The ninth day.

So. Apparently anal glands don't care so much about the weather. What? Too much, too soon? Probably. I also doubt my dog is thrilled that I am talking about his intimate parts with the universe (modest as he is), but there have been two constants in my life the last few days and that is a.) snow and more snow on top of that snow, and b.) my dog's rear-end. It was something of a battle between the two, when on Sunday we realized we were indeed snowed in, did not own an appropriate shovel, and our dog needed to have his poor little posterior examined immediately. (Thank you, terribly impacted and thusly exploded gland.) Sweet guy was miserable. We somehow gathered our already exhausted wills together to hike the many blocks to the Vet in knee-deep snow, dog in arms, and then back, in knee-deep snow, dog in arms, with the addition of a shiny new cone of shame. It was the kind of comedy people would pay for but no one would believe. If I had a nickel for every time some yahoo on cross country skis used the phrase, 'snow cone,' well, I'd have a lot of nickels. And then we dug our home and yard and car out of the snow as best as we could with a garden shovel, a feat which took the better part of two days, and spent the rest of our time napping in front of the fireplace, fighting over who's turn it was to wear the Wigwam socks, who's turn it was to clean the dog's behind, and consuming vast quantities of hot beverages.  But through it all there was Johnny. Stumbled upon while hunting in the spare closet for clothespins. A little dusty, but I knew it was meant to be. I called my mother.

 'Mom, I found your record! The Johnny Mathis Christmas album. Just wanted you to know we were listening to it.'  

'Have you found the skips yet?'

'They're everywhere! But White Christmas is barely playable. '

'Oh yes. That would be my doing.'

It was December and my mother was twelve. She never wanted to leave Iowa. Never ever ever. But there they were in California, the whole family. A whole new life, cramped track home, palm trees everywhere, completely foreign. No white shingled house, no friends, no extended family, no snow, nothing but a Johnny Mathis record brought from home. She cried herself to sleep every night listening to 'White Christmas' on repeat. Her sisters still laugh about this. She had a flair for the dramatic. But I understood her completely, which might be why, some fifty years later, she gave me her precious record, scratches and all. And why on one snowy night in Portland, the eighth snowy night to be exact, I found myself listening to it, letting it skip, thinking of her, remembering to be grateful. 

It's going to be a white Christmas, friends. Nine snowy days and counting.

All love,

*Andrea

Comments

[Eunice]

oh andrea. my sympathies. my dog had the exact same thing and it is not fun, especially the cleaning afterwards.

i also understand about snow...it rarely snows in nc and i've had many a wet (or dry christmas)...but when i went to nyc earlier it snowed for not one, but two days. and it was magical, and enough for me.

[Nadia Lewis]

Aw... that sucks!

But snow and hot chocolate is fun, at least, no?

Mmm... Okay, you've talked me into it! I'm gonna go make a cup!

[D.]

This is the funniest/best blog post I've read in perhaps forever. Thank you so much, because this is exactly what I needed right now. From another snowed-in Portlander.

[Claire]

I love that you took a post that started with anal glands and ended it so sweetly. I love the power of music.

Also, as for your talking about your pooch's body parts all the time, ever since I got my cat Frank, I seem to talk about his bathroom habits. A lot. If I had a nickel every time I talked about his business... I'd also have a lot of nickels. :)

I hope everything heals soon! And that you have a lovely holiday.

[liz elayne]

okay i am done with the "lurking" (though i must admit that i don't love the word as it sounds so sinister) because i have to say this:
i think this just might be one of my most favorite blog posts ever. yep. johnny mathis, dog love, anal glands, people on cross country skis, a garden shovel used as snow shovel, a piece of a mother's story, wigwam socks, gratitude. yep. everything a good story needs.

hope the rain is melting the snow a bit where you are. the rain has turned ours to slush up here near seattle. (our dog has anal gland problems too...she has to get them "expressed" ever few months. good times.)

[shari]

hope little bradley is better. did you enjoy your white xmas. hope so.

[Mariko]

Hi. How did I not know you have a blog? And I express my dog's anal glands all the time. Bring your pooch over next time the glands are impacted, and I will give the little guy the probe. I buy the big packs of surgical gloves from Costco just for this purpose (though they work great for baking, too).