The God-Awful Bores

Happy to report that WeightWatchers has finally kicked and I lost weight this week.  Part of the reason may be stress since TootSweet had to have some cysts removed, and I went against medical advice and wisdom and did not allow the vet to dig out two probable cysts under his skin.

My reasoning is simple: If the two tumors are cancer and not seborrheic cysts, then the cancer has already spread and there is no point in subjected the dog to the procedure.  If it isn't cancer, nothing is going to happen to him by leaving the tumors there.  One has gotten smaller in size and become encapsulated, which doesn't happen with lymphoma (the most common kind of canine cancer).  Of course, it could be some other kind of cancer, but it is also a fact that standard poodles have a definite tendency to develop these cysts.  If he should have a cancer that is limited to just those two tumors, well, that will have been my mistake.

I almost never go against reasonable medical advice, but this time I did.  The Tooters is eleven years old and with the energy of a puppy, but if he has something serious, I'll know soon enough.  There are people who subject their dogs to chemotherapy and radiation in order to gain a few months of life, but the gain is for the owner, not the dog.  No animal should be subjected to chemotherapy unless you have a HUGE probability of curing the animal.  It is unlikely that pets suffer when sacrificed humanely, but you can bet your little butt they do suffer when subjected to chemotherapy, hair loss, etc.

On one of my WW message boards, with the theme of "Writers", a new guy has joined the group, a "Christian minister", no brand name given.  He has written a couple of "Devotional books", note that capital D, and he hopes we will check out his blog.  Fat, oh, so Fat chance that.  These purveyors of the word, or as they would say, the Word, have got to be the most boring people under the bright, hot sun.  They don't know it, of course, because they are so excited about having been saved that they think we haven't heard all this a million times before.  I can't think of a worse way to live than to slouch around wondering what sin you've committed today--does that extra piece of cake count, both in calories and sin?  Can I lust after Johnny Depp in my mind and get roasted in Hell for it?  It is always disquieting when someone comes up to you and claims to have foregone that chocolate fudge cake in order to support your dieting efforts.  Hey, I didn't ask for that, and if you think it puts me in your debt, you'd better think again--well, imagine the guilt trip when your figure of divinity says he sacrificed a child for you, and that child was tortured to boot.  The guilt alone would have you grovelling abjectly in the dirt, hoping against hope that your miserable, sin-ridden life will get the Big Reprieve--that being, of course, the reward for hauling around all that sinfulness from birth unto death and, in passing, making sure the word purveyors don't lose their jobs. 

Let's face it, if this guy's god was going to do him any favors, he wouldn't be fat.  He must writhe in misery at the idea of going to Hell for the sin of gluttony, poor bastard.