Illogical advertising irritates me

Maybe the illogic of some advertising doesn't bother other people, but it bothers me.  I find myself distracted from the message or turned against the advertiser.

Now I don't mean deliberate illogic or fantasy.  I'm pretty sure there isn't a real Kebbler elf, or a Direct TV football fairy.  What bothers me is the presentation of a situation as realistic, that really isn't.

I don't know how many of these may be local ads. If you haven't heard of these, my apologies.

There are the Titan Auto Insurance television commercials.  There is a Titan bobble-head on the car dashboard.  If the driver has never heard of Titan Insurance, how did the bobble-head get into the car?

There is a Lasik radio ad (probably local) where a man and a woman are discussing Lasik as if he has never heard anything about it.  She has had the procedure and tells him all about it.  He even asks her about the cost.  Then he asks if they can afford it.  Sure, we can.  It now appears this is husband and wife.  So why doesn't he know anything about her surgery?

There is the billboard that advertises "Faster ER wait times".  Now how do they accomplish that?  Is there  a time distortion field in the waiting room?  Shouldn't someone who makes a living off words realized that the wait times are "Shorter", not "Faster"?

My latest irritant is a radio commercial for a baby sitter verification service.  The kids brag to Mom that the baby sitter let them watch the blocked channels.

Now - from the kids voices, they were old enough to know better than to squeal to Mom.  They know they will never get to watch blocked channels again if Mom doesn't hire this particular baby sitter.

And who gave the baby sitter the code for the parental controls?  Mom, that's who.  So who is really responsible for this transgression.  Yep, Mom. 

I have a friend who has had his fill of Flo from Progressive and the Geico gecko.  I like both of these advertising icons.  So I guess what irritates one person charms another.

But these irritate the crap out of me.

My dogs and I

A friend gave me a gift card to PetSmart for my birthday, saying "I know your dogs are your life."

I was flattered, and the gift was awesome.  Especially since I needed pill pockets for Peanut's daily medication.

And yes, my dogs are very important to me. In case you haven't visited before, I have two dogs; a 10-year old shepherd/schnauzer mix and a 3 year old shepherd/dane mix.  They are my family, my constant companions.  Until I thought about it, I didn't realize how much my life revolved around them.

We have a family vet, an orthopedic vet, and a cardiology vet.  I'm not sure it's a good thing when the people at the veterinary office recognize your voice on the phone.

I make sunrise trips to the grocery store in the summer so they can ride along before it gets too warm.  I even split up my grocery trips so I can take them both on Saturday and Sunday.  And somehow they know which days are ride along days.  They hang their heads out of the window and Angel drools all over the side of the car.

I make a quick trip home from work to change for the gym because I want to ensure they are okay.  And I want them to know that I am okay, before I leave them alone again.  I talk to them as if they can understand, and I think that some of what I say they do understand.

These are shedding dogs, so there is dog hair everywhere, regardless of how often I brush them.  No one visits my house, or rides in my car, without being warned about the hair.  You wear black at my house at your own risk.

I buy way too many treats and chews, both to reward them for good behavior and to keep them entertained while I am away at work, or trying to work at home.  There are toys and chews scattered all over the house and yard.  Walking around the house in the dark can be a challenge.

There is a loveseat facing the upstairs window looking out over our street so Peanut can watch out over her kingdom in comfort.  The loveseat is covered with the latest in fluffy comforters because Angel ate the stuffing out of both the loveseat and the previous comforter.    My sister keeps me supplied with comforters picked up at thrift shops.

The king-sized bed should have room for all three of us. Peanut curls up daintily taking up very little room.  Angel sprawls out on her side with her legs spread across the bed. I generally end up scrunched against the head board.  I wake up to a soft damp nose in my face and two dogs eager to be petted.

And I love it.

I have roof.

I spent almost all day Monday listening to the dogs bark at the roofers and the roofers hammering above my head.

And it was heavenly. 

That night it was windy and rainy.  Not that I got any of that rain.  But the nice part was, I didn't mind if I did.

Because I have roof.

The degree of relief I felt once I had a completed roof surprised me.  I hadn't realized how tense I got every time it got windy, or whenever it got cloudy.

Now I don't have to worry about the tarp blowing off.  I don't have to worry about rain damaging the structural integrity of the roof.  I don't have to worry. 

Because I have roof.

Peanut is doing great.

Well, we had our cardiology appointment last week and the vet said she has congestive heart failure.  This killed my father, so I knew the diagnosis was serious.

However, she didn't have a heart attack.  The vet believes it was something called syncope, a type of fainting.  I didn't see her lose consciousness, but maybe it was very brief.

The congestive heart failure is a worsening of the heart enlargement and arrhythmia.  Heart disease is a progressive condition.   The vet refused to quantify her life expectancy, but I read on-line that it averages about 6 months.  There are exceptions, of course.  And he put her on a new medication that supposedly doubles that.

Anyway, she is now on three pills twice a day and one pill three times a day.  One of the pills comes in a large, chewable pill. Which, of course, she won't eat without it being wrapped in a pill pocket.  I can combine some of the pills, but we are still going through 4 or 5 pill pockets a day. 

The very good news is, she is doing so much better I can hardly believe it.  She is eating again.  She is running down the stairs again.  She is anxious to go for walks.  Although I still try not to let her over exert. 

She is even starting to boss Angel around.  I never expected to be glad to hear Peanut snarl at Angel. 

For however long it lasts, I am grateful to have my princess back.