This year's Thanksgiving is a little tough. Last Friday I went in for surgery to have a non-cancerous tumor in my liver removed. Up until it was diagnosed I had never felt it and if it weren't for routine blood tests I'd probably still have it although it was certainly making me uncomfortable before it finally came out. I was concerned about the procedure but then I saw that I could have it done laparoscopically and maybe two weeks recovery time and I'd be back on my feet. That didn't seem too bad and so life was arranged for almost two weeks of downtime because I like pushing the limits. That was all okay but they rescheduled my surgery from the front of the week to the back of the week. Surgery was Friday it's now Wednesday and I am debating if I can pull off Thanksgiving tomorrow. All I have to do is show up, but honestly trying to act like you feel fine when you don't is not fun. I am also not sure about returning to work on Friday. I hate letting people down and I will feel like that is what I am doing no matter what anyone says. For starters, my laparoscopic surgery consisted of 7 holes, not 3 and they took out my gallbladder because "it looked weird." I was so thrilled when the surgeon told me I could leave the next day I didn't consider that home medication isn't the same as hospital meds. I hadn't even made it all the way down the hospital hallway without feeling like I might pass out. But I am always so damn happy with my pain coping skills that I like to forget that I am human. I don't understand the current opioid addiction at all. My meds make me nauseous and sleepy. Not what I would consider high at all. I can get something to take away nausea but I was only supposed to need them for 4 days and that ends today. I am probably getting to the point that I need food far more than I need sleep. Don't even get me started on my current need for laxatives or the fun that's going to go with that. I'm actually doing quite well, considering everything. The unexplained shudders are a bit annoying (I wish I knew what they were,) and painful but considering what my body went through last week, I'm good.
I do think that sometimes one needs to complain about life. It's like singing the blues. You feel better when it's out there, instead of stuck in your head. There is so much that I have to be thankful for that it makes my complaints seem minuscule. It's not just the wonderful man who got me through all of this mess and continues to take care of me, or the families that are trying to make me part of their holidays. It's also the amazing network of friends that I have far and wide who are always there for me. I know that there are many people who have life far worse than I do. Quite honestly it feels like right now there are many who have a life more pleasant than mine, but I am the only one lucky enough to have my life. Thank you to all of the wonderful people that I get to encounter for enriching it. Now, Miralax and 7 up, or Narco and sleep, maybe white bread and Pepsi, or finalizing tomorrow's choices. UGH! But I am smiling.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Friday, August 11, 2017
Growing up to growing old
I turned 49 this year. Next year my parents will see to it that I get my AARP card. It's tradition. I actually don't mind the idea of getting older. There are many people that I know that are older than I am that are doing quite well and I well remember the struggles that got me here. The physical body may find life a little harder, but the inner soul gets more comfortable every year. I struggle with maintaining weight and blood pressure and I swear that my medicine cabinet grows every few months. In spite of all of this, I have grown into my past, I have learned to accept where I came from, and I don't count on tomorrow but I am always peeking around corners and I have to tell you that what I see looks pretty great. I don't understand people who say that they wouldn't change the past if they could. If I could redo my life I don't think that I would recognize my future self because there would be so little that I didn't change. I don't have hoards of money to spare or physical things but my life is full and I'm afraid that I have become more egotistical than I deserve.
When you grow up you learn that you are responsible for your actions. Especially the ones that you regret.
When you grow old you learn that you are lucky to be responsible for your actions. You learn that you can change things and make life better.
When you grow up you learn to stand on your own two feet.
When you grow old you learn that no one only stands on his own two feet and if you can, you should help others.
When you grow up you learn that what other people thought of you isn't as important as you thought.
When you grow old you learn what people think of you is important because you want them to see how good life can be and you know that someone is always watching.
When you grow up you learn that life takes people away from you and it's never fair.
When you grow old you learn that you are lucky to have had every single person that touched your life and you smile at memories and feel love from those long gone.
When you grow up you learn to prioritize according to needs.
When you grow old you learn how little you need and how much more important it is to give where you can.
When you grow up you learn only you can control your emotions.
When you grow old you find that there isn't as much need to control your emotions as it is to share them.
When you grow up you struggle to find your place in the world.
When you grow old you discover that your place is where ever in the world that you are.
When you grow up you learn that you are responsible for your actions. Especially the ones that you regret.
When you grow old you learn that you are lucky to be responsible for your actions. You learn that you can change things and make life better.
When you grow up you learn to stand on your own two feet.
When you grow old you learn that no one only stands on his own two feet and if you can, you should help others.
When you grow up you learn that what other people thought of you isn't as important as you thought.
When you grow old you learn what people think of you is important because you want them to see how good life can be and you know that someone is always watching.
When you grow up you learn that life takes people away from you and it's never fair.
When you grow old you learn that you are lucky to have had every single person that touched your life and you smile at memories and feel love from those long gone.
When you grow up you learn to prioritize according to needs.
When you grow old you learn how little you need and how much more important it is to give where you can.
When you grow up you learn only you can control your emotions.
When you grow old you find that there isn't as much need to control your emotions as it is to share them.
When you grow up you struggle to find your place in the world.
When you grow old you discover that your place is where ever in the world that you are.
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
Get out of my head
I believe writing is cathartic so these days more while posts are more frequent, they are far from my entertaining musings, for that I apologize. If you want more entertaining readings I can suggest many authors who will always be more entertaining than I. Much of what I write is just for me. When I write the crazy ideas that run laps in my head are forced to stop and assemble in some sort of order. I can revisit at will in order to reflect positively or negatively on my thoughts of the time. I know that I overthink every issue, however putting ideas on paper adds concrete and makes them solidify and stops the circular thinking that escalates my feelings.
My head is filled with thoughts and feelings about abilities and disabilities and what makes a person be who they are. My little family has an outreach. I think that is the best way that I can think of my niece right now. She lives under my roof but she very separate from the rest of the world. I have read a lot about Aspergers and the more I read the less I understand. I have known many people with different disabilities and I know that you can not or should not separate the disability from the person. We are a sum of our parts both good and bad. The problem with Aspergers is that effects the personality in ways that make the person hard to identify with. What if you take away someone's ability to empathize? Empathy is a valuable human trait without it, we think of people as monsters who can't relate to us. What if conversations were not just difficult but stressful and seemed to be full of meaning that you didn't understand. I am a fan of self-sufficiency and I love and need my time alone, but I can't help but think how alone Shereen must feel. I think that she is okay with it, it is I that have the problem. I think that she has almost given up on finding understanding from others. I have spent many days around her since she was small and we have always been better friends than many others, but now I realize how little I understand her or how to help her. I do my best to give her space and I am trying to stand behind her. I try to let her take the lead, but I can't help but insert some information where I can. I believe voc-rehab is still one of our best hopes. I let her meet with her counselor alone but I did give the receptionist a note with things that I think Shereen needs. I am afraid for her because I know asking for help is very difficult for her and something that she rarely does. I don't believe that she owns her Aspergers. It was something that she was diagnosed with in junior high, but all she knows is that's the way she is and we have always said that being different is okay. It is hard because I have found blogs with people who test on the autism spectrum (I guess this is the politically correct term) but they are empowered to speak for themselves and they advocate that their differences are something to celebrate and not mourn. I would love that for Shereen she has a gift for storytelling I want her to be able to tell her own story. She is so very intelligent, that it seems wrong to be so shut down from the world. We are making progress. She took the bus down to the mall today by herself. My mother said that she sounded like a whole new person on the phone. I think that with a little freedom she may hunger for more. In the meantime, she lives closed in her room often exchanging little more than two dozen words with me a day and not talking to Jeff at all. She sneaks out and grabs food and usually takes it back into the bedroom. I know being alone is less stressful than having to cope with someone anyone else.I just wonder if it helps or makes life worse. One day at a time we might be making little steps. I have hopes. I just know that I have to adapt as much as she does to what is acceptable and what is good.
My head is filled with thoughts and feelings about abilities and disabilities and what makes a person be who they are. My little family has an outreach. I think that is the best way that I can think of my niece right now. She lives under my roof but she very separate from the rest of the world. I have read a lot about Aspergers and the more I read the less I understand. I have known many people with different disabilities and I know that you can not or should not separate the disability from the person. We are a sum of our parts both good and bad. The problem with Aspergers is that effects the personality in ways that make the person hard to identify with. What if you take away someone's ability to empathize? Empathy is a valuable human trait without it, we think of people as monsters who can't relate to us. What if conversations were not just difficult but stressful and seemed to be full of meaning that you didn't understand. I am a fan of self-sufficiency and I love and need my time alone, but I can't help but think how alone Shereen must feel. I think that she is okay with it, it is I that have the problem. I think that she has almost given up on finding understanding from others. I have spent many days around her since she was small and we have always been better friends than many others, but now I realize how little I understand her or how to help her. I do my best to give her space and I am trying to stand behind her. I try to let her take the lead, but I can't help but insert some information where I can. I believe voc-rehab is still one of our best hopes. I let her meet with her counselor alone but I did give the receptionist a note with things that I think Shereen needs. I am afraid for her because I know asking for help is very difficult for her and something that she rarely does. I don't believe that she owns her Aspergers. It was something that she was diagnosed with in junior high, but all she knows is that's the way she is and we have always said that being different is okay. It is hard because I have found blogs with people who test on the autism spectrum (I guess this is the politically correct term) but they are empowered to speak for themselves and they advocate that their differences are something to celebrate and not mourn. I would love that for Shereen she has a gift for storytelling I want her to be able to tell her own story. She is so very intelligent, that it seems wrong to be so shut down from the world. We are making progress. She took the bus down to the mall today by herself. My mother said that she sounded like a whole new person on the phone. I think that with a little freedom she may hunger for more. In the meantime, she lives closed in her room often exchanging little more than two dozen words with me a day and not talking to Jeff at all. She sneaks out and grabs food and usually takes it back into the bedroom. I know being alone is less stressful than having to cope with someone anyone else.I just wonder if it helps or makes life worse. One day at a time we might be making little steps. I have hopes. I just know that I have to adapt as much as she does to what is acceptable and what is good.
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
One minute at a time
My niece living here has been a challenge. I always thought that parents were amazing in their ability to keep up with their children. I have always been amazed at the single-parent families that I knew. Years ago I decided this was a group that I didn't want to join. I decided that I didn't have the patience or energy for a child and I have never regretted that choice. Sherry is 23 but that doesn't seem that much easier. I am always doubting if I am pushing her too hard or not enough.
It's been almost two weeks and I debate every minute if we are doing okay. I know that jobs service was fabulous. They set her up with Dress for Success and she received a jacket and a shirt. They have her set up with vocational rehab next week. I have got her a cell phone as well as a three-month bus pass. Today we got her a replacement social security card in route. I have written down the house rules and I am doing my best to make sure they are followed without constant reminding. I hate people who nag and I refuse to. I need to find an acceptable punishment that makes these things her responsibility and not mine. I am hoping to get us to join a group that helps the disabled become more independent. If anything I need someone who understands her capabilities and can help me determine what is right. I am going to ask her to formulate her idea of "success." I think it will help me to help her. I don't want to underestimate her abilities, but the autism spectrum wants to close a person in on themselves. It is difficult to allow someone to shut themselves out of society when you know that communication is essential to life. She has made a few phone calls and I am trying to make sure that she takes the lead when we enter a business. In turn, I have let her have a small space and I am essentially letting her live in the room with little contact from us. I try to plan out my weekend ahead of time and let her know what is coming. Today I blew the schedule. It was raining and I didn't feel like waiting for the bus. This weekend I also wanted her to deliver applications to the Youth Ranch which she doesn't want to do. This maybe where she is going to go for voc-rehab so I may relent. I also would like her to get a job with them because they have two stores very close to the house. I think if I take it slower at let voc-rehab help her with some of these early steps she might have more success. It is a minute by minute struggle to decide does she need more challenges, am I not helping enough. I want her to succeed but I know her success and mine are not the same. I want her to know that she needs to ask for help it will make life easier. I want her to know that there are consequences to her behaviors but I don't think that failure has taught her much. I just hope that a taste of independence will make her hungry for more.
It's been almost two weeks and I debate every minute if we are doing okay. I know that jobs service was fabulous. They set her up with Dress for Success and she received a jacket and a shirt. They have her set up with vocational rehab next week. I have got her a cell phone as well as a three-month bus pass. Today we got her a replacement social security card in route. I have written down the house rules and I am doing my best to make sure they are followed without constant reminding. I hate people who nag and I refuse to. I need to find an acceptable punishment that makes these things her responsibility and not mine. I am hoping to get us to join a group that helps the disabled become more independent. If anything I need someone who understands her capabilities and can help me determine what is right. I am going to ask her to formulate her idea of "success." I think it will help me to help her. I don't want to underestimate her abilities, but the autism spectrum wants to close a person in on themselves. It is difficult to allow someone to shut themselves out of society when you know that communication is essential to life. She has made a few phone calls and I am trying to make sure that she takes the lead when we enter a business. In turn, I have let her have a small space and I am essentially letting her live in the room with little contact from us. I try to plan out my weekend ahead of time and let her know what is coming. Today I blew the schedule. It was raining and I didn't feel like waiting for the bus. This weekend I also wanted her to deliver applications to the Youth Ranch which she doesn't want to do. This maybe where she is going to go for voc-rehab so I may relent. I also would like her to get a job with them because they have two stores very close to the house. I think if I take it slower at let voc-rehab help her with some of these early steps she might have more success. It is a minute by minute struggle to decide does she need more challenges, am I not helping enough. I want her to succeed but I know her success and mine are not the same. I want her to know that she needs to ask for help it will make life easier. I want her to know that there are consequences to her behaviors but I don't think that failure has taught her much. I just hope that a taste of independence will make her hungry for more.
Tuesday, April 11, 2017
The Beginning of a Journey
The balance of the house has shifted. It felt like it was going to topple over, out of control, but I am starting to see maybe the foundation has enough give to maintain its structure even through an earthquake.
For me, a phone call at work is not normal. One from my parents is even more ominous. I heard that my niece, Sherry, has left their house sometime during the night Thursday and is apparently on her way to my house. They have no idea what her method of transportation is or when she should arrive. I quickly tell my workers that they have to go "home" so that I can leave. My thoughts are running everywhere. Did her cousin pick her up? Is she okay? What should be my reaction when I see her? When I got home I see a bike parked in the driveway. I walked into the house and see a couple of bags on the couch. No Sherry yet, but at least I'm pretty sure that she's okay. I check on the boyfriend who is still asleep and try to explain what I know. I then call my mother and let her know that she is here somewhere. Mom tells me that she got picked up by some nice lady and dropped off at my place and the lady called mom. Sherry had also called mom from my house saying that she was okay. She came in with doughnuts from the grocery store a few minutes later. I ordered her to the car and headed straight to Mc Donald's. My thinking was that if I stayed home I would yell, she would cry and neither one of us would achieve anything. I thought that if I went somewhere public we both might do a little better maintaining our composure and communicate better. She had called and asked if she could stay with me while she job hunted twice, once just a few days before. To her credit, she knew that she had screwed up the situation bad enough that she might not have a place to live. I chose not to ask if she had an alternative plan if she couldn't stay with me. I believe that she had some other idea, but I don't think I would have approved of it. Sometimes it is better not to know. I had so many problems with someone leaving a house at some bizarre hour for about a 45-mile bike ride without even a cell phone let alone actually informing people who have never not helped her. I work in a prison and anyone biking alone without any method of communication is a situation for serious trouble, but you can't explain concepts of victims to people who aren't willing to listen. It came down to deciding that she was staying with me on a trial period and we would need some serious signs that she was trying to grow up.
Sherry has some level of autism. She has difficulty dealing with other people because she lacks a level of empathy. She is most happy when she is alone with her manga and her computer. Finding her first job was close to impossible for someone who is very bad about hiding their feelings. She was living in a very small town with her grandparents and life is hard when people live together but can't seem to find mutual ground no matter how hard they try. Boise does offer more opportunities but it also has many more people and many more scary new problems. She has no license because driving is scary. I think that a small town is easier on a young kid, but Emmett might be too small.
Tomorrow is Wednesday so it's been almost a week. I have come to the conclusion that best way to handle things is to do my best to treat her like an adult. She needs to learn to fail. I am not cooking her dinner, telling her when to eat or what she needs to do. I have told her that she needs to learn to take care of herself. I am not going to clean up after her and she doesn't have to clean up after us. I want her to focus on getting a job and figuring things out. I have most of this all written up, but I choose not to give it to her yet we have all had a long week. This week she spent about 3 hours with the wonderful people at Boise Job Service. They even had her speak to someone who deals with people with disabilities. For her to have to communicate with people that she doesn't know was hard. I fought with myself on how much input I should have in this process and I did let her handle the whole thing by herself. They did eventually call me back for some info, but they were awesome. They set her up with Dress for Success, a job seekers booklet (which I hope she reads), and an application for Idaho Youth Ranch. My hope is that they convinced her that her first job would not be some well-paying thing where she could just sit behind a computer. I put $10 on my library card and gave it to her to use. We all have computers including her, but my printer isn't working and she can do that from the library, also I have a branch within walking distance. We got her a 3-month bus pass and she can go anywhere she wants. Job Service taught her to read a bus schedule, but I will ride with her once so we get the feeling without the anxiety. I haven't ridden a city bus since I was about 10. We will make copies of the application because it seems Idaho Youth Ranch is looking for help all over town. We made a trip to Emmett to pick up some things and my parents were far nicer than necessary. She can not find her social security card so we have to apply for a replacement. I feel that there are already a lot of challenges but she is meeting them and I think feels like she is getting there. She is not thrilled with her tiny space in this small house but frankly, I don't want her to be terribly comfortable. If she doesn't succeed I want the experience to have taught her something. I want to push a little harder, but I know that I am tired and need my days off. I have to get my car in for some work and a few other appointments on Thursday so we may take tomorrow off for recovery as I have to go back to work on Friday. All in all, I feel that we might all survive.
My boyfriend is the real hero. He didn't sign up for any of this and is handling it all. He understands family can be hard but they are important. He is making sure that I am taking care of myself and is even nicer to our cat who is totally freaking out and hiding/sleeping all day and running around on the bed at night. It might be a blessing that we all anti-social people and happy in our own worlds. Sherry is already tired of sports and football season hasn't even started. She has my Netflix password and is living in the tiny space available but, we will survive together, how much better could it be than that?
For me, a phone call at work is not normal. One from my parents is even more ominous. I heard that my niece, Sherry, has left their house sometime during the night Thursday and is apparently on her way to my house. They have no idea what her method of transportation is or when she should arrive. I quickly tell my workers that they have to go "home" so that I can leave. My thoughts are running everywhere. Did her cousin pick her up? Is she okay? What should be my reaction when I see her? When I got home I see a bike parked in the driveway. I walked into the house and see a couple of bags on the couch. No Sherry yet, but at least I'm pretty sure that she's okay. I check on the boyfriend who is still asleep and try to explain what I know. I then call my mother and let her know that she is here somewhere. Mom tells me that she got picked up by some nice lady and dropped off at my place and the lady called mom. Sherry had also called mom from my house saying that she was okay. She came in with doughnuts from the grocery store a few minutes later. I ordered her to the car and headed straight to Mc Donald's. My thinking was that if I stayed home I would yell, she would cry and neither one of us would achieve anything. I thought that if I went somewhere public we both might do a little better maintaining our composure and communicate better. She had called and asked if she could stay with me while she job hunted twice, once just a few days before. To her credit, she knew that she had screwed up the situation bad enough that she might not have a place to live. I chose not to ask if she had an alternative plan if she couldn't stay with me. I believe that she had some other idea, but I don't think I would have approved of it. Sometimes it is better not to know. I had so many problems with someone leaving a house at some bizarre hour for about a 45-mile bike ride without even a cell phone let alone actually informing people who have never not helped her. I work in a prison and anyone biking alone without any method of communication is a situation for serious trouble, but you can't explain concepts of victims to people who aren't willing to listen. It came down to deciding that she was staying with me on a trial period and we would need some serious signs that she was trying to grow up.
Sherry has some level of autism. She has difficulty dealing with other people because she lacks a level of empathy. She is most happy when she is alone with her manga and her computer. Finding her first job was close to impossible for someone who is very bad about hiding their feelings. She was living in a very small town with her grandparents and life is hard when people live together but can't seem to find mutual ground no matter how hard they try. Boise does offer more opportunities but it also has many more people and many more scary new problems. She has no license because driving is scary. I think that a small town is easier on a young kid, but Emmett might be too small.
Tomorrow is Wednesday so it's been almost a week. I have come to the conclusion that best way to handle things is to do my best to treat her like an adult. She needs to learn to fail. I am not cooking her dinner, telling her when to eat or what she needs to do. I have told her that she needs to learn to take care of herself. I am not going to clean up after her and she doesn't have to clean up after us. I want her to focus on getting a job and figuring things out. I have most of this all written up, but I choose not to give it to her yet we have all had a long week. This week she spent about 3 hours with the wonderful people at Boise Job Service. They even had her speak to someone who deals with people with disabilities. For her to have to communicate with people that she doesn't know was hard. I fought with myself on how much input I should have in this process and I did let her handle the whole thing by herself. They did eventually call me back for some info, but they were awesome. They set her up with Dress for Success, a job seekers booklet (which I hope she reads), and an application for Idaho Youth Ranch. My hope is that they convinced her that her first job would not be some well-paying thing where she could just sit behind a computer. I put $10 on my library card and gave it to her to use. We all have computers including her, but my printer isn't working and she can do that from the library, also I have a branch within walking distance. We got her a 3-month bus pass and she can go anywhere she wants. Job Service taught her to read a bus schedule, but I will ride with her once so we get the feeling without the anxiety. I haven't ridden a city bus since I was about 10. We will make copies of the application because it seems Idaho Youth Ranch is looking for help all over town. We made a trip to Emmett to pick up some things and my parents were far nicer than necessary. She can not find her social security card so we have to apply for a replacement. I feel that there are already a lot of challenges but she is meeting them and I think feels like she is getting there. She is not thrilled with her tiny space in this small house but frankly, I don't want her to be terribly comfortable. If she doesn't succeed I want the experience to have taught her something. I want to push a little harder, but I know that I am tired and need my days off. I have to get my car in for some work and a few other appointments on Thursday so we may take tomorrow off for recovery as I have to go back to work on Friday. All in all, I feel that we might all survive.
My boyfriend is the real hero. He didn't sign up for any of this and is handling it all. He understands family can be hard but they are important. He is making sure that I am taking care of myself and is even nicer to our cat who is totally freaking out and hiding/sleeping all day and running around on the bed at night. It might be a blessing that we all anti-social people and happy in our own worlds. Sherry is already tired of sports and football season hasn't even started. She has my Netflix password and is living in the tiny space available but, we will survive together, how much better could it be than that?
Thursday, February 2, 2017
The story of my best friend
I knew when I bought my house that it wouldn't be long before I had a dog. I think I visited the Humane Society just once before I found my favorite pound puppy. There were three or four of your brothers and sisters from the same litter, but when I saw your scruffy bearded face I knew that you were the one. You were so young that I had I to wait another week to bring you home, but I was counting the hours down until I could get you. I remember laying in bed with you and a copy of Bullfinch's Mythology hunting for a name. When I ran across Hector, the hero of the Peloponnesian War, I knew it fit. Hector may have been your name but you were called everything on planet, Angel, Buddy, Kiddo or whatever you always seemed to know it was you. I always thought that you were my excuse to talk to myself, but I find I am not talking to myself as much these days because I know that you aren't listening.
For many people, it's when you bring the dog home that the fun starts. It wasn't that way with you. When I brought you home you were a sick little puppy and we had many trips back to the vet. At first, it was Kennel Cough, and ther after that they couldn't tell me. You weren't eating and you were always throwing up. You were so good you would ask to go outside just to throw up. I didn't want to leave you alone so my mother, your grandmother, would babysit. This is what started a wonderful friendship that would last your whole life. Weeks later I finally took you back into the Humane Society and with tears in my eyes, I told them they would have to figure out what was wrong with this little dog or they would have to take you back. They determined that your stomach had sort of crawled up inside of itself and so very little food was getting through. They said that they could do surgery but they weren't sure of your odds of survival. I was already in love with you so I asked them to do it. The surgery went well and the Humane Society was very kind discounting the bill an amazing amount and then your grandma paid for that too. You made us laugh because grandma and I would follow you around making sure that you pooped and you started hiding behind the shed for privacy to go to the bathroom.
From day one you were always good about following the rules. Sometimes I wondered how you made it all day on my long shifts without having to go potty. The neighbors knew that they couldn't call you into their yard even though there was no fence. However, I think that you made a few rules that I learned to obey as well. When I read too late you would jump off of the bed and crawl under it to sleep. All small stuffed animals were yours and new toys always needed to be ran around the yard a few times to show off to the neighbors. When new loaves of bread were opened you were to always have the heel pieces. I wasn't terrible with feeding you table scraps but the last bite of every sandwich was yours as well. We quite often took walks and when I could I let you off the leash because you walked so much better than constantly tugging on it. I was allowed to leave by car anytime, but when I left the house on foot you would usually cry and howl until I came home. I would often hear you when I walked out of the grocery store. I felt like you understood far more words than any dog, but your eyes always spoke for you. Big soulful golden brown puppy eyes, that expressed love beyond words.
I already had a pet when you came to live with me. Cagney, the ferret, was getting to be an old man when you were a little pup. I hesitated letting you two play together. Even as a puppy you were far larger than Cagney and ferrets are very ornery. One of the first times that I let you play together, Cagney crawled into a plastic bag and you pounced on him. I got you away from the bag and the bag didn't move. I carefully picked up the closed end of the bag. Cagney slid lifelessly to the floor and laid there for a full minute, and then he jumped up and ran under a chair. You were a nervous dog and Cagney was a therapy friend. My cousins who are dog enthusiasts came to meet you and found a very nervous dog who would hardly leave my side let alone play with strangers. They asked about Cagney and when I let him out they found that you were an entirely different dog who know how to play and have fun. I used the same trick when we went to have Christmas pictures taken at Petco. The photographer started trying to pose you and I wasn't sure that it was going to happen, but then I got Cagney out and even though he couldn't run and play with you his presence relaxed you enough that I have a great picture of the three of us. I knew that you learned to play with the tough little critter when I was on the computer and you were both running around. I looked down and the ferret had your nose and you were holding so still. You knew that if you pulled back it was going to hurt but by staying still Cagney would get bored and let you go. It was an unlikely friendship but it seemed to be good for both of you.
Things like car rides and meeting strangers were never easy for you. I blamed myself a little for this because I stayed home alone a lot and you needed more socializing. When I did take you in the car people swore I beat you because you would climb out on shaky legs and cower. When I got the pickup, dad put an eyebolt in so that you could safely ride in the back and car rides were much better. It wasn't long before I would swear that you could have driven the route between my house and your grandparent's house, always getting up when I made certain turns. Neighbors would try to pet you and you would shy away from them, but it wasn't long before you taught them that while you didn't want to come close to them, playing a game of chase was a great compromise. I sometimes felt guilty not sharing you with more people. Your kind and gentle nature seemed to be ideal for a therapy dog. I can remember the way that you would ever so gently climb up into my mother's lap. I don't think a large dog was ever so gentle. You knew how to pay attention and listen to whatever anyone had to say. You might have been a great therapy dog, but I think you already had that job living with me full time.
We had great adventures. I remember camping, and you were so proud to have flushed out a deer. I also remember you wanting to chase what I thought was a horse going through the brush only to find out later it was actually a moose that had walked right through our camp. You were a great camper who was always better behaved off leash than on and wherever we went I had no fear of you running off. I am not sure if I was keeping you in my eyesight or you were keeping me in yours. You seemed to understand camping areas better than many campers, and enjoyed the outdoors as much as I did.
Your insecurities faded with time and love. If someone came to the house that was afraid you, you would do your best to win them over. When Jeff moved in with us I felt like you adopted him as much as he did you. Fast friends and I think that your death will be harder on him than on me. He determined that you were a Flat Coated Retriever instead of the mutt that I always claimed. I think he thought you were worthy of a better title than a mutt, but I've always felt that the best hearts were likely to be found in a mutt. Your biggest enemy loved you too. The cat came to live with us because the little thing seemed to have no fear of you. I think Dexter thought of you as a big brother. He would lay on the floor and gradually get closer and closer. You would get so annoyed at the little pest that wouldn't leave you alone, and got the attention that you felt that you deserved. On top of that, he got a name so similar to your you were never sure who was in trouble. There were moments that you two played together, and while I didn't expect the severity of your timidness of such a small thing, I also didn't expect you to play together. I wonder what it would have been like if you two had come together when you were younger.
Letting you go was hard, but I had several years of knowing how old that you were and knowing that I would probably have to make that decision one day. One of our friends used to say, "if you love something and it loves you back, what more can you ask for?" It had been just days ago that you were making the rounds with people, milking out all of the attention, and you insisted that a trip around the block. It was only the last two days that the look of pain that you gave me broke my heart. I knew it was time. The arthritis meds were not enough and when the vet said that you had a major heart murmur, I knew it was time. I tried to call the vet to make sure that we could get you in without having to wait, but that was when my voice gave out. The staff was all very kind and I held you as you took your last breath. It was those beautiful brown eyes that will live forever in my memory.
I have already donated many of your things to the Humane Society, but you are constantly in my thoughts. The day I fear, is the day that I forget. The day I wonder if I've left you outside or find a toy that I've forgotten. Your collar is sitting in its usual spot because It is a positive reminder of the dog who was very loved and gave love equally. I am sure that one day the collar will be thrown out, but I will at least keep a dog tag. There will be other dogs because I feel that people and dog are better together, but there will never be another Hector. You are a legend in my world something that I can not imagine another dog coming near. I love you dog!
For many people, it's when you bring the dog home that the fun starts. It wasn't that way with you. When I brought you home you were a sick little puppy and we had many trips back to the vet. At first, it was Kennel Cough, and ther after that they couldn't tell me. You weren't eating and you were always throwing up. You were so good you would ask to go outside just to throw up. I didn't want to leave you alone so my mother, your grandmother, would babysit. This is what started a wonderful friendship that would last your whole life. Weeks later I finally took you back into the Humane Society and with tears in my eyes, I told them they would have to figure out what was wrong with this little dog or they would have to take you back. They determined that your stomach had sort of crawled up inside of itself and so very little food was getting through. They said that they could do surgery but they weren't sure of your odds of survival. I was already in love with you so I asked them to do it. The surgery went well and the Humane Society was very kind discounting the bill an amazing amount and then your grandma paid for that too. You made us laugh because grandma and I would follow you around making sure that you pooped and you started hiding behind the shed for privacy to go to the bathroom.
From day one you were always good about following the rules. Sometimes I wondered how you made it all day on my long shifts without having to go potty. The neighbors knew that they couldn't call you into their yard even though there was no fence. However, I think that you made a few rules that I learned to obey as well. When I read too late you would jump off of the bed and crawl under it to sleep. All small stuffed animals were yours and new toys always needed to be ran around the yard a few times to show off to the neighbors. When new loaves of bread were opened you were to always have the heel pieces. I wasn't terrible with feeding you table scraps but the last bite of every sandwich was yours as well. We quite often took walks and when I could I let you off the leash because you walked so much better than constantly tugging on it. I was allowed to leave by car anytime, but when I left the house on foot you would usually cry and howl until I came home. I would often hear you when I walked out of the grocery store. I felt like you understood far more words than any dog, but your eyes always spoke for you. Big soulful golden brown puppy eyes, that expressed love beyond words.
I already had a pet when you came to live with me. Cagney, the ferret, was getting to be an old man when you were a little pup. I hesitated letting you two play together. Even as a puppy you were far larger than Cagney and ferrets are very ornery. One of the first times that I let you play together, Cagney crawled into a plastic bag and you pounced on him. I got you away from the bag and the bag didn't move. I carefully picked up the closed end of the bag. Cagney slid lifelessly to the floor and laid there for a full minute, and then he jumped up and ran under a chair. You were a nervous dog and Cagney was a therapy friend. My cousins who are dog enthusiasts came to meet you and found a very nervous dog who would hardly leave my side let alone play with strangers. They asked about Cagney and when I let him out they found that you were an entirely different dog who know how to play and have fun. I used the same trick when we went to have Christmas pictures taken at Petco. The photographer started trying to pose you and I wasn't sure that it was going to happen, but then I got Cagney out and even though he couldn't run and play with you his presence relaxed you enough that I have a great picture of the three of us. I knew that you learned to play with the tough little critter when I was on the computer and you were both running around. I looked down and the ferret had your nose and you were holding so still. You knew that if you pulled back it was going to hurt but by staying still Cagney would get bored and let you go. It was an unlikely friendship but it seemed to be good for both of you.
Things like car rides and meeting strangers were never easy for you. I blamed myself a little for this because I stayed home alone a lot and you needed more socializing. When I did take you in the car people swore I beat you because you would climb out on shaky legs and cower. When I got the pickup, dad put an eyebolt in so that you could safely ride in the back and car rides were much better. It wasn't long before I would swear that you could have driven the route between my house and your grandparent's house, always getting up when I made certain turns. Neighbors would try to pet you and you would shy away from them, but it wasn't long before you taught them that while you didn't want to come close to them, playing a game of chase was a great compromise. I sometimes felt guilty not sharing you with more people. Your kind and gentle nature seemed to be ideal for a therapy dog. I can remember the way that you would ever so gently climb up into my mother's lap. I don't think a large dog was ever so gentle. You knew how to pay attention and listen to whatever anyone had to say. You might have been a great therapy dog, but I think you already had that job living with me full time.
We had great adventures. I remember camping, and you were so proud to have flushed out a deer. I also remember you wanting to chase what I thought was a horse going through the brush only to find out later it was actually a moose that had walked right through our camp. You were a great camper who was always better behaved off leash than on and wherever we went I had no fear of you running off. I am not sure if I was keeping you in my eyesight or you were keeping me in yours. You seemed to understand camping areas better than many campers, and enjoyed the outdoors as much as I did.
Your insecurities faded with time and love. If someone came to the house that was afraid you, you would do your best to win them over. When Jeff moved in with us I felt like you adopted him as much as he did you. Fast friends and I think that your death will be harder on him than on me. He determined that you were a Flat Coated Retriever instead of the mutt that I always claimed. I think he thought you were worthy of a better title than a mutt, but I've always felt that the best hearts were likely to be found in a mutt. Your biggest enemy loved you too. The cat came to live with us because the little thing seemed to have no fear of you. I think Dexter thought of you as a big brother. He would lay on the floor and gradually get closer and closer. You would get so annoyed at the little pest that wouldn't leave you alone, and got the attention that you felt that you deserved. On top of that, he got a name so similar to your you were never sure who was in trouble. There were moments that you two played together, and while I didn't expect the severity of your timidness of such a small thing, I also didn't expect you to play together. I wonder what it would have been like if you two had come together when you were younger.
Letting you go was hard, but I had several years of knowing how old that you were and knowing that I would probably have to make that decision one day. One of our friends used to say, "if you love something and it loves you back, what more can you ask for?" It had been just days ago that you were making the rounds with people, milking out all of the attention, and you insisted that a trip around the block. It was only the last two days that the look of pain that you gave me broke my heart. I knew it was time. The arthritis meds were not enough and when the vet said that you had a major heart murmur, I knew it was time. I tried to call the vet to make sure that we could get you in without having to wait, but that was when my voice gave out. The staff was all very kind and I held you as you took your last breath. It was those beautiful brown eyes that will live forever in my memory.
I have already donated many of your things to the Humane Society, but you are constantly in my thoughts. The day I fear, is the day that I forget. The day I wonder if I've left you outside or find a toy that I've forgotten. Your collar is sitting in its usual spot because It is a positive reminder of the dog who was very loved and gave love equally. I am sure that one day the collar will be thrown out, but I will at least keep a dog tag. There will be other dogs because I feel that people and dog are better together, but there will never be another Hector. You are a legend in my world something that I can not imagine another dog coming near. I love you dog!
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Climbing the mending wall
Today is too full for me. It seems to me that the day has too much anger and sorrow. It is as if these are elements that need to be bled out. Maybe we need time to scream and cry and yell before we heal. We are humans after all, and each one of our days is filled fears, hopes, and dreams. Every day we bury ourselves in a sheet, an artificial covering to be acceptable society. Maybe society needs to have to watch while we let our ugly sides show, but then we need to look for common ground.
It seems to me that we are looking more for the things that divide us than the things that unite us. Trenches are being dug where there were only lines in the sand before. There are worlds of common ground but instead, we look to see who is on which side of the fence. Worlds of grey are now black and white. It reminded me of Robert Frost's poem, The Mending Wall. There are two neighbors who set about to mend the wall that runs betwixt their properties. One neighbor is convinced that the wall is there to help them maintain boundaries. The other wonders what he may be walling out or in. As I look around my world it is not my world that I see but instead it is all of the many hearts that touch mine. They all add to my world and I have little without them.
When I listen to the news most of what I hear is simply the struggle of people trying to help, not just themselves but humanity. Opposing forces are often striving for the same goal they simply look at the path differently. Both sides have proven that they can do amazing things just think of the amazing things that can be done when both sides work together.
I am missing the calm voice that says, it's time to stop pointing fingers, it's time to quit casting blame, it's time to quit calling names. Instead, it is time to talk, to share fears, hopes, and dreams, because when you see someone else's dream you see their heart and you know how close they are to you. I haven't seen much of that voice but I can whisper with the best of them, and my theory is sometimes people pay more attention to the quiet whisper than the booming rally cry. If you believe that fences make good neighbors, will you forgive me if I use my small footstool to look over the fence and wish you well?
"There's a tendency in politics to attribute bad motivation much too quickly, and the sooner you attribute bad motivation to someone you disagree with, the harder it is to find some common ground to make some progress that would give people confidence that you got it more right than wrong." ~ Peter Welch ~
It seems to me that we are looking more for the things that divide us than the things that unite us. Trenches are being dug where there were only lines in the sand before. There are worlds of common ground but instead, we look to see who is on which side of the fence. Worlds of grey are now black and white. It reminded me of Robert Frost's poem, The Mending Wall. There are two neighbors who set about to mend the wall that runs betwixt their properties. One neighbor is convinced that the wall is there to help them maintain boundaries. The other wonders what he may be walling out or in. As I look around my world it is not my world that I see but instead it is all of the many hearts that touch mine. They all add to my world and I have little without them.
When I listen to the news most of what I hear is simply the struggle of people trying to help, not just themselves but humanity. Opposing forces are often striving for the same goal they simply look at the path differently. Both sides have proven that they can do amazing things just think of the amazing things that can be done when both sides work together.
I am missing the calm voice that says, it's time to stop pointing fingers, it's time to quit casting blame, it's time to quit calling names. Instead, it is time to talk, to share fears, hopes, and dreams, because when you see someone else's dream you see their heart and you know how close they are to you. I haven't seen much of that voice but I can whisper with the best of them, and my theory is sometimes people pay more attention to the quiet whisper than the booming rally cry. If you believe that fences make good neighbors, will you forgive me if I use my small footstool to look over the fence and wish you well?
"There's a tendency in politics to attribute bad motivation much too quickly, and the sooner you attribute bad motivation to someone you disagree with, the harder it is to find some common ground to make some progress that would give people confidence that you got it more right than wrong." ~ Peter Welch ~
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