Can dogs have sleep apnea??? I let Dawny join me in bed earlier than usual last night in order to help warm us both up and, heavens to Betsy! While she promptly snuggled up to my belly and dozed off, I lay awake for an hour listening to her snort, snore, and wheeze . . . whine, sigh, and bark under her breath while her feet spastically ran a 4K. Whoever thinks dogs don’t dream has never slept with Dawny.
Finally around 4:00 a.m. I got up, made us a wonderful egg and cheese bagel breakfast, and turned on the trusty TV. I must be turning into a crusty old codger . . . um, can a lady be a codger? If not, then I guess I’m turning into a grumpy old bat.
There is a local news station that airs on weekday mornings where everybody on there is either each other’s best friend in the whole wide world or they are just pretending. And none of them ever, ever has a bad day. It bugs the crap out of me. Pithy banter goes on and on and on to the point where the traffic report (not that I care too much about that) and the weather report (hey, don’t mess with my weather report!) get short shrift. All while they appear to be having the time of their lives up there on camera, exuding charm, humor, and personality. I wonder what they are like when the camera is off.
Happily, this morning I found a different local news station where the two main anchors could barely look at each other without grimacing, so instead of annoying banter, everyone focused on the job at hand. Wonderful, refreshing stuff.
Speaking of short shrift–yes, I did, indeed, speak of it–what an interesting history for such a humble expression. The archaic usage is particularly fun. When a priest would give a condemned person penance as absolution for their confessed sins, that penance was also known as their shrift. Now if everyone was in a hurry (long line at the gallows, eh?), the condemned would barely have time to receive their penance before the noose tightened. Hence, short shrift. Now that would be annoying.
Well, isn’t this turning into a nice, bleak post for a holiday week! Okay, so let’s chat instead about something more positive. Here we go. I have in mind three fellas that I wish were my boyfriend. Actually four, but numbers three and four count as one. Hmmm, that could get complicated.
One: Gregory Peck. Of course I loved him in To Kill a Mockingbird, but his role in a lesser known flick is what got me to pining after him. He plays a country sheriff in I Walk the Line (1970). He becomes hopelessly entangled with a young woman (beautifully played by Tuesday Weld) and things end up quite badly. What I found so appealing about Mr. Peck in this role–despite his unfortunate propensity for horrible decisions and a very sad weak streak–was his exquisite vulnerability. He simply, desperately hungered for what any of us might crave should we feel slighted in that department: youth, love, life. I suppose the Johnny Cash sound track also helped to win my heart.
Two: Cesar Millan, of The Dog Whisperer fame. A polar opposite to Mr. Peck’s character, Cesar is boss! Dominant doggie. Alpha male. Yet as gentle and as sweet as can be. At least that’s how his TV show depicts him for the audience. I think he’s real, though, beyond what the TV editors put together. He listens. Yup, that’s it. He listens.
Then he cuts through all the crap and takes action. Wahoo! No annoying banter there!
All right, numbers three and four: . . . drumrollllllllllll . . . Simon & Garfunkel.
loved them too.
Maybe if we listened to The Sounds of Silence in the middle of the night it would help both Dawny and me sleep better. For it turns out that, yes, dogs do get sleep apnea. And here’s a wild note: According to vetinfo.com, one of poochie’s symptoms may be morning headaches. Really. How do they know that??? Call Cesar! He’ll give those so-called experts (and annoying newscasters) short shrift.