofer. Weird. Who the hell observes roof themes from afar? Tonight, I plan on doing some research on the spiritual meaning of the roof.  I suppose I'll also check out the dream interpretation of roofs even though this is not about dreaming.  I would like to figure this out because I really don't want the roof theme to continue--well, unless it is a very positive thing and thus I should embrace it.

Maybe the roof was really a woof and the roof was woofing "Take Lucy to the vet."  Now that I've taken her, maybe the roof woof will leave me alone.

Maybe it's the baby Jesus, asking me to look to the heavens: "Look up toward the skies, Addi Warrior Princess. Do not turn a blind eye to me." Maybe he'd add, "I've got you covered--just keep your eyes open."

I like the woof roof idea much better, no offense to the baby Jesus.
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Finally, there is still time to voice your thoughts on my soon-to-be tattoo.  I've decided that turning fifty should be honored with a tattoo.   I've had some mighty fine ideas but none have completely tickled my fancy.  I've chosen my tattoo artist but not the actual tattoo or location to put the tattoo.  So many decisions. So, vote early and vote often.  I'll include a poll on the blog for a week or two and see what you come up with.  The only exclusions are the tattoo cannot be of a portrait or caricature of the wife or include the wife's name.  Other than that, you have free reign. Let your smarty pants answers begin.
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