Friday, May 03, 2013

Itching to Impart the Drivel

What to report!  What to report!  

That's what I was born to do, I do believe.  Reporting is usually in my blood. 

Not this morning, though. 

Who wants to hear about how that wild rose Bill gave me a couple of years ago should NOT have been planted in long garden box!  Doesn't matter how long the big box planter is---the rose is gonna keep growing.

I'm figuring that by a few years from now,  it could head north, overtake some of Meserve's yard and keep movin' on toward Bonners Ferry.

I discovered its many extending underground tentacles while trying to remove weeds from the box yesterday.

Not a very exciting story, but definitely a thought-provoking situation. What to do! What to do with a wandering wild rose.

Maybe folks would like to hear about the pretty wood ducks.  

They like feeding on the sunflower seeds that dribble out of the bird feeders.  Like the Love doves, they're sneaky little creatures.

Unlike the doves, though, they're pretty cute when they try to waddle away really quickly.  

A quick wood-duck waddle is quite a sight. 

Foster tried to chase them once, but I told him "No."   He seems to have gotten the message.   So, the wood ducks keep coming at least once a day.

I hope they hang around. 

Oh, speaking of Foster, here's something to report.  

The itch is back.

Yup, almost to the same calendar date a year ago, that telltale tickle around my neck has once again turned into a full-blown nuisance.  

Last April-May, I thought surely I must have one of those weird infestations that little kids get when they hang around too many other little kids----ya know the kind people don't like to talk about, such as worms, pink eye, lice or scabies.

Well---silly me---I figured I probably had lice this time last year cuz I'd been hanging around too many dogs, not kids.

In my endless Internet searching for whatever disease I must have that caused me to itch 24-7, I learned in one article that people don't get lice from dogs. 

Awareness of that fact still did not make the itch feel any better.  Nor did the close inspection of my scalp by not one hairdresser but by two.  

Having twenty fingers crawling through one's head attempting to find the culprit behind the itch actually isn't too bad, but when they find nothing slimy in the follicles, it's kinda bittersweet.

Back to the Internet I went.  

Constant searching let me to find lots of potential reasons for my itch, but it wasn't until about a month in and after many sleepless nights (yes, from an itch that continued to travel from the back of my neck to the front of my neck to my ears and down my chest to----well, you know). It was after all that when I finally started suspecting the impossible.  

No, not Foster.  

Not that sweet little darling that I'd been cradling in my arms since late April and taking to bed with me whenever he cried.  

No, Foster could not be the cause of my itch.  And, if he was, what was I gonna do? I had fallen in total love with our foster pup from Seattle. 

Well, then I got to thinking.  Yup, bare arms and a rash in the warm spots, right where I held Foster.  Yup, Foster had licked my arms, my hands and even my face and neck. 

Mini Aussies like to lick.

Turns out the culprit slowly driving me wacko did not come in the form of iddy biddy bugs; instead, it had four legs, a lovely tri-colored coat and the sweetest little face ever.  

The doctor in June confirmed to me that Foster could be the culprit.  She told me a person can be allergic to just one animal.  

Wear gloves when you pet him, she said.  Get some antihistamines, use some cortisone cream when it really itches.  Give the dog frequent baths (covered up, of course). 

Obviously, there could have been one other surefire cure to my itch.  Send Foster on his way to another home.  After all, how could one co-exist for years with a pup which caused his main peep such personal, bodily distress?

Well, I do, and I shall continue to do so.  

My itch is just as weird as it was last year for about six weeks during the height of allergy season---even itchy eyelids in the middle of the night, but I SHALL survive.   

And, Foster's home here with us is totally secure.  With one year's worth of knowledge about the itch under my belt (and my ears at times), I now know how to minimize the misery.

Foster will probably go to the Pooch Parlor today or tomorrow for an all-out grooming session.  My niece from Plummer has picked up some Febreze Allergen Reducer from Lowe's in Coeur d'Alene and will deliver it to me tonight.  The house and the car will go through daily sprays.  

I shall wash hands every time I pet Foster.  He no longer goes to bed with me when he cries, and cuddling him with bare arms is history. He will also receive a regular nightly spray of another pet allergen reducer with a nice citrus aroma.  

When the itch strikes, a cold, wet wash cloth will go around my neck, and if it gets really persistent,  Allegra in the day time and Benadryl at night, along with a cool fan should do the trick. 

This itching experience----at times feeling like worms are crawling under my skin---has taught me that the human body can endure some fairly major challenges---especially when there's love for a pet involved. 

So, that's my drivel and I'm sticking to it, except for when I have to scratch.

Happy Friday. 

2 comments: said...

"What to do with a wandering wild rose", "A quick wood-duck waddle is quite a sight", "The itch is back" ... sounds like you have some good titles for country songs in this post... =)

Marianne Love said...

Hey, I've been looking for some way to earn some bucks.

You aren't in Sandpoint, are you? Jim Tibbs is.