bad month for pets

ANIMALS ARE SUCH AGREEABLE FRIENDS -- THEY ASK NO QUESTIONS, THEY PASS NO CRITICISM --George Elliot

It's been a rough month around here for pets.

At the end of August, J, K, and I went on our annual Saco camping trip. The cats were inside for 4 days with their food and water and litter box. When we got home, they were in a frenzy to go outside, so we let them out for a little romp. They haven't been back since.

Two weeks ago, J was backing out of the garage and she felt a thump. She jumped out of the truck to see her dog, Sabi, climbing out from underneath. Sabi was 14 years old, almost 15. If he were younger and a bit more spry, they probably would have opted for surgery to repair his broken femur. But as it was, who puts a 14 year old dog (who is deaf and going blind and has a tumor on his tongue) under anesthesia for a major surgery? Sabi is buried under his favorite sunning spot by the garage.

Then, this weekend, we said good-bye to Sullydog, my Dad's best friend. Sully was 13, almost 14 and also was ailing. He was in a lot of pain and getting disoriented and confused all the time. It got to the point where he couldn't go on his favorite walks around the neighborhood with Dad. My parents are going to bury his ashes and plant a tree in the spring.

It's funny how much animals can come to mean in your life. It's funny how you can love them so much. I remember how much joy I got from three goldfish I had when I lived in Calfornia. And they were FISH!

Anyway, we went through a lot of ice cream, wine coolers and tissues over the past month.

There's an expression that says my goal in life is to be half the person my dog believes me to be. It seems like a pretty good goal to me.

There's a hole in my heart where a dog used to be

I did not write the following poem. I combined and changed two poems I found by Christina Torres and Amy Waggoner. But the emotions are all mine.

I lost a special friend today
The kind you can't replace
And looking at his empty bed
I still can see his face

I see the endless energy
The sparkling puppy eyes
Not the tired, fragile friend
We had to bid goodbye

I know he's in a special place
That heaven has for friends
Where fields and ponds and sunshine
Make them strong and whole again

I remember how he ran to us
To play his favorit puppy games
And how his ears would perk right up
When he heard us call his name

But as the precious years went by
He both aged and grew
And we often found him slowing down
Though there was much he loved to do

He never was a guard dog
Each time time the doorbell rang
He'd greet friends and strangers alike
With drool and kisses, not with fangs

We noticed in the recent times
His eyes were not so sharp
Where once was a ball of yellow fur
The years had shown their mark

Our Sully was a special dog
Always giving us his best
But lately looking in his eyes
He seemed asking to just rest

And so now with heavy heart
We'll respect that wish today
You can finally rest and sleep
But in our hearts you'll stay

Good-bye my friend. I love you.

WEEKLY WRITIERS WORKSHOP

Kudos to MamaKat for her thought provoking prompts for this week's writer's workshop. I think I may do more than one! But for now:

Ten Things I Believe In:

1) I believe that in their purest form, religion, science, and art are all the same thing: glimpses of TRUTH. I think we all need to explore all three in order to understand ourselves and our world more clearly. I believe it is our duty to do so.

2) Conversely, I believe that in their most perverse form, religion, politics, and hype are all the same thing: attempts to OBSCURE truth and exert control over others. I think we all need to stay informed and not fall prey to these tactics. I believe this is our duty, as well.

3) I believe nobody ever has or ever will look as good in leather pants as JIM MORISSON.

4) I believe in LOVE. I believe two people can meet, get to know one another, fall in love, and commit to spending the rest of their lives together. I do not, however, believe in soul mates. There are far too many people out there to believe that I could only be truly happy with ONE.

5) I DON'T believe that "everything happens for a REASON". I believe that lots of things happen for absolutely no reason at all. However, I think that everyone has the choice to pick up the pieces and make sense of their lives. I believe that lots of people become better people in the wake of tragedy. But I don't believe the tragedy happened in order for the person change.

6) Like Ben Franklin, I believe that BEER is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Ditto for ice cream.

7) I believe in LEARNED HELPLESSNESS. On a few rare occasions, I have been on the ball enough to help somebody over the hump and onto learned independence. On several other occasions, I have unfortunately missed the mark completely. Though I am still finding my way in the road to serving others, I'm pretty sure I'm a lot closer to the mark than Dr. Phil.

8) Likewise, though I may not know the secret to SUCCESS, I believe that Donald Trump is so far off the mark he is pointing in the wrong direction.

9) I believe that all lists of ten items contain one FILLER.

10) I believe that the cure for cynicism is to spend lots of time in NATURE. One day I hope to make my livelihood in the outdoors. Wish me luck!

BUSY DOING NOTHING

DOING NOTHING IS BETTER THAN BEING BUSY DOING NOTHING ---Lao Tzu

For the past two weekends, I did nothing. This is not like me. Usually, I have my weekends packed full, from end to end. I clean, do laundry, run errands, grocery shop, go to the gym, train for/run in a race of some sort, visit friends, go to movies, listen to bands, go to the beach, babysit, and then send out a bulk email recapping it all. For the past two weekends, I had planned on doing the same. And for the past two weekends, my well laid plans fell by the wayside.

Don't get me wrong; I did SOME things. Two weekends ago, I went to a comedy club on Friday night. I had fun. A little too much fun, I think. Because when Saturday rolled around, I rolled out of bed .... and onto the sofa. I spent the day with Nerd eating take out and watching videos. I felt so lazy! I felt so useless! I felt so -- relaxed!! In a strange way, it was almost better than working out all day. But I really needed to do some catching up on Sunday. I made a to-do list and got mentally prepared to tackle it come morning. When Sunday rolled around, I rolled out of bed...and back onto the sofa. I spent the day with J and K eating pizza and watching tivo'd movies.

Last weekend, I went on a trip to Texas to visit with friends. We had big plans, to eat a big breakfast at a Mexican place, run bleachers for exercise, go to 6th Street in Austin, listen to live music, maybe go to a movie. On Saturday, we successfully went out for breakfast. Then, once home, the sofa's gravitational pull captured us. "No!" we said. "We are going to run bleachers!" But the pollen count was so high and the air quality so bad. We had such bad headaches. There was no way we could do bleachers. As a compromise, we decided to walk to Blockbuster and get some movies. We underestimated the distance, however, and once we got home with the movies, it was time to jump in the shower and get ready to go to Austin.

We made it to Austin, walked around 6th Street for a while and then, well, just kind of wandered on back to the car and back home. We could have gone crazy and had lots of fun, but we were already in "do nothing mode." When Sunday rolled around, you get the picture. Good thing we still had those Blockbuster movies to watch!

But next weekend is going to be different. I have lots of things planned. I swear.

Writer's Workshop Thursday

I'm trying to be a good little student and keep up with MamaKat's assignments. What a good idea! Seriously, I'd hand out assignments to everyone in the blogosphere, too, if only I could think of any. I guess that's why I'm the student, eh?

Anyway, one of the assignments was to describe a recurring dream you have.

Dreams, for me, have been both a blessing and a curse. I am one of those people who dream vividly, constantly, and creatively. I have dreams that have plots and subplots and endless lists of characters. I dream in crazy colors that I daresay do not exist outside my head. I am often somebody else in my dreams.

On the flip side, I have horrible nightmares. When I was younger, the pediatrician called it "night terrors". That's basically a sleep disorder in which you have non descript nightmares that are filled with a sense of panic. I would jump up out of bed (still asleep) and run, screaming through the house. I'd fall out of bed or crawl under the bed or into the closet and then wake up not knowing where I was. Most children outgrow night terrors in two years or so. I, on the other hand, am the only adult I know who still experiences night terrors.

I don't have the episodes nearly to the degree I did when I was younger. Mostly when I am stressed or anxious about something; usually no more than twice a year. The last time I experienced an episode was last November.

I was flying out on an early flight and I was a little anxious about getting up on time. Not to worry: I ended up staying up all night after my nightmare. I don't remember what it was about, I just remember waking up in the garage, trying frantically to open my locked jeep and screaming. I calmed down, got some water, and went back to bed. I awoke again, this time in the basement, squeezing myself into the space between the dryer and the wall. I again tried to go back to sleep. The third time I woke up, I was outside, running through the path in the woods and screaming. An hour and a half had gone by since I had first gone to bed. Lucky for me, no matter what time of day it is, if you channel surf long enough, you will eventually find the movie "Overboard".

As I said, I never really remember the dreams when I wake up in that paniced state. I do, however, have a recurrent nightmare that I've had since I was three years old. Given the premise of the nightmare and the actions I take when I experience the night terrors, I would wager a guess that I am dreaming of some semblance of my recurring nightmare. (Though many studies show that night terrors DO NOT occur during REM sleep) Whatever. I'm not a sleep scientest, just a poor sleeper.

I first experienced the nightmare when I was three years old. My dad worked out of town a lot and would come home on Fridays with presents for everyone. He came home this particular Friday after we had gone to bed. His presents that night were two quilted blankets for my brother and me. They had flowers and smiley faces and peace signs all over them. They were also emblazened with wierd, hippy-ish sayings: "what the world needs now is love", "where have all the flowers gone?", "I can't believe I ate the whole thing". He put the blankets on our beds and tucked them all around us. That night was the first time I had the nightmare. I blamed the blanket. I refused to have it on my bed until years later when I found it and thought it was cool.

In my dream, I am 11 years old or so. I am not me. I am a girl who is either a hippie or a gypsie or native American. I have long dark hair, almost to my waist. I'm wearing an embroidered peasant-style shirt, jeans and sandals. I have lots of beads and bracelets and necklaces on and random little beaded braids in my hair. I am at a flea market or fair of some sort. There are endless rows of tables where people have set up things they are selling. I get the feeling I have a booth, as well, but I am never in the booth in my dream. Instead, I am being chased.

I am being chased by a guy who looks a lot like Charles Manson (maybe I saw him on TV when I was 3?) I am petrified. I know I cannot let him catch me because if he catches me, he will hurt me. Maybe even kill me. I have to get away from him.

I run through the rows of tables in this dream, twisting and turning, cutting in and out of alleyways, jumping over boxes. He is right behind me, almost about to catch me. Then I lose him. Only to turn a corner and come face to face with him. I jump up on tables and knock people's merchandise around. I crawl on my hands and knees under tables, hiding under tie-dyed table cloths and tapestries. Sometimes I hide in empty boxes. Sometimes people at the flea market help me. Sometimes they don't even seem to see me.

Finally, I reach the edge of the flea market and I jump over the fence. I run across a field to a tower. Then I start climbing the tower. He's still chasing me! I'm climbing and climbing and the wind is blowing and my fingers are getting cold. I'm afraid I'm going to fall but I know if I don't keep climbing he'll get me.

Sometimes I have the dream all the way to the end, climbing the tower. Sometimes I wake up in the flea market. Sometimes the flea market is outside, sometimes inside. Sometimes my pusuer is alone, sometimes he has other men with him. Always, though, the sense of panic, the feeling of absolute terror is there. It's a horrible nightmare.

Luckily, despite my incident last November, I haven't had it in years. I've had people tell me I should try to analyze this dream and see what it MEANS. I gotta be honest, though: I don't think it means anything. I just think it's a dream about being chased. A ridiculously vivid dream about being chased. Fortunately, he ain't never caught me yet!

A Hope Chest Full of Laughter

This week, J was cleaning out her hope chest. I honestly don't know why she has saved half the stuff, but I am so glad she has!

"Heb!" she called over to the garage-loft, "Get over here!"

In front of her was a pile of notes that we had written to one another, probably in study hall or math class. We started going through the pile, standing up to read and act out the notes:

"Hey dude! S'up? (remember 's'up?' It was so much cooler than 'whazzup') So, did you ask your mom yet? Shell said she can come and my mom said we can sleep in the basement room. Plus, we just got a cable box down there so we can totally see the World Premiere of the new Billy Idol video on MTV. Its gonna be so cool!"

"Hey bud! S'up? My sister is such a jerk! She told on us that we were playing capture the flag in the woods with John and Paul last night after we were s'posed to be in for the night. I am grounded and my mom is prob'ly gonna call your mom so be on the lookout. I'm gonna spend the whole time thinking up ways to get her back for this. So you start thinking, too. We're gonna get her back so bad and there's nothing she can do about it."

"Hey guys! I got in a big fight with my dad because he always lets John do whatever he wants and I never get to do anything. So he said why don't you go find some other family to adopt you and maybe they will treat you better. Wait, my mom just got home. I have to go. Ok, I'm back. She just made me fold the laundry. I left a note under my dad's pillow that said I found a family to adopt me and I'll be packing tomorrow so goodbye. Now I'm in even more trouble! My family stinks!"

She had birthday cards and get well cards (I don't remember anyone ever being really sick, with mono or anything. We were probably sick for 2 days "Oh no! We don't get to hang out for 2 whole days!") Her husband was reading notes and cards and watching the two of us rolling on the floor laughing until we cried. He just looked at us and said "You two haven't changed at all since you were 13. This letter could have been written yesterday." That just made us laugh even harder.

Then came the hight point of the night: J pulled out a bag of saved clothing. Of course there were the old concert shirts and graduation caps. But she also had saved her Jams! Oh, lord, I had forgotten all about Jams. They were those really ugly drawstring Hawaiian print shorts. Everybody had a pair. Just one pair. Because they were really expensive and you blew your entire birthday budget on that one pair. Mine were teal blue with palm trees and surf boards. Hers were purple with big hibuscus flowers.

Of course, we had to try them on. We took turns wearing the Jams with the Ocean Pacific half shirt, the Vans and the Oakley Razor sunglasses. Oh what fun to prance around as if we were on the catwalk and casually peer over the top of the sunglasses. "Hey dude, s'up?" (They were really small steps down the catwalk so we wouldn't rip the shorts right down the center seam. Ya gotta be careful with shorts you wore when you were 14) Plus, if a big fit of laugter was about to come on, the Jams were definitely in harms way.

On Friday, I went to a comedy club with some other friends. In my head, the real test was to see if any comedian could make me laugh as much as the hope chest had. They were pretty funny. But I think the hope chest still won. By a banana hair clip!

A Moment of Silence on 9/11