Susan Abel Sullivan's Blog, page 6

Buy Books for Bo: an Update

Me and Bo at Christmas



























Bo has been in the animal hospital since last Saturday for two surgeries: one to remove a stomach/intestinal blockage and another to remove the drain inserted into his intestine during the first surgery. 

He's doing well, happy and alert, and will hopefully get to come home tonight. Bo might be the most challenging dog we've ever had due to his OCD/Pica issues (see my previous post for more details on his mental disorder), but he's also the most affectionate dog I've ever had. 

Bo is seventy-five pounds of cuddle bunny. His favorite thing to do when he's not eating the wood hot tub or a collectible that a cat knocked off a shelf onto the floor is to sit in the hubs' lap.  When the hubs comes home from work, Bo wags his entire body.  He adores his canine pal, Moxie--it was love at first sight for the two of them.

Bo's medical care costs are now at $3400 and still climbing.  So if you'd like to help us help Bo, please buy books.  Specifically, MY books. 

I have two novels and two short story
collections available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble.com, Kobo, and many  other online retailers (plus Books-A-Million brick & mortar locations as a POD: print on demand).  Novels are in print AND eBook; collections are eBook only.  My second novel, The Weredog Whisperer is part of a series, but can be read as a stand alone novel. 

If you've bought/read all of my books, please consider "sharing" the link to this page on your social media sites and verbally with friends and co-workers who like dogs and/or books.  I've set up a fundraising event on Facebook--Buy Books for Bo--that is open to the public. 

I also have several copies of Weredog Whisperer and a few Haunted Housewives if you'd like to buy a personalized, signed copy/copies from me.  $15 + shipping for one book; $25 + shipping for any two books.  Media Mail is $3 or I can ship up to 2 books in one Priority Mail padded flat rate envelope for $6.  I accept PayPal. Or cash, if you're local. Cash is good. LOL

Thanks for everyone's support!

Buy Books for Bo: a canine medical fundraiser for dog and book lovers!

Bo, our dog with Pica*




























Bo came VERY close to rupturing his intestines and dying this weekend. 

He has Pica, a mental disorder characterized by the consumption of non-nutritive items and objects, such as chalk, sand, and clay.  It's commonly found in dogs, and can include other objects such as wood, plastic, paper, metal, leather, fabric--essentially anything that isn't food.

Bo has torn apart our wood privacy fence and eaten it. Ditto for the huge wooden hot tub outside.  He eats tennis balls, toys, our couch, two upholstered chairs, paper, collectibles, leather, cardboard, his bed, shoes, pool equipment, pool floats, concrete, and a dead cat he found in the yard. 

We found him in our yard two years ago and took him in.  No one claimed him so we kept him.  He's been the most challenging dog I've ever had.  The hubs and I have to be CONSTANTLY diligent about not leaving things where he can take and eat them.  But it's virtually impossible to keep Bo from eating weird shit that he shouldn't.

Right now he's on the third day of his stay at the animal hospital for a stomach/intestinal blockage.  One of the things he wasn't supposed to eat got lodged in his GI Tract.  The vet removed it, but unfortunately his intestines were damaged and couldn't be re-sectioned due to their proximity to his pancreas.  If he continues to progress as well as he has, he'll have a 2nd surgery tomorrow to remove the drain from his abdomen.  The cost for his medical treatment has already reached $2500 and is expected to rise to $3K or more. 

If you'd like to help us defray Bo's medical expenses, please buy my books.  I have two novels in print and eBook, and two short story collections in eBook.  If you don't read, consider giving a book as a gift.  Ditto if you've read all of my work. 

 100% of our dogs and cats are rescued strays or shelter adoptees.  We try to do our part in reducing the number of homeless animals, but it's often a thankless job.  My dad used to say, "No good deed goes unpunished." Well, we felt sorry for little Bo when he wandered into our yard two years ago without a collar and his bones showing under his skin.  He was six months old.  My guess is that he ate the wrong thing too many times and someone turned him out.  Believe me, it's been tempting to take him to the shelter many a time.

But we didn't and now we're paying the price for helping a poor dog with a serious mental problem.

So, if you'd like to help us help Bo, please buy my books. Available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble.com, Kobo, and Books-A-Million.  You can also check my publisher's website for other online ebook retailers. www.worldweaverpress.com

Thank you!!

And Bo thanks you!    Woof!

Having Words: the Hubs Has His Day

The hubs has what I affectionately call George W. Bush Disorder, i.e., he likes to make up his own words, although, I'm happy to say he doesn't do it impromptu during a public speaking engagement like the former President.

The hubs' newest word is yesolutely.  Think of smashing yes and absolutely together so that it completely crowds out the abs. 

So your task, should you choose to accept, is to use the word "yesolutely" in casual conversation this weekend. 

 If someone asks you if you want to go out for drinks, give 'em a resounding, "Yesolutely!"  If someone asks you to adopt a pet llama, say, "YESOLUTELY!" And if someone asks if you believe in pocket dragons, you can tell them, "Yeso-freakin-lutely."

My work here is now done.  Yesolutely.

Do Pit Bulls and Snow Mix?

Bo didn't want to go out into the snow to potty












Pit Bull Terriers aren't snow dogs.  That would be breeds like the Saint Bernard, Great Pyrenees, and Newfoundland.  Pit bulls like to soak up the sun.  They are one of the few breeds that will choose sun over shade. 

So when yesterday's surprise snow storm deposited four inches of pretty powder on northeast Alabama, Bo (our hound/pit mix) didn't want to go outside to potty.  In fact, when I opened the door, he turned tail and tried to slink away.  I had to literally SHOVE seventy-five pounds of dog out the door because he and Moxie are too big to do their business inside the house. 

Bo did not like snow.

But you know what? Once he got across the deck and down the steps, he decided it wasn't so bad after all.

And on his 3rd, 4th, and 5th times to go out yesterday, he ran right out the back door and positively frolicked, running willy-nilly around the yard like a crazy dog, jumping on Moxie in play, and stealing her tennis ball. 

Moxie would do her business and come back to the door.  But Bo made several circuits of the fence perimeter, making sure no wild animals, stray cats, or unauthorized humans had entered the property. 

So I suppose Bo and snow do mix. 

Slide show below. Click on "play" and then wait a few seconds and it'll start.

Books, Cake and Snow...in that order

I celebrated the release of my novel The Weredog Whisperer last night at the Jacksonville (AL) Public Library with a humorous, dramatic reading, sing-along, and book signing.  A wonderful friend of mine created the most adorable and delectable cake for the event.  Local author Michelle Lowery Combs (Heir to the Lamp) attended, as did aspiring author Nick Redden. I've posted photos from the event below. 

Today it's snowing in Anniston, Alabama.  It doesn't happen often, every few years, but I'm enjoying the view from my window. My dog, Bo, wanted to go out, but when I opened the door and he saw the snow--something he's never seen before--he changed his mind.

Don't Go Skinny Dipping Where the Neighbors Can See You

Here's an important life lesson: don't go skinny dipping in the daytime in a forbidden lake where any neighbors can see you. 

When I was ten-years old, my sister, and our friend did just this.  The forbidden lake was at the back entrance to our sub-division with several "NO SWIMMING" signs posted in plain sight.

We went swimming anyway. Without our swim suits.  Without a stitch of clothes. In the daytime.  

Not a good plan.

The three of us were frolicking in the water having a good ole time when my mom rode up on her bicycle.

Uh oh. BUS-TED!

All she said was, "Get out. Get your CLOTHES on. And get HOME," each word enunciated like a gunshot.  Then she turned her bike around and left.  

This was back in the day of spankings, switchings (where your mom or dad would tear off a thin limb on a tree and use it to spank the back of your legs and bottom), and paddlings.  

And despite getting spanked, switched, and paddled quite a few times as a kid, I had a wanderlust and sense of adventure that could not be curbed.  It wasn't like I was a bad kid, quite the contrary, it was just that I had the spirit of Indiana Jones.

So my sister, our friend, and I got out of the lake, put on our clothes, and rode our bikes home dreading our punishment.  We never went skinny dipping--or--swimming--in that lake again.

But we did plenty of other things that probably would have given my parents white hair if they'd known about them, like crawling through flood-water pipes, and climbing in the rafters of houses being built, and walking along train tracks, and exploring the junk in the dump, and riding our bikes out in the woods when there was a flasher on the loose, and having dirt-clod fights with other bands of kids.

But we survived and thrived, despite our antics, even though my sister did get a nail stuck in her foot when we were messing around at a construction sight.  Other than that we were never injured, infected, flashed, or kidnapped from or on our adventures. 

I wonder if kids these days actually have real adventures or if their adventures come vicariously from books, movies, TV, the internet, and video games? 

I'd love to hear your stories! 

Bitten! Milk snake or coral snake?

The baby snake in the restaurant parking lot was going to get run over if I didn't help it.  But was it a milk snake or a coral snake? 

This was back in 2004 before everyone had a Smart phone.  I tried to remember the rhymes that help identify which snake is harmless and which is venomous.

"Red on black, better jump back.  Red and yellow, okay fellow."  But I couldn't be sure, damn it.  And even though coral snakes are venomous, I still couldn't bear the thought of one getting squooshed under a car. 

So I picked it up. 

Now, many of you are either shuddering with disgust or shaking your head at my stupidity, but I've been handling snakes since I was a little girl and I've owned king snakes, garter snakes, and ball pythons.  I know how to pick up a snake safely. 

But what I didn't realize was that tiny little baby snakes--and by tiny, I mean about a foot long stretched out--have very flexible necks. 

I didn't want to hold the snake too tightly around the head area for fear of harming it and it took this opportunity to weasel its head around to bite my hand.

Uh oh.

I firmed up my grip on the snake and scooted over to a grassy area beside the restaurant where I released it.  I'd done my good deed for the day.  But was I now going to die of a snake bite?

I could just imagine going to the ER and how reckless the doctors would think I was for picking up a possibly venomous snake. And yes, the potential embarrassment kept me out of the ER. Also probably stupid.

I did know that coral snakes tend to have to chew on their "victims" in order to inject their venom.  They don't have fangs like rattlers, copperheads, and water moccassins.  The snake I'd helped had struck me in defense, but hadn't gotten any fleshy areas like the webbing between my fingers.

So the hubs and I checked into our hotel down in Ft. Walton Beach and I got on the internet to look up the snake.  But by this point, I couldn't quite remember which colored bands touched each other.  Coral and milk snakes are so similar in appearance; both have red, black, and yellow rings. 

Ugh! Damn my embarrassment.  I felt fine and decided to not go to the ER. 

And guess what? I was okay the next morning. 

So stupid or a perpetual wild-animal-good-deed-doer?  I'm going with the latter.  I suppose I've been lucky so far.  I've helped many animals and have never been injured or seriously attacked.  If it's in my power to help another creature, I'll take calculated risks to help it.  That's just the way I am. 

And you know what?  I still can't remember the damn rhymes for milk vs coral snakes. 

The Importance of Knowing Your Sh*t--Literally

The author in the 5th grade. Notice the strong resemblance to Melissa Gilbert from Little House on the Prairie.



















Knowing your shit is super important, especially when you have to give an oral report in front of your science teacher and classmates.  And when I say knowing your shit, I mean it literally.

Okay, so it's the 6th grade and I was the new kid at Gulf Breeze Middle School.  The photo above is me in the 5th grade.  Now add braces, acne, longer, stringer hair, a unibrow, and unfortunately, the same dress, something my mother never let me forget, and you'll have a good idea of what I looked like in the 6th grade.  I was definitely not on the cool kids list.

Mr. V., my science teacher, loved for us to give oral reports.  It saved him from actually having to teach anything.  As usual, I picked some animal to study--a ring-tailed lemur, I think.  I remember looking up the lemur in a bunch of books at home and the word "feces" kept coming up.  I had no idea what feces was. 

So I asked my parents.  They told me to look it up.  I didn't. 

MAJOR mistake.

So now it's my turn to give an oral report.  I get up in front of the class and start regaling them with all of my newfound knowledge about the ring-tailed lemur and expound on the animal's "feck-ish."

Mr. V. stops me in the middle of my report.  "What are you saying? What is feck-ish?" 

Oh, boy.  Busted. 

"I don't know," I say.

"Come here and let me see your report."

Mr. V. always liked to sit in the back of the class between the two prettiest girls during oral reports, which is pretty creepy in retrospect.  I handed him my report.  He looked it over.

"Fee-cees," he says.  "You pronounce it as fee-cees. It means do-do."

The entire class burst out in brays of laughter to my mortal embarrassment.  I wanted to shrink to the size of a flea and disappear. 

Mr. V. says, "Next time, look up any words you don't know."  He doesn't say it kindly.  More laughter from the class.  If I'd had any cool points, they'd just been taken away. 

So the moral of this lesson is always know your different kinds of shit: do-do, poop, crap, feces, poo, poo-poo, ka-ka, crapola, excrement, etc.  And for god's sake, know how to pronounce your shit.  Never get caught not knowing your shit. 

Thank you, and goodnight.

The Origin of Brown Nosing

Moxie "brown nosing" our cat, Ernie





























The origin of the term "brown nosing" has GOT to come from dogs.  If I didn't know better, I'd totally think it was inspired by my pit bull, Moxie. 

Notice where brown-nosing-the-cats falls on Moxie's list of favorite things to do:

1. Eat wild animal poop in the backyard.

2. Eat cat poop from the litter boxes.

3. Lick the cats' butts, aka, brown nosing.

4. Lick Bo's junk (Bo is our other dog).

5. Tie: play with her tennis ball; swim in the pool.

6. Eat any food that isn't hers.

7. Eat actual dog food.

8. Sleep.

9. Play with Bo.

10. Get a back scratch and/or belly rub from her humans.

Here's the thing about the dogs brown nosing the cats . . . the cats LOVE it.  They ASK for it.  They writhe with pleasure, the little hedonists.  And apparently the dogs get something out of it, too, although it may be an addiction like gambling where they keep hoping they'll hit the jackpot of golden poop popping out of a cat butt.

So now you know the (unofficial) origin of the term "brown nosing."  Yes, thank you very much.  I'm always happy to provide educational tidbits on this blog.  Ha!

Damn House Elves

Damn house elf having a jolly time after hiding my sh*t











Guess where I found my lost Calvin Klein reading glasses and eel-skin glasses case?

Are you ready?

IN THE CAR. 

In the glove compartment.

I don't read in the car.  I DRIVE the car. 

The hubs says I'm losing sh*t in the house due to age.  I told him it was the damn house elves.  He gave me the "look" that said, "Yeah, keep deluding yourself."  I gave him the look that said, "Are you saying I'm OLD????"  Lordy, but he's fourteen years older than ME. It's the pot calling the kettle black.

But hey, at least I found the glasses.  But I still haven't found the Ann Taylor sweater I got my mom and now the little bastards--erm, house elves--have taken one of the hubs business receipts that he left at home by accident last week.  I know exactly where I put it when I found it on the floor and guess what?  It was GONE when I went to get it for the hubs.

Damn house elves.