"Heaven's coming to get him"

That's what The Boy said when we told him what was going to happen to Coal. Ah, to be his age and have his perspective on things. It was just that simple. He did want to know the vet's role in the whole procedure, and if someone would be in Heaven to play frisbee with Coal.

*sniff*

Last Sunday night Coal suffered a minor stroke, although we didn't realize it. He seemed sore from an overactive day. Monday morning he had a real hard time getting his back end off the ground. I countered his Rimadyl with 650 mg of aspirin twice a day, but by Tuesday he was no better physically, though mentally he was still intact. MFH called the vet who told him what probably happened and said we did not have to put Coal to sleep, but to realize that another stroke, probably a major one, would be forthcoming and it would be ugly. We made a pact with each other long ago that we would let our dogs go with dignity and never allow them to suffer. That was the worst part of this whole process - I had to make the decision to put an end to my dog's life.

Coal chose me to be his person. That's how it is with dogs. They choose a person to bond with. For 13 1/2 years he was a major part of my life. People can say their dogs are family members, but mine truly was like a child to me. We took him everywhere with us. When he couldn't use the dog ramp to get in and out of the SUV any longer, MFH would lift him in and out. We are the people who show up at your house with our kid and our dog.

He owned me. And I am overwrought with grief.

The Boy? He plays frisbee with me now when we get home at the end of the day. He sits at my feet and pants. He wants so badly for me to feel better.

I cried, "No more dogs for me. You and The Boy can have a dog and you will feed it and play with it and exercise it. I will not do this again."

MFH replied, "Hon, you know that's not how it works. The dog chooses the person, not the other way around."

"I will just have to make sure it doesn't choose me."

And then I read this statement: "The measure of a person is whether they let themselves love again, knowing the pain and grief will eventually be repeated."

I know I will. I can't imagine my life without a dog.

It will take time.

There will never be another Coal.

RIP, my friend, my buddy, my baby-dog.

Thanks to all of you for your condolences.

With A Heavy Heart

Brandy's Shadow Coal

12/3/1993-4/25/2007

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. -Anonymous

Run free, Puppy Coal.

I miss you.

Today you are 5 years old!

You've changed so much in the past year. You are a little boy who no longer resembles a toddler at all. We measured you this morning as we do twice a year, and in the last six months you've grown two inches! You are all legs!

It was never so clear to me that you're growing up as when I watched you play hockey this year. You are sure footed on the ice and have a keen sense of how the game is played. I was so proud to see you stand up for yourself. You have a sure sense of right and wrong, and I hope you never let anyone take advantage of you.

You've always been picky about your clothes, and now even more so. You want to dress like the big boys with their athletic pants and jackets and boxer shorts, and you are particularly fond of the N.ike s.woosh. I've always been proud of you for having an opinion about how you look.

You are honest, and I love that about you. When you have troubles at school you have always been truthful about the role you played. For that reason, I will always stand behind you.

You are very generous with affection and I love you's. When I drop you off every morning you run to the window and we wave and make the hand symbol for I love you to each other until I drive away.

You still love to play with me, and even though life gets in the way, you remind me of how much fun it is to swing so high you can touch the sky. Sometimes I swear you say "mom" a million times a day. I still marvel that I am a mom. Your mom. A role that I try so hard to be the best at yet sometimes fail so miserably.

Thank you for still wanting to be held and carried. Even though Dad thinks you're too big, it's good for my arms and back! Thank you for squeezing into the rocker with me for a bedtime story. Thank you for sharing a dance with me before lights out every night, and for wanting me to lay with you for just a minute while you settle down for sleep. Thank you for still letting me call you Baby.

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be.

Happy Birthday, Baby.

The Old West

A few weeks ago a very unfortunate incident was brought to the public's attention via news coverage and billboards. A family lost their beloved pet dog, a "cherished member of their family". He was shot to death.

This family moved to Montana, "The Last Best Place", and bought property on The Bozeman Pass. There they let their dogs run free because they are not in the city limits. But they are also not alone. They have neighbors, and one neighbor has three small children.

Mom came out of her house one day and found the dog bristled and growling at her children. She tried to get the dog to back down, but he wouldn't. She shot him. She also took the time to gather the dog up in a bag and take him home to the owners to explain what happened.

The owners are upset. They bought two large billboards and posted the dog's pictures with the caption "Marbles did not deserve to die." Mr. Owner said it was senseless and there were other options.

One option I see would be to keep your dog contained on your own property.

Today the letters to the editor got me riled. One person who recently moved here from the East wrote that we are rednecks here with our "got my shotgun in my shed" mentality. Why, back East where they come from if your dog is loose the kind neighbors will return it or even keep it in the house until you can come and get it. This same person then spouted off about how people walk their dogs downtown without leashes and why don't we enforce the leash law. WTF? Feel free to move back home, buddy.

I love my dog. I am a responsible pet owner. I love him enough to keep him home, because other people might not love him so much on their property. And even though he's good around me, you never know how he might act if he was running wild.

I hope I am never put in the position of coming between what I deem to be a dangerous dog and my child.

I would never allow my child to become a chew toy.

He's all better but I'm not

I called The Boy's preschool at 2:30 this afternoon to check on him.

He is just fine, which is what I expected. He was 98.9 this morning. I don't question that he had a low grade fever yesterday or the day before. However, there were no other symptoms except that he asked to lay down. That is out of character for him.

I love that he wants to be at home with mommy.

It tears me up inside that we can't have that.

I'm having a bad mom day.

The Boy.....who cried wolf

The Boy was feverish again on Sunday and progressed to vomiting by Monday morning. I stayed home with him and MFH traded out with me at lunch.

It's amazing to me that I used to have this huge bank of paid time off. So much so that when we outsourced our payroll to the s.atan company they were concerned that I wouldn't be able to use it all up.

I am now on borrowed time until my anniversary date of June 7, which hopefully I will never see. I am also salaried, so this should be of no concern to me. And trust me, if my son is sick, I will be with him.

I was quite ready to take him to the doctor Monday morning and start running tests to see why he is so sick this winter and spring. But, he's not the only one. This virus, whatever it is, is running amok in our community among the children AND the adults.

Tuesday morning he felt fine and we returned to our normal routine. Close to the end of the day I was called and told The Boy was feverish, but since the end of the day was so close it would be fine if he stayed until the normal pickup time. He was fine Tuesday evening.

Yesterday I was called at midmorning to come pick him up as his fever was climbing again. I'll admit, I was beginning to feel a little put out. But, a fever is a fever and rules are rules, so off I went. When I got there, he was looking out the window and when he saw me a smile appeared on his little face - only briefly - then his little pitiful sad look.

Uh huh.

What a fine afternoon he had, while I fretted about how to get all my work done. He played and watched cartoons and ate and said how much he liked to be home with mommy. And, try as I might, I could not get a fever to register on any of my thermometers.

I must need new batteries in both of them.

Today if he gets sick, they are instructed to call daddy instead of mommy.

Like that's gonna happen.

Daddy's not nearly as lenient as mommy.

Kids are an excellent source of entertainment

I don't cook on Fridays. Or Saturdays. That will probably change if we move to the boondocks, but for now, that's the way it is.

The Boy is a notoriously slow eater. He rarely finishes his meal at the restaurant. Once we get home, he'll settle in on the loveseat with his food and finish eating while watching television.

Last Friday he was doing exactly that when I heard him screech and start crying. When I looked over at him, he had tears streaming down his face and he was holding his finger. There was a partially eaten french fry laying on his lap.

I said, "Oh no you didn't! Did you just bite your finger instead of the french fry?"

He nodded.

You know how sometimes you have to turn away so they don't see the smirk on your face? I couldn't help it. I laughed right out loud! Then I did the right thing and apologized, and told him why I laughed. Once he realized the absurdity of it all, The Boy laughed right along with me.

Stress

It's manifesting itself in strange ways.

I have a cold sore under my nose, and it sucks. Not only does it look like a big booger, it hurts like the dickens.

Everytime someone looks at me, whether they are or not, I imagine them fixating on it.

And just now when I went to the bathroom?

I have my panties on inside out.

I have never done that before.

Even worse?

I left them that way.

Born lucky?

The Boy has won something each and every time he's had a raffle ticket.

Imagine his sad little self last week at the hockey banquet when they called number after number and not once did the number match his own ticket.

"Mama, they don't know we have this number, do they," he said.

"Honey, " I said, "you won't win everytime you have a ticket. It just doesn't work that way. They have a lot of tickets in that bucket and not everyone can win."

I had barely finished that sentence when they called out his number.

I'll be damned.

I'm gonna buy that kid a lottery ticket.

Calgon, take me away

It's one of those days.

I like my job, but my boss? Drives me nuts. To be fair, I probably get under his skin too.

On this day I really can't even stand the sight of him.

It's time to move on.

It's been ages since I've needed a resume or cover letter, obviously. I have painstakingly written both now, and I really wish I had paid more attention to all those resumes that have come across our fax machine in the last few months. It's difficult not to give too much information, but I want to be sure to give enough so they can fairly judge what it is I've done here. As for cover letters - they just seem so dull and I want to snazz it up a little, but do I dare?

And then there are the references. Of course I have to use above mentioned boss, but I don't really want to use only people from this organization. Then again, nobody else knows of my work history because I've been here so damn long.

Too long.

I found three jobs in Big City's Sunday newspaper that I will be applying for, pretty much along the same lines as what I do now, only more specialized instead of being a one man show.

And, I made a big decision. I will be giving one month's notice. That is fair. I may have to be accessible to train or consult on a further basis, but not in the office and only at my convenience.

After all, if I am worth so much to him tomorrow, I was worth that much to him yesterday as well, and I'm not feeling it.

"Suck"er

To the guy waiting in line behind me at the bank:

That round ball on a stick?

Yeah, that's called a sucker.

Not a cruncher.

If you insist on eating it that way, please stand more than one foot away from my left ear.

Everywhere a sign

In spite of the recent cold and snow, spring is in the air.

We had horrible winds last weekend. After, The Boy and I were playing in the yard when we found this robin's egg. It had blown out of a nest, which we couldn't locate. The Boy thinks we can bring it to fruition. Sad.








Hockey season is officially over, culminating with the end of season banquet held last night. From the look on this face, I'd say his first season was a success!

The Boy and dad went fishing. Usually MFH would catch and release this time of year, as the trout are spawning. The Boy wanted to eat this one, which he did. I can't believe he likes trout. Me? Not so much, but I eat it anyway. We don't allow that kind of waste.

ETA In response to Spanglish, The Boy wants to eat all of the fish he catches. Dad agreed to let him keep one.

I really hope the weather improves after Easter!

All I need is the air that I breathe.....

Has anybody seen my lung?

Seriously.

I'm pretty sure I hacked it up on the way to work.

Mr. Big Stuff

The Boy and I try to make a homemade greeting for each holiday to send to his grandparents. Like me, they enjoy having a refrigerator covered with his art.

We finished his Easter greetings Sunday afternoon. Yesterday, before leaving the house for the day, I had him sign his name to his cards so I could get them in the mail. Much to my surprise, he signed:

The Boy

#30

which is the number on the back of his hockey jersey, because that's what the big boys do when they sign autographs.

Defense

In his defense, I can somewhat understand my boss's request.

For sixteen years I have done it all. He hasn't had to worry about a thing in regard to his company finances. From processing billing, to accounts payable, to running the point of sale and accounting software, to signing the checks, to all transactions at the bank, to signing his name on loan paperwork - all of it. I'm sure it's overwhelming for him to imagine somebody else taking over for me and representing his best interests in this company.

True, at times it's been a thankless job and I often feel unappreciated, but still it's what I'm paid to do. Paid pretty well, I might add, with retirement and health insurance for my family. Not to mention the 6 weeks paid time off he gave me to spend with my new son, and the airfare for both me and MFH to pick him up in Guatemala.

With that said, I really can't think of any way that it's feasible to give him that kind of notice. I'm not sure what to do about that.

In other news, I must post this link in defense of Ms. J.olie's recent adoption. I've followed her story closely and felt that her recent adoption was on the up and up, but was happy to find this account of the story.

http://www.rainbowkids.com/ArticleDetails.aspx?id=471

We're always so quick to judge and believe based on what we read in the media, which is so often twisted and written to sell papers. I like Ms. J.olie. She is doing exactly what I wish I could do.