The good news is that her weight is up to 62.5 lbs, that's a lot better than the 54 she was at for the last visit. She looks like hell, with the sores and the pee-colored fur and her fur just looks crappy even without the staining. She was laying on the rug in the entry way when the vet came out, he thought she was dying. That's a bad sign. She wasn't, well, she is, but right that minute she was just being a typical greyhound, why be upright when you can pass out on the floor with your tongue hanging out.
We are now eight and a half weeks post-diagnosis. Up until last week, she'd been doing really well. So well, in fact, that it was hard to remember that she is still sick. Starting a few weeks ago, she began leaking urine when she slept.
I did it. I tried 3 new recipes in one night. I made Julia Child's Coq au vin, or chicken in red wine; I made savory bread pudding with spinach, artichoke and brie, and I made muscat poached apples with a muscat sabayon. It all went over very well, everything turned out fabulously. Except maybe the apples, but I don't like apples, so it was hard to tell. It turns out the sabayon wasn't exactly my idea of a good time, either. 15 minutes of frantic whisking of a sauce so delicate it could break at any second is so not fun. The coq au vin is fabulous.
It's morel season. Well, not here in California, the desert is an abject failure of a birthing place for the little fungal delights. Morels grow best in damp, foresty areas, around the bases of particular types of trees, and are mostly found in Oregon and Michigan. Having been born in Michigan and relocated to Oregon as a child, I have participated in the Great Morel Hunt many times. My father would get all us all excited to go hunting, and the whole family would load up in the pick up truck and drive into the forest.
