Yes…none of the above is quite like the other…which one doesn’t belong?
Honestly, all and none. I’m in one of those moods…and there are several things in my head that need to be said…and I don’t feel like writing umpteen different posts…and it’s 11:21 pm here MST, so I’ve only got a few minutes to say Merry Christmas and not have it belated. And why say it belatedly?
So…there you go.
To start with…Max…because we really should go in order, shouldn’t we? Though, to be sure, by the time I get to the end of the list, the flies may have flown off or finally bit the dust and then why should I write about them?
So maybe then I should mention the flies. And really, what the hell are flies doing dive-bombing the counter in my office at 11:30 pm on December 25th when the outside ambient air temperature is fast approaching below zero? I mean really, flies? Really? I don’t know what it is about this house, but we have flies it seems at any given time of the year.
I realize that if I keep this up (detailing the resident rodent population, broadcasting the presence of obnoxious insects) then we may never see another visitor as long as we all shall live.
But seriously, flies seem to exist here no matter what temperature it is outside, nor what season of the year it may be. And they all seem to want to die at around the time I sit down at my computer in my office to do some work. So that instead of peace and quiet, I’m slowly driven bonkers by the sounds of maniacal buzzing as these winged pests zing around zanily running into things, then flopping over upside down on the counter, in full view. Now the latest was able to right himself and is sitting there quietly. Probably just waiting for me to let my guard down…then he’ll resume the insane zooming around that serves to make me batty. Worse than nails on a chalkboard.
OK, take that one off the list…not much else to write about the little buggers.
So, to Max. It’s been four (4) weeks since he didn’t come home. Four weeks today. That night, we truly believed he had more than likely drowned in the river. The sadness was beyond words. And the loss was keen. The next morning, we began this long strange journey, beginning with the start of the work with an animal communicator, our friend Sue. She gave us hope that Max was actually alive! And sending her images as she tried to communicate with him and find out where he was. We traversed many, many miles, up and down the river, both sides, through pastures, fields and meadows, up and down mountains, me dragging poor little Gracelyn behind me, urging her to move faster, faster. Greg searching until 10 pm or later each night. Eventually the search became one of looking for the clues that Sue was giving us. I don’t feel like going into the details of the last several weeks, but suffice it to say that our kitchen counter, a.k.a. Max Central, resembled something you might see in a police detective show. Big white sheets of paper with dates and times and clues in different colors. Theories, hypotheses, persons of interest. One bogus tip of a bogus sighting. Interestingly enough, this bogus tip came from a woman who happens to live next door to the person who drives the truck that Sue has since identified as being VERY important to the case. COINCIDENCE???? Hmm, not really. Especially considering that the bogus tip was about a sighting of Max to the north and then the suggestion that he was probably picked up by out-of-towners and taken to the Laramie Shelter. Truly. And this bimbo thinks we’re dumb enough to believe her. Oh yes, AND, approximately 4 hours before she told Greg this bogus “tip,” she told the sheriff (THE SHERIFF) she didn’t know a thing, hadn’t seen the dog nor heard anything about him. ??????????? I’ll leave you to make your own assumptions here. We thought we had them…we thought we were onto them. The sheriff (well, actually, he’s the undersheriff) starting asking questions, knocking on doors, doing what undersheriffs do best. And then………the trail went cold. And we’ve had hardly any new information from Sue. She says Max isn’t giving her much. But she’s telling us to have hope…to keep putting up fliers, to keep checking the shelters…
And now it’s been a month. Four long weeks. And someone else has our dog. And this is just basically wrong. But there is not one single, damn thing I can do about it. Except this…and for this, mom, I apologize. But it needs to be said, so I can move past this anger. So I can get to a place that is more productive, that generates more positive energy than negative.
I suggest those of you who are superstitious or are of the belief that God will strike the blasphemous down with lightning (just for the record, the God of my understanding does no such thing and is actually a pretty kind-hearted individual…thus I feel no worry about what I’m about to write), to stand way back if you are gutsy enough to keep on reading. I’m not sure if the lightning that strikes will travel through the internet and out through your computer or not. Not sure how that whole lightning-strike-by-God thing-y works…you know, sort of like guilt by association…or not. If so, all I can say is, good luck. I for one am past caring about the consequences.
So, here goes (NSFW or young eyes/ears):
To the assholes who have our dog I have only one thing to say to you. Well, it may morph into several things, but the first and foremost is that I wish upon you and yours all the agony, sadness, despair, grief, heartache, pain, suffering, and general bad feelings that your actions have caused this family. In fact, I wish a pox on you and yours. I wish you all to burn in hell (IF I believed in hell that is, which, lucky for you, you absolute creeps, I don’t, so this last wish is really just for show because it sounds good). I wish that misfortune befalls you and yours in such magnitude that you will never recover. I wish that you would feel the pain that we have felt a million times over…make that a bazillion times over. I wish that you would fall into the Pit of Despair and never be able to be rescued. I wish you would be condemned by Willie in Doctor Doolittle to die the deaths of a thousand men (or something like that)…ARE YOU GETTING THE PICTURE YET YOU ABSOLUTE JERKS???? I don’t know exactly who you are, because I do not have absolute proof, but know this, that if I EVER, ever, EVER find out, I will take out this curse and I will recurse you over and over and over again. Do you have any idea what you have done to this family? To my daughter, who was given Max as a 5 1/2 week old puppy? That my husband brought home on Monday, May 14 and placed into her outstretched arms? Who then promptly took him inside and wrapped him up and rocked him to sleep in the rocking chair, singing lullabies and such? Do you have any idea how much hurt your actions have caused? How do I explain to my daughter that some blasted, blooming, selfish, asshole of a person took her dog…and instead of bringing him home where he belonged…kept him for their own???????????? How do I explain to her that her little playmate, who followed her everywhere, who played soccer with her, who climbed her jungle gym with her, who chased her around the living room, who played keep away with her and then flopped down on her bedroom floor to cuddle and rub noses with ISN’T COMING HOME????????????? All because some fecking asshole took him home and won’t give him back??????? I wish only the worst for you and yours…forever and always, for all eternity.
I’ve said it.
It’s out of my head…soon it will be out of my heart. I needed to get it “down on paper” and out of me. I apologize if this was simply too much for you to read. But then, honestly, I’m not writing this blog for you….I’m writing this blog for me. And that means I can say whatever I damn well please.
This is unfair. It isn’t right. And because it’s “just a dog” I’m supposed to let it go and move on and get my priorities straight and….f-o-r-g-i-v-e. I can guarantee that last damn word ain’t going to happen any time soon. Period. Just so you know.
Yes, I know there are families out there that no longer have their children…their precious little angels that are the same age as mine…and I know there is no comparison between losing a dog and losing a child. You don’t have to tell me this. I don’t need to be reminded. I tell my God each and every day how incredibly grateful I am for my child. She is my greatest joy and I am blessed beyond blessing to be able to be her mother, to have this little life share mine, to be entrusted with her care. I know she’s not really mine…she really belongs to that God of mine. He’s the general…I’m just the foot soldier. And how lucky am I?
That being said…there is never any equality between what one person suffers and another. We all have our s-h-i-t to deal with . It comes in different shapes and sizes and we never get to choose what comes our way. Never. Because life just is. It just is. Rather, the challenge becomes one of “what will we do with what comes our way?” How will we deal with the obstacles in our path…the tragedies that befall us…the agony we encounter? That is the real question…will we meet life on life’s terms? Will we accept it and ask for the courage to change what we can, knowing what is in our power and what absolutely is not?
That is precisely where I am stuck.
I can see the other side…I just can’t get there. I don’t doubt that I will. I’ve been here before…and I’ve made it through to the other side before. I know it can be done…and I know who to ask for help to get there.
Whether or not I’m ready to make that journey…or whether I’d rather stay here in the anger I cannot say. For now, tonight, I simply am. I know I will not be here forever. I know that someday I will reread this and marvel at how stupid I was to be consumed by anger, if even only for a while. I simply cannot afford the luxury of anger. And I know this with every fiber of my being.
BUT…it sure felt damn good to write all of that! And I don’t take one single word back. Sorry mom.
If you must know, my heart feels a bit lighter. As if by getting the blackness out, I might have made a bit of room for light tonight. A bit. Let’s not push it.
So, onto the 3rd item for this post: Gracelyn’s illness
Very strange. We spent Christmas Eve afternoon in the ER at the Steamboat Hospital because NOTHING else was open by the time I decided to call and ask for an opinion. Basically we left there with some amoxicillin (which cost $32 that I could have purchased through my veterinary distributor for $2!!!!) and a “diagnosis” of acute sinusitis.
Greg says WTF ever. I’m not convinced it isn’t true, but after 24 hours on the amoxicillin, she shouldn’t have spiked a fever tonight.
So, back to Steamboat we’ll go tomorrow I am sure. I’ll call the pediatrician in the morning and talk to yet another nurse and list, yet again, the constellation of symptoms and the precise timeline of events. (Because…I take copious amounts of notes…and can tell you on what day at what time her temperature was a certain degree and what symptoms started when…not necessarily a bad thing, but I can tell you that it makes the RN’s and MD’s CRAZY. Tough shit I say. I’m a doctor too. Deal with it.)
Jiminy christmas I’m in a mood tonight. Sorry. Merry Christmas and such. Happy Winter Solstice. Happy Kwanza, Hannukah and whatever else I’ve missed.
See? I can spread good will too…as long as you HAVEN’T FECKING
STOLEN TAKEN MY DAMN DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!