What happened next: dog losses

It was the first week in December when our dog Megan started having problems. She couldn't walk, and her breathing was labored. She was at least 14 years old, a lab/pit bull mix who was an absolute snuggler. We rushed her to the vet.
X-rays were inconclusive, there may or may not have been a mass. The vet gave her a shot of steroids, a pain killer, and some sub-q fluids. We brought Megan home, expecting to put her to sleep in the next few hours.
But she rallied. That was all it took. Three days later she escaped and was running through the cornfields that adjoin our property, just like nothing had ever happened. We kind of knew she was on borrowed time, we were just hoping there was a lot of time left.
The week before Christmas, it happened again. The vet repeated the treatment, hoping for another miracle, but it wasn't to be. She got worse and worse until we couldn't watch any more, and had her put to sleep. It was heartbreaking. But because we'd had that other miracle, we'd had some time to baby her and give her extra love, so we didn't have as much of that "didn't even get a chance to say goodbye" feeling. It was still tough. We both still miss her a lot.
It was in February that virtually the same thing happened to our other dog, Buddy. He collapsed, we brought him to the vet. He seemed to be comfortable, so the vet urged me to go to work while they ran tests. Later that morning, the vet called to report that Buddy's liver and kidneys were both failing and there was nothing they could do. I made an appointment to have him put to sleep that afternoon, as soon as I could get there. While I was on the way, the vet called again to say that Buddy had passed. Another heartbreak.
We are now down to three dogs: Frosty (German Shepherd/pit bull, age 10), Molly (German Shepherd/collie, age 7) and Buffy (no, we didn't name her!) (purebred collie, age 5). It's bittersweet, of course, but it is nice to be able to fit me, DH and all the dogs in one vehicle :-)

Something good is going on

I'm not sure what it is--is it me taking control of DH's meds and making sure that everything is there every day.....or him not having to go to work.....or the fact that he's sleeping at night and awake during the day....or a combination of all these.....?

But here is what I am seeing:
DH is drinking cheap bottled water and not complaining about no pop
DH cleaned my pantry.
DH cleaned the living room.
DH made himself sandwiches without whining about how there was nothing to eat--not only that, but he used very old bread, saying "we've got to use this up, we can't waste it just because it's all dried out...it's not moldy yet" (very very unusual for him).
DH called the "jobs for the mentally ill" worker twice (she hasn't returned his call yet)
DH applied for unemployment.
DH is rolling his own cigarettes and not complaining at all about how bad they taste.
DH has been feeding/pottying dogs before I get home at night so I don't have to.

I could go on and on.

But you get the idea.  He's smiling more, too.  For a long time I hadn't noticed the lack of smiling, until he was laughing one day. 

I know it's probably just high spot on the roller coaster of bipolar.  But the way he's been these last few days makes me remember why I married him to begin with.  And right now, he's doing great.  And I'm amazed and thrilled.

Shasta got her Christmas present early

I'm fed up with coming home every day to DH telling me that another animal escaped.  I'm not exactly sure why they escape on him but not on me, maybe his size has something to do with it....anyhow, I invested part of my Christmas bonus to buy a baby gate for the entry way.  Some of the pets are rather bummed.

But it's proving to be worth its weight in gold :-)

Sometimes I just can't see the point........

Well, DH is still pretty much in the same place mentally.  He's not doing much around the house at all, and if there is a way to save him from expending one extra calorie, he will take the lazy way out, even if it means doing something that upsets me.

Take, for example, cigarette butts.  They're all over the driveway.  I've provided him with cans to put them in, explained that all the litter shows a lack of pride in our yard/house/belongings and he says he'll use an ashtray/can, but then after a day or two, he's back to just flicking them anywhere.

Or the damn garbage.  He'll take the full trash bag out of the waste basket in the kitchen, but instead of putting the bag of trash into the big trash can to go out for pickup, he just puts the bag on the deck outside the door.  Same lecture from me about respecting where you live, and also that the deck is not a "garbage room", it is a part of our house/yard that the world can see, and when you put garbage out there, it says "I don't give a crap".

But the worst thing is, that I know he doesn't give a crap about those things any more.  And I look around at the grass which needs cutting again, and recognizing that if I take the time to mow it, I won't get any sleep this weekend.....and looking at all the things that need to be fixed but I don't know how and/or there's not enough money to fix them.....the screen door no longer shuts at all because of the way the hinges broke and according to the hardware guy is going to necessitate a new screen door (and someone alert enough to put it on).....the rest of the roof, which is awful (except for the part that DH's brother did last year, but I can't do that again, that was more stressful than a leaky roof!......The fence for the chicken house kind of fell apart after all the heavy snows this past winter, and, of course there's all the animal chores and the housecleaning.  I do the bare minimum--litter boxes, garbages.....sweep once in a while.....laundry.....but the stuff that takes time and attention to detail, well, I put that off because between working and my mom and sleeping, there's not much time for those things, either.

I'm a little concerned because I find myself thinking about how much easier things would be if he wasn't there.  And they would be.  And that upsets me because I didn't used to feel that way.  He just makes more work for me all around, and I don't know that I'm getting much in return any more.....then I feel selfish, because the "what's in it for me" is not usually how I think (or is it?)  I think (and I recognize that this is never going to happen but....) that if he decided to leave, right now I'd be a little bummed but mostly vastly relieved.  And I think that our story is not on the path to a happy ending.  I don't want to hurt him, but I keep trying to point out that he doesn't seem to care about anyone/anything any more....and things really don't change.  It's really hard to do both sides of the marriage all by yourself.

I'm feeling like I can't handle this place any more, either.  It's too much.  I need to live closer to my main job.....in a place that isn't falling apart all at once.....in a place that costs so much less than where we're living now....where cutting the grass doesn't take 6 hours.....but of course that's all a pie in the sky, because I need to live near my mom right now.....and I have made a lifetime commitment to the animals....and there's just no place except "out in the country" where I could have them all.....don't get me wrong, I certainly don't want any more, but the ones that are already there, well, some days knowing that they depend on me is what gets me up in the morning.....and I like where I live.....it's just that I wonder if maybe it's not very realistic any more.....

Well, that's a lot of wondering.  And not much I can do about it right now except ponder.....I've always been a person who believes (but doesn't necessarily always follow) that if something bothers you, either do something about it or shut up about it.  Unfortunately there are things bothering me, and I feel kind of trapped.  I recognize that some of the "trapped" feeling is my own doing, but it doesn't change how I feel.....I'm hoping this is just a phase...... maybe I need to get a live-in housekeeper/groundskeeper, huh?

Property Line Issue

Well, first a little background. DH and I moved to our 15 acres in 2000, and one of the main reasons that we selected that particular run-down shack was that it was very much in the "middle of nowhere" and that was my dream. Woods and cornfields surrounded us, with one neighbor a quarter of a mile away and that was the entire neighborhood.

Then, in 2003, the farmer that owned the cornfields sold 10 acres to this guy and his wife. Lucky us, the 10 acres that were sold butt right up to our property. Not only that, but the guy chose to put his double wide etc just as close to our property as could be imagined. Several people stopped by during the excavation just to say "I can't believe this!"

Being as the land had already been sold by the time we learned about it, we really had no choice but to grin and bear it. We've tried to be good neighbors. But they have clearly moved to the wrong place, because they don't like anything we do! Some of their complaints are justified, like the time I left our dog outside (warm summer night) and didn't realize that I couldn't hear her barking outside when I was in the bedroom. But they have also complained about the roosters crowing, the length of the grass, and the guineas (in another attempt to try to be good neighbors, when the guineas were eaten by a predator, we opted not to get more because we knew they disturbed the neighbor). It appears that the more we try to make them happy, the more they complain. They called one night at 9:30pm and asked us to put the dogs inside because they (the neighbors) were out in their yard and the dogs were barking at them (remember they are only feet away from our house now)--ok, we put the dogs away. Then the next night they called at 8pm and asked us to put the dogs away for the same reason. It's gotten to where we are afraid to leave the dogs outside unsupervised, for fear of being bad neighbors.

We now chain up our dogs because they have asked us to. We are afraid to complain about their cat that comes into our yard at will because we are afraid the cat would be killed if we did.

Last fall they complained to the county about (I'm not even sure) the way rain water ran off from our driveway into the street(?) (I'm still not even sure what the exact problem was). The county told us that it was the neighbors that "suggested" an "improvement" and that it would make things better for everyone at no cost to us. The county came and made a holy mess out of the bottom of our driveway in an effort to please these people....now there's a big mudhole there that extends 1/3 of the way into the road....that really fixed the "erosion" problem. Oh--and I didn't mention that they did not opt to discuss the "erosion" with us before going to the county. Oh--and did I mention that the wife works for the county?

I still want to be as good a neighbor as I am able. But frankly, I'm getting fed up with trying to please them. We have never complained about anything to them, as we prefer to "live and let live". Not even the fact that we believed that their driveway was way too close to our property line--why make a big deal out of something......

About a month ago, he (the husband) notified me that he was going to have his land surveyed so that he could put up a better fence than the one we had put up. (The fence we had put up was just T posts & chicken wire, and we made sure it was quite a ways away from where we thought the property line was, in order to avoid any type of dispute or complaint...) Fine, whatever.....put up your fence....I have a few other things to worry about....

Now. Surprisingly (or not), his efforts have led him to an embarrassing conclusion: the property line is not where he thought it was. His tool shed is sitting smack dab on the property line. His propane tank is on our property, as is his electric service. The distance between the edge of his driveway and the property line is about 1 inch. Really.

So they called me out tonite to "talk" about this. I really didn't know what to say, since they were the ones wanting to be precise about the boundaries....I told them that I/we wanted to be good neighbors. So right away they suggested that we do something called a "line adjustment" where the property line(s) are redrawn but no money changes hands. But the fast way they suggested that made me instantly cautious, because of the driveway thing--"Oh yeah, it's going to be better for everyone...." and really....nobody can even drive down the road without worrying now.....

I want to be a good neighbor (despite my frustration it's not my nature to be very spiteful), but I feel like they're asking me/us to give them some land because they messed up. And they haven't exactly made me feel excited about doing that. On the other hand...."do unto others as you would have them do unto you...." And I know we aren't the best neighbors. DH has struggled with his mental illness during this time and I have been working the two jobs to make ends meet. I have not told the neighbors why our yard is a mess or why we can't afford to fix (whatever), because DH's issues are private, so I'm sure they just think we've turned into the trashy people that nobody wants to live next to....and maybe we have,  I don't know......I'm not sure I'd really want to live smack dab next to us either.....but of course I wouldn't move next to us to begin with.  I don't like having neighbors and moved to a place without them for a reason.

I'm sure some of you have thoughts on this or similar experiences....We don't have the money to get an attorney, and I don't like to make waves anyhow....but I don't want make a bad decision in an effort to be a good neighbor, either..... __________________

Rest in Peace, Sarah (woowoo dog) 1995-2011

Well, that part of my saga is over.  I made the appointment and brought her in.  And though I "pottied" her twice in the fifteen minutes preceding her appointment, she still had an "accident" when we got to the vets.  I'm not sure why, but I saw that as some kind of sign that I was doing the right thing.

The vet, whom I've known for several years, was awesome.  I've had a number of animals "put to sleep", but this time, with Sarah, it was really like she did just go to sleep.  She was even snoring.  I still had some doubts and trepidation right up until the last minute.

When the vet announced that she was "gone", I was sitting on the floor with her, rubbing her ears.  It was so peaceful, it was hard for me to believe she wasn't just taking a nap.  The vet sat down on the floor with me and asked me how we got her, how old was at the time, and I shared some stories.  Then he told me that he thought I did the right thing and he talked briefly about old age and lingering, as he knows about my mom (he was the vet who put my mom's cat to sleep not too long ago, too) and the Alzheimer's, and he shared that his father had recently passed away at age 85.  "He was just walking along and he dropped.  And that was it."  And we talked about that for a little.

I left, feeling comforted and at peace with the decision.  Of course, every time I come home and there's no mess on the floor, it hits me again--isn't that pathetic?  I cry because nobody peed on the floor.

That dog was one of a kind.  I'm going to miss her.  Sometimes I'm still not sure if maybe I should have waited a while longer, but there were some very direct parallels to my mom's illness--Sarah had "good" days and "bad" days, and on the "bad" days, I was very certain that it was her time.  It was the "good" days that made me doubt myself.  However, I can't change it now, so I just need to revisit all the "bad" days and convince myself that it was right.  Most of the time I can do that.

Lately it just seems so hard....(pity party ahead!)

I must have "the winter blues" because suddenly everything feels hopeless, like no matter how hard I try, things keep getting worse, instead of improving.

I got my car back, and now (for DH's truck + my car) owe $3000 to my brother.  And that's really really embarrassing to me.  And I was very happy to drive my own car to work this morning, but now I keep imagining(?) that there are other things wrong--a funny noise here, a funny smell there...I'm probably just paranoid because the car seemed to respond better and use less gas than before....but....

And I really do have to make that appointment for Sarah (dog).  This morning when I went to let her out, she couldn't find the front door, even with me calling her over there.  And the accidents have been getting worse, if you can imagine that...but it's breaking my heart....

And my mom.  She may or may not be stable.  Everything she says now makes sense, but she keeps telling me she "doesn't feel good" but when I or the nurses try to figure out what's going on, she can't tell us.  Her bloodwork seems fine.  But she's sleeping nearly all day and back to not eating.

Winter.  Need I say more?  It's been relentless.  All it does is snow and when the snow mercifully stops, it's 20 below zero.  I fell the other day when I was bringing in firewood and that could have been really bad, because DH was at work....but luckily I was ok....I'm just so tired of clouds, snow and cold....

And I'm worried about money.  After DH driving his truck for nearly 2 weeks, I'm worried that I won't have enough money for gas to get to work next week.

It just feels like "one step forward, three steps back".  And I hope I "get over" this feeling soon.....spring would probably be a good cure...

"That Mom"

Whoa.  You would not believe the stupidity in our house in the last month or so (or maybe you would, LOL).  To explain it properly, I need to remind you that some time ago it was discovered that our roof was leaking.  DH and I both knew that we had to find a way to get that fixed before winter.  Our house is divided into three parts.  The first part (including basement) was built in 1910.  That part actually burned down later, so the basement was built in 1910, and the house part on top of it was built in 1917.  An addition was added on in the 1940's to add a bathroom and laundry room (before that, the house did not have indoor plumbing).  Then in the 1970's, the "big part" of the house was added on, providing a living room and another bedroom.  It's the part that was added on in the '40s that needed roofing the most.  Since doing the entire house was not financially feasible at this time, I/we opted to just do the 1940's part, which is the part that was leaking the worst.

I had managed to save up $2000 to pay someone to get this done, as I knew that DH could not be depended on to be able to get it done and I (with my new job) (and serious lack of skills and knowledge) was not going to have time.  Then DH and I started talking about how maybe if we asked DH's brother to help, instead of hiring someone, we could keep some of that money and put it in savings.  The materials for the roof only cost $700, so we could potentially have some left over!  DH's brother is 35 years old and has never had a job--he has OCD and some other mental health issues (a word to the wise that I did not heed--be aware of the possibilities if close family members of your new love suffer from mental illness) but has done a lot of work on DH's mom's house and he typically (partially due to the OCD) does excellent, by-the-book work.  Our hope was that because it was family, we wouldn't have to pay him much (if anything) for helping, and we could put some money in savings.

So DH's brother agreed to come up, and DH's mom came along to "help".  I hope I've mentioned before that I love my mother in law, because I do.

Now at this point I need to back us up again, to where my mother in law bought me new tires when we couldn't afford them.  She (and her siblings) had sold some land and she had quite a bit of money at the time.  I was very grateful.

Unfortunately, she blew through that money like nobody's business (it only took her about a year of helping her kids and buying stupid stuff and fixing up her house...).  She is now broke and she is even less frugal than DH, if that is possible.  And I mean she is broke.  She cannot afford her medications right now (she's in the 'donut hole').  I've been sending her money here and there to try to help but that is making it even harder for me to pay our own bills.  I've given her a website where she can buy cheap (and safe) medications from overseas.  I've given her a Senior Helpline number that is to help people pay for their medications.  And I've urged her to go to the county and see what help she qualifies for and what programs they might know about that I don't.  She refuses to try any of these things.  She says she will, never does, then asks for more money.

So she and DH's brother show up at our house.  The very first thing that I find out is that DH's mom's tires are so bad that they are "undriveable".  So she drove five hours to our house on undriveable tires and has no money.  Why on earth would she not mention this before setting out?  A trip to the tire shop confirmed that all four tires were scary bad and undriveable and the tire shop guy (who we know to be honest) was too concerned about safety to agree to just selling two tires so.....

We (I) got stuck paying for four new tires for DH's mom's car so that when she went home, she would be safe.  Ok.  That's fair.  She bought me tires, right?  Her new tires cost $733 (she has a Toyota RAV4).  I'm sure you figured out that we didn't have that kind of money budgeted for anything except the roof.

Anyhow, two things happened with the roof that weren't anticipated wholly.  Ok, maybe three things.  First, it was discovered that that particular section of roof not only had two layers of shingles on it, but also, underneath the shingles, were cedar shakes.  That meant a LOT more tearing off of roofing than was anticipated.  The second thing was that DH did not help AT ALL.  NOT ONE BIT.  I think everyone was kind of surprised about that, kind of, but not shocked.  So now DH's brother is re-roofing with absolutely no help at all.  I had at least figured on DH to be able to hand his brother things.  Nope.  The third thing?  DH's brother--he does great work--but he works slower than frozen molasses in January.

So it wound up taking a lot longer than anticipated.  And DH's mom and brother were staying with us.  And every single day she would tell both DH and I that we HAD to put "that dog" to sleep (Sarah).  Finally, DH had to tell her to shut up, because we were both on the brink of saying something not-so-nice to her about it.  But that sort of thing is normal with DH's mom--she's very outspoken and opinionated and doesn't think before she speaks.  She used to tell us to "get rid" of DD, too.  So I wasn't too surprised by this.

I knew I was going to have to pay DH's brother something--it wouldn't be fair not to.  He was doing a LOT more work than I thought he would have to.  I told him that I'd be sending a check home with him but that he wouldn't be able to cash it right away.  He was fine with that and seemed a little surprised and happy that I planned to pay him something.

Anyhow, after they had been there for about two weeks (not a typo) (and yes, we were feeding them most of the time, too), the roof still wasn't done.  But we were going to get a big windstorm, so they decided to go home and come back when the weather was better.  Since I hate having company of any kind, I was fine with that!!!  I came up with $150 extra for gas, etc.  because I knew DH's mom didn't have much money and I was appreciative of their help.

Then they came back.  And everyone was getting frustrated by how slow DH's brother was working, but he was working steady and I knew it would be done right, so even when DH's mom would berate him about how slow things were going, I just kept telling him to not worry about that, because we were just grateful that he was "helping" (or doing all the work).  We were still feeding them (including buying food we wouldn't normally have on hand because DH's brother is a vegetarian), and by this time it was clear that we really hadn't saved ANY money by doing it this way.  In fact, we had gone significantly over budget.  But at least we were getting the work done by someone we trusted (rolling eyes).

Then DH's mom asked me how much we were going to pay his brother.  I (thinking things were normal) told her that I would probably send a check for a hundred dollars home with him and I was going to tell her that he couldn't cash it right away, but she interrupted and started yelling at the top of her lungs that THAT WASN'T ENOUGH.  HE WORKED EVERY DAY.  I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ARE DOING THIS TO HIM.  I calmly told her that I was working as hard as I could and our budget was not healthy in the first place (I was very tempted to point out that we would have had a lot more money to pay people if we hadn't spent $700+ on tires etc., but I bit my tongue), but she just continued to yell at me.  I was shocked, as I had never seen her like this before.  I honestly don't think I did anything wrong except try not to overspend.  But maybe I did mess up.

Then she abruptly announced that they were leaving, and they did.  They left the roof unfinished.  I sent DH's brother home with two checks.  One for $75 (I figured if I was going to get yelled at anyhow, I might as well not break the bank and do the $100 I was planning on) and a blank check dated three weeks from now, that I planned on telling him the amount as soon as I got paid and knew how much we could afford.

Miracle of miracles, DH was able to finish the shingling.  Kind of.  The shingles are up, anyhow.  The edges still need to be trimmed and the vent isn't right, but the shingles are on, anyhow.  And I guess that's the best it's gonna get for now, because we're getting snow....

Anyhow, DH's mom called and apparently DH's brother is having to turn over his roofing pay to her because his mom is so broke.  So DH's mom wants to know how soon "he" can cash the check(s).  DH told her that I wrote the date(s) on the checks.  She got angry with him when he said he didn't think they could cash the checks early, because he said he had to ask me first.

Then last night, she called again.  In one breath she told DH that she is driving out to Montana (he asked her how and she said she'd find a way (I have no idea why)).  And then she asked if she could cash one of those checks yet.  When DH said he didn't think so, she got angry with him again and then started yelling at him about me.  She apparently told him that I treat the dogs better than I treat him, etc.

And yet she still won't go to the county.  Or try any of the other resources that I gave her.  She'd rather get mad when we don't have the money she wants (and it isn't even hers!).

I started to cry when I was talking with DH about it, and he told me that his mom was like this a long time ago, long before I ever met her.  "Then she got a job and started getting nice."  He wondered if maybe because she's so broke, that she had mental health meds that she wasn't taking (DH thinks his mom wouldn't tell if she was taking those kinds of meds).  He reminded me that I always tell him that "That Guy" is "angry, selfish, and impulsive".  Then he said "maybe this is "That Mom"".  Made me laugh.  But I'm thinking he might be on to something.....

Doggy Diapers--not designed for diabetes insipidus!

Well, I've now got two different kinds of diapers for "incontinent" dogs.  The biggest problem I'm seeing is that the diapers on the market are designed for dogs who might "leak" a little, or have one "regular sized" accident maybe once or twice a day.  Unfortunately, the problem with Sarah is that she is now having five or six HUGE accidents a day.  And the diapers get so soaked that they get heavy and fall right off.  And of course the "wipedown" in between changes isn't fun, either.  But I haven't found the "perfect" solution, for sure.

One possibility is that I try to use "human" diapers, which may be (?) designed to hold more urine(?).  But they also aren't designed to fit a dog well.....I think maybe I'll try putting a heavy-duty human incontinence pad inside the diaper and see if that works.

Another problem I'm finding (and some of you won't be surprised) is that DH keeps finding excuses not to use the diapers, so then we are right where we started.  "I didn't put one on her because I knew that you were going to let her out when you got home".  "I didn't put one on her because they fall off."  ARGH.  But you can bet that "That Guy" will be the angry one when the house smells bad again, and he won't see the relationship.  I've got to get this all to work.

Yes I'm a wimp.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell you all this but....I'm a wimp.  So, apparently, is DH.  All day Friday, I felt terrible about Sarah.  It was bittersweet, because being rid of the mess and odor would sure be nice....but I kept coming back to the fact that I was going to be putting her to death because it was inconvenient for me, not because she was in great pain, etc....and that's not how I envision myself to be.  I felt very conflicted.  But I also realized that DH lives in the house, too, and "That Guy" was already mad about the situation.

I got home from working at the group home at 7am and DH was awake.  He asked me if Sarah still had an appointment at 9:30 today and I got quiet and said "yes".  He then begged me not to put her to sleep, that it wasn't her time, and it would be wrong.  I was only too happy to oblige, as that was kind of what I had been thinking, too.  He told me that he would think of a way to deal with the incontinence.  We talked about maybe putting puppy pads in the bottom of a kennel crate or gating off a small part of the house.  This morning I am going to buy some doggy diapers and see just how bad the cleanup would be from those. 

So she is still among the living and I'm not sure how I feel about that, but "guilty" isn't one of the options.  Now I HAVE to find a solution that will work, but killing isn't the right way to handle it, as far as I can tell.  Thank goodness.  I think.

The appointment is made.

Sarah "Woowoo" puppy's last appointment will be on Saturday, October 2 at 9:30am.  I am still really torn about this decision.  I know that in more than a small way, it goes against my "core" animal beliefs, because I have never been one to have an animal put to sleep because it is easier for me that way....and, really, that's what this boils down to on some level.  She walks, talks, eats, drinks, barks, and I'm putting her to sleep because I can't handle her "senior dog" issue(s).  I feel guilty.

Oh--and by the way--doggie diapers.....they sound good, but they come with the same issues as human diapers--that is, there is cleanup involved with changing (i.e., wiping up).  And I don't have time to do that on a consistent basis and I can't depend on DH to do it, either.  So, once again, it's a matter of what is convenient to me.

On the other hand, when I imagine a house that smells "normal" again, and not having to wash all the towels (twice) every single day (today she used 6 towels!), I have a huge sense of relief.  And, like I said before, nearly all dog lovers would have done this much earlier than I am. 

It's been a little more difficult because "That Guy" has been here all week and I haven't been able to figure out why.  He's angry about everything, and ESPECIALLY Sarah.  He says he's taken his meds.  Maybe it's my new job--I'm not home as much now....?  Anyhow, I gave myself a week (before the appointment) because I want to carefully examine my motivations and make sure I'm not "just" doing this because he's mad.  I don't think I am, but I need to be sure of that, and not havnig DH there to talk to (because "That Guy" is there instead) makes it a little tougher.

I just wish she had cancer or something, where I could say "she's suffering".  She probably is, in the sense that she probably doesn't like all the accidents either, but truly, her discomfort seems minimal and I know it's going to be tough.  I have such mixed feelings about it, as you can tell. 

Agonizing

Sarah (the Woowoo dog) is getting worse.  She's not losing weight, she still can walk just fine, but every morning now, there's not one, but three puddles to clean up, and sometimes a solid "present" too.  Sometimes I wake her up to go outside and she can barely make it to a standing position before she can't "hold it" any more.  It's sad.

And in case any of you have ever thought about it....right now there are 15 cats in our house.  And you know that Woowoo's messes are making the house smell worse than if the cats ALL refused to use the litter box on the same day.  I never knew dog pee could smell so bad--it smells worse than poo....or maybe it's just "elderly" dog pee that smells that way?  I don't remember any puppies that were related to an odor like that, and I think if people had to endure that smell, nobody would ever try to housebreak a dog.  I'm totally embarrassed to have ANYONE over, and even considering having Christmas in a hotel room so that people will actually stay long enough to have a conversation....

So is it time?  I know most non-animal lovers and even quite a few animal lovers would say yes.  But....she still gets happy when she sees us....still wants to go for walks (although they're only about 50 foot walks, LOL) and is eating and drinking fine....still snaps at the other dogs (that's her stupid way of showing affection), and still begs to be petted.

When I think about putting her to sleep, I feel selfish.  I know that we're dealing with a lot more ick than most dog owners, but....it's the only life she has, too.....

It's agonizing for me.  Sometimes she sleeps so soundly....I just get a little teensy bit hopeful that maybe she won't wake up and I won't have to think about this.....

I'm doing better....

I knew it wouldn't stay like that for long...and Sarah (Woowoo dog) seems a little peppier, too--she even chewed a little on a rawhide, which made me smile....I'm thinking she's totally blind, though, because she keeps falling off the side of the wheelchair ramp on the deck :-(

DH had a rough night at work, and I'm feeling kind of bad that I wasn't very tolerant of his drama (it really wasn't as bad as he was making things out to be).  But then he did call me back and tell me that he knew he was being dramatic(!) and that was shocking!

Sunday, after I get off work at 8am, we have a family reunion and I have to bring my mom (and pick her up at noon).  I wasn't planning on telling her about it, because I think it's going to be extremely difficult for her and for me to pull this off, but my brother asked her if she was going, so then I was kind of stuck. Argh. He's not the one who has to do all this on no sleep!  Of course my mom wants to go.  And she is remembering it.  So there's really no getting out of it, and I probably shouldn't even be thinking that way, since I don't know how many more family reunions she'll get to go to....

Just rambling today, I guess....

This post should have a different title.

"The day of death" comes to mind, but that's a little dramatic, I guess.....it just has been a sad day for me and I'm struggling.

I got home from work at 9am and slept until 1pm, then got up to go to church at the nursing home with my mom.  On my way there, I saw something on the side of the road.  Having just a few days ago "saved" a snapping turtle from certain death on the highway by nudging ti with my shoe (and accidentally flipping it over in the process), I recognized the "something" as an upside down snapping turtle.  I couldn't tell for sure if it was alive or dead, so I hopped out of my car and walked over to it.  At first I thought it was dead, but I did the shoe-nudge thing again and flipped it over--sure enough, a small puddle of blood and a cracked shell....but the turtle moved its legs weakly.  I didn't know what else I could do, I was sure the turtle would probably die, and I couldn't help it in any way short of running it over with my own car (to put it out of its misery) and I couldn't bring myself to do that, so I had to leave it there on the side of the road with a little prayer.  (In case you've never met a snapping turtle, when they're scared, they're fast with the bite, which is very powerful and dangerous) I do not know how to pick up a snapper without getting bitten.  I'm still sad about that.

So I went to church with my mom.  That went fine....then I went home, intending to take care of the animals and take a nap.  First thing I found was Mrs. Bun, dead in her cage.  She's been sick for a long time, but yesterday she looked fine to me, although I noted when I petted her that she was getting very thin.  I felt very bad at the possibility that she may have suffered while she died.  There will be no more rabbits at our house.  I don't feel good about the quality of life they have, and the constant worry about predators is wearing.  I was surprised and saddened that Mrs. Bun had finally gone.  I feel guilty, like I should've done something.  Beating myself up.

Then....as if those two things weren't bad enough, I went into DD's bedroom to check on my mom's cat, and today he cried out in pain when I petted him.  He hasn't been getting up to greet me for several days now, although he's still using the litter box and eating and drinking, I know it's time.  He'll be going in later today for his last appointment.  I didn't think I could do it, but I did tell my mom that I "think he's sick and I don't have a good feeling about it."  I think my mom was more upset that I was sad than that her cat may be dying....I hope that's the case anyhow....every time I think about this my heart starts pounding and I get weepy.  I found my mom's cat back in 1995 when I stopped at a convenience store on a busy street on my way to work.  I could hear a cat meowing, and I saw him outside the door.  "Oh, someone's cat is waiting for them," I thought.  Nope...as it turned out, I was the only customer in the store.  I was worried that he might get hit by a car at the busy intersection, so after checking with the clerk to see if she knew where the kitty belonged, I grabbed him and dropped him off at my moms.  I asked her if she could keep him overnight since I was on my way to work and didn't have time to deal with him.  She said sure, and the next day, after I put up a bunch of flyers around the vicinity of the store where he found me, my mom said "You know, if you don't find his owner, I don't think I'd mind if he stayed here...." and that was that....He's been an amazing companion to my mom, both before Alzheimers was apparent and as she's gone through this.  I can't help but wonder if being separated from my mom is speeding his demise....I'm very sad, though, no matter what....

And then.....Sarah, aka WooWoo dog, the one with diabetes insipidus....?  I've been noticing that she's eating and drinking less, and spending even less time on her feet.  DH said he'd noticed it too, but he was hoping it was just a "phase".  I'm afraid that there are even more trips to the vet in the near future.  I feel guilty about her, too, because I get so frustrated with all the "accidents", and I get frustrated with how "stupid" she is....she is afraid of walking on the linoleum floor, but she will walk backwards on it.....and she shows affection to the other dogs by snapping at them (you can guess how that goes over, and her feelings are always hurt when the other dogs don't understand)....I haven't appreciated her like I should, I'm afraid.  I know that a few weeks ago, she apparently forgot how to come back into the house after going outside, and I got so worried, I didn't know how upset I could be when I envisioned not having her....and I know the time is coming....she's at least 15....she's blind, mostly deaf, incontinent for the most part, and I think she has doggy Alzheimers.  But as happy as I will be (when the time comes) to not have to clean up after her all the time, I'm going to miss her a lot more than I ever thought.

Oh.  And just in case you wanted to know....it's that time of month, and every emotion I have is basically magnified a hundredfold.  So I'm pretty sad.  Really, I look at all this death and potential death, and I think "what's the use, why am I wasting my time like this when I know my heart will end up broken?"

Tune in tomorrow.  I'll be feeling better, I hope.

Well, I said it.

We have a dog, Buffy. She's a pure-bred collie (like Lassie). I might have mentioned her before--we got her when the veterinarian called and said "The owners want to put this dog to sleep. We don't think they should, and they've said that if we can find the dog a home right away, that we won't have to put her to sleep. Can you help?"

I never really wanted a collie. I much prefer short-haired dogs. I hate messing around with grooming stuff. But Buffy is a wonderful dog, no bad habits, very gentle, just perfect. Except the fur. See, we live in the country, and no matter what I do, there is burdock. It's in places where I never even look. It's everywhere, even when I make a huge effort to eradicate it, it's still there.

And Buffy is a bur magnet. We don't have a fenced in yard, but she stays pretty close to the house most of the time. It seems, though, that no matter what, she will ALWAYS find the burdock and come home with tons of burs woven into her long fur. Because it is next to impossible for me to have time to remove burs every single day from this dog, I requested/demanded that Buffy be on a leash all the time. Even when she's being brought to the chain outside, because if she even has one minute of freedom, she will have burs. Then I brought her and had her professionally groomed (this was last spring).

DH, however, doesn't seem to think the rule applies to him. Several times now, I have had to tell DH, "I am not buying one more drop of pop until you remove all the burs from Buffy's fur." He would remove the burs (with a lot of grumbling) and still not learn from the experience. This past week, however, I got sick of it. Over Christmas, even my mother in law was trying to remove burs from Buffy. So I went ahead and de-burred her as best I could. Then last night I noticed that she has burs AGAIN!!!! So I said to DH, "Have you been letting Buffy run loose again?" and he said, "Well, not all the time...." and I blew a gasket. I told him that Buffy is full of burs because he is lazy. Yep, I used the "L" word. I probably should use it more often. But it really applies here, because what it boils down to is that DH is too damn lazy to bend over and put a leash on the dog, walk her ten steps to the tie-out, and remove the leash and attach the tie-out.

I think he was shocked that I said that. Right away he got that "wallowing" voice and said "I'll take care of her burs tomorrow night." We'll see if he does, but it got me wondering if maybe I need to point this out more often. Because, really, he is absolutely the most lazy person I've ever met. Although DD ranks a close second.

I have tried to avoid using the "L" word, because I guess I didn't want to admit it to myself. DH was always such a hard worker when we first got married. And I didn't want to accuse him of being Lazy if the problem really was a mental illness issue. But it really doesn't take that much ambition to hook up the darn dog. Not only that, but hooking up the dog saves me money and time. So shouldn't he WANT to do that? I dunno.

Thank goodness, I think.

We/I finally found the owner of the dog. He was two miles away from home when I found him....they were sure he had been shot by a deer hunter...I hope they keep him closer to home from now on....DH will miss the dog, and actually, so will I--there's something about an older dog that's already "broken in"--you don't have to teach it all the doggie-manners that you have to teach a younger dog...but....we do have five other dogs that need attention, too....and most of them are already "broken in" too :-)

My mom is, apparently, being discharged from the geri-psych unit tomorrow. So right now, the tentative plan is to bring her back to her apartment, and see how things go until Monday or Tuesday and at that point decide if she'll be moving. I did look at the dementia/memory care assisted living, and I do believe that it's what my mom really needs. But, of course, it's not that cut and dried, because it's quite a bit more expensive than where she has been living. Her current apartment with services is about $3,000 a month (not a typo, for those of you who have never had a parent in a "facility"). The demential care assisted living would run about $5,000 a month. That's quite a difference. My mom is not rich. Her funds consist of social security and the money she got when we sold her modest house (we sold it for about $160,000). So it will run out. And since we don't have an "official" plan in place as far as my mom moving yet, it seems like we should give it the old "schoolyard try" and see if she can make it for another couple of months before she moves. I'm rather doubtful. And I'm a little bit more comfortable with the idea of her moving, now that I've seen where she would probably be going. It's a pretty nice place, a lot newer than where she lives now, and LOCKED. She would have more attention there than she does (from the aides) at her apartment right now. But she would have to give up her cat. I'm not sure how big of a deal that would be for her. Sometimes I don't think she'd notice much, and sometimes I think she really depends on him. I guess we'll have to see what happens.

Oh--and yes, I'm stressed out about all this. I wasn't ready for my mom to come home yet. I wish she could stay there for another month. It's so nice to know that she's someplace where they know what she really needs....now comes the hardest part, I guess, seeing if she can handle her apartment for a few more months or not....luckily, if she does end up moving, the weather is still pretty nice....

And DD. I don't know how I'm going to make it three more years with this crap. Let's see....yesterday she threatened another kid at school and the kid's parents called us. DH told them that it was ok for them to call the school--that maybe they could do something. DH was, I could tell, on the brink of a mood swing, so I told him not to even bring it up with DD, because if they both have short fuses, there's no telling what could happen....

So then today the school called and DD had apparently written or copied some kind of poem about "I want to die" and something about school. It was about two years ago that she told a bunch of kids at school that she had a "hit list" and that they were all on it, so the school takes things rather seriously. Apparently when DD was confronted by a teacher (or an administrator, I don't know which one) regarding the poem, she had a tantrum there in school. And refused to go to the EBD room to calm herself down. So they called us about that. I was visiting my mom at the time.

So apparently then she got home and had a tantrum because she didn't want to do her chores. And so DH had said "Ok, then I'll do them." And she just flew into another rage. DH was so mad that he was yelling at me when he was telling me this stuff. I'm just so sick of all of it. I'm sick of DH's drama and DD's drama. I've got enough real-life drama, and I wish they'd both just shut up.

It's three more years until DD graduates if she manages to stay out of jail until then. I have no idea how I'm going to do it.

Just what I needed. (right)

Well, yesterday was a good day. I visited my mom, and so did my brother. We sat in the "day room" of the unit, with three other patients. We chatted about the weather, and about the "fancy" whirlpool bathtub that they have there. My mom told us that "it was really fun!"

I was wearing one of my favorite old sweaters, it has three wolves embroidered on it. One of the gentleman patients asked me what was on my shirt. I said, "I think they're wolves." He said, "Wolves?" I said "yes, I think so." Then he started to howl like a wolf. I was worried that my mom might think he was crying or something, and be upset, so I said to her, "He's howling like a wolf." So then my mom started howling. Then the lady across the room started howling too. I haven't laughed so hard in a million years--what a "pack" of wolves!!!! And the patients all laughed, too. And one of the nurses (and I did too) had tears, she was laughing so hard....it was great. I went home with a big smile on my face, thinking that things were getting better.

But this morning, I guess, "Thor's girl friend" showed up, and my mom apparently became very disruptive. The nurses were very surprised because up until now all they've seen is a sweet little old lady with a bad memory. Anyhow, when I visited today, it was obvious that she wasn't as cheerful as she was yesterday, she was much more anxious. I didn't really know what to make of it, I do know that the nurses were going to call the on-call psychiatrist to see if anything needed to be changed.

Then, when I called tonite, the nurse on duty told me that my mom has a "low-grade fever". "But she has a UTI, so it could be part of that." I didn't know she had ANOTHER UTI. But I guess she does. So I don't know if I should worry about this or be relieved that there still might be something that they can possibly fix that will help her....I don't know!!!!

And then, to top things off. You aren't going to believe this (ok, you probably will)....please don't put me down for being who I am.....I was driving home from visiting my mom and I decided to drive past our house and go into town and clean out my car a little bit at the gas station. I got about half way from our house to town (it's 4 miles to town) and I saw this obviously elderly dog, standing in the middle of the highway, running up to every car that went by. It was very sad. But I thought to myself, "I can't stop. He must belong to someone. We just got down to five dogs, and as much as I really miss Kirby, even five dogs is still way too many." And I kept on going. I went into town and did my thing, then turned around and went home. The dog was still there, still in the middle of the highway, looking very lost. There were no houses around. I saw images in my brain of this dog lying dead on the side of the road, and I knew I had to do something. So I pulled over and called him over to me. He wasn't sure if I could be trusted, but he finally came to me, but he wouldn't get in my car. So I called DH and he brought a leash. Another lady stopped and tried to help. But the dog would only come to me.

So eventually I was able to get the leash on him--he didn't have a collar or anything, and then he hopped right into my car. We drove around, knocking on doors, trying to find his home. He didn't look like a starving stray, he looked well-cared-for. But nobody knew him. I'm now wondering/speculating that possibly he was "dumped" on the highway. I don't want to think that, though. I want to think he was chasing a squirrel and got too far from home.

He's at our house right now. We haven't introduced him to anyone really, yet, I want to find his owners so bad.....I really very much don't want another dog, but I also don't want him to die....I wish there were more resources for stray animals in my area. We called the sheriff, and the radio station. The radio station will be announcing him tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully someone will claim him. It's been just a little more stress worrying about where to put him, since we don't know if he's cat-friendly, or if he has fleas or anything....got to keep him separate for now, anyhow....sometimes I'm proud of my "stray magnet" thing--the way strays and I seem to find each other....but right now I'm really really wishing that I was a "normal" person, at least in that sense. From the time I first saw the dog, probably a hundred people swerved to go past him. But I'm the sucker who couldn't just drive by.

Kirby Puppy: 1993-2009

I hope none of you mind too much, I think I really need to tell you about my dog.

In May of 1993, I became a homeowner for the very first time. Shortly thereafter, I decided I needed a dog. I had a fenced in yard, parks nearby for walking....it was a great idea. Since I wanted to make a good decision, I researched dog breeds diligently. I wanted a male dog, because in my small yard, I preferred not to have brown spots on the lawn. I wanted an active dog, one where I could be active and feel like I was doing it for the dog. I wanted a dog that was a little unusual-looking. And I wanted a shorter-haired dog, because I didn't want to mess around with the grooming thing.

I narrowed my choices down to an Australian Cattle Dog or a Wirehaired Pointing Griffon. I vacillated between the two and couldn't make up my mind. It seemed, from what I could tell, that neither breed was very common in our area.

But one day, there in the newspaper, was someone with Australian Cattle Dog pups. 1/2 ACD, to be exact, and I never did find out what the other half was. I went to this farm, and there were 6 puppies. The cutest ones, of course, the ones that looked like the dog of my dreams, were all female, and so I was having to decide what to do. Then, the lady showing me the puppies said, "Well...there is one more puppy, he's in the house....but we don't think he'll be very good with children...."
I said, "I don't have children" and asked to see him. Of course it was meant to be.

I brought my puppy home with me and on my way home stopped by mom mom's house to show her. I remember putting the puppy down in the grass and the grass was taller than he was!!! He was such a cutie!!!!

It was quite a while (about two or three weeks) before I came up with a name for the puppy--nothing seemed to fit. But as I got to know him better, well, he really really liked to play ball. And the Minnesota Twins had a player at that time, Kirby Puckett, who was an amazing ball player. It wasn't an "Ah-hah!" moment or anything like that, I called him Kirby Puppy because nothing else really fit at all.

I had wanted an active dog, and Kirby was that, for sure. In fact, I would walk him at least twice a day, and play with him in the yard (this was back when I had more time than ever) and he still just would not get tired. I started to think that maybe I had made a mistake and maybe an "active" dog wasn't such a good idea. I was sure getting my exercise, though, and I loved that dog!!!

I decided that "just in case" I couldn't keep him and he wound up at a shelter, I would bring him to obedience school--that would make him more marketable. It was right around this time that Kirby started to become dog-aggressive. On our walks, he was trying to start fights. In obedience school, he was trying to start fights. I got him neutered. It didn't make a difference. For his entire life, Kirby thought that he should be the only dog allowed to be alive in the universe, unless he gave his special doggy permission (like he did with the other dogs who joined our family eventually). The obedience instructor(s) would give me tips on both wearing him out, and on curbing the dog-aggression. One idea that I liked was agility classes, where dogs run an obstacle course. We both really liked agility classes, but I got more exercise than the other owners, because they were letting their dogs off leash and directing them to run the course. I had to run the course alongside Kirby, because if I let him off leash, he would immediately try to start a fight with another dog.

Unfortunately, though Kirby was in obedience school and agility classes for about five years, he never lost his dog-aggression. I did, however, learn to be watchful, and could command him to do a "down!" command (a submissive position for a dog) when another dog got too close. Maybe if I had known more about dogs at the time, things could have been a little less aggressive, I don't know! But we both enjoyed the classes anyhow, although I'm sure the instructors kind of cringed when we showed up every week....

Despite his dog-aggression, Kirby proved to be the kindest, gentlest dog towards other creatures that I could ever imagine. He would snuggle with kittens, let them climb on him. He would let a cat stand right under his front legs to take dog food out of his bowl! And the bunny. I had a rabbit named Cadbury, who was an inside "house rabbit". She was litter box trained, and very sweet. While I was at work, she lived in a huge dog crate, but when I was around to supervise, Cadbury had free run of the house (she needed supervision because she chewed on cords a lot). Every night before bed, I'd tell Kirby "Ok, time for bed." and he would very gently "herd" that bunny back into her cage. He knew what his job was.

Along the way I ended up taking in a stray lab/pitbull cross, "Megan". Megan was (and still is) the sweetest dog. She doesn't jump on people, doesn't lick people, all she does is snuggle. And most of the time she is very submissive. She's about 12 now, and I've learned that she is NOT submissive when she believes she is being attacked. One day, Kirby and Megan were in the backyard with me. I had bought them each a rawhide bone and they were each chewing on theirs. But Megan got bored and stood up to come over to me. She had to walk past Kirby to get there. Kirby, being who he was, decided that she was going to take his rawhide, and attacked. I have never experienced such a dog fight, it was terrible. I was smart enough to not get involved, but it became pretty clear that if I didn't do something, one of the dogs would lose badly....so I used a shovel to get to dogs apart, and when it was done, Kirby's ear had been mostly ripped off. We went to the vet and got stitches, and then he was a mostly one-eared dog. I was much more careful about treats after that. I had no idea that something like that could happen. I guess I was pretty naive.

Kirby was the perfect bedtime doggie. Every night he'd climb into bed with me, and we'd have a snuggle, then he'd go down by my feet for a few minutes, and then he'd jump down and sleep at the foot of the bed. He was so loyal, unless he was chasing a tennis ball, he would never leave my side (almost), if he had a choice. In fact, in one of our obedience classes, I was supposed to tell Kirby to "stay!" and I was supposed to walk out of the room. Of course every time I started to go out of his sight, he ran to catch up to me. So then the instructor held on to his leash while I said "stay!" and walked out of the room. And he just cried and yelped like he was getting tortured....it was kind of pathetic. After that we kind of adapted that part of the class (we did a lot of adapting, I guess :-) )

Tennis balls. They were Kirby's "drug of choice". He would chase a tennis ball until he couldn't stand up any more. Sometimes I would take him to a lake and he would swim after the tennis ball. He was usually afraid of the water. He would never swim on his own, but if there was a tennis ball involved, he was right there.
The agility instructors saw how crazy he was for a tennis ball and thought that Kirby might be a good flyball dog, but once again, Kirby's dog aggression prevented him from this activity....

When I met DH, he suggested that for our first "real date", we would go to a state park a few hours away for a picnic. I told him that I didn't think I could, because I had to let Kirby out. DH said, "Well bring him with!" So I did. (I didn't have Megan yet). It was a really pretty park, lots of hiking trails and woods, and since I knew that Kirby would stay close by, I let him off the leash. We walked along a small lake that was at the bottom of an approximately 20-foot waterfall, then we took a path upstream more, to a shallow part of the river. I walked to the shore of the river to see if there were any minnows or tadpoles in the water, and Kirby did, too. DH and I kept walking, and I was so engrossed in conversation with him that I didn't notice that Kirby wasn't with me any more. All of a sudden, another couple came up: "Excuse me, I think your dog just went over the waterfall!" Oh what a feeling in my gut. I had seen the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. I didn't know even where in the lake to look for him, let alone to save him, and I had visions of a first date gone horribly wrong....DH later confessed that he wondered if I'd ever see him again if my dog died on our first date....I started to cry....and all of a sudden, Kirby Puppy ran out of the lake with his tail wagging, shaking off the water with a big "Let's do that again!" grin on his puppy face....I can't even express how relieved and happy I was....I kept him on the leash after that....I'm a slow learner but I do learn....

Kirby had his bad habits....he never outgrew them--like digging in the garbage. Even two days before he died, he spread the garbage all over the kitchen floor. He would go for months without doing it, then all of a sudden he'd decide he needed to remind us that he still could do that. And shredding stuffed animals. You know those "stuffies" that they sell at the pet store? Well, early on, Kirby learned how to get his teeth into them and shred them. If they had a squeaker, that was even better--the squeaker was always the first to go. Even tennis balls, in his later years, got shredded. He would somehow get all the fuzz off of the tennis ball, and when there was no more fuzz, he'd kind of chomp on the tennis ball in his mouth, until the tennis ball broke apart at the seams.

And he was always so afraid of thunder. It got to when he heard it raining, he would get scared and try to hide under the bed. I always felt so bad!

But he always was so gentle. When we had baby chicks, he would gently nudge them with his nose and lick them. When one of our animals was sick, he was right there, ready to comfort...

When he was 11, he started limping. A trip to the vet brought bad news: a torn ACL (anterior cruciate ligament)--fixable, but pretty expensive. I wondered if I was being smart, paying for the surgery for a dog that was already, by most standards, "elderly", but I did. I'm glad I did, because he had five more good years after that. After his surgery, though, I started to notice his age more. He didn't run as much, and slept more. About two years ago, he became almost completely deaf. At first I thought that was a sad thing, but then I realized he could no longer hear the thunderstorms that terrified him, and that was a great thing. Sometimes I still wondered, though, if Kirby ever wondered why nobody ever talked to him any more....

Last April the vet told me that Kirby probably had cancer. Since by then he was 16, and combined with my financial situation, there really wasn't a realistic hope of a meaningful recovery, so I opted to just keep on going like we had been. I knew his kidneys were failing too, but he was still eating well and walking down to the mailbox with me on occasion....sometimes, when he had been outside and he suddenly spied me in the yard, he'd still come running, his one ear flopping up and down....

And like I said, even a couple of days before he died, he was getting into the garbage....I knew the day was coming, but I guess you're never ready. I loved that dog so much!!!!! Sometimes I still can't believe he's gone. My dog....my dog.....

A very sad and blessed day

I can't believe this. Nobody EVER has a day like this, EVER. Except me.

Last night, I left work early (1am) and took a couple of hours of vacation time so that I could get a little sleep before I had to be at DD's IEP (Individualized Education Plan--for Special Ed) meeting with all of her teachers/caseworkers/etc at 7:15am (they schedule these meetings before school so that all the important people can attend without disrupting their classes.) They have this meeting once or twice a year (once if she does ok, twice if she needs to have her goals adjusted) and I always go. Not too big of a deal, I could get home at 3 or 3:30, sleep until 6:45, go to the meeting and then go home and go back to bed for a couple of hours before I had to leave for work.

So I went home from work at 1am. Unfortunately, I was still very tired from Wednesday morning (my mom's Dr. appointment), which also disrupted my sleep. I try very hard not to do things like this two days in a row, but neither meeting was at all negotiable, so I was just going to bite the bullet. But when I got about 2/3 of the way home from work, I recognized that I was dozing off while driving. This happens every so often, and I've got places pre-selected along the way that are well-lit and populated, where I can pull in and take a mini-nap, so that I don't hurt anyone on the road. So I pulled into the WalMart parking lot. I was SO tired!

I turned off my car, but left the radio on, like I always do. I know my dad always told me not to do that, but I only nap for about 15-20 minutes, and I've never had a problem at all....anyhow, I woke up from my nap and went to start my car to go home (about 30 miles) and it made this noise like a little machine gun and then wouldn't start. And wouldn't start. So I called DH, who, luckily, was awake, and by some miracle had enough money to put enough gas in his car to drive 30 miles, and he came to get me. I was absolutely dreading having my car towed.

DH listened and thought it sounded like a dead battery. He took a look and it was like my battery was leaking out of the top of it, there was acid all over it and crystals and yucky stuff. He got the car to run after he jumped it. But with all that mess all over, I knew I was going to have to get a new battery, so I had to buy one at WalMart ($85.00 that I didn't have at all--something's gonna bounce, I think, but I guess you do what you have to do....) DH followed me home and told me that while I took his car to DD's meeting, he would install my new battery. I went inside and let Kirby (our dog, age 16) out to go potty, and everything was normal. By this time, though, it was 6am. I took a little "nap" until 6:45, and went to the meeting. No surprises there. Meeting got done, I headed home.

When I was about a half mile away from home, DH called on my cell phone, he asked me where I was, and he sounded upset. He said, "Kirby's having a seizure! Please hurry home!" So I got home and Kirby was still having a seizure on the floor. Blood was coming out of his mouth. Shortly after he arrived, he stopped having the seizure, but he was unconscious. DH picked him up and we rushed him to the vet. At the vets, he kind of came to a little, he kept trying to stand up, but he couldn't make his muscles work. And he was wheezing and panting. I know dogs can get "funny" after a seizure, so I wasn't sure if maybe we should just bring him home and see how he did, but the vet took an X Ray and saw that there were tumors in Kirby's lungs. Kirby kept trying to stand up, but he had no idea where he was going. I was holding his chest up so that he wouldn't fall, because his legs still couldn't support his weight, and he "walked" himself right into a corner, with his head in the corner and he didn't even seem to realize it. Then the vet went to listen to his heart and lungs again and he started to whimper. DH and I recognized that it was time. We both cried. Kirby left this world at about 11:30am. I miss him so much.

I still had to go to work, because I had to fill out my time card or I wouldn't get paid. But I called my boss and told her that I couldn't come in at the moment, and that I'd be in later.

I couldn't sleep. I still had to check on my mom, and I told her about Kirby, since she was the first member of my family to meet him on the day I got him, way back in 1993. My mom was still really down. I was kind of hoping that she would see that I really needed her, but all she kept saying was that it was her fault (she hadn't seen Kirby in probably 3 years, so I have no idea how that would work) but she did hug me a lot.

So here I am at work. No sleep, missing my dog, missing my mom.

You know, sometimes I really can empathize with Job (in the Bible) and all of the bad things that happened to him. I mean, how many "emergency" "couldn't possibly be avoided or put off" problems can a person get in a week, when they don't possibly have a way to pay for them? And couldn't we just have one bad thing happen at a time, instead of several?

Some day I would like to be able to write a post where all sorts of miraculous things went right.

Or....maybe that's this post. Really. Here's what I'm talking about, now that I think about it....

1) If DD did not have that meeting scheduled for so early this morning, I would've stayed at my friend Anita's house in the city last night and not been anywhere close to home when Kirby needed me, and I may have been two hours away from home when my car broke down. But since I had to be in town at 7:15 anyhow, I drove home.

2) I have a two-hour commute through some very rural areas, some of which do not have a cell phone signal and my car chose to die in a WalMart parking lot, where I could go inside to warm up (it was 40*F), and where they were open at 4am for me to buy a new battery.

3) Yesterday (Wednesday), my mom's appointment made me run so late that I didn't have time to pick up DH's Seroquel from the pharmacy. Because of that, he didn't have any Seroquel to "knock him out" last night. He didn't sleep well at all, and was only dozing when he heard one of our other dogs making unusual noises because she was confused and knew that something wasn't right. If I had picked up that Seroquel, it's very possible that DH might not have realized there was a problem, and I probably would've come in from the meeting and gone right to bed without checking on him at all. After all, I had let Kirby out earlier and all seemed as fine as ever.

4) DH is still smoking (or trying to). His mom sent him some money for cigarettes again. But since his lungs are still not ok, he's not smoking as much as usual, so he had money for gas to come and help me at WalMart.

5) Kirby waited until DH was out of the hospital. As a matter of fact, so did my car. How much more terrible either of these things could have been if they had happened while DH was in the hospital...or when DD was home either alone or with her PCA...

6) Despite all the time I spend away from home, in situations where either it would take me two hours to get home, or, with the group home, I am not allowed to leave unless there is another employee there to relieve me (the clients cannot be left alone under any circumstances), everything happened in a way where I was able to say goodbye.

So, I guess, in spite of the fact that this counts as one of my worst days in recent history, I think it also might count as one of the biggest "it sure could have been worse" days.

I started out thinking that maybe I was being punished for some unknown thing. Now I'm seeing that I might have actually been blessed beyond reason.

H1N1--DH hospitalized

Well, DH did not go to the hospital, and he tried to avoid going to the clinic this morning, too, saying he'd be "fine". But I could hear him wheezing, it sounded like he was having an asthma attack. So I made him go in. So much for avoiding the E.R., by the time I got him to do something, the clinic was booked for the day, so we HAD to go to the E.R.

They did three nebulizer (breathing) treatments and they didn't work. So they started giving him steroids via I.V. and did blood work and X-rays. When I talked to the Dr., he said that basically everything has been ruled out except H1N1. They did a swab test but they said they have to send it to the CDC(?) so it could be a couple of days before they get results back. I get the impression that our small town hospital was very prepared for H1N1 but hasn't seen too many cases yet.

DH has been admitted to the hospital because they can't get his breathing under control. I just called there and they're trying another nebulizer treatment.

I'm at work because I don't have much vacation time left (I used a lot when my mom was sick not too long ago, and she's not doing all that great now) and I don't want to use it all up.

DD's pca has agreed to stay with her, so she won't be alone and someone will be there to let out the dogs.....

I'm worried about DH. I've never seen him this sick. But I do know he's in good hands...

And a little nervous about myself. I don't have any symptoms that I know of, but I can't afford to get sick like that. I just can't.