Waitress? Waitress!

Gaah! There's a dog hair in my food dish!

Which is at least four feet from the floor. How the heck did that happen?

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It's been an interesting week. For one thing, it got warm enough one day that we could go outside for awhile. Mom checked her messages and returned phone calls from work, and I helped by saying "Hello?" every time she put the phone to her ear. I couldn't always tell when she was actually getting someone on the phone, or only listening to the next message, but I didn't want to miss my chance, so I kept saying it just in case.

Mom just spent a lot of kibble money getting her tooth fixed (I don't have teeth, so I don't have that problem), when she and Dad discovered the freezer isn't working. She's complaining now that replacing it is going to cost almost as much kibble money as her tooth. She says, "It's always something." Personally, I think it's because over the years Mom and Dad have been together, they've let this nest-box get too complicated. I mean, my food doesn't require refrigeration: Why should theirs? Just for example.

I have tried to show them that I know how to build a good nest. I could help. I chew, strip, and tear things right in front of them, all the time. But I'm not sure they get it.

Anyway, back to the dog. I groom myself. Mom would say I overgroom, but that's another post for another day. The dog does not. Except for licking a certain spot sometimes, and that's just gross. That's not grooming! But as I was saying, Mom bought her this thing called a Furminator that looks kind of like a little bitty rake and is supposed to remove Bane's undercoat. I really shouldn't call her Bane. We actually get along pretty well. Sometimes I even drop food for her. On the other hand, sometimes I drop. . . well, never mind

As I was saying, Mom bought this Furminator. She got a whole trash-bag of hair off the dog. Then today, the dog got a bath. It took both Mom and Dad to bathe her in Mom's tub, and Mom got hair all over her and had to take a shower, too. I got a shower myself on Thursday, and I have to say, I wasn't nearly that much trouble. Anyway, Mom was going to brush the dog tonight, too, but they got all involved in looking online for a new refrigerator, so I guess that's not gonna happen.

Still, with a little luck, the hair problem will be a bit better for awhile.

Oh. Yeah. Did I mention? The hot water heater's acting up, too.

 Riley,

Éminence grise

Where I've been

Image via Wikipedia

I know I said I was going to post a lot--more than Mom, anyway--but I didn't count on not being able to get access to her laptop for weeks at a stretch.

First Dad got sick, and that meant Mom didn't have as much time to help me with my posts. I learned something new, though: Birds can catch people colds, but the vet says it's not likely as long as I don't kiss my Dad, and as long as he washes his hands a lot and stuff. I'm not much into kissing. I make a great kissy noise, but I really prefer rubbing noses when it's my Mom. With Dad, I like to sit on his chest and just kind of lean into his face while he pets me. I can do that for a lo-o-o-ong time!

But I digress. Mom actually brought work home from the office to do this weekend, and wound up spending two hours on Sunday doing one simple little thing! At least, she said it should have been simple. She did a lot of cussing, and Dad kept telling her, "Not in front of the bird!" (I don't know why not: I rarely repeat anything she says, never mind the dirty words.) In the first place, it kept asking for things she didn't have, like her Medicaid number. That's at the office. So in places she just made things up. Like she has her Medicare number memorized, so she just kept giving that to them, no matter what number they asked for. 

I've never been to an office. Larry used to live at Mom's office, but he lives here with us, now. I don't think I'd like living at an office: I'd be alone every night, and all weekend. This way, I have somebody around almost all the time.

Anyway, it's time to renew some of Mom's contracts with insurance companies. I don't fully understand that, but she says it's how she earns our kibble money. She says insurance companies are businesses that people pay into when they are well, and then when they are sick the insurance companies are supposed to help the people get medical care. They get sick, or upset or something, they come to Mom and talk, and the insurance company is supposed to pay her.

I do understand the kibble part: Every day when she leaves for work, she says, "Bye, bye, babies--time to go to work and earn kibble money!" That's good money, you ask me, but she seems to think it's not.

Anyway, Mom says that when people do get sick, the insurance companies turn themselves inside out (Is that like a hedgehog does when it disappears into its own skin?) figuring out ways not to help the very people who pay their salaries. Now why would people keep paying when that happens? I would stop the first time I didn't get my money's worth, I can tell you that. Mom and Dad have insurance, but they say it's actually pretty good. It only told them "no" once, and then it wound up paying out more for something that was more expensive than what Mom and Dad wanted in the first place. But it turned out for the best--Dad got really good care, and I think he's all well now.

But I've wandered off point again. Mom especially complains about insurance--all the time. And this application, which she says is for CAQH, really, really got her wound up. She says it stands for Affordable Quality Healthcare. She says the aitch should stand for "horsecrap." She's still working on the "a" and the "q". Their online form is supposed to "simplify" staying up to date with all her different contracts. But Mom says the form is a pain in the [behind] and we still don't have affordable, never mind quality, care. And in the meantime, the paperwork is about to drive her out of business (already has once, but that's another story for another day).

I don't understand any of it. I need care, Mom and Dad just put me in this little puppy crate with a handle on top and off we go to the vets. I like riding in the car! Mom always makes sure I am up high enough that I can see out. I love going fast! We use Loving Hands in Milton, and I get top-quality care there. Mom says it's expensive but they're worth it. I don't like going though: I growl, and my eyes run red, and sometimes I get bent out of shape and fall off the exam table. But that doesn't mean they're not good, just that I don't like going. I'd really hoped the bloody tears thing would freak Mom out the first time, make her feel guilty and pamper me, but she didn't bat an eye. Told the vet she'd read about it in a book already.

Riding in the car is barely compensation for what I have to go through, getting blood drawn and my nails trimmed and all.

Anyway, for today, I just wanted to let you know I'm still here. It's just that Mom has been hogging the laptop. The one night I got impatient and tried to blog on my own, I accidentally invoked eight help windows in Firefox. All at once. Bad idea, although it seemed a good one at the time. I mean, after all, I needed help, so I really bit down on the F1 key. Eight times. And still nobody came to help me blog!

So I'm waiting for Mom next time. But I'll get you a better post, one about parrots, not insurance, next weekend. I promise!

Riley,

Éminence grise