Anatomy

Garlic, like a lot of old dogs, is covered with random lumps, bumps, and warts.

This past weekend Craig was having a party (actually, Craig seems to have a party every weekend, but that's another post).

As usual, Garlic and Onion were making the rounds, hoping to snag a pretzel or fallen cocktail weenie. At one point one of Craig's entourage groupies harem friends began petting Garlic, so he hopped up on the couch next to her to keep the attention coming.

A few minutes later she noticed me wandering out of my office to get a Diet Coke and came over to ask...

"Hi, uh, Mr. Craig's dad. How come your dog has nipples growing out of his back?"

Check out

I was on call for the weekend, so Sunday night had the usual check-out call with Dr. Cortex:


Dr. Cortex: "Hello?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Hi, it's Grumpy."

Dr. Cortex: "Okay, let me get my list and a pen..."

Dr. Grumpy: "How was your weekend? You guys do anything?"

Dr. Cortex: "We took the grandkids to the annual air-show, but, one of the planes crashed while landing. They said the pilot was killed and the passenger badly injured. Fortunately, we were at the snack bar when it happened, so Billy and Dolly didn't see it. But it must have been horrible. We left right away."

Dr. Grumpy: "I don't blame you."

Dr. Cortex: "All right, I'm ready for the list. What have you got for me?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay. In the ICU, room 37, is a guy with a serious head injury. He was a passenger in a plane at the air show......."

Thud

Dr. Grumpy: "Did you have those labs done?"

Mr. Siphonaptera: "Hell no. I walked out of the lab. They treated me like crap."

Dr. Grumpy: "What happened?"

Mr. Siphonaptera: "The girl at the front desk told me she was going to have me see a phlebotomist, which is bullshit. I don't have fleas. So I left."

11:38 p.m.

Dr. Grumpy: "This is Dr. Grumpy, returning a page."

Ms. Papaveraceae: "Hi, I'm a patient of Dr. Brain's, and I ran out of Percocet. My pharmacy number is..."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm sorry, but I don't call in controlled drugs after hours. You'll have to contact Dr. Brain's office on Monday."

Ms. Papaveraceae: "But I really need it!"

Dr. Grumpy: "I can't call in any narcotics. What I can call in is..."

Ms. Papaveraceae: "But I can't take anything else because of religious reasons. I belong to a small sect that worships poppy flowers, so..."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm not calling narcotics in."

Ms. Papveraceae: "So you're discriminating against me on the basis of my religion? I will get an attorney and..."

Dr. Grumpy: "Have a good night."

Click.

Relevant

Last week I received a letter from a research company, looking for "experts in a specific field."

It asked if I could answer "yes" to any of the following questions:

In Memoriam

 
My kids have now passed one of the milestones of modern adolescence.

The death of your first car.

The boys aren't having much of an issue with this, but Marie is taking it vary hard. The 4Runner was her baby.

You may remember her adventures with the car, when she outraced her older brothers to be the first with a license. The Toyota was 19 years old, with 265,000 miles, but she loved it. For reasons known only to her she named it "Dakota," which she insisted on spelling "decoda."

And, fittingly, it died with her at the wheel.

Rolling down the freeway on her way to an off-campus class, it suddenly began shaking wildly under her and making a racing noise. Alarmed, she took her foot off the gas and started to pull into the emergency lane. Then there was a loud "BANG!"

The engine stopped, never to turn again. As she came to a halt, Marie noticed a lot of fluid and some pieces of metal in the road behind her.

Since nothing fazes Marie, she calmly called AAA to arrange a tow, only bothering to notify her parents of this change in events when AAA asked where they should haul the car.

The next morning the guy at the car place asked if I could swing by on the way to work. Taking me into the garage, he showed me a jagged hole in the engine block the size of a football. As I marveled at it he handed me a chunk of metal that used to be piston, and pointed out where he'd found it embedded in the undercarriage.

I thought it looked like a femur. Keys are for size comparison.

So, after circling the globe 10.5 times, the car is being donated to charity.

We went to the repair shop before it was towed away to strip it of our personal stuff. This included $5.82 in coins scattered in cup holders, seat cushions, and under floor mats.

Marie carefully pried the 4Runner nameplate off the back, and it's now hanging in her bedroom, next to the hunk of piston.