Food for Thought

I am becoming obsessed with cooking.

Mind you, I hate cooking. AJ thought me enough about cooking that I wouldn't starve, for which I am grateful. I still hate it. I've been cooking a lot since Kevin moved in. Since cooking is an art and skill that grows with practice, I'm getting pretty good at it. But I hate it. My Granny used to say if she was ever going to wish anything bad on anyone it would be having to cook three square meals a day. She's is exactly right. This is my life:

The alarm goes off at 4:30 am. I get up, pee, stumble into the kitchen and start the coffee. I turn on the washer, which I loaded the night before. I make sure the dogs have water. My eyes are shut during the entire process. I stumble back to bed and snuggle again Kev for a while. I'm sleepy, but I am terrified that if I go back to sleep the coffee will boil over and the kitchen will catch on fire.

When I hear the coffee perking I get up again and pour me a cup. Then I wash dishes. I really should wash dishes at night but I am usually too tired and I need a shower so I don't want to run out the hot water. (We have a tiny hot water heater) Then I try to wake Kevin. Every morning we have the same conversation.

"Get up, Honey."

"Uh-uh."

"Now. It's 5 o'clock."

"Mummmphhh."

I give up and start packing lunches and making breakfast. At 5:15 or later Kevin realizes he has to leave in a few minutes so he bursts out of bed, gets dressed at record speed, grabs coffee, kisses me bye, and flys up the road like a demon in The Goat (yes, we name our cars. His other truck is the Silver Bullet and my truck is Hecate)

I get dressed and walk the dogs. Then I feed them. Then I water my plants and relocate them so they can get some sun. I put the clothes in the dryer. If I have time I sit in my rocking chair and drink coffee while I wait for my eyes to open completely. I sit on the floor and play with the puppies.

Then I go to work. We eat breakfast on our break. I have a regular work day and all day long I remember things I have to do at home. I cannot stop thinking about housework. The big looming thing that I have to do every day is cook.

When I get home I start cooking unless I'm out of things, then I run to the store. I seem to be going to the store a lot and the only thing I hate more than cooking is shopping. To avoid the store I try to think of ways to cook that involve what I already have on hand. We have breakfast for supper often because I always have milk, eggs, and bread. That's about five different meals from three ingredients.

This week I ran out of breakfast stuff. I have one egg, a sip of milk, and stale bread. Worse, there are no Hotpockets.

Kevin loves Hotpockets. The problem is they're expensive. I buy the big family pack, which is like $12. That's a good buy, but it puts a dent in the food budget.

I realized a Hotpocket is nothing but dough and filling. Surely I can make that?

Then I decided to make a bunch of meals and freeze them. I can make biscuits, pizza, pockets, and maybe breakfast wraps, if the tortilla will hold up. That would mean shopping less and cooking maybe twice a week.

Sounds delicious.

Sophie

On Wednesday Oct. 28, 2009, my dog Sophie gave birth to six puppies.

On Friday, Oct. 30th, she gave birth to one stillborn puppy. The puppy was whole, and looked fine, he was just dead. I decided it was because he had been born two days after the others. Since Sophie seemed to be fine I didn't worry about it.

On Sunday, Nov. 1st, she went into labor again. This time I knew there was a serious problem because she was just not herself. She was drooling some, she wouldn't eat, she seemed depressed and she didn't want to have anything to do with her puppies. I decided to take her to the vet.

Before I could get Sophie into the truck, she gave birth. It was awful. The puppy had obviously been decaying. I'll spare you the details. Let's just say it sacred me so bad I called my landlord's wife to come help me.

With V's help I managed to get my other dog Halona in the pen, the puppies in a basket, and Sophie in the truck. My vet had an emergency so I was referred to the small animal clinic where I attended college. I don't want to tell you the name because that will reveal my town, so I'll call it the Cow College on the Plains Small Clinic or the CC for short.

The CC informed me that there was another stillborn puppy and if it didn't come out poor Sophie could die. She was already dehydrated and had an infection. The CC decided to induce labor and if that didn't work they'd do surgery. They gave me an estimate of $400-$600 and sent me home with the puppies which I had to bottle feed every four hours.

Around 7pm Sunday evening the CC called and said Sophie didn't respond to the labor inducing hormones so they were prepping her for surgery. They needed a verbal okay from me. Oh yeah, and the price was now $1,200.

Whoa. That's twice the estimate you gave me earlier. Well, the CC said, that was just the hospital visit.

I can't pay that tonight. I can make payments, right?

No.

So what happens now?

We can't do the surgery.

By this point I was really upset. I thought my dog was going to die. The CC was making it sound like they just wouldn't do anything for her if I couldn't pay. I thought it was horribly unfair that an animal was going to suffer a long drawn-out death just because I'm poor. The CC told me about a thing called Pet Care Credit which is sort of like a credit card with no interest. If I was approved the CC would get their money and I could pay the Pet Care Credit people back each month.

I have almost no credit. I don't believe in it. I think credit is a way to lifelong debt. I had a near impossible time buying my truck. I knew I would be turned down. But my baby was in trouble so what else could I do?

I drove down to the CC, crying and praying to the Goddess of Dogs the whole way. Please, please, please Great Mother, save my dog. Please, I so sacred. Please, she's a good dog. If she dies the puppies might die too. Please, please, please...

At the CC I was given a brochure and told to call the number. This annoyed the hell out of me. Why didn't they just give me the number over the phone and save me a trip a town?

It's a long process and I cried the whole time. The students working the front desk left and pretended like they couldn't hear my sobs. Of course, I was rejected.

I sobbed some more. I begged the CC to let me make payments. I took out all the money in my wallet and threw it on the counter. I called my boss and cashed in all my vacation time. I begged them to operate. I told them over and over I would get paid on Wednesday and then I could probably pay the whole thing, just don't let my dog die.

I got nowhere.

The vet came out and said well, we don't think Sophie really needs surgery.

Now remember, just an hour before they were prepping her.

It ended this way:

The CC kept Sophie over night and induced labor again. She had the last puppy Monday morning. I picked her up and took her to my vet. She removed Sophie's uterus (which had been damaged by the infection) and charged me $185. She let me post date a check for payday.

I bottled fed puppies every four hours. I felt like I had a human baby in the house. All I did was make bottles, wipe little butts, and do laundry because there just wasn't enough blankets and towels to go around.

I did not sleep.

I picked up Sophie on Tuesday morning. She went right back to nursing her babies. She is a very good mom.

The six puppies are all fine and healthy. I named them Mojo, Hoodoo, Charm, Myst, Shadow, and Spook.