I wasn't very brave at the vet's office. I cried in the waiting room, in the exam room, and afterward while writing the check. My final goodbye to Belle included rubbing her head, telling her she was a good girl, and a kiss on the head.
On the drive home a scene popped into my mind's eye. It was like a picture in a coloring book in that the lines were simple and it was composed of only three elements. The sky was robin egg blue and the grass was crayon green. I knew the temperature was just right and the sun was somewhere in the sky. I saw Belle bounding around like she did when she was young and she would play. She was happy and no longer in pain. I felt calm afterward and gained some peace. Even though some of you will think I've definitely gone off the deep end, I felt I was allowed a glimpse of her in doggie heaven.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
RIP Belle
RIP Belle. She's our 11-year oldish Pointer/Doberman/? mix. Her legs aren't working well anymore and she's in pain. She's lost quite a bit of muscle mass and her back is somewhat bowed. It's that time when an owner makes that hard choice. The only thing making this easier is believing that she is going to see her ole pal Budderbutt who passed before her.
I can still see her sitting pretty in her run at the shelter. I walked through the door to the doggies and spied her immediately. She looked back at me and that was all it took. Yes, she was neurotic but how would you be if you had been beaten by some slob and then dropped off because you were thought of as a pain in the ass instead of a loved companion? Eventually loud noises, sudden movements, and reaching over to pet her stopped causing her to panic.
We got the submissive urination under control.....for the most part. Her first year took patience but it was worth it. Yes, she never lost the habit of sounding the alarm bark because a leaf floated by in front of the window and she had a stubborn streak. She was prone to ear infections, too.
But, she was protective and loving. She was very smart, too, and had a large vocabulary. She even figured out what we meant when we spelled certain words. When she was young she had the most beautiful gait and I used to love watching her run around the back yard like a crazy person. Now just getting up from a prone position is hard work and sometimes not a reachable goal.
I love that dog. She used to climb up on the bed with me at night and cuddle. All 80 pounds of her lying right next to me so we touched. I didn't mind that she always rudely turned her back to me. I guess it was her way of forcing me to put my arm over her.
I'm not looking forward to our 7:45 pm visit to the vet's tonight. I don't want to watch the light leave her eyes but I will be there for her. She was there for me.
I can still see her sitting pretty in her run at the shelter. I walked through the door to the doggies and spied her immediately. She looked back at me and that was all it took. Yes, she was neurotic but how would you be if you had been beaten by some slob and then dropped off because you were thought of as a pain in the ass instead of a loved companion? Eventually loud noises, sudden movements, and reaching over to pet her stopped causing her to panic.
We got the submissive urination under control.....for the most part. Her first year took patience but it was worth it. Yes, she never lost the habit of sounding the alarm bark because a leaf floated by in front of the window and she had a stubborn streak. She was prone to ear infections, too.
But, she was protective and loving. She was very smart, too, and had a large vocabulary. She even figured out what we meant when we spelled certain words. When she was young she had the most beautiful gait and I used to love watching her run around the back yard like a crazy person. Now just getting up from a prone position is hard work and sometimes not a reachable goal.
I love that dog. She used to climb up on the bed with me at night and cuddle. All 80 pounds of her lying right next to me so we touched. I didn't mind that she always rudely turned her back to me. I guess it was her way of forcing me to put my arm over her.
I'm not looking forward to our 7:45 pm visit to the vet's tonight. I don't want to watch the light leave her eyes but I will be there for her. She was there for me.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Country Music & Love
There are very few Country music songs that I will listen to all the way through. I just find the lyrics way too sappy and then I end up getting nauseous and it just isn't pretty.
It's not that these people can't sing. I think some of these artists have the most beautiful voices. It's not that the musicians lack talent. There is no hiding behind electro-pseudo-techno machinations. It's the lyrics. And the whining.
Sometimes love stinks. Sometimes love is grand. The verdict is out on love as a whole and that is why there are so many songs about it, people have killed themselves over it, and some have killed others because of it. Remember the one hit wonder by Haddaway, "What is Love?"?
Maybe that is why, if in the mood, I can enjoy listening to Johnny Cash. He didn't whine. I don't mind the twang. Having lived in Oklahoma and Texas, I find it endearing.
Maybe this isn't about Country music. Maybe this is really about love.
It's not that these people can't sing. I think some of these artists have the most beautiful voices. It's not that the musicians lack talent. There is no hiding behind electro-pseudo-techno machinations. It's the lyrics. And the whining.
Sometimes love stinks. Sometimes love is grand. The verdict is out on love as a whole and that is why there are so many songs about it, people have killed themselves over it, and some have killed others because of it. Remember the one hit wonder by Haddaway, "What is Love?"?
Maybe that is why, if in the mood, I can enjoy listening to Johnny Cash. He didn't whine. I don't mind the twang. Having lived in Oklahoma and Texas, I find it endearing.
Maybe this isn't about Country music. Maybe this is really about love.
The Dog Gauge
On this New Year's Day, 2011, I found myself really looking at my two dogs.
Belle, who is somewhere around 10 or 11, had a very bad inner ear infection that caused Bell's Palsy on her left side. She's had it for a little over a month now. While she still can't blink her left eye, it is now moving in synch with her right, her inner lid functions normally, and she is able to move her left ear a little. The left side of her mouth still droops, though, and we administer drops in her left eye a couple of times a day to keep it moist. Her pretty brown muzzle is white with age. Even though she still suffers from deterioration in her back,this morning she sped out the back door and ran the length of the back yard.
Nigel, who will be 7 this February, also has white on his muzzle where it used to be all black. He has become quite the curmudgeon, too. Being part Chow he was always opinionated, but now when I look at him I see an old man standing on his front porch in plaid pants hiked up to just under his chest waving a fist in the air at the neighborhood kids.
My dog's lives represent a timeline. What was I doing when they were young? What was I doing when we only had Belle? How about when Nigel was added to the clan? How have things changed now that we all are older?
These two also are an example of no matter how we sometimes would like the clock to stop and things to never change, time forces change to happen. It is the way the world was devised, for better or for worse.
One time, when I was around 12 years old, I was a very upset little girl crying during a family gathering while seated at our dining room table. I was trying so desperately to move from one phase of my life and into the new one and it was so confusing at times. Some of my extended family was embarrassed by the emotion and walked away. I can remember my father standing at the head of the table holding on to the back of one of the chairs looking like he was so lost as to how to help me with the pain. All at once, my grandmother walked into the room, sized up the situation, and said, "Nancy, it won't always be this way." She then proceeded to gather up my hurt and pain and replace it with peace and calm.
No matter whether change charges at us head on or creeps up from behind, we cannot stop it from happening. All we have to do is look at our dogs to see that.
Belle, who is somewhere around 10 or 11, had a very bad inner ear infection that caused Bell's Palsy on her left side. She's had it for a little over a month now. While she still can't blink her left eye, it is now moving in synch with her right, her inner lid functions normally, and she is able to move her left ear a little. The left side of her mouth still droops, though, and we administer drops in her left eye a couple of times a day to keep it moist. Her pretty brown muzzle is white with age. Even though she still suffers from deterioration in her back,this morning she sped out the back door and ran the length of the back yard.
Nigel, who will be 7 this February, also has white on his muzzle where it used to be all black. He has become quite the curmudgeon, too. Being part Chow he was always opinionated, but now when I look at him I see an old man standing on his front porch in plaid pants hiked up to just under his chest waving a fist in the air at the neighborhood kids.
My dog's lives represent a timeline. What was I doing when they were young? What was I doing when we only had Belle? How about when Nigel was added to the clan? How have things changed now that we all are older?
These two also are an example of no matter how we sometimes would like the clock to stop and things to never change, time forces change to happen. It is the way the world was devised, for better or for worse.
One time, when I was around 12 years old, I was a very upset little girl crying during a family gathering while seated at our dining room table. I was trying so desperately to move from one phase of my life and into the new one and it was so confusing at times. Some of my extended family was embarrassed by the emotion and walked away. I can remember my father standing at the head of the table holding on to the back of one of the chairs looking like he was so lost as to how to help me with the pain. All at once, my grandmother walked into the room, sized up the situation, and said, "Nancy, it won't always be this way." She then proceeded to gather up my hurt and pain and replace it with peace and calm.
No matter whether change charges at us head on or creeps up from behind, we cannot stop it from happening. All we have to do is look at our dogs to see that.
Thanksgiving Eve
As I sit in front of my computer monitor on the eve of Thanksgiving, I want to say that I am thankful that I am alive. There were two pivotal points in my life within the past 8 years in which dying was a real possiblity.
In the Fall of 2004 in the examination room, my primary care doctor could have not continued to listen to me after I pointed my finger at him and told him he had to figure out what was wrong with me and that I didn't care what the results of the tests were. I could not continue my life the way it was. Unbeknownst to everyone, the cancer was growing front to back and starting to infiltrate bone. My thyroid was riddled with it and because of that I was gaining weight, my hair was falling out, my skin was a mess, I slept through my weekends, and was in a brain fog. He ordered an ultrasound and voila!
Last year around this time I could have believed my original endocrinologist that the cancer was not growing even though the annual testing said otherwise. It could have multiplied past the 12 lymph nodes removed in May of this year and become inoperable. My new endocrinologist had it right. And so did the surgeon.
In the Fall of 2004 in the examination room, my primary care doctor could have not continued to listen to me after I pointed my finger at him and told him he had to figure out what was wrong with me and that I didn't care what the results of the tests were. I could not continue my life the way it was. Unbeknownst to everyone, the cancer was growing front to back and starting to infiltrate bone. My thyroid was riddled with it and because of that I was gaining weight, my hair was falling out, my skin was a mess, I slept through my weekends, and was in a brain fog. He ordered an ultrasound and voila!
Last year around this time I could have believed my original endocrinologist that the cancer was not growing even though the annual testing said otherwise. It could have multiplied past the 12 lymph nodes removed in May of this year and become inoperable. My new endocrinologist had it right. And so did the surgeon.
Cop Cars and Strobe Lights
I woke up at 2:30 this morning to strobe lights flashing through the blinds and lighting up the bedroom like a dance club. At first I thought there was something wrong with my eyes but when blinking didn't stop it, I woke up enough to realize they were police strobes from more than a couple police cars up and down my street. I guess someone's party got a little too raucous and someone else called the cops. There was a steady stream of young adults laughing and talking loudly as they walked along the street to get in their cars to leave.
I hang my head in shame as I am now forced to admit my street is like a librarian - looks quiet but wait until it loses the glasses and lets it's hair down.
I hang my head in shame as I am now forced to admit my street is like a librarian - looks quiet but wait until it loses the glasses and lets it's hair down.
Do I Really Look Like a Hooker?
The other day a guy driving down one of the main roads near our house mistook me for a hooker. All I was trying to do was look around the parked cars to see when there was a break in traffic so that I could cross the street. Maybe I looked too....expectant? I just wanted to get my prescription that was ready for pick-up at CVS. Jamie says it was the red shirt I had on. I've never heard that hookers like to wear the color red but apparently it makes them stand out.
This guy was talking on his cell phone, driving, and looking at me. All of a sudden he slowed down, put his blinker on and started pulling over right near where I was standing. My first thought was, "Why is he pulling over? This is a one way street and he would be driving the wrong way." It was then that my brain registered that he had "that look". Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You guys reading this probably practiced it in the mirror when you hit puberty. The girls practiced it on each other before heading out to the Jr. High dance. As we got older and more experienced, it just came naturally. When I was in my late teens, very late teens, and someone in college would give me the look, the intensity of it would sometimes be so intimidating it would have the opposite effect on me and I would feel the need to turn tail and run instead of move closer.
I quickly looked left and right again and was extremely relieved to find the coast was clear for me to cross the street. The guy in the car seemed surprised by my behavior. I wasn't following the script! And here he thought he had scored. This one looks healthy!
I'm still not sure how I should feel about this. It's rather insulting. At the same time, I have a niggling voice in the back of my head saying I should take it as a compliment of sorts. It makes my brain catch on fire and smoke if I think too hard about it. What do you think?
This guy was talking on his cell phone, driving, and looking at me. All of a sudden he slowed down, put his blinker on and started pulling over right near where I was standing. My first thought was, "Why is he pulling over? This is a one way street and he would be driving the wrong way." It was then that my brain registered that he had "that look". Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You guys reading this probably practiced it in the mirror when you hit puberty. The girls practiced it on each other before heading out to the Jr. High dance. As we got older and more experienced, it just came naturally. When I was in my late teens, very late teens, and someone in college would give me the look, the intensity of it would sometimes be so intimidating it would have the opposite effect on me and I would feel the need to turn tail and run instead of move closer.
I quickly looked left and right again and was extremely relieved to find the coast was clear for me to cross the street. The guy in the car seemed surprised by my behavior. I wasn't following the script! And here he thought he had scored. This one looks healthy!
I'm still not sure how I should feel about this. It's rather insulting. At the same time, I have a niggling voice in the back of my head saying I should take it as a compliment of sorts. It makes my brain catch on fire and smoke if I think too hard about it. What do you think?
Shopping Carts
Yesterday I took my lunch hour to go to PetSmart for dog and cat food. I did this so that it wouldn't be part of the one hundred chores already lined up for this weekend. Even though the staple of the critters' diet is dry, we supplement it with canned. I really dislike shopping so when I take the time to do this I purchase enough to last a couple of weeks. Since I have to check the ash content on the cans for the cats and Nigel gets itchy from certain brands, it does end up taking a bit of time to accomplish this.
The checkers at the registers may put on a happy face when I show up in their queue, but they only do that because they get paid to act that way. If anyone gets in line behind me, they aren't required to act happy. Sometimes they don't even try to act polite. Some are so annoyed that they have to wait their turn for service they will stand right on top of me making their physical presence known while their purse bangs into me...accidentally, of course. I have had mothers push their kids up against me. Notice my examples if this childish behavior are all women? A man may be annoyed but I not once had one act in a passive-aggressive way. He will either stand there with the patience of Job yet again suffering because of a woman or he will be stone faced not wanting to upset the apple cart no matter how steamed he is feeling. Yet again another difference between the sexes.
I had finally checked out, made it to my car, and noticed something odd while setting the bags full of cans in my open trunk. There was a woman walking behind an empty cart in a meandering fashion. I watched her for a couple of seconds as she walked between cars looking around and it hit me that she was looking for one of those parking lot shopping cart depositories.
I always feel sorry for the person responsible for rounding the carts up and returning them to the store. The carts are either slammed in there every which way or they are lined up linked together 5 feet past the end of the enclosure. This is a sucky job especially when the weather is crap so I always properly take care of my cart.
As I finish loading the trunk I'm thinking to myself that sooner or later Miss Brilliant will realize that these cart kiosks are few and far between and since she is so close to the store anyway it would behoove her to just take a few more steps and take it back to the building. I close my trunk and start back to the store to return my cart. Half way there I see an empty cart sitting at the end of a car. I don't see anyone near it so I figure the person is in the last throws of their shopping experience probably knee deep in their car arranging their goods.
I've already checked my watch a thousand times to make sure I won't be late getting back to work. I have two more rows of cars left when I hear someone call, "Ma'am!" Guess who it was.
If she had been using crutches, in a wheelchair, or a little old lady or man, I would have said yes when she popped out from between cars asking in the most sickly sweet manipulative way my teeth hurt if I am taking my cart back to the store would I take her cart back for her, too. I yelled over my shoulder that I was late for work and kept walking.
Was she just hiding waiting for someone to walk by? The time it took to do that she could have returned the cart herself and been on her way. Call me a bitch, but that kind of behavior does not warrant a reward. I am not required to complete her tasks nor do I feel any guilt over it.
Believe it or not, this is the second time a woman has asked this of me. The first time I played the martyr and was pissed at myself for it. This time I did what I felt was right.
Isn't it amazing that as I crossed the threshold from store back to parking lot she and I passed each other as she was walking her cart back to it's home? Now....how hard was that?
The checkers at the registers may put on a happy face when I show up in their queue, but they only do that because they get paid to act that way. If anyone gets in line behind me, they aren't required to act happy. Sometimes they don't even try to act polite. Some are so annoyed that they have to wait their turn for service they will stand right on top of me making their physical presence known while their purse bangs into me...accidentally, of course. I have had mothers push their kids up against me. Notice my examples if this childish behavior are all women? A man may be annoyed but I not once had one act in a passive-aggressive way. He will either stand there with the patience of Job yet again suffering because of a woman or he will be stone faced not wanting to upset the apple cart no matter how steamed he is feeling. Yet again another difference between the sexes.
I had finally checked out, made it to my car, and noticed something odd while setting the bags full of cans in my open trunk. There was a woman walking behind an empty cart in a meandering fashion. I watched her for a couple of seconds as she walked between cars looking around and it hit me that she was looking for one of those parking lot shopping cart depositories.
I always feel sorry for the person responsible for rounding the carts up and returning them to the store. The carts are either slammed in there every which way or they are lined up linked together 5 feet past the end of the enclosure. This is a sucky job especially when the weather is crap so I always properly take care of my cart.
As I finish loading the trunk I'm thinking to myself that sooner or later Miss Brilliant will realize that these cart kiosks are few and far between and since she is so close to the store anyway it would behoove her to just take a few more steps and take it back to the building. I close my trunk and start back to the store to return my cart. Half way there I see an empty cart sitting at the end of a car. I don't see anyone near it so I figure the person is in the last throws of their shopping experience probably knee deep in their car arranging their goods.
I've already checked my watch a thousand times to make sure I won't be late getting back to work. I have two more rows of cars left when I hear someone call, "Ma'am!" Guess who it was.
If she had been using crutches, in a wheelchair, or a little old lady or man, I would have said yes when she popped out from between cars asking in the most sickly sweet manipulative way my teeth hurt if I am taking my cart back to the store would I take her cart back for her, too. I yelled over my shoulder that I was late for work and kept walking.
Was she just hiding waiting for someone to walk by? The time it took to do that she could have returned the cart herself and been on her way. Call me a bitch, but that kind of behavior does not warrant a reward. I am not required to complete her tasks nor do I feel any guilt over it.
Believe it or not, this is the second time a woman has asked this of me. The first time I played the martyr and was pissed at myself for it. This time I did what I felt was right.
Isn't it amazing that as I crossed the threshold from store back to parking lot she and I passed each other as she was walking her cart back to it's home? Now....how hard was that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)