For 12 years our yellow lab drove me crazy. Did I love him? Yes. Was I the one who fed him, walked him and picked up after him? Yes. But did he drive me crazy? Yes – and I drove him crazy, too. I loved him, and sometimes my heart swelled for him, but the times he had accidents in the houes, shed all over my clothes, would get out of a gate that wasn’t quite latched all the way, and would bark (literally) at shadows drove me crazy sometimes. But there were times too — especially when I was healing from my illness – I took comfort from him sleeping near me while I rested on the couch.
Today we said goodbye to him. It was time. He had arthritis, dementia, incontinence and was basically unhappy (ears down_ all the time and lived only to eat twice per day, which isn’t a great life. So after discussing it for months, we did it today. It was incredibly peaceful. The vet had a room with a couch and a carpet and pleasant lighting. She spent 10 minutes petting him, then gave him a sedative. When he was so drowsy his tongue was hiding out of the side of his mouth, she administered the sedative while we petted him and told him he was a good boy. He died moments later.
That was three hours ago, and even though I am not a big lover of dogs (I like dogs, I just am not a worshipper of them) I feel awful for him and there is a hole here. In short, it is painful. I miss him already. Hopefully he is at peace.
The book I wrote about my experience as a dog owner when I like dogs but am not crazy about all things dogs. There won’t be a sequel – it’s too painful right now 🙂
The dog has been incontinent since Wednesday – without warning he just stands up and goes — and since he does not move at all it is doubtful he got into anything. After an awful, disgusting incident Sunday morning, we are keeping him outside until we can gt him to the vet after the holiday weekend… That aside, he rarely seems happy anymore – he hates going outside to go to the bathroom, has his ears down all the time, and really only shows excitement at meal time and occassionally when someone appears. He hasn’t been able to get up the stairs to lay next to us in the TV room for months (he loved laying next to us in the TV room before his hips go out). Sometimes, he doesn’t get up when someone is at the door or even wag his tale and left his head when he gets pets. And Wife M and Daughter L are starting to think of him as less than enjoyable, what with eating his own poop if he is left unattended and incontinence and overall dementia… I think he is happy 5-10% of the time and pretty miserable over 90% of his waking hours… In short, I think it is time to strongly think about putting him down… I’ve never enjoyed owning dogs — they are a lot of work (and I do most of it) and don’t bring me a lot of joy although I love them and consider them part of the family. I don’t feel badly about this – I can’t help how I feel, and I take care of them (I give them pets, I feed them, I pick up their poop and often am the only one to take them for a walk) and the family more than covers for me in the dog love departmentent. But I don’t like the slobber and the panting and the mess and the smell. Luckily, I am not mean to them, and as I said the rest of the family truly adores them, so it is all good. But that said, it is emotional to think of putting the dog down. As I said before, he is part of the family. But is it fair to let him be miserable? I don’t think so. And I truly hope that in the decades to come that if/when I am in a state of dementia my family has the courage — and the legal right — to let me go.
On Father’s Day, so many people post tributes to their dad on Father’s Day. How awful it would be to have to do that for Donald Trump. It might look something like this:
I am very proud of my dad. He was born to a wealthy father, then took that money and nearly lost it all, but was able to declare bankruptcy and screw a lot of small business owners to salvage the family fortune. He was able to join a fledgling and exciting football league known as the USFL, and basically ran it into the ground by insisting it compete directly with the NFL – his fellow owners still resent him over the league disintegration. He is mocked relentlessly for his hairstyle, frumpy suits and small hands. Recently, he ran a successful presidential campaign where he called some women ugly, talked about grabbing women’s vaginas, made fun of the press that is so important in democracy that it is the very first amendment, then when was elected people were so distraught they protested in the streets. He is an inspiration to white supremists and extremists, has historically low approval ratings just a few months into office, and will all likelihood go down as one of the 4 worst presidents in US history, provided the US is still around in 2020 given China, North Korea and Russia’s ambitions. Needless to say, I am very proud of my dad, a very honorable and successful man. Sincerely: Donnie.
Ugh. How awful that would be :(. And this is not even remotely meant to be a humorous post…
Wife M and I went to the Annex for a drink then to The Big Sick. The Annex’s cocktail was awful – I am not sure how a drink can be too bitter and too sweet at the same time, but it was. Wife M’s drink was too sweet. Won’t be going back there… We loved The Big Sick, which turned out to be a true story based on the Pakistani actor from Silicon Valley’s courtship of his girlfriend, where they fall in love, break up then she gets sick. We loved it – it was a touching, funny and enduring story about lovable characters, and I loved it much in the same way I loved the lovable people in Bend It Like Beckham from 10 years ago. A fun summer evening that ended at a reasonable hour (9:40pm).
Note: her illness reminded me of my mom’s illness in 2009, when she had to be intubated and was in ICU for several weeks where we didn’t know if she’d live, and my dad, sister, wife and I spent a lot of wrenching time together where we all really bonded.
This post will soujnd a little bitter, but if I am honest with myself that is probably how I feel 🙂
My friend B’s son is in the hospital with a potential fatal tumor, and while I don’t know his son (and feel awful for his son!) my first instinct was to visit Friend B for moral support. To be honest, I didn’t want to visit since I battle fatigue and my own health issues, but he did not visit me when I was in the hospital for a week with a potential fatal lung disease; but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to be the better person and to go, except I spent he a busy week with family commitments and frankly I am exhausted. So I texted him I wouldn’t make it. Out of curiousity I went back and checked my texts/emails from when I was miserable and battling lung disease, and not one of my three childhood friends (including B) checked in with me the entire six months i was sick. Not even a “How are you doing” although Friend B reached out to ask if I co uld help plan a surprise party for another friend. What I learned then was that I truly have two great friends who visited and brought food – but my childhood friends were no help.
So, I have this to say: I will not be visiting my friends when they are sick. I wish them all the best, but am not going to put myself out visiting. True friendship is about support, and I’d rather invest my time and energy where the support is potentially mutual.
**My personal opinion only, and I live and let live*** Today is Norwegian Day, or something like that, and here in Ballard we have some big Norwegian Day parade that has been in existence as far back as I remember (1970s). I am half Norwegian, so you’d think I’d like this day, but in all honesty I don’t. When I think of Italians, I think of shouting and hugging and good food and family, when I think of Irish I think pubs and stories and green, but when I think of Norway I remember all the depressed, cranky, sarcastic Norwegians in my childhood and the cranky Norwegians I encountered on my one day trip to Oslo. Maybe it was the neighborhood, or maybe it was just the Norwegians I knew, but the Norwegian Day Parade does not conjure fond memories for me — I am much more proud of my Scottish and Irish blood (albiet it is a very small percentage of my heritage).
Our oldest is going through some serious emtional (depression) issues for the past six months, and especially the past two months. Will go days without getting out of bed, and has resisted therapy (except hormonal therapy prescribed by her dubious “doctor”) but now is open to seeing someone. I will start on this. I’m not looking forward to it, since I battle chronic fatigue and it’s all I can do every day to seem “normal” (I wish I had a nickel for every time a close friend tells me they forget that I have a chronic disease).
It is really hard to have a child going through this, the not getting out of bed for days, which strikes too close to home for me (my mom’s family is prone to this). Although I myself have battled depression at times, no one would suspect it and I make an extreme effort to keep fighting through those days best I can and in my entire life had only had maybe 1 day where I could not get out of bed (after staying out with friends till 7 AM, I slept and watched sports all the next day 🙂 ). Even after my lung surgery, I spent my days walking the hospital (with my IV and oxygen tank in tow 🙂 ) rather than laying in bed.
I’m not upset with my child, I just want to be able to help her. I don’t have the time or energy for this, but will have to carve out time/energy. 😦