Squalor-on-the-River, Now with More River

I love living on the river. It's like natural Valium, 24/7.

Until it rains a lot.

The river is rising and while I'm about 75% sure it's not going to be a problem for us, it's still exciting. At 57 feet, the river comes through the fence into our back yard; today it is at 54. (Actually, our back yard extends out a lot farther than that, but it's at the bottom of a mini-cliff so we don't go there.) At 61 feet, the first floor of the house has tadpoles. The Big Flood of 97 hit 65 ft and put counter-height water into the rooms that are currently my bedroom and kitchen. (No, I didn't live here then.) So attention must be paid. If it crests at 56 ft. as it's supposed to tomorrow morning, we'll be annoyed because our road to civilization will be washed out and we'll have to go up the hill and into the off-grid roads (do not go there without GPS), but we'll be dry. Other people along the river won't be so lucky, so we count our blessings.

At the same time, Lyle is refusing to eat the special diet for dogs with kidney failure, so I'm going crazy trying to get food in him. Actually getting food in him is not a problem: put hamburger, dog cookies, cheese, or chicken jerky in front of him and he goes to town. I am currently mixing baby food into the canned k/d diet and he'll toy with that. Then he goes out to terrorize the moles. Well, he thinks he's terrorizing them. My theory is that they're down in the tunnels, laughing at him, although that's bound to change once those tunnels fill with flood water. (Laugh while you can, monkey boys, the river's comin' for you.) For a dying dog, Lyle sure is perky. His fave part of the day is 8PM when we go upstairs and Alastair and Lani put a needle into him and pump him full of water. He actually jumps up on the chair and wags his tail. We think it has something to do with the Azodyl capsule buried in a lump of cheese, given to him after the subq by Alastair, or as Lyle thinks of him, Cheesus. Lyle worships Cheesus.

And then there's the book, which I think is going to be really good, once I get my head completely wrapped around it. It's like I was expecting a cute baby boy and then I got to the delivery room and got triplet girls carrying a spindle, a measuring tape, and a pair of Fiskars. It takes some recalibration. While I'm watching the river rise and mixing liquified ham into Hill's k/d.

So I thought what I'd do is post pictures here daily so you can see the water rise for the last (please, God, let it be the last) two feet. In the future, possibly pictures with Lyle in them, trying to eat a water-logged mole instead of his k/d.

It's an interesting life here at Squalor-on-the-River.

Taken at noon on Thursday, Mar. 10; river at 54 ft.

Oh, and by the way, tell anybody who threw junk along the river bank any time in the past decade that they can come pick it up.