I’ve had Allergic Rhinitis ever since I can remember -something which was confirmed only last March. Since then I’ve undergone an Obstructive Sleep Apnea test (which was supposed to cost 30K but only cost 20K) only to find out that I don’t have OSA. Or at least, not yet.

I finally went back to Dr. Michael Sarte, the Sleep Disorder Specialist, today. I already knew that he was going to recommend a procedure called Radio Frequency Turbinoplasty. What I didn’t know until after the procedure was that it was going to cost 40K! Thank gawd I had my checkbook with me!

I will see him again after I get back from Singapore. In the meantime, I need to remember to take my four post-procedure medicines (2 oral, 2 nasal) and breathe through my nose instead of my mouth. Oh, and I actually have to learn how to blow my nose -something I’ve never done in my life (believe it or not).

From Day 1 I knew the first thing I needed to teach my new partner, Chance, was the dog-dreaded Crate. I did not waste any time. After leaving BetterDog that day, we headed to Cartimar to buy one.

Excited…The very next day, I parked my car at the office and walked a few blocks to Mom’s house to pick up my new student. We walked back to the office together and went straight to work.

After assembling the crate and several attempts to get Chance to go inside it, I realized I had to disassemble the crate again and teach her to go into an open crate first. I taught her “Inside” then “Sit”. Eventually I also tried “Inside” then “Down”.

Impatient me eventually re-assembled the crate and threw cubes of Cheese all the way in as a Lure. I used a technique called Shaping; Every time she went near the crate or stuck her head (and, eventually, her body) in it, I clicked (using a Clicker) then rewarded her with another treat.

On Training Day 3, I got Jorge to help out. Jorge is already crate-trained (believe it or not!) so I asked him to go “inside” then rewarded him with a treat every time he did. This made Chance curious and want to go inside the crate even while Jorge was in it -which was the whole point of the exercise.

Eventually I decided I wanted to be able to train Chance every day so I took her home with me. Sometime last week, I got another crate (exactly like the first one, now permanently at the back of my car) for my condo. Since I’ve been busy introducing new commands, I haven’t really been able to train her with the crate at home. However, I have stepped out of the house several times without her, leaving her inside the crate for whole afternoons.

It’s been three and a half weeks and yet I still have to either throw treats all the way to the back of the crate or gently shove her in to get her inside.

Not tonight!

Tonight, she went inside the crate after only one command. For a while I thought it was a fluke. I ran to get my Clicker and Liver -no less- as a treat. Then, I tried it again. And again. And again…clicking and giving her a reward every single time she went inside that crate!

After 25 days (May 2-May 26) of not-everyday crate-training, Chance is finally, undeniably, crate-trained!

Jorge has Corneal Ulcer on both eyes, the right eye (where I noticed the muta years back) being in worse condition. Reading up on it just now, it’s a “common” condition but could lead to blindness (the last thing I want is another blind dog!) yet curable. The doctor prescribed four [expensive] medicines with very complicated dosages. One of the eye drops even has to be administer every two hours for the first three days!

Administering eye drops or ointments on dogs is a tricky thing. You have to catch them at the right mood. For PeeWee the best time is after a bath (but it’s not like I can bathe him twice a day every day -which is how often he needs his eye ointment). In Jorge’s case, the best time -which can also be the worst time- is early in the morning when he is half asleep. Sometimes he doesn’t realize what’s happening so he allows it. Other times, since he is always grumpy when he is sleepy, I get snarled at.

We go back for a follow up consultation in two weeks. Keeping my fingers crossed until then.

Tuesday – introduced Popsi to Better Dog;
Wednesday – trained Popsi for 4 hours + Jorge for 1 hour;
Thursday – trained Popsi for 2 hours + Jorge for 1 hour;
Friday – brought Jorge to the eye doctor + visited Better Dog;
Saturday – [7am] walked Jorge at Ayala Triangle with doggie friends Ikki, Hunter, and Jacob + spent the entire day at Better Dog;
Sunday (tomorrow) – Better Dog with Popsi

I could do this every single day.

I visited Better Dog one afternoon a few weeks back. Since I was dogless that day, I play-trained both Alab (Teacher Brad’s dog) and Sheba (Teacher Elsie’s dog). That’s when I realized, in my case anyway, it’s not the trainer…it’s the dog that is the problem

Brad suggested that I get a new dog to compete with, the way a handful of them do (the next competition is next week in Cebu). But there’s no way I can take care of a third dog, especially while I’m living in a condo.

Meanwhile, I’ve been feeling sorry for Popsi -the new dog my sister once again foisted upon Mom and her grumpy old helper Minda (none of whom are even remotely fond of dogs). When anyone approaches Popsi, she crumples into a ball almost as if she would rather be swallowed by the Earth than be approached by humans. So much for being a supposed guard dog!

Because of Popsi’s fear and anxiety, I’ve been thinking of bringing her to Better Dog for assessment. I had planned to spend a few days walking her first till she got to know me (I’d met her only twice or thrice before). But after walking her for only half a block last Tuesday, impatient me decided to bring her to Better Dog that day.

I should have known that Popsi was not yet crate-trained. After trying to shove her into Jorge’s crate (which, even if she had entered freely, she apparently would not have fit anyway) and a few other comedic and not-so-smart antics we both pulled, she ended up on the passenger’s seat. Much to my surprise, she sat still and quietly throughout the entire ride -something Jorge is incapable of doing which is why he has been banished to a crate in the cargo area of my vehicle.

Popsi didn’t take the treats I gave her at Mom’s nor at Better Dog. For a while I thought she wasn’t food driven. But after we fenced her up and allowed her to calm down, she started responding to the treats and, best of all, to affection. In Jojo Isorena’s words “Matipid!”

Popsi surprised us all! Again, although she likes treats, mere affection is enough reward for her; She has a very high pack drive, very low or no prey drive, very low or no aggression (so far); She likes balls but has yet to discover what to do with a tug toy; She naturally heels and walks on a loose leash -something Jorge still hasn’t perfected in over two years!; She immediately settles on her own; Best of all, she is naturally calm-submissive. So calm-submissive, in fact, that I bet if Cesar Millan himself met her, he probably would want to have her in his pack. To quote Jojo Isorena: “So what’s her flaw?” because, so far, it appears that she has none.

I am very grateful for all the advice and help all the Better Dog instructors offered us that day.

Before heading home, we drove to Cartimar to get Popsi her own crate. Since I couldn’t leave her in the car loose and unattended, I brought her down with me while I bargained. She behaved like an absolute lady!

I spent the next two days teaching her the basic stuff: Sit, Down, Off (since she has a tendency to pounce on humans), Hand, Leave It, and, most importantly, Inside (crate-training).

I’m excited for our first sit-in class at Better Dog this weekend. And I’m excited to eventually run with her in an Agility match in the near future.

P.S.
I can’t stand the name “Popsi” (the same way I used to be ashamed to introduce Jorge as “Cholo” -which is why I changed it) so I’m thinking of a new one. Any suggestions?

I parked along the Service Road across the street right next to the foot path (a.k.a. overpass) closest to the new Annex building of the U.S. Embassy where visa renewals are now held.

Since I was about an hour early this time, I went to 7-Eleven first. When I got to the counter to pay for my drink, the clock at the counter said it was already 1156am. It wasn’t, but I didn’t know that! So I dropped everything and dashed across the street.

You don’t have to wait for 12nn, or even 1145am (as they advise), to line up. As soon as you arrive, just fall in line. The same goes for late comers. In hindsight, I could have made it to my second appointment afterall since I noticed that they still entertain people who arrive even as late as 1230pm or 1pm.

The process:
First, you line up outside the Embassy where they check and arrange all your documents. There is a tent but it covers only the first 10 people or so on the cue. So, rain or shine, it would be wise to bring an umbrella. Also, bring a Black pen otherwise you’ll end up having to buy one for Php 15 from the hawkers along the Boulevard.
As soon as you enter the very fence of the Embassy, you go through a heavy door and security. Remember cellphones are NOT allowed. And there is no depository where you can leave your cellphone.
You line up at another relatively quick cue where they check your documents again and give you a “ticket” (a.k.a. number).
Next, you walk through a small covered court where there are lots of seats and a couple of food concessionaires. If you haven’t eaten or if you need a drink, this would be a good time to go for it. There is more than enough time; Surprisingly, the prices are quite reasonable.
Lastly, you enter another heavy door, go through security again, take a seat, and wait for your number to be called. The hall is new, well decorated, and airconditioned. But the wait is looong so bring a book or magazine -especially since you have no iPad or cellphone to keep you busy; I actually fell asleep on my seat!
When it’s your turn, at the window you submit your documents -the info of which seem to be encoded into a computer. They ask you one or two questions. Mine was “How long was your longest stay [in the U.S.]?” to which I answered “Five weeks, last October.”
You are told to take a seat till your number is called again at another window. I barely even felt the seat beneath me when my number was called. This time they just scan your fingerprints then send you home.

Your passport is usually delivered to your home or business address but I opted to pick up mine at one of the accredited 2go branches. I’m waiting for a call to confirm when it will be ready.

Autumn in New York, here I come (again)!

Finally reunited with Charlie, I made my way out of Terminal 3, inevitably passing the roundabout between the airport and the Resorts World complex across the road. At the roundabout (location: Violet pin) I saw two male foreigners, holding hands, walking. I wondered what they were doing walking in a clearly non-pedestrian thoroughfare. I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked them where they were headed. “Resorts World,” one said hesitantly. I offered them a ride. More hesitation.

They finally hopped in. Both of them sat at the back row -which was fine since my passenger seat had my handbag and the backpack I traveled with. From my rear view mirror I noticed that they looked so much alike, like brothers or fraternal twins. But the holding hands I chanced upon earlier and the way both were clearly effeminate gave me an idea that they could have been gay bestfriends or lovers. Not that it really mattered.

I asked them where they were from. “Russia,” one said.  To break the ice, I mentioned that I just arrived from Boracay -not knowing if they even knew what or where Boracay is. Apparently they, too, had just arrived from Boracay. Then I gathered that they stayed in Manila for three days, Boracay for five days, and their flight back to Russia wasn’t until a few hours so they intended to kill time at Resorts World. Good idea, I thought.

When I dropped them off at the driveway of the mall, I bid them farewell and a safe flight back to Russia. Before getting off, I love how they oh so politely asked me if they should give me something for the ride, to which I answered a slightly exaggerated “Oh no!”

First Matthew from California, then the French man holding a map near Metrowalk, then these Russians…Helping out these foreigners, albeit strangers, is something I am starting to enjoy

The nurses and doctors at the Wellness Center of The Medical City, apparently, are not very used to patients who are in actual pain since people who sign up there are usually those who go for general check-ups. In short, they didn’t quite know what to do with me. Every time the attack came, I would grunt. Each nurse or doctor that witnessed it, without fail, then asked me “From 1 to 10, how bad is the pain?”.

As soon as I got back home from the overnight at the hospital, I unconsciously chose Grey’s Anatomy Season 4 from among the countless DVDs I had to catch up on (it’s been yeeears since I last watched the series; I wasn’t even sure where I’d left off). On the show, the doctors asked the patients the very same “From 1 to 10…” question several times. But what struck me was when Meredith Grey’s shrink asked her that question -obviously not pertaining to physical pain.

Then I asked myself the very same question…

“9.” That’s my answer. From 1 to 10, my lost, painful, hollow everyday feeling is a 9.

Back in high school (or college), I remember giving J eighteen Valentine’s Day greeting cards, each card for every Valentine’s Day he’d had until that point; In 1998, I gave W a personalized and personal-sized Humidor -only to learn later that he already owned several much bigger personalized Humidors.

I seriously have no Valentine’s Day memories other than those (I don’t think working at the restau counts). Tragic, if you ask me.

Just a few seconds after we’d parted I replayed what had just happened in my mind. He was wearing an oversized shirt, casual shorts, and rubber shoes that didn’t really look like those were for running. I suddenly felt guilty for not offering to just give him a ride to the Fort. So…I turned back and went along the path I pointed out to him, hoping to find him and offer him a ride. He was nowhere along Julia Vargas. Maybe he realized it was too far and decided to take a cab or changed his mind about going to the Fort altogether and went to the mall instead. Oh well.