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The good news is there are as many vets in my neighborhood as there are churches on a Midwestern block. It visited several that didn't want me to see the back room -- always a red flag. I saw other facilities that said that the dogs didn't stay outside in kennels only to walk around the building and see small dogs shivering in the cold on concrete with no blankets or water. When I went back in to ask the answers were:
"We just took those out while we clean their cage." (But she had already told me they cleaned the cages in the mornings)
"What are you doing walking around the building?"
"Oh you weren't supposed to see that."
Anyway, I finally found one. They looked like a pet adoption center when I walked in. Cats and dogs were roaming around. Turns out, most of them did need homes. There was a sign that said, "No animal is turned away. However, if you are rude to our staff we will ask you to sit in the car until we are finished and you WON'T get a treat." They had scales in every room so they didn't have to take you pet away even to weigh him. Best of all they showed me the WHOLE place. They said if they did have to do something in the backroom, as long as it wasn't an operation, I was welcome to go anywhere the doc went. This was re-assuring.
No "assistants" did expressions. Assistants have no training other than what a specific doctor trains them to do. Some docs are better than others with their training and it is up to their word of honor that it took place. A technician on the other hand, goes to school or serves a long internship and are tested by the state when it is completed.
The place was spotless with all sorts of people running around. In the other places there were usually only a few employees: one person at the desk, one person assisting and one doctor. So this place that I switched to had 2 people at the desk, three technicians, and 2 doctors. That's there normal staff for the weekdays. Love it! No wonder it was so clean.
Stubby got expressed and though he didn't like it, seemed cheerful once he got home. Stewy cried bloody murder while he got his nails cut, but then Stubby went and stood next to him. As long as he could see Stubbs, he calmed down. If Stubby moved out of his line of vision he was frantic. So now he is home and happy too. His ears are back to their normal color (they turn red when he is stressed out).
Mom is back to normal now too. The best part was that the new place was the same price as the old place.
There was one other place I really liked. They played classical music, had a lot of docs on staff, and asked about the dogs when I asked questions about them. They asked about the dogs stress levels and diet. I was impressed. They said they offered doggy massages after each visit. Turns out the were sky high though. I opted for massaging them myself and paying less.
I have food.
I HAVE FOOD!
This is really cool because there have been some days when I haven’t.
I have lots of food.
I have chocolate cake with coconut and chocolate frosting, whole wheat pasta with mushrooms and fresh organic herbs and olive oil. I put salsa on top cause I ran out of money for spat sauce and/or ingredients to make it. I also made tons of hummus. I love hummus. It fills me up, is tasty and good for me. I added olives to one batch and spinach to another. I also divided out the herbs to be used on top of the soups that I got on sale.
Not only that, but I got soy milk. I’ve been w/o soy milk for a while. I also got two bottles of pomegranate juice cause it was buy one get one free and that was the only way I can afford that stuff. I feel so rich right now! And then the MasterCard bill comes in with my dentist bill over $200 and my brake pads for over $200, and I see I am down to 10 pills and I have to reorder them. I also have a shrink appointment coming up for $35 and that’s after insurance pays the $75! I only see her for 15 minutes tops. Sort of a rip off, but I need that support system.
The next bill to come in will be my Discover bill. It is going to be a whopping one too. Life comes at me fast sometimes….and sometimes it doesn’t. I guess in the end it all balances out. And I have food!!!
The moment right now is good.
Hope all is well with each of you.
Now that I am done with my pity party, I would like to say that it takes guts to tell someone who is really into you that it ain't gonna happen.
Dating is all about finding out if there may be enough compatibility for something long term. If it isn't there it isn't there and then best thing to do is be honest and up-front about it. I am still wondering what "open-minded Christian" means if it doesn't mean accepting other people's faith, but that may remain a mystery for sometime to come.
The point is, he closed his eyes and imagined long-term and I wasn't it.
I hope he (and I) find the people we are compatible with and I know there is someone out there that I won't have to squeeze into a hole for.
One that is marked "Christian" or "Mainstream." But I am neither. Instead I am sad. Not because of who I am but that the world is less tolerant -- and ultimately, less like the Jesus of the gospels.
Todd told me he can't have a long term relationship with me because of my religion. He said he could not see him explaining to his children that I am Wiccan. I countered with how I love Jesus, but I know better. Just as it takes more than love to have a marriage, it takes more than love to have religion. It's true I do love Jesus and, ironically, I will pray to him for strength as my dear boyfriend goes to his church group with a six pack of beer to socialize.
I know that I can't take the Wicca out of me. I wouldn't be me without it. Yes, I can play with lizards and care for spiders. Yes I can talk to the land and yes, I bow my head to other gods and goddesses recognizing that they are all one in the end and because of this, he cannot accept me. But it is the holy spirit that acts between us still. That connection of spirit that is holy that makes it all happen. I tried to explain this.
Why is it that we Wiccans can accept Christians IN CHRIST'S LOVE but they can't accept us Pagans? Why must it always be Christians and Pagans instead of just people living in love and light which in the end is God? Wasn't this Jesus's message anyway? Didn't he go among the gentiles and declare them his children as well?
I am saddened most of all that Todd feels that it is necessary to shield his children from a different way of worship than his mainstream one. This could be an opportunity for them to learn how to respect a different belief system (though I would argue it is more alike than different) and in other words: TOLERANCE. He told me on the first date how much he hated Bible-thumpers and Christians that were dogmatic. He said he liked Northpoint because they weren't like that. They welcomed all and were practical with the preaching. Well....
I would appreciate some virtual hugs about now. My heart hurts.
2. Got a new one to beat...500 by the end of the year.
3. I got sick and now I have no voice, but I feel a lot better than I did a day ago. Maybe this will pass quickly. It only hurts now if I try to talk.
4. Yes, yes and yes. The new B&N Nook is out to compete with the Kindle. Most of what you will see on the internet about the "comparison" is an article funded by B&N. So here's the real low down. The Nook is better because it holds more and you get more free stuff. You can loan your ebooks out to friends and you don't have to have a monthly subscription fee as far as I can see. The Kindle is better in that the batter stays charged longer when unplugged (about 5 days actually). This is a more comprehensive look at the product and this wasn't a Barnes & Noble sponsored ad:
http://www.wired.com/gadgetlab/2009/1
What will this do to bookstores and booksellers. Don't know. You will be able to buy the Nook at B&N, though. You can actually see what you are buying before plunking down the $. That is a good thing in my mind.
Take for example business. They set high goals. I think to myself, “I will do it!” Everyone else says, “There’s no fucking way.” And then amazingly I do it. I make or break a record. I am rewarded. But not all of life is business.
Sometimes the truth of a situation is so big it can't be ignored, but that is the chic part of my brain talking. The guy part of my brain says, "Well, that's that. I should go shooting, or swimming or something to clear my head." And by "clearing my head" I mean forgetting about it.
It's not like I don't have bigger unrealistic goals to go focus on!
Love and light, Baby!
Forgiveness.
And the point that I am striving for stays static no matter who comes in my life and who leaves it.
And then I gather things for work, and before dashing out the door laugh at Cohen who introduces one of his songs:
"It's been a long time since I stood on the stage in London. It was about 14-15 years ago.
I was 60.
Just a kid with a crazy dream.
Ever since then I've taken a lot of Prozac, Paxel, Wellbutrine, Efector, Ridlin...I've also studied well into the deep philosophies of religion, but cheerfulness kept coming through."
Yeah...Leonard, there is still a crack in everything.
I don't like to shop like a girl/woman. I would rather [include your most obscene thought here] than go from store to store around and around rack by rack to look for the perfect anything. My idea of shopping is go in, look at the rack in my size, deem everything unworthy of my body, my sweat (cost too much), then look at a size down only to declare it is humanly impossible to look sexy while squeezed into a size so small I have to breathe like a synchronized swimmer. Plus the whole reason to wear such a get up is to be able to take it off (or at least have easy access to fun body parts) and that is impossible in said outfit.
If I get do see one in my real size then I see rolls and bulges and that makes me feel most unsexy. There was only one place that is tailored to a body such as mine: The Lingerie Mart and it hadn't let me down in the 3 years after I discovered it. You can look it up on line, but basically it is a huge warehouse where you walk in and state your desire, a bit of small talk and out comes your outfit, your credit card and you are done.
Example from 1st year:
"I want to be slutty Barbie."
"With the wig?"
"How much is the wig?"
"$5."
"Yeah, with the wig."
"Blue or green dress?"
"Blue."
"Ok. Here you go. This one will fit you mam."
He wisely didn't ask for a size. I disappeared into a fitting room and emerged to have the sleazy sales guy scope me out.
"That is hot. You make an excellent slut in that. The wig makes it good. The shoes (pulled out a pair in my size) would make it perfect. Every man would want to jump you in that outfit and these shoes."
"I'LL TAKE THE SHOES!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Thank you mam. That will be $30.00 for barbie dress, $5 for wig, and $60.00 for shoes. With tax, total is $101.65"
"Great," I say, "My mortgage company will totally understand. Why the collector will probably want to do me so badly he'll just clear the whole loan!"
This year, though, the mart totally let me down. They only had last year's rejects and all in plastic they called vinyl. It was totally lame and even though they were asking ONLY $9.99, they were too disgusting for me to wear. And no naughty nurse.
So I shopped like a girl/woman.
I went to Party City. No naughty nurse outfit worth the $35 so tried on an outfit to look like Wednesday Adams. She's cool, right? As I sucked air and gasped to the sales clerk I might need a medium instead of the child's small she gave me, she assured me I was wearing a woman's small and added in a very unsympathetic tone that it only came in small.
I disrobed and went to the mall feeling so typical female I felt I should go get my nails done and declare pink my favorite color. As a side note - you know the economy is bad when you can pull through a parking spot and not have to wait in line anywhere.
I went to Spensor's first and looked at the walls where the Halloween outfits hung. No dirty school girls outfits. The naughty nurse one that I wanted only came in 2X and XS so that was out.
I went to Hot Topic next, stepped in and saw slut-wear right away. My mood became uplifted immediately. Plus -- and you've got to love this -- everything is hanging on the walls so there are no racks to go around. I pointed to the nurse outfit made for me. Sure enough it looked exactly how I wanted it to. Of course, it was a little pricier than the mart, but my mortgage company will understand, right?
He said: I want you to you don't have to worry about me fucking you for what you look like.
He's a funny one, that one!
10. How’s the angry makeup sex going to be?
9. I need a new girlfriend, one who doesn’t fight with me.
8. What fight? I tune it out.
7. I am really mad right now. But I will apologize tomorrow.
6. Am I understanding what she’s asking for?
5. How can I get to the real problem? Because what we’re fighting about usually isn’t what the real problem is. Also, if the fight starts with ‘You always…,’ that’s a big problem! Always is a problem word.
4. I get really negative about our relationship. Even if it’s a small fight, I think it’s the end of the relationship. I don’t like to fight. It freaks me out.
3. I think of ways to undermine her argument so that I win.
2. How do I get out of this? Because no one wants to admit they were wrong.
1. I’m not going to apologize. I’m not big on apologies. I like when she stands up for what she thinks and keeps things logical. I like to argue it out so we both get our points heard. And after we’ve made our points, why apologize.
I had the book, “Hungry,” in my hand when he unexpectedly passed by and brings back coffee I couldn’t afford (thank the gods the Starbucks employees understand poverty and gives me drinks for free), pulls up a chair and lights his jumbo ass cigar which makes me question his sexual preferences as he puckers his lips around it. He looks at the picture of the anorexic Crystal Renn.
“Hey,” puff puff, “who’s that?”
“It’s a model. She got an early jump in her career by landing a modeling job with Calvin Klein for their perfume and she was only 15 I think when she got it. Anyway, she had to lose a bunch of weight for the shoot and so she did, but had anorexia and lost her hair, got heart …”
“Oh, yeah,” puff puff, “I thought I recognized her. She was a bobble head babe.”
“A what?”
“A bobble head babe. They lose so much weight that they look like a bobble head. The body looks like a starving child’s while the head stays the same size…thus producing the image. I personally don’t like bobble head babes. I like women with real boobs, big ass, and a little tummy. I don’t want to eat salad every time I decide to chow down and I want to share my chocolate.”
“TM, where have you been my entire life?” I gush.
“With Sophie,” puff, sip, puff, “I tell you, when we met I was so immature. I thought I had to have eye candy on my arm to look good.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Sophie,” all serious no puffing or sipping. “I found her on the scales at three in the morning. She was 32 and is 5’3” and was crying because the scales said 125.”
I was quiet because I could totally relate to her anguish.
“That’s a NORMAL size, for fuck’s sake. I told her I didn’t care if she was a size 16 I would love her anyway….and I would have. I suddenly saw this waif of a woman and knew I was partially responsible for it. I couldn’t stand the fact that I was hurting someone I loved by being such a dick.”
“What size is she now?”
“12.”
“That’s the size Marilyn Monroe was. It is also the size that Crystal Renn is now that she is eating again and healthy. But when I am a size 12, I….”
And here I pause. My good friends know the kind of crazy things I do when I reach this level of obesity. TM is not THAT good of a friend.
“….don’t like it and feel like I am a hideous monster.”
“Well, bobble head babe, you also won’t like it if your heart gives out. I say most of that attitude comes from a lack of trust that people will love you for who you are and not what you look like.”
“I completely agree.”
“So,” shrug, smaller puff, “get over yourself.”
“When are you going to stop smoking?”
“I’m actually quitting,” sip sip. “Sophie doesn’t allow me to smoke in the house or car or at work anymore. So I have two cigars a day now. I’m going to stop smoking after work next Friday. That’s our 14th anniversary.”
“Good job!”
“Yeah, tell that to Sophie. I’m the one that has had it easy. She’s the one that has had to put up with me.”
“Well, that goes without saying,” I smile. “I meant about quitting smoking.”
“Oh. Thanks. You are just bitter that Sophie isn‘t a lesbian.”
“So true,” I agree. “I totally need a good wife like her.”
“Can’t have her,” stubs out cigar. “I also know the value of having someone who loves me. I’m not an idiot guy who goes around looking for the next best thing, when I go home to the best in the world.”
“Stop! You share your chocolate and now are saying nice things about your wife…God, I am so turned on!”
He laughs. Then excuses himself to buy some overpriced chocolate for his size 12. Why can’t more men be like that? Of course, I would be upset if anyone I knew bought me fattening food in my current mental state. Todd brought me ice cream and I ate the whole thing hating myself every moment. Still, it would be nice to know I am loved for who I am, and not fucked for what I look like.
Sophie is one lucky bitch, I think as I look at the anorexic girl looking out at me and also immediately think, “Why can’t I look more like her?” I do like it when my hip bones and rib cage stick out. I’m so far from that right now! Plus I am in the hate mode because I ate sugar last week…a lot of it. I was totally depressed because someone reminded me of the saddest day of my life thus far. He said, “Remember when Aaron told you he didn’t love you?” Like I would ever forget! I hit mute on the phone while I remembered, crying despite it all.
If only I could starve away all that sadness, I would be the biggest bobble head babe you ever saw!
"Well, right now we are just telling people to wash their hands and stuff," Boss 1
"Still this makes the 3rd one out this week!" Boss 2
"Well, I don't want everyone to panic and all you have to say is swine flu and everyone thinks that they will get it and die." Boss 3
"I think we should say something," Boss 1
"Well, even if we do, what are we going to say? Stay at home everyone has swine flu? I mean we take money that has been sneezed on, cups from people too sick to come to work so they thought they would come out for a book to read while they recouped and..." Boss 3
"and it is good business..." Boss 2
"I guess," Boss 1, "but I am not going to go out and eat anywhere for a while. If we have it think of the restaurant staffs. They always get sick first and stay sick longest and most don't have sick time."
I left the area.
So tonight I am fixing a big pot of the spiciest chili. I couldn't found grass fed beef so I had to use the veggie crumbles. Isn't it strange they don't have to tell you what they feed the animals you eat? Hmm...
Anyway, the best way I know to stay germ free is to eat hot food, wash my hands (keeping them away from my face as much as I can) and sleep well. I survived last winter's sick seasons just fine with hot jelly and hot chili and two warm and toasty dogs. I'm glad I don't have to work the next couple of days!
Did you see the tears on my face
The family's broken apart
And, looking in my children's eyes
I told them she is going away
While I continue to stay
O, Mary, did you follow the dancer
When you died last night
Did you sing when you went
Did he stick around for the night
Like some Hollywood angle
To show you some Universal light?
Peter and Paul aren't saying a whole lot
And I am wanting to give love, not
Tell these babies of mine I failed
Not fuck up their lives
Like I fucked up my life
What if they blame me that my X-wife's
New life doesn't include me?
Mary, it seems we are spinning around
Mary, the planets still float in the sky
And, Mary, the war is never done
As proof Vera Lynn is number one
It seems like we went through this before
And like you found the key to the exit door
So why, Mary, can you tell me why
Could you not have waited to die?
And Laura sits in her home
Lighting candles and breathing Ommm
She deserves so much love
And I can't pick up the phone
Or call her so she isn't alone
And isolated in the here and now
Stretched too thin, I know
She'll be ok
And give to me what she can
Yeah, Mary, Laura
Laura
Will understand
And then I wasn’t a child anymore.
Oh I used to burn like a flame when I was young; and like so many fires that consume, found in the end that I ended up right back where I started burning. I couldn’t drive fast enough to get away, couldn’t drink enough to escape, couldn’t get high enough to forget, couldn’t be wise enough to remember (no matter how many books I consumed). I couldn’t hate hard enough to kill my enemies, couldn’t love good enough to keep a lover.
And oh did I try when I was younger.
And then I thought as a flame, I’d rather be water instead.
I had never wanted an ordinary life; as fire, I sure didn’t have one. (I should write a book.) But I looked to the older generation and saw stability. I look at my friends, and saw them happy. I looked within and saw such longing, I burned passion into a domestic life and settled like water in a lake. Normal had its perks. I loved the land. I loved the band on my left hand. I enjoyed being a wife and for a while it was everything as a lake should be. But it became an unbalanced ecosystem and after several years became stagnant and unhealthy. Eventually it was only a puddle and dried up.
And I felt myself disappear.
And that was early adulthood.
The Dali Lama once was asked about a very specific tenant of Buddhism and answered that he had no idea. Everyone one was shocked.
He said, “I am but a simple monk and I am afraid I have not gotten that complicated or far in Buddhism. But you keep working on it and let me know what the answer is because it does seem like a puzzler.” With that he laughed and laughed.
And now you stand at my door and ask me what I think about life and love; about where I am going. And the fact I am not really sure seems to shock you. I am but a simple child of the God and I am afraid that I have not gotten that complicated or that far into life and love. But you keep working on it and let me know what the answer is because it does seem like a puzzler.
And, now in middle age, in the element of air…I laugh and laugh.
Seriously, plastic doesn’t break down…ever. I don’t really bitch about the little stuff that fills the landfills, but has a use….like diapers and maxi pads. Those are useful and who wants to go back to the old days except for the utterly insane or the desperately poor? (This is not the time to point out the hypocrisy of my selective earth centric consciousness which has no bounds. I am on a rant!) But straws…
Straws do not make the beverage more sanitary. Your drink comes from a cup that has been dubious sanitized by Hosea who just came from fertilizing the rich folks yard in Alpharetta or Buckhead.* The liquid has picked up all contaminates and is present whether you slurped it from the glass or sucked it from a straw. Besides the actual soft drink is probably worse than Hosea’s hands so get over it. The glass re-usable and doesn’t go into the landfill until after lots of recycling. Even if you get your chemical drink to go, that’s usually cardboard and DOES break down. So just sip the thing and be happy you are an American who can afford to buy a cup of chemicals for more than the price of a 2 liter of the same stuff in the grocery store.
But this is really not about straws, though they piss the hell out of me worse than plastic wrap.
I want to talk about narcissistic men.
I have shared my distain about straws to various men and have been even more specific in my arguments that they will be the destruction of civilization, increase global warming and produce cancer. Most guys wisely chose to forego straws in order to avoid hearing the long sermon again.
Todd was not spared this save-your-soul-give-up-your-straw message.
Recently, we went to Moe’s (did you hear “Welcome to Moe’s!” in your head when you read that?). We were both starved and it was an extremely generous for him to do given the fact we had little time and he was seeing me in daylight (a whole different post).
Happily I looked for a booth for the two of us to share in the blessed food of Moe’s (hear it again?) only to notice a dirty 4-top and a booth big enough for a football team to sit in. I headed for the big booth.
Todd told me he would prefer not to sit there cause it was kind of like the straw. I instantly agreed. He was totally right. It was way excessive for two people who could easily sit their asses down on the hard chairs in the center of the restaurant. I was headed toward these, but again, my man steered me to the side and lo and behold there was a clean booth hidden behind a sign warning of wet floors.
Contentedly I sat down, but as I was sitting there, I noticed the kind heart man was actually a bitch who had a straw in his glass. I skipped the big booth because I didn’t want to be excessive. He even KNEW enough of my outrage with straws to use it against me to get his way…and yet…here he was with his straw. I was pissed, but it is hard to be mad when you have a burrito as bigger than any…thing…that you’ve seen waiting to be swallowed. And swallow I did with joy.
But it still bugged me.
When I got home I read through the co-dependent check-list and found that I was violating the step: “Letting your feelings be known. Understanding that you have the right to feel and the right to express those emotions.”
This is not me. I avoid confrontation like I do anyone with herpes (quiet internal laughter at joke with specific individuals in mind), and so when Todd and I talked later on I brought it up.
Now I am not writing all of this about the straw, nor about the fact that I was mad that Todd was being excessive while telling me not to be. No, no….remember this is about the SELF-CENTERED man.
I am writing this because of his reaction to all of this. He said (and I quote cause it is still swishing in the brain):
“I see your point about my analogy and understand how you could be mad over that. I should have thought of a different analogy.”
“No,” I answered. “You shouldn’t have had a fucking straw!”
He knew what I meant. He laughed knowing that I had just called his bullshit and at that point what he was probably thinking was, “I shouldn’t have said that last bit out loud.”
Men.
Thinking of it all in perspective, one could say I am grasping at…well…straws, though.
To his credit though, he did tell me that it might take a little bit of time for him to break the straw habit. I take this to mean the much deeper underlying meanings of the dialogue while realizing he means just reminding him he doesn‘t need a straw to consume a beverage. And to his credit, he could write multiple entries about all my so woman like behavior…and to his credit the man treats me really well and is a great dad to boot.
He’s the type of guy you usually find married and wished he weren’t (I muse over the irony of that).
*Don’t knock Hosea, by the way, it’s not his fault he has to work 10 jobs to make a $1 that has to feed 12 kids. He’s my neighbor after all, for God’s sake.
Stubby always wags his tail. If he is afraid, he wags his tail. If he is happy, he wags his tail. If he is wanting food, he wags his tail. If someone he doesn't like comes over, he goes into his cage...and wags his tail. So last night, when he didn't wag his tail - I knew something was wrong. He snuggled next to Todd, who did an acrobatic flip in order not to disturb him (Stubby) when he (Todd) left.
My 1st thought was that he had sprained it or broken his tail. He's not exactly careful to see he has clearance before wagging it. I went to sleep with my broken dog snuggled next to me. I resolved to call the vet when I woke up and the night was pretty uneventful with the dogs letting me sleep until 7 AM...way late.
I fed the dogs while I dialed the vet and got a 10 AM appointment. My gut then started react. No one told me it was something serious on the phone, but my gut said it was. Stubby is nine years old and in 4 months will be 10. Full (meaning long) wiener dogs usually live between 8-12 years. And Bubby died at 8. My brain started going wild. I ate a bowl of cereal, but didn't taste it. I put both dogs on their leashes and dutifully toted them to PetsMart. Stewy to get his nails cut and Stubby to be examined for a broken tail.
Stewy coward and cried. Stubby was whimpering by now and growling at other dogs. Other than my neighbor's white dog, Sunny, whom Stubby hates - Stubby likes dogs. In fact, he likes all mammals. So his behavior was odd. I waited an hour and then the assistant said they would board him for free for the day because they weren't sure when the vet would see him. So, I let them take him from my arms. I was told to go home, but I couldn't. I wandered around PetsMart and finally bought Stewy some food and decided to take Stewy home. I told a couple people what was going on - canceling dinner plans but finding no solace headed to my neighbor's house.
Millie understood exactly what to say. She told me the dog had lived a great life with me and if he was going to go, he would have had a fine experience here on earth as my furry child. She told me how Stewy needed me and that Stubby would not be only missed by me, but would live on in her memory as well. I cried uncontrollably. She handed me tissues. She told me to keep her informed. Then I went back to the vets. I couldn't stay at home. I wandered around PetsMart. I wandered around Target next door. I read almost a whole book. And then the doctor came out and said he needed to take X-rays, but wouldn't be able to do it right away. He said that the tail wasn't broken but that there were some "back issues that need to be looked at closely."
He told me to go home.
I went home for an hour. I couldn't stay home. I just couldn't. I went back to Petsmart and waited. Did my dog know I was there for him? Did he feel me loving him from a distance? Did he know how much he meant to me? I cried again, wandering into aisles where people weren't although I felt like I really wanted to be held. Sometimes it sucks being a grown up and then sometimes it doesn't.
The doctor emerged a little after 4 PM. He was surprised I was still there, but put the X-rays up on the screen. He showed me the inflammation. He told me what I hated to hear, but knew was coming:
"This breed of dog has extremely sensitive backs. The longer they are, the more they are likely to have problems early in life. So about 7-8 years, and full length dogs like yours will usually start to suffer back injuries. Yours has a compressed disk. It is pressing into his spinal cord. I can give him pain medicine and steroids. I will re-examine him in two weeks, but you will need to keep him quiet and not allow him to jump on or off of anything."
This was the exact words that I got for Bubby. I mustered my strength and asked, "If it doesn't work in two weeks what are my options?" The same as they were with Bubby. Surgery. I put Bubby through $1,500 worth of meds and surgeries only to have his last days spent doped on morphine. I refuse to be so cruel to Stubby. The doc assured me that we aren't to making any "final decisions" about the dog any time in the near future. But they said that for Bubby too. After I was given the speech about the sensitive backs, Bubby lasted 4 weeks...WITH the surgeries.
Stubby has been and still is the best dog in the world. I feel privileged to have gotten to spend so much time with such a wonderful soul as his. I hope I can keep wagging my tale of him for years to come.
He starts out in the usual way, “You know what I love about my kids?…”
This could be followed with anything. How they eat their sandwiches, how he fixed their hair and it looked so cute, how they said they loved him, how they like to cuddle, how they had to have a particular stuffed animal that he was the hero and produced. You never know what astounding action will follow such a question.
“What?” I asked, not repeating the many things he has followed this question with before.
And then he tells me a totally secret thing that everyone would think, “that is no big deal,” but totally is. He uses noises when he can’t find the right word.
“It’s just so ….mmm…and …”
I listen and realize I miss daughters I never had. I miss the way they eat their sandwiches. I miss fixing their hair. I miss hearing them say they love me. I miss cuddling, and being their hero. And I miss their father- - a loving man who will ask me at the end of a long day, “You know what I love about our kids?”
And that I can answer in all honesty to whatever the answer is, “I do too.”
Instead I mentally watch his emotional squishy center of love expand. He is now past the bath time, the bedtime, the breakfast and is telling me about them going to school and then their t-kwo class afterwards. He has no idea how much love radiates in these verbal documentations he gives me. He has no idea how much I smile when I hear them, cause you know, he is expanding mine too.
