I went to work this morning, carefully remembering to pack the cold blood on ice and bring it in to the lab with me after cleaning the duck enclosures. It was in its own ziploc bag, two beautiful purple top vacuutainers with 1.5 mL of whole blood each. I went to the lab and put them in my sample processing box in the fridge, thinking it would be safe and sound and that no one else ever even looked in my box in the first place.

I went to class, I attended the Open House meeting at lunch, I delivered the last half of the dog food order for this month, I went to the lab to start on my work. I open the fridge. I look in the sample box. 

It’s empty.

Little did I know that in my absence, my hard-working graduate student friend went ahead and processed the blood and prepared it for running Proventricular Dilation Disease tests on it. This is a virus unique to psittacine birds (parrots) and unlikely that Beau might have it… considering he doesn’t even have a proventriculus. So I stared at the empty fridge and as my heart dropped a million things went through my head. We do a lot of research on a lot of different biologicals that are all avian… and what crazy mayhem might result from using canine blood in the stead of avian? I could just picture some PhD looking at the anucleate erythrocytes under the microscope and going, “what kind of crazy bird was this?!”

So after a moment, or maybe a lot of moments, of panic, I went home in a mad dash to get some more blood from Beau for lab and continued to give the grad student a hard time about testing Beau for PDD.

I’m proud to report that he doesn’t have that fatal and devastating disease… and I didn’t even need the blood in parasit lab since they provided samples for us anyway. 

I have so dearly missed you these past 6 months. I know that I was trying foolheartedly to convince myself that dial-up was enough for me, that I didn’t mind using the computers at school (even if they didn’t allow me to download sufficient software to watch Season 2 of Pushing Daises on ABC.com), but honestly, faithfully, I was wrong. I missed you, it is true, and it’s good we can be in each other’s lives again.

Oh lord it’s so nice to check my e-mail in one minute instead of one hour. Take that dial-up. Now if only the DSL filter for the security alarm would come slightly quicker. 

Being that Beau came from a kennel situation, spending his first 3.5 years on cement, he knows the drill. He knows that when people walk by the run’s door if he jumps up and looks obnoxious enough, someone will take pity on the poor soul and offer him a scratch or a treat. Also, since he’s fairly well behaved at the kennel, he also knows that if he’s a good boy and comes when called, he gets extra play time outside in this weather that he truly enjoys. And me? The benefits of sleepaway camp for me are… three days of peace and quiet. 

Having Beau (or any dog for that matter) is like being the custodian of a small child and like having a small child, it’s nice to escape them for a while and have an “adults only” weekend. I can stay out until midnight and not feel guilty about a few whiskey sours and not being there to give him a walk or letting him out to pee at a reasonable hour. I can even sleep in and don’t have to wait with bated breath until he figures out I’m actually awake and the morning ritual of begging for breakfast begins. 

It’s been nice to be home this weekend. My parents keep joking I’m just using them as a cheap motel, which is in fact, partly true. But I enjoy their company immensely and my mom and I had a good day today shopping. And not worrying about Beau. 

And Theo? Well… hopefully he’s holding down the fort and doesn’t mind a dirty litter box. 

I never know when he will pop up out of somewhere, meowing plaintively for god knows what, or when he’ll dart out from under the bed (or back under it). He sits in my laps and purrs, which feels so weird, while I study, and when I sleep at night he lays across my chest or with his face in my arm pit. He’s still not so sure about Beau, but Beau wants to be friends if he can. 

I thought after taking Theo to the vet yesterday he would hate me forever, and for a while I thought I was right. He didn’t leave his hiding spot under my bed all day and wouldn’t even come when I called (which he was doing before the vet). But right now, he’s grooming himself while nestling in my lap as the election returns come in. I am finding that cats are very strange, very different from dogs, but enjoyable in their own way.

I’ve never had a cat and have never had the desire to even contemplate owning one, until recently. It started with a mouse problem (that seems to be resolved) and then something a clinician said to me last year… How can I treat cats and understand their uniqueness (which I am finding out is indeed very unique) and counsel owners about their pets when I have no experience with them at all? 

So I found a cat I wanted and applied to adopt him. I bought a litter box and dishes and toys and a bucket to hold his food in. I let Beau adjust to the presence of these items for about a week and then my kitty came home yesterday. My two classmates dropped him off to me and now I am officially a cat owner. 

It’s kind of fun, I will admit.

Theo prowls around my house, meowing and chasing flies, checking out toilets and showers and watching the birds outside my bedroom window. I never know where he is and then all of a sudden, he shows up and I about trip right over him. He’s very interesting to watch and affectionate in a less needy way than Beau. It’s certainly very different than what I know from my dog ownership.

And Beau, he seems ok with the whole situation. He doesn’t seek Theo out, but if the two of them are nearby, Beau wags his tail and wants to play. The kitty has a different idea (I think he’s as inexperienced with other species as Beau is) and just hisses and swats at Beau. I worried at first how they would do when I left them alone, but I think because the kitty can hide in places Beau can’t go, everything will be okay. Beau seems curious and interested and non-aggressive, which seems to be a good sign.

So here’s to the next chapter in the life of the Moose and Girl.