New digs

Eska survived the move, but barely.

This weekend, I fled from Calvert and relocated just three blocks south and four (major) blocks west to W29th - new home for Eskarina and I. My father and I took care of the heavy lifting. Brian and his sprained ankle navigated our awkward trips with bulky furniture down the Calvert stairs and did light carrying out to the UHaul. My mother babysat the dog.

She had the toughest job, undeniably.

The week's end revealed an Eska just as angsty and irritated as its beginning had promised; by the end of the move, she was no more settled than she had been at its outset. In fact, she howled inordinately whenever my parents left the premises. She seems to be getting a little better now, slowly.

She only took to my father, I'm convinced, not because he's excellent with dogs, but because he fed her eight times the amount she usually eats, lavished her with cookies, bones, and other treats, and fattened her up on table scraps.

He also left me a dog with a severe (two-day) case of diarrhea; I would have almost preferred her to have eaten more hydrocortisone cream.

I am experimenting with free-range existence: yesterday, while left to her devices, she got to - and through - a bag of bagels, leaving me only 2 of the 6 it originally contained. Today, she only managed to sniff out the garbage and miraculously avoided getting her face snapped off by a mousetrap.

Good work, Skarri. Jamais deux sans trois. I am certainly looking forward to tomorrow.