RobZip

Thursday afternoon I was hit with chills after arriving home. It worsened and drove me into a sweaty sleep from which I woke numerous times with a severe, dick is on fire, must piss now, pinch it off till you get there, urgency to urinate. Upon release over the bowl, the urine stream invariably stopped before the start of it even hit the water. Ugh... not good.

The chills came and went over the course of Friday and made friends with a new bodily feature - tremors and cramp inducing shakes. Nothing clears the bed of a bunch of lazy cats quicker than a spontaneous horizontal tap dance while grabbing one's dick and screaming at the same time. The animals have a high tolerance for my shenanigans. I have found their limit.
Urine output became less and the sensation was that I was passing stone grit. The puzzling part was that after the urine stopped moving, the pain at the end of the urethra was replaced by an even more intense pain about midway down.

Saturday the chills and shakes relented and the sporadic fever went away too. I reconciled with the fact that this is my price to pay for prostate neglect and would just have to endure it until I could see the family doc on Monday.

By Sunday evening, the chills were starting up again, urine output was down to a dozen or two drops at a time. Fuggit - off to the ER. A few hours and a CT scan later reveals the following - Seriously enlarged prostate, prostatitis, a very severe urinary tract infection, and the recent passage of a stone from the right kidney. Hell, where was I for the last one? I'm sure I got some of the confetti but missed the parade if ya know what I mean. Head home with Flomax and Cipro scrips. 'Thinking to myself that the Cipro better hit fast 'cause my junk is in a serious state of decline. I'm in near total blockage and I get a pill?

Monday, urine output declined to zilch. The painful urgent sensations were present but produced no results. About every fifth attempt yielded maybe 4 or 5 drops. During this day I learned that I can still sing and dance. The singing is a sort of grunge/metal curse. The dancing is a more familiar tear one's dick off and scoot around the floor style. It may not be commercially viable but its every bit as artistic. And like any true artist, I've suffered for my art.

Okay, back to the ER again. Pretty much a repeat of the previous night. Most of the same nursing staff, different attending physician. Same diagnostics, more drugs - lots more drugs! Nurse in charge of me recently passed a 5mm stone so is very much able to relate. I jokingly holler "Nurse! Please bring me my heroin!" And damned if she didn't show up with half a syringe full of Dilaudid to load directly into my IV !!!
Another hour or so passed by waiting for the lab results to be finished.

Then my salvation arrived, a catheter and collection bag! I never imagined at any point in my life, that I would look forward to such a thing eagerly. As soon as it hit my bladder the bag filled to around 450ml, then dribbled in another 50 or so in the next few minutes. Scrip for 500mg Vicodin with my discharge orders. Meh.... Vicodin - may as well have handed over some M&M's and wished me luck.

So, I see the urologist Monday. Prostate swelling must be down some cause I can actually sit upright today. Previously things were so crowded through that region with the catheter installed that sitting upright caused intensely uncomfortable pressure.

The wife tells me that during my most out of it periods of chills, shakes and 22 hour a day sleeping that boss cat Spot took a very defensive stance with me against the other household cats. It's quite normal for 3 or more to be on the bed with me at any given time under normal conditions. He chased the 10 yr old female, Cassie, off the bed as soon as she jumped up and ripped a mouthfull of fur out of her flank in the process. He also pounced his brother Nacho with both front legs encircling him and a kill bite on his windpipe. Sammi, Spot's mother, followed Heidi into the room and jumped up on the bed. Spot tolerated her but only with a steady display of tail slapping and exhaled growls that went up in pitch at the end. Gotta have a chat with that boy.... last thing I need is slashing claws and teeth while I'm trying to sleep off an illness.

SNL used to be worth watching... behold, the good old days:

http://www.movieweb.com/video/HU5yXd76bzxR8a

My four legged temper tantrum, Isaac, went out for a nightly romp on Oct 26 and hasn't returned. We've had flyers out, walked every corner of this town daytime and night, put the word out in every corner of the place. No sign of him.





There's a number of cats running loose here. Possible that he got on the other side of a feral tom's turf and can't cross back, or maybe went in somewhere that got closed up with him inside - tool shed, etc. We haven't given up but I'm out of ideas. The little prick owes me for gas money spent on his search and rescue. Keep it strong my little friend. We'll leave the light on for ya.

...for driving my car and operating it safely.

A few of my pet bitches about cars are the air bags, seat belt/harness combos, and this newest abomination - TPMS or Tire Pressure Monitoring System.
The seat belt debacle is old and worn out, but how it morphed into air bags is part of my gripe. In the 70's seat belt compliance was only around 15%.
Belts were relatively new and most were not well designed. Not using the belts meant facial and chest injury on impact with the dash or windshield. Using the belts often meant that your forward motion would not be restrained but only redirected. One could very easily submarine from under the belt and sustain leg injuries by being driven into and under the dash panel. I'll take a broken nose over a broken leg anytime.
A lot of other people felt the same. A lot of my circle was involved in racing the area short tracks. We know seat belts. We knew what would work but also knew that most folks wouldn't put up with that degree of discomfort or intrusion long enough to become adjusted to it. As the designs from automakers got a little better, belt usage increased, but not by much. Air bag designs started to come to public attention in the early 80's.
The threat from our nanny state government became an action plan to implement air bags since we had rejected seat belts so universally. They were forced on us with predictable results. The first few generations of airbags quite handily killed 10 year old front seat passengers in 5 mph parking lot bumps. Way to go... Along this same time frame, seat belt use was up to around 85%. The air bags became more prevalent and expensive.

Throughout the early 90's we witnessed a safety issue involving SUV rollovers. The culprit ultimately was deemed to be certain models equipped with Firestone tires and a general lack of proper inflation due to owner neglect. A friend of mine employed at a local Firestone outlet during the subsequent recall logged the pressures in tires presented under the recall. Average inflation was 23 psi !!!!! FAR, FAR below minimum recommended pressure of 32 PSI and hands down the major contributor to tire failure. Oh yeh, 25 PSI in your SUV will help it ride more like the passenger car you're used to, but it will get you killed.

So now comes the nanny state response mandated for all non commercial passenger vehicles from 2008 model year onward -Tire Pressure Monitoring System or TPMS. Sounds like an evil pre-menstrual condition, but we should be so lucky, eh? PMS is your friend after this new tire monitoring system gets into your wallet. Well, here it is......

The TPMS consists of a small transponder built into the back of the valve stem on the inside of each wheel. Inside is a sensor taking note of the air pressure against it, a small lithium battery designed to last 7 years, and a coded transmitter that sends the pressure info to a body module computer which by now is incorporated as part of the vehicle electronic control module or ECM. Inappropriate readings result in a warning light display on the dash telling you to get 'em aired up.

First complaint on this system is cost. A faulty wheel sensor is $40-$80 depending on model. Then, extreme care must be utilized in installing it and mounting a tire. Conventional tire mounting heads can break the wheel sensor if operated over the valve stem area to force the tire bead onto the wheel. No more canned fix-a-flat either as these products can clog and destroy the sensor.

Air density changes such as sudden temperature drops can cause false low air warnings. Most often this condition does not reset when it warms up. There are a few things the owner can do to reset the system but if those fail, it becomes a dealership item costing $50 up depending on how ass rape hungry your dealer is. Sometimes the owner can inflate the tires up to 40 - 45 PSI then drop them to whatever 32 - 35 PSI reading they normally use, drive 10 minutes or so above 25 mph and the system will reset and put out the warning lights.
If you're lucky... The other failure point is the receiver housed in the body control module as part of the ECM. If this goes down, replacement ranges from a mere $150 up to around a grand depending on make and complexity. The biggest ramification of a non-functional TPMS system is the warning light constantly glaring in your face. Attempt to disable it and you'll find that it is tied into some other vital system like ignition or air conditioning.

The nature of the sensors also restricts what tires can be utilized. Certain chemical ingredients or carbon black levels in the rubber are not compatible with TPMS sensors.Tire stores and dealerships are under all kinds of constraints about disabling these systems and not tampering with the functionality. So, if the really cool tires you want can't be mounted by your dealer due to their disabling effect on the TPMS sensors, you are welcome to mount them yourself - in your driveway - by hand....

So, how have we managed to survive all these years without this wonderful technology? My personal Tire Pressure Monitoring System in recent years has been a dial type pressure gauge. Found at most auto parts stores for around 12 bucks, I can manage tire pressures as often as I like. Prior to that the simple $1.50 pen style gauge worked fine for a long time.
I do not want nor do I require the nanny state techno intrusion. But since so many of you lazy fuckers can't be bothered to do simple routine exercises in the responsibility of vehicle ownership - I'm stuck with it. So are you. If you do not and never have owned a tire gauge, you are part of the revolting human shit pile that has loosed these better idea people and their regulations on us. Thanks a bunch. Here's to hoping your TPMS suffers many expensive failures.

I'm not quite sure what to expect but the financial sodomy for prescription prices mandates that this be explored.   http://www.pharmacyrxworld.com/  My biggest expense is for Combivent inhalers. They are made from a dirt cheap blend of about three components and sold at the extravagant price of $161 for a 14.7 gram inhaler. My discounted price is still $122.31. Recent changes in our insurance means that is the price I will pay each month. No more $30 co-pay.

By comparison, the Canadian Pharmacy offers a generic form at $33 full price that isn't even listed as available in the US. They also list 5 of the brand name at $98 - less than what a single cost here.
I've spoken to the staff by phone, their contact info is prominently displayed on the home page of their website, and I've even checked out their location in a satellite photo.

The only down side readily apparent is the snail pace of Canadian Mail. I've been advised that up to 2 weeks each way to get the written scrip to them and receive the shipment from them could be possible although 2 weeks or slightly more is the norm for a complete transaction.

I puff my way through one of these things in about 3 weeks. Their function is to open airways. The withdrawal, as I've found the past two months, is a crisis level constriction of the airways. Lungs being kept open with this stuff don't like suddenly being deprived of it.

...are just the ticket for getting dust bunnies and wads of cat hair from under the TV stand. The kid laughed, the dust bunnies emerged, the cats ran like hell, and the wife....... yeh, well..... it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Yes..
Electric blanket with dual controls. Is a very good thing.

Little red devil faced cat Isaac returned home about 5pm after getting himself seriously detoured the other night. Heidi and I out for a walk Sunday and toting a goody bag for the stray cats at an empty house thats on our usual route. Isaac smelled the treats and decided to tag along.
Our route took us by the residence of Jake - a very boisterous Yellow Lab. Jake ran Isaac about 25 feet up a tree where he continued to perch, unable to work out the logistics of a proper descent. At midnight he was still there. Monday am and he had gotten down. This is two blocks from home, we figured Isaac to be in hiding, possibly disoriented.
He's a little thinned out and a lot less cocky!

If you think living in the outlands means livestock smells are the only olfactory assaults - avoid living near them - think again. It is fall land prep season. Fields that are being rotated into production for next year are being treated with fertilizer. The mix of chemical and organic material is a blast straight from Satan's ringpiece.

It used to be a Usenet sig in A.T. Who used it?

"Standing in a sunlit field with singing birds circling overhead and wildflowers in bloom, my eye will be drawn to the lump of horseshit beside the trail. I consider this dark vision a gift. My friends think I'm being an asshole."

Yesterday's attempt to activate a new debit card went as follows and resulted in the email sent to Chase:

Dear Abuse/Fraud investigators,

I recently received a new Chase debit card to replace one that had aged out. Across the face of the new card is a sticker listing a phone number to call for activation of the card. 
I dialed the number and was requested to enter the card number by automated voice prompt. At this time, the voice announced that it would activate the card momentarily and to please stand by. Immediately, the line was taken over by another voice attempting to sell me some sort of ID theft protection. It only took a few seconds to realize that my call had been hijacked and nothing related to activation of my debit card was forthcoming.

I immediately disconnected from the mechanical prostitute that had attempted to hijack both my time and cell phone minutes as well as the intended purpose of the call. My local Chase branch was contacted to complete activation of the debit card.
I related the events that occurred when attempting to do this by phone to the branch manager. He was mortified to hear of such a lurid attempt at deception of purpose and suggested I report it via this abuse notification. He feels almost certain it was an interception of my call by some low rent competing financial institution and finds it almost incomprehensible that Chase would resort to such a low life tactic as spamming a long time customer through deceptive measures disguised as self help customer service. I do hope that your investigation of this matter reveals the identity of the genetic malformation responsible for this.

Thank You,
R P

Following my near record time approval for Social Security Disability, I had paperwork submitted for a Disability Discharge on my student loan. I understood this to be a higher standard than SSD, but not impossible.

I submitted the first application in March of this year. After not seeing anything indicating that it was received, I called the loan servicing center in Texas. Nope - no record of it. They cheerfully mailed me another form. Took the physician statement to my doctor for completion and mailed the thing off. Just over a week later, I get a notice rejecting my application on the basis that the physician section was incomplete. Hmmmm.... barely a week and they send a response?
Well, sure enough, about 2 weeks later, I get a second rejection notice saying essentially the same thing as the first, but this one included the allegedly incomplete form. It was the most recent one I had mailed. Ah-hah... the first one had been received, that was the first notice I got, and they rejected the second application as well.
The second rejection had another form enclosed to be filled out by the doctor. Problem is, the form was dated as expired May 2008. A few quick emails to the student loan ombudsman reveals that the agency was told to stop using the outdated form over a year ago. I was told to get the new version online and use that.

Now my doctor is like many others. I get charged an office visit to come in and consult with him on these things. Okay, the third set of forms go to the doctor. When I returned from picking up the forms there was mail from the student loan service center in the mailbox. This was Monday, 9/28.

It was a letter dated 9/18 telling me that I had been granted a preliminary discharge of my loan while the agency evaluated my application. It stated that my case was transferred to the disability discharge servicing center and gave contact information for that location. I called to find out how long the determination process on the 3 year conditional discharge would take.
Surprise - that process was already complete and I am now in conditional discharge! That means I no longer owe payments and all collection efforts stop!!! It will be reported to credit agencies that the loan is in discharge status.
At the end of three years from this past January when I first claimed disability, the discharge will be final. During that time I may not earn more than the poverty level income for a family of two.

The utter hypocrisy of that just astounds me. To even be considered for disability discharge, you need a statement from the doctor that you are unable to work at any job and earn income. But once they grant conditional discharge, you can work. Just stay poor. WTF??

In any case, the threat of garnishment for a multi-thousand dollar monkey is off my back. I know its a small crumb compared to taxpayer funded million dollar bonuses, but I'm still okay with it.


 

'Heard the David Lee Roth version on the radd-e-oh while driving today. I like this one better:


Once you get past the hair, costumes and stage presentation, these guys do a pretty tight arrangement.

Spot comes up on the bed around 5am and half lays on my chest. Nineteen pound cat plus COPD makes this an attention getter. I brushed him off to the side. He starts yakking at me, chirroops, vocalizing urgency of some sort. Not getting through to me, he starts head butting my face, rubbing his teeth along my jaw. Okay, I'm up now. What?

Spot jumps off the bed and leads to the kitchen. Hmmmm - likely a chow call involved, so I detour to the office. A few minutes later, in comes Spot and he jumps directly up on the desk in front of my face, wails a long urgent note and head butts my face again. Jumping to the floor, his indication is clearly that I should follow. He herds me like I'm too stupid to figure out where he's going. You know - bump across the ankles to steer me in the direction he intends.
There's nothing up in the kitchen, I go to bathroom. Almost right away, this big moose shoulders the door open and comes in bawling and yakking again. I'm herded like a brain damaged little hoomin back to the kitchen where the bawling intensifies. I step out in the utility room and dispense the chow. Bowl wasn't empty so that's not likely the issue. Bawling and wailing continue as Spot moves to the litter box. He steps in with his front feet, glares at an unburied turd left by his brother, wails at it, then again at me. JEEBUS! Is THIS what I was awakened so early for? One quick flick with the litter scoop and its covered. Spot trots away satisfied. Retirement has reduced me to feline turd steward. Not happy at all. Nap time by noon.

I plan to spend less time here on LJ. Not that I've been a very prolific poster nor anybody really gives a shit what I write. But there is an incredible amount of time wasted here that could be spent doing more useful, productive things.

A recent debacle took place in an LJ of an old AT'er. The net result of that was me being invited to 'hit the fuckin road'. This is agreeable to me and there are no hard feelings. In the course of wrapping up the loose ends, a few emails were sent back and forth. The following is an excerpt from my last email to this person. As I pondered this section, some things came to mind. 

This is a perfect example of something that needs to be looked at in health care reform. My family certainly is among millions faced with similar circumstances. And it gave me cause to think about the things I should be doing instead of wrecking my eyes looking at this monitor.

"I'm only on this planet for a limited time, growing more limited every day.  My own medical situation has been revisited by an exam with the pulmonologist last week and things seem to be much worse than I thought. I had been under the impression that my original full pulmonary assessment done in 2004 revealed 74% lung function, and that a recent, more superficial test done for my SSD exam was showing around 60% remaining function. Reality is that the 2004 test was 52% function and if the results of the most recent exam hold up, I'm down to around 38% !!

I was viewing the results incorrectly. I've been placed on Chantix to help stop smoking and am scheduled for another comprehensive pulmonary function assessment in late October after I've had a chance to get off the cigs and normalize somewhat. Who knows where it goes from there? After the normalization it can be better determined if I will stabilize and recover some function, living to a nice old age, or continue a rather quick decline. As it is now, I'm looking at about 3 more years.  Tops.

Wanna know how this figures into current health care? I'm currently under my wife's group plan. Not a really great one and it's expensive.  Her options are single coverage, or for herself and one dependent at reasonable  (not really) rates. To get me covered, she has to go to the family option.  Her contribution is over $400 a month or about one sixth or her gross income. Something has to change. Next month is when she has the option to select coverage for the coming year. I will be dropped from the plan so she and my son can afford to remain covered. They need the coverage. My son needs protection for his young life. My wife will assuredly survive me and as his provider for the future needs to be covered.

My own needs for health coverage are real, expensive and ongoing. But compared to what the wife and kid need, does it really matter if I live another 5 years in a moderate degree of distress or drop off the plan and settle for 2 or 3 years in a more aggressive degree of distress? The immediate difference to the family is that when I drop off the plan in January, there will be another 200 dollars or so in available monthly income to meet the needs of the family. I'm not eligible for Medicare until July 2011 if I understand the process correctly.

From January 2010 until July 2011 I'm riding around with an advanced lung condition, and I'm 100% on my own, out of pocket for anything that happens. What do ya reckon my odds are? Reality here is that the cost of health insurance places this family in the position of having coverage for all of us or sacrificing me in order to buy gas and food. I've had my time and my chance at life, haven't used them in particularly wise fashion. So, now I step aside and make room for those who follow me. I don't see this as anything noble or altruistic. Its simply a practical choice that has to be made for the betterment of my family."

I've taken many of my postings private, left some for friends only, and deleted a few. Maybe a few re-arrangements yet to come.

And that's the way it is......................

Shortly after getting up today I hear cat chatter and some noise at the back door. Inside door is open, Spot is sitting there with front paws on the bottom of the screen. Outside is a squirrel standing up so he's almost nose to nose with Spot.
 
Spot would coo and meep, the squirrel would chitter back. I froze in place and just watched. The exchange continued for a few minutes. Both animals seemed completely relaxed. There was no hint of a predator/prey relationship. It was like two small town neighbors having a morning whassup conversation at the back fence. Spot would lick a paw while the squirrel chattered on. Squirrel stopped talking and Spot would place a paw against the screen and start chirooping and meeping again. About the time I try to quietly slip away to grab the camera, the meeting dissolved. Squirrel calmly went about scavenging in the yard. Spot came drifting my way and rubbed against my legs per normal.

To witness such moments is one of lifes treats. Never saw anything like it before and may never again. But for that 3 minutes or so, the rest of the world stopped while I got to savor an extraordinary exchange.

As of Saturday evening, Turner has improved some but not enough to call real progress. Thursday's trip to the vet only showed negative to FeLV. FIV or a host of other possibilities are still out there. One item for certain is the swollen lymph node under his jaw on the left side. He only showed mild temperature (102) at the vet but I know it was far higher Wed evening. The lymph node causes me concern not only due to its size but the ramifications. It seems to be causing him some discomfort as well. it is swollen to about Lima bean size.

Thursday afternoon, Turner's appetite was non-existent. His stress and depression were obvious and these are factors known to inhibit recovery. I got him nicely gorked on sedatives and placed him in a carrier while I went out for a few hours. Upon my return, he immediately started bawling to be let out. Exiting the carrier, he headed straight for the food. He ate about two days worth of food and drank a LOT of water. I've monitored his activity until he recovered his balance. Turner has continued to get his antibiotics and seems to be showing a modest response to attempts to knock down whatever systemic infection he has. Overall, he is not really doing well. He is very lethargic. The nictitating membranes in his eyes are partially rolled over a substantial amount of the time which indicates he is in some degree of pain and/or distress. His normally boisterous vocalizing is now minimal - possibly due to discomfort from the swollen lymph node. He does seek and definitely appreciates human comforting and company. Its all I have to offer him right now.

Throughout the weekend I'll watch his progress. If he isn't on an improving trend by Monday afternoon, I see no choice but to end his suffering. We'll take a ride to the vet and part company. His suffering is too much to allow it to continue without improvement.

Wifey and I out for a walk.  Turner was laying down next to the third house in the next block. Walked up to him, he seemed scared but okay. Musta mixed it up with something unusual. Picked him up, he did a bit of growling but came on home with us. Ate like pig, drank a lot. Isaac is pissed though. After the initial checking out he started snubbing Turner. Payback for worry I guess.

Welcome to the Kitty Kat Klub! Spawt is the Alpha cat and always the last to welcome a new face. Although not the most aggressive or vocal, he makes his displeasure known until he gets good and ready to welcome anyone or anything. 24 hours before, he hissed and slapped the little guy. It took about 4 days for his attitude to reduce him to this:


EDIT: On a possibly sadder note, our cat count may be down to 6 again. Turner took off on one of his nightly hunts per usual, last seen about 3am Monday. By Monday night he hadn't returned at his normal time. His buddy Isaac went out and waited on the porch for him, left looking for him 3 times, and came back the final time obviously distressed that he can't find Turner. Dunno... lost not likely since he normally runs outside 20 out of 24 hours a day. Time will tell.....

This weekend my wife and I celebrate 15 years of marriage. I'm thankful to have a devoted, talented partner such as her. No doubt, she has prolonged my life. Heidi - a toast to you and may we have many more years together. Perhaps with me being 18 years older, its fortunate that you work for the Area Agency on Aging. 'Should make my transition to gooberdom a bit easier.

This is also the weekend of the Kings Royal, a $50,000 to win knock down dragout for the winged sprint cars. The weather has been mild enough to almost guarantee a fast competitive track. After sitting out the Royal last year, I'm in this weekend. Besides, the place is just 45 minutes down the road.  http://www.eldoraspeedway.com/   So, oversleeping after Saturday's Royal does not get me any points for Sunday's spousal celebration.

Another anniversary of some importance in the area is the 40th anniversary of the 1969 landing of a manned craft on the moon. Nearby Wapakoneta is the hometown of Neil Armstrong, alleged to be the first man to set foot on the moon. The town is all wrapped up in celebration frenzy as you might expect of any midwestern cow shit spotted burg that gets a brush with fame. Problem is, Armstrong grew up, got educated, moved on and really doesn't look back with any fondness at Wapak.
The relationship between Armstrong and Wapak seems like the place is an embarrassing part of his past that he moved away from for escape as much as anything. Liken it to being raised with a drooling retarded Aunt who adores you while you can't stand the sight of her. Your friends laugh at you every time she hugs you and pisses herself. You're humiliated and move far, far away.
To my knowledge, Armstrong has only been back to the old hometown twice since the alleged moonwalk in 1969 and the last time seemed clearly perturbed at being there. I say alleged moonwalk because I think the whole thing was pure bullshit - a TV production devised by Kennedy and perpetuated by Johnson to crush the spirit of the Russians.

I was just a kid when it happened, but even then those pictures on TV just looked TOO damned good to be real. Keep in mind - 1969 studio TV cameras were huge, roughly the size of a rectangular laundry basket and mounted on a large dolly. The camera itself was supported by a hydraulically activated cylinder about 4 inches in diameter. Very primitve clunky stuff. Remote cameras and those serving a newly emerging remote broadcast market were still quite large and the image quality just wasn't up to par. So, along comes July 20, 1969 and these images - purported to be from unmanned remote cameras on a vehicle on the moon hit the screen. And they were stunningly fabulous shots indeed. 'Just a bit too good... Along with other reasons, I call bullshit on the whole lunar landing episode.

The finches that nested in my hanging plant tallied a final score of 2 for 4. The 4th egg was a second mating and appeared several days after the first 3. One of the hatchlings maybe scraped a hole in it as it softened to hatch. The egg was dead and shoved aside by the parents.

Of the three remaining birds, the largest and most developed was encouraged to take flight by the male yesterday afternoon. The first flight ended badly at the opposite edge of the street. The punctuation on the venture came in the form of a motorhome that promptly rendered the chick non-viable. While the parents were fussing and assessing the apparent shape shifting talents of the deceased chick, a large dove wandered up and began pecking at pieces of the corpse. Strangely, this seemed to cause the parents no distress.

My wife, horrified at witnessing the whole thing, couldn't understand my calm and pleasure at what I was seeing. She took it harder than the parents did. The arrival of the dove had a surreal quality though. Kind of a Droopy Dog demeanor. "Ayup folks, that's a messy one alrighty. Hey, uh , you gonna eat that? Mind if'n I help myself?" The AT gene runs deep.

When the wife and I left earlier today, the next largest chick was perched on the edge of the hanging plant, sizing up his exit. By the time we arrived home it had left. The remaining chick was fully feathered but seemed to lag behind the siblings since hatching. I got him down and gave him a few short test flights at low altitude in the yard, all the while being observed by the male. All seemed well, so - up into the tree he went in the general direction of his parents. Much chirping and cackling ensued and they all seem content with the result. Now, several hours later, the three of them are swapping places around in the tree, doing well it seems.

What DID seem to piss the male off was me removing the shit festooned nest from my plant and heaving it into the yard. I cleaned out the plant and the little prick sat there shrieking the entire time. Now I look out and he has THREE females with him!  The boy has a harem. Dayum!