Yesterday, I decided to try something different for dog school. I fed Mugen a larger than usual breakfast and skipped his lunch meal entirely. Dinner happens after dog school is over. I thought I’d see how this worked for us.
I got out my hot dogs (hebrew national, 97% fat free! Thanks to Annette! I never would have thought to share MY hot dogs with the puppy if she hadn’t mentioned it!!) and started slicing them up and prepping them to go in the nuker and Mugen started salivating all over the place. So I had him do a few sits and downs for me and I gave him a couple bits of hot dog and then we got into the car and left.
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It started at the end of August. I hadn’t even thought of adopting a second dog yet. Mugen had been home for just under a month at that point, and I had no idea that anything this heart wrenching was going to happen. I was wrapped up in chocolate Lab puppy dreams and sweet puppy kisses.
I didn’t know anything at all.
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Reilly,
It’s been almost three months since you left and I still miss you every single day. It gets hard every time I see another big black dog. It’s hard to drive my car because I’m used to having you breathe in my hair when I zip through the bends. The kids miss you sneaking into their bedrooms to sleep on their beds and I miss your nose pushing into my hand to wake me up every morning. Daddy misses your doggie bounce and wiggly butt.
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There has come a time in every relationship that I’ve had with most of the people I know… where I have had to walk away from them for a while. Either they create too much stress for me or they say things about me to my friends and family that are simply not true. Perhaps they are well-meaning and try to help when I complain about my problems, but instead they say things that go completely against my grain and I just smile and nod and then don’t bother to return their phone calls.
I know this sounds petty and childish, but it’s really not. The truth is, sometimes friends grow apart. Sometimes things change and the really great friend that you once had isn’t such a great person for you to be around anymore. I have a friend who refers to these people as “toxic individuals” and it’s a really good phrase for them, especially because I think that the moment a relationship with another person becomes toxic, that’s it. It’s over.
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So he’s home.
I thought I would need more time to recover from Reilly’s passing, and I still miss him horribly, but it’s hard to be sad when you stand at your kitchen counter typing and there is a brand new little baby licking your toes.
When I talked to his breeder, I expected to have to get on a waiting list. She ended up with two more puppies than she’d planned for this summer and hadn’t been able to find forever homes for them all at the time that we’d spoken. In other words, I got lucky. If I had waited a couple more weeks to contact her, she would have found perfect homes for all the puppies and I would have been out of luck. Maybe it was fate.
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The last few years have been very cathartic for me. I have had to say good bye to a lot of things that I loved from the time that I was very small. My grandmother passed away last summer, just ten days before my birthday. I had to haul ass to get home to talk to her just one more time before she left and she didn’t even get to say good-bye to my children. That was how fast I had to move just to be with her. After I said good bye to her, I said good bye to the house where I grew up. The yard was overgrown, but the trees were still there and I could still see the scars on the old maple where my swing used to be. I never knew how my grandfather managed to get the swing put up there, or if he made my dad do it. When I was a kid, it didn’t matter. But then, in that moment all I could see was that the swing was long gone and the remnants of my childhood hung in that yard like ancient material, too strong and durable to give way, and at the same time so delicate and fragile that a single touch would rend all to dust.
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Tags: facebook, grandmother, grief, optimus prime, peter cullen, star trek
Essays, News from the Random, Rants, Tech, Writing and Reading | Random Gemini | 
July 9, 2009 10:17 am | 
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A rather poignant tweet crossed my eyes yesterday. So I apologize to my readers and to the tweeter for not being able to give her appropriate name, @shelliwazu will have to do. What she tweeted was thus: “I remember thinking to myself many years ago, that I would know I was old when Madonna or Michael Jackson died.”
Ironically, I had the same thought. I was 9 years old in January 1984 when “Thriller” first hit the airwaves. Jackson looked so gross in that zombie make-up. Quite the contrast to the smooth, cool looking bad ass that he was in “Beat it”, but I never agreed with everyone on what the best song off that album was. It didn’t matter though. We all had the jackets with zippers all over them. We all had the single, sequined glove and the matching socks that went under a pair of black penny loafers. It didn’t matter if you were a girl or a boy. We had them. The most popular jacket was the one from the “Thriller” video, but I preferred the jacket from “Beat It”.
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So… here I am. Twitter is down for scheduled maintenance and I have nothing to do. I feel like I used to in the days when our Internet access would go out because the phone company was working on the lines in the area. Naked, useless, listless, alone and worst of all…
…I am so bored that I think my head is going to start spinning.
In order to keep myself entertained, I had planned to clean the house, but for some reason I am glued to my mac. I can’t seem to get the motivation to get away and pick up socks out of the family room floor because well… twitter’s down and waiting for it to come back up just seems like THE thing to do! I mean after all, there are people that @replied to me just before Twitter went offline and dammit! I have to answer them! I MUST!!!
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As a parent, I have tried very hard to make sure that I do not buy my kids clothes that I will be embarrassed about later. Still, somehow, things manage to find their way into their closets that makes me stop in my tracks in the midst of my morning routine, stare at them, and say “Oh no… you are NOT wearing that!”
At least three times a week, I say this to my daughter, who comes out of her bedroom wearing some tank top or otherwise sleeveless contraption that she wore in the 6th grade. Since she will be starting high school this year, those 6th grade tops really do not work for me and I keep trying to find them as they come down the chute and dispose of them, but somehow they keep passing me by. This morning was a shocker though. I never have to have this lecture with my son, but today he changed all of that. This morning, my son was wearing these pants that have a hole very near the crotch area. I stared at him and shook my head and said, “No, you will not wear those pants out of my house.”
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I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few weeks playing with graphics software for the Mac. Yeah, I know, there’s Photoshop, but I really didn’t want to shell out 800$ for software that I was going to whip out and futz around with four times a year when a mood takes me to redesign my blog logo. That’s really where this all begins… with my blog graphic.
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