My Little Clutch

Yesterday I saw an adorable photograph of an Irish Setter nursing maybe 10 or 12 of 16 her pups, all collared in different colors, triggering all of my mothering instincts. 

We are going to get a dog shortly. And I can hardly wait.

We had to get rid of Dexter for a little while because he sometimes likes to leap onto my chest when I'm lying down. That would be quite painful at this point. So he's off on a vacation with his sisters/cousins Addy and Molly. Word is that he caught a mouse this morning and he has become Anna's hero, followed closely by Blake who transferred the mouse to the dumpster.

Pixiebobs are marketed as a dogs in a cat suit and he is, in many ways. But he really is pretty much a cat in his terms of his personal interactions. Very unsatisfactory in fact. I want a cuddle buddy. I have to be grateful for every second that he deigns to spend within touching distance.

So back to getting the doggie. I am ready to pull the trigger.

When I woke up this morning to race to the bathroom, I gathered my clutch of drainage bulbs, reminding me of that litter of puppies. 

And of the popular high school project that involves a student taking care of the raw egg every minute of the day and night for several weeks in preparation for having a baby. It's supposed to be a deterrent to teenage pregnancies. Seems like it would have to be something more irritating than an egg to be effective.

Drainage bulbs? You ask. You probably shouldn't have. The first time I saw drainage bulbs was when my parents had their back-to-back facelifts. Dangling from their bandaged skulls like gigantic earrings, were clear bulbs at the end of clear tubes. Not too bad, you say. The effect was complemented by what was flowing out of their heads into those tubes to puddle in those bulbs. The colors! All hot, ranging from bright red through the oranges to the most interesting yellows. And the viscosity. Yuck! Then the surgeon told my mother had never seen anything like it. Pretty reassuring, huh?

Rather than earrings, I'm wearing four bulbs, which could look like a clutch of ostrich eggs when cradled. Or maybe emu eggs, a little bit smaller than ostrich eggs. The bulbs are at the end of tubes that are about 2 feet long. If not supported, they would tug at the exit wounds at the base of my reconstructed breasts. 

A lot of people have thought about that and when I left MGH I was issued a "Jackie". It is a jacket that is easy access, meaning that the arms and sides are closed using Velcro squares (unsolicited, I mentioned that circles would be a hell of a lot less painful than those corners on the squares). The jacket has buttons down the front and many pockets inside to hold the bulbs. Jackie also came with a lanyard, bright pink, with green paisley ribbon, almost Lilly Pulitzer. Jackie herself it's really hideous, though the dull blue, pilling fabric is quite soft. I, it must be obvious to you, have switched to using the lanyard. Instead of four independent creatures, I have a pod with curling tentacles centered around my belly button.