madranchwife

So it was mentioned to mom the other day that since I’ve not got the Republicans to kick around anymore (related to the insanity we called the 2012 Presidential election), I’m casting about for subjects to ruminate on.  Thus, possibly, the vitriolic, expletive-laden, hate-filled posts regarding the fecking horses’ behinds that have our Max.

Sooooooooooooo………………

I bring you this little, teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy GEM of a detail that I stumbled across this morning.  TOTALLY, as in completely, 100%, absolutely, made my day!!!

As reported in a Gallup poll, our esteemed CIC’s job approval rating is now 7 points higher than at any time from 2009 to 2012.  (I think I’ve got that correct…will double check later.)  It is a whopping 56%!!!

“And consider this: “Five of the seven U.S. presidents re-elected since World War II had lower average job approval ratings in their second than in their first term.” (Need to find the source for that as the URL link didn’t transfer over.  More later.)

AND…only two presidents since World War II – out of the seven that have had second terms – have had higher approval ratings their second term. Those presidents would be Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton.”  (Taken from http://www.politicususa.com/president-obama-popular-term.html.)

Just thought you all might like to know this.

Certainly made my day…and we need that around here.

Ciao.

Not much going on around here.

White stuff.  Below zero highs for the day (as in -5 degrees F).  Wind.

Persistent low grade fever in the wee one…going on 3 weeks now…and yes, I’ve taken her to the doctor.  And yes, he just looks at me like I have a third eye, or a unicorn horn, smack dab in the middle of my head.  In fact, yesterday, he sat there, after examining the wee one who was bouncing off the walls, and took a moment, then asked me “and why are you here today?”  I swear to all that is holy it took me to the count of 10 to calmly say…”well, the fact that for 19 days and counting, my daughter has only had a normal temperature twice, and not for more than a couple of hours in a row.  That strikes me as possibly not right.  And I need you to tell me that I am not missing something.”

Then he said………….oh hell’s bells………..I’m not going to give you a play-by-play account of the ridiculous 30 minutes spent in the pediatrician’s office while Gracelyn danced around the room with Caroline Abbott.  Who in the hell is Caroline Abbott you ask?  Mmm..hmmm…the newest addition to the family.  And no, don’t get all excited thinking the stork visited.  She’s a doll.  A very expensive doll, but a doll nonetheless.  I digress…

Back to the esteemed MD.  And honestly, I do need to cut the man some slack.  And I told him as much as I constantly see dogs and cats that are jumping off the exam room table, doing back flips, dancing around the room while the owner is explaining to me how the animal has been on death’s door for the past several days, etc, etc, etc.    So I told the doctor (who, by the way, is really a nice guy and we really, really like him) that I wasn’t expecting anything.  I just wanted another person to lay eyes on my daughter and tell me she’s doing OK, and to be befuddled along with me why she is continuing with a persistent low grade fever after 18 days…and counting.  (For the record, it’s 99.2 F this morning.)

I have no earthly idea why I’m even discussing this.  Oh yes, then he said he was sorry we traveled so far for him to tell me nothing.  And I replied “oh that’s OK.  We love Steamboat.  We love coming here.  And I get to go to Starbucks!!”

He sort of looked at me askance at that last comment.  I’m deducing he’s not so much of a coffee fan.  Cause me, I’d find any excuse to drive however far to visit the place of my dreams…Starbucks.

I know, I have a serious problem.  I’ve already admitted it…that’s the first step.  And at this point, I have NO intention, NADA, ZIP, ZILCH, ZERO, of EVER getting treatment for it.  I like being addicted to Starbucks.  Makes me feel good.  So there you go.

On other fronts…no news of Max.  The only thing I can say is what Sue has told me “I’m keeping the light burning for Max to come home.”

So that’s what we ask…that you might keep him in your hearts and minds and every so often send him good wishes and a reminder of the people here who love him and miss him ever so much.   And that basically…on the Max front, no news is NOT good news.  When he comes home, you’ll know!

Speaking of Steamboat…holy cow did they get dumped on last week!!  We’ve only got about  a foot of the white stuff…we should have nearly three feet by now.

Himself keeps trying to tell me not to worry, it’ll come, we get our most snow in March and April…yada, yada, yada.  Unfortunately, he told me all those things last year.  And, sorry to say, we didn’t get the most snow in March and April.  We didn’t get hardly any snow at all.

So…I’m a bit worried.  Last summer and fall was brutal as far as the fire danger goes and I can’t imagine going through that again.

Not too funny this morning all…not firing on all cylinders.  Someone hadn’t balanced the checkbook for oh, say, about four months.  So the last several nights have been spent muddling through umpteen bazillion transactions and missed entries and bank statements and whatnot…and I simply have no synapses firing at the moment.

Adios…will try to string together some neurons to post more later.

Well, today my suspicions were confirmed.

I made a phone call to the town newspaper…..to cancel the subscription I just purchased last week.  A purchase that was made because I was impressed by the ad person’s compassion and caring.  I felt that I should support the paper because of that.

I ended up speaking with the editor of the paper.   The very same one who writes the famed “police report.”  I hadn’t wanted to speak with him….I had chickened out really.  (Ha!  So much for my bold statement about giving him a piece of my mind.)

Welllllllll………….turns out he got a piece of it anyway.

He answered the phone you see.  So I bumbled around a bit…asked who I might speak with about cancelling my subscription.  He told me who and that she wouldn’t be in until Monday.  Then silence.  His whole manner (rudeness and belligerence from the very first syllable he uttered) was rubbing me the wrong way…..and I could not help myself…..and I opened my mouth.

I asked him, ever so sweetly…(sort of sweetly…), if he was interested to know why I wanted to cancel my subscription.  ??  He said, brusquely, “I know what this is about.”

I said,”Really?”

“Yeah.  You’re that lady who’s been looking for her dog.”

That pissed me off.  Royally.

So I played the card I play when I want something.

“This is Dr. Burnett.  And yes, I am half of the couple that has been searching for our missing dog Max.”

Because, you see..this is what his little police report blurb had to say about Greg and I:

“Dec 5   A couple was in town searching for their dog that ran off while they were recreating on Independence Mountain.  Reportedly, a dog psychic told them the dog was in Walden.”

5 errors!

1.  It wasn’t Dec 5, it was December 4th.

2.  Max didn’t “run off…” he got picked up and was not allowed to return home.

3.  We weren’t “recreating” on Independence Mountain…we live on Independence Mountain.

4.  Dog psychic??????????? Nope.  Not really.  And if you called Sue that, she’d blow a gasket, just like I have.

5.  NOONE has EVER told us Max is IN Walden.  Period.

Five inaccurate statements in two sentences.

Someone pointed out that my correcting him may have been why he was belligerent, rude, obnoxious and downright mean.

Except that he was all of those things when he answered the phone.  Really.  Because my hackles went up immediately…as soon as he answered.  Which tells me that I was sensing badness.

And boy howdy did I get it.  Badness that is.

I am exhausted.  I’m not going to go into the details of what was said.  And I’m not sure this is good for me anyway.  It’s beginning to sound like some bad junior high school drama.  He said, she said malarkey.

Suffice it to say that my friends who have told me, repeatedly, that this town sounds like something from the movie Deliverance, have all piped up again with that same line.

I’ll just leave it at that.

Now, I realize I’m taking this a bit personally.  And perhaps I’m a bit sensitive and making it into a bigger deal than it is.

Maybe.

But then again, maybe not.

So…the way I see it, I have a couple of options.

1.  Take the high road, ignore the son of a bitch (oops…did I just write that?), and go on my merry, way.

2.  Dial  him up on the telly (that’s short for telephone, not television) and give him a piece of my mind.  And lord knows I’m good at that…giving people a piece of my mind, that is.

What, pray tell, you ask…did the person in question do?

Made fun of Greg and I and our search for Max.  In the town paper no less.

Not appreciated.

Max is still missing.  We are still searching.  Max isn’t “just a dog” to us.  He is a member of the family.

So there you go.  As far as we’re concerned…well, I guess I should write, as far as I’m concerned (let’s not get Greg involved in my ramblings…)…………you’re either with us or you’re against us.

So…I guess that leaves me with option #2…give the dude a call and tell him a thing or two.

And my open letter to the fecking, blasted buggers who have our dog still stands.

Not really any forgiveness in this heart as of yet.

But I’ll let you know as soon as the first drop sets in!!

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.

There.

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Sorry mom.)

Yes, late on the Solstice Greetings…so sorry.  The last two years we’ve had big Solstice parties, complete with bonfire in the back, bell ringing and wishes for the coming months!  The wishes ranged from world peace (yes, that was my mom) to saving the polar bears’ land (that was Gracelyn) to people just getting along (himself no less).  There were many more and though some of them didn’t specifically come true in the last two years, our Solstice celebrations were a time to gather with family and friends and share some love.  Also to celebrate little Gracelyn Cassidy’s birthday!!

She is a Solstice baby..born at 4:43 pm on December 22, 2006…the time and day of the Winter Solstice that year (it moves between a couple of days each year).  So in order to make sure her birthday doesn’t get lost in the spirit of the holiday season, we try to make a big deal of the Winter Solstice and her place in it.

That being said, we didn’t ring in the Solstice last night…there was no bonfire.  For a couple of reasons really.  One, the munchikin is very sick…going on eight days now…I won’t go into the gory details, but suffice it to say there’s not been a lot of sleeping the last several nights –for the momster anyway.  Mommies never sleep when a wee one is vomiting all night.  Or thrashing from a fever.  Mommies truly are SUPERHEROES…right ladies?  …….not to toot my own horn or anything…but sometimes my superpowers amaze even me.

Wow, I digress.

The second reason for no Solstice celebration/bonfire was the teeny, weeny, itsy, bitsy, miniscule little concern that the fire could spark something bigger and whooaaaaa……the end of the world.

I didn’t want that on my hands.  I’ve got enough to deal with right now.

So…Happy Winter Solstice a day late.  This is a time to reflect on the coming year, to be grateful for what has gone before, to cherish time with loved ones and to rejoice in this beautiful earth…the nature all around us if we but take the time to see it and experience it.

(We finally got about 14 inches of the white stuff last week…here are some pics from the front and back door…sorry…I didn’t venture any further out…it was below zero and a wee bit chilly.  The wind has been blowing the last couple of days, moving it around a bit.  We’re supposed to have more tomorrow and Christmas Eve…so we’ll see how it ends up.  See the $$$$$$$Rudolph? Hint:  Pic #2 under the blanket of snow on the rock post.)

Not funny really.  I shouldn’t make light of it.

But truly, mom is a wee bit worried about the state of my heart, as black as it is these days.

I think I may have mentioned it before, but the Grinch has got nothing on me as far as the whole shrunken, blackened heart thing-y goes.

I have always believed in the idea of karma.  If you put something good out there, good will come back to you (eventually…not sure about the whole time limit on that deal…not even sure there is a time limit…but for all intents and purposes–good begets good).  If you put something bad out there, well, then….be prepared for some pretty bad ju-ju to head your way.

That being said, I’ve been flirting the last few days with the idea of actually wishing serious bodily and brain-ily harm on whomever has our dear little Max.

The anger roiling around inside my insides can not be healthy, of this I am sure.  And truth be told, I simply cannot afford the luxury of anger.

BUT, at this point I’m ready to say “the hell with it.  Bring it on baby.”

Which is precisely why my dear mother is worried about the state of my soul.  One should not carry around this much anger and …well, hate.  Ahhhh, hate is such an ugly word.   But I do feel myself dancing around the edges of that very word.

And all because of a dog.  I know, this pales in comparison to what 26 other families are feeling at this very moment.  Something that I cannot even begin to fathom.  Does this begin to put my predicament in perspective?  Maybe.  Possibly.  Will it allow me to get beyond this anger?  The jury’s still out on that one.  I’ll let you know.

So…not really anything new to report on Operation Max.  It’s sort of moved into a wait-and-see sort of thing.  It’s almost like both sides are sitting here, wondering if it’s safe to make a move.  Who will blink first?  Yeah, that’s it…we’re playing chicken.

I’m not good at chicken.  Too damn impatient.

Following me still?  I’m not exactly sure I am anymore, which is always a good sign it’s time to wrap things up.  And this time, there is just no way to bring it around to where it started.  Sorry, not enough brain cells firing tonight to complete the synapses.

Yup.

You’d think because it was Christmas, there’d be a moratorium on fightin’ round here.

Nope.

So here’s how it went down…

Me, not feeling very Christmas-y and such, finally sat down and came up with what could, in a pinch, pass for an annual Christmas letter to be inserted in with the requisite Christmas cards.  I will admit, it was light on Christmas cheer and heavy on…well…sadness and despair and what is happening in this world…but then, as I so often bring things full circle, was rounded out in the end with  heartfelt wishes for peace and love and gratitude for the blessings that do abound in each of our lives.

Granted, not one of my best.  And granted, not all sweetness and light.  But given the current circumstances, both here in our little home and across the states in 26 homes this holiday season, I think it was apropros.

His reaction?  After he deigned to sit and read the short (for me) one-page missive…pure and utter disgust.  Followed by some sort of sound meant to be a snort I think…the one made when people are thoroughly, well, disgusted.  You know…kind of like.. oh hell’s bells I can’t even get the phonics right to try to imitate it.  Forget it.  Just know this…he was NOT impressed.  But then………he is NEVER impressed with my holiday essays.  Never.  Not once.  Hasn’t EVER liked one of them.  And that’s going back as far as I can remember writing them for this happy little family.

WTF ever.

I’d tell him to write the damn things, but as the mayor in Southtown says in The Year Without a Santa Claus…”there’ll be a snowball’s chance in Dixie” before that would happen.

Course, himself did get a tiny bit of “Christmas spirit” somewhere inside (hesitate to say his heart) this year as he just went out and spent a bazillion dollars on new outside lights and a light-up Rudolph for the dear daughter!!  This…after he’d just threatened to take away my debit card so I would quit spending money.  AS IF.      Yes, my chiropractor is valiantly attempting to fix the whiplash in my cervical spine from the last couple of months.

So….here was the rest of his response…

As he threw the paper down on the counter…”Don’t send it to my family.”  And then stomped (ok, maybe he didn’t exactly stomp) out the door.  Himself doesn’t really stomp…I guess that’s me and the munchikin.  (Yes, that’s right…munch-i-kin…said Gracie-style.)

Anyway.  I ripped up the protocopy, said to hell with it, signed our names to the cards and mailed them.  And boy did that feel wrong.  The cards were naked.  Naked mind you.  And all you’re going to get is a holiday wish with three little names written at the bottom.  No literary embellishments of life here nestled among the trees at the edge of the forest, in the winter wonderland (FINALLY).

Course, that’s not what it was anyway, remember?  Pretty heavy on the sadness.  Oh yes…here was the rest of himself’s commentary:  “What???  Woe is me, my dog is gone????  What kind of crap is that????”

I tried to point out that then I segued into the sadness in Connecticut, which really sent him into orbit.  Wondering why on earth that had any place in our Christmas letter.  I tried to point out that 20 families just lost their little angels and Christmas would never be the same for them.  He didn’t budge.  Himself has both an irritating and an impressive way of putting things where they belong.  He doesn’t dwell.  Me…I dwell.

Whatever.

For your reading pleasure…and just to see if you’re brave enough to take sides in this debate, I’ll include my version of “merry christmas to all” below.

“December 2012

Hello dear friends and family~

I’ve put off writing this annual holiday letter as the situations currently transpiring in our lives are not the most holiday-cheer-filled things.  Neither do they inspire me to be witty or gay.  Rather the general feeling is one of despair and sadness.

Yes, I realize this is NOT the way to start off an annual letter to dear ones, in which one typically goes on and on about the accomplishments of the wee ones in the family or waxes philosophical about the wonderment of the world and our part in it and then brims over with gratitude for the blessings bestowed in the last year.

Our dearest new member of the family, Maximus, or Max, the Springer Spaniel puppy who entered our lives on Monday night May 14, 2012 has been missing since November 27.  Tonight, as I sit debating whether or not to write this letter, that is two and a half weeks, fast closing in on three.  Our hearts are heavy.  We have, Greg and I, between us logged many miles of searching, talked to countless people, made many phone calls and hung dozens of fliers.  All to no avail.  Perhaps, should the Universe oblige, by the time you are reading this, Max will be returned to our home.  Oh joyous day!  I can feel the celebration, the excitement, the gratitude!  Perhaps not.  And the days and nights will continue with our prayers for his safe and quick return to us.  I can not say which it will be.  I can only wish the resolution will be as I want it to be.  But then, that is not the way of life is it?  It’s not really our will, it’s for something much bigger than us to say or decree, isn’t it?  For the world turns in mysterious ways.  The news from a state in the northeast these past two days made my heart spasm in grief…made me run to grab up our own wee one and hold and love her ever so tightly…made me wonder how those parents will ever survive the loss of their little angels.

So, rather than attempt to entertain you with the mishaps and misadventures of this last year of our idyllic life here nestled in the hills, at the edge of the forest, I will simply leave you with our hopes and dreams for you and yours.

We fervently wish that the next year will bring you peace, love, and gratitude for the many blessings that abound in each and every one of our lives.  If we but take the time to see, we shall find these blessings, even amidst the pain and sorrow that sometimes seem to take center stage.

Namaste friends.”

And that, dear friends, is what I wrote.  Because that, dear friends, is what is in my heart today.

I decided to start writing again because sometimes, for me, it is cathartic.  I had stopped because for the first several days, three weeks to be exact, it was the same.  Max is not here.  We are sad.  Our hearts are broken.  We just want Max back home with us.

I’ll post more later on Max and where the search is at, etc.  Just know that he is not here with us now at 9:54 am on Wednesday December 19, 2012.  And it’s been 22 days since he’s been gone.

Keep him in your hearts and minds friends.  I am clinging to a small thread of hope that prayer will do what Greg and I have not been able to do…bring our little Maxster Baxster, Maxey!Maxey!, Maximus, or just plain MAX home to us.

Vaya con dios amigos/amigas.

Sorry to be silent…I was away in Casper without internet capability.  Well, there is Starbucks, but to keep the munchkin I travel with happy while I sit in the frontseat and try to connect to the world, the CD player in the car must be broadcasting “Mouse Detectives” or “Harriet Bean, Detective” or the Magic Tree House over and over and over. And there are only so many times in a day one can listen to Annie whine in the Magic Tree House or Harriet explaining how she caught Mr. Charlie Heat at cheating on horse races.

Seriously.

I digress.

No Maximus yet.  Operation Max is continuing with Mr. Man’s Man/Woman’s Man/Everyman/Superman heading up the Tactical Maneuvers/Logisitics team.  I personally removed myself from this team on Sunday afternoon while out on reconnaisance drills in Walden, Colorado due to the complete inability to NOT show absolute anger/disgust on my face when talking to townspeople and trying to gather intelligence.  No poker face here, nosirreebob.  I let that man know exactly what I thought of the townspeople in Walden, some of which at this moment are harboring my dog.

Reward signs have been posted.   Mr. Man’s Man a.k.a. Tactical Maneuvers/Logistics dude hung at least 20 in town tonight.  He just returned from the shop where he finished making three more of these super duper wooden signs with an 8 1/2 by 11 size picture of the Maxster Baxster with a second page detailing the information.  They sit on huge wooden stakes and the fliers are taped on with bright neon pink duct tape.  They are already sitting on top of the hill (where we think he got picked up), at the grocery store in Walden and will now be at our gate and at three other locations along the highway into/out of Walden .

Still think we know who has him.  Just waiting for definitive proof/concrete evidence so that we can move on it.

Still humbly asking for your prayers and thoughts for 1) Max…so that he knows he is not forgotten, so that he will try to show himself, and so that he will remember those here who love him dearly and 2)that the people harboring Max will somehow develop a conscience and do the right thing, returning him to us very, very soon.

Thank you dear friends.  And please send positive energy to the Universe in our names.

Namaste.  Allah akbah.  Vaya con dios.

Nothing new to report.

Both Greg and I are exhausted…not wanting to quit yet not finding a lot of hope.

We had help today from our Saratoga friends Gwen and Laura who have done so much already.  Gwen entertained the Princess Gracelyn and Laura helped walk the sagebrush, climb over the rocks and scour the riverbank.  Thank you for your help dear friends.  You touched our hearts today and we are in your debt.  We are honored by your friendship.

Not just exhausted…perhaps numb.  I think the not knowing is the worst.  The shock and pain of Tuesday night has been replaced with a search for acceptance of what will be.

Gracelyn and I thanked the Universe tonight, our God, for our friends and family who are sending love and positive energy our way.  We asked that God be with us, to help us to heal our broken hearts, to accept what is and to have the courage to move ahead.  We asked God to watch over our little buddy Max, Mr. Fuzzy Pants (his furry little brown back end always looked like he had on brown fuzzy britches), if he’s out there somewhere, trying to get back home.

I could go on.  But I won’t.  Just know we appreciate the positive thoughts and prayers.