In recovery

I'm still off from work due to my mysterious viral infection. Recuperating at home has never been this exhausting. I have two, very energetic brothers to take care of. This is their version of rough-housing. One tied and slightly maniacal, the other safely out of biting range...



Luckily, I can restrain one of them with a leash. Last week, he got sick because of some funky thing he ingested in the backyard. Whatever he ate got him spewing out from both ends. He went on antibiotics for five days and stayed in the vet's clinic overnight. It was very taxing emotionally. Since then, my parents have ordained that we keep him within the confines of the gate. Hence the leash. Poor guy. He's been bored out of his mind. So this morning, I opened the gate to let him explore the meager perimeter his leash would allow him. He ended up mauling my mother's unsuspecting plants. Here are the spoils of war...



My other brother makes life harder another way. He insists on giving me a blow by blow account of our canine sibling's latest transgressions. Which is a lot considering he's gone wild from boredom. My little brother seems to think that already seeing the events unfold before my own eyes isn't enough. He has to narrate it for me. Just knowing that I have another mound of poop to clean up is stressful enough, but having it pointed out again and again...oh god, please just shoot me now.

When he's not busy announcing that Rako has climbed unto the dining table or has pooped in places he isn't supposed to, he is content lounging next to the brand new race track he got for his birthday...



After lunch, we had to let Rako in because it started to rain. He was too rough so we tied him up by the window. This is him experiencing Acceptance...



This is me trying to drown out their noise. He took this photo. Jake, not Rako...

Oh brother

One day when I was about 11, my mother asked me how I would feel about a baby brother or sister. We were lying down and I remember the ceiling start to swim in my view. The idea of a sibling was foreign to me, and I was not reacting well. I was getting nauseous.

Then when I was 12, my mother and father announced they were pregnant. This time, I was prepared. I was conditioning myself for life with a sibling. I had to learn the concept of...*ugh*...sharing.

It was eight years ago to this day that my brother Jake was born. The transition wasn't so bad. I tell my friends and anyone who I catch listening that I'm too mature to engage in squabbles with a toddler. This isn't true, of course. My brother and I are experts at Sibling Wars. We would burn down the house if we could. But we love each other, and it is with this blog entry and three shiny, new Hot Wheels cars that I say HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAKE!

Months ago, I blogged about my favorite Jake anecdote, which involved the misadventures of an amateur tooth fairy. I wrote it in two parts and this is the second bit.