It's not what you think.
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Happy Halloween! Is It Over Yet?
If you only know me online and have seen that I’m an optimistic, (usually) happy-go-lucky kind of person, it might surprise you to know that I’m not a fan of holidays. In fact, complaining about holidays is one of my talents. Here’s why: holidays and all of their pomp and circumstance get in my way. They disrupt my routine, my clean(ish) house, everything. I don’t usually mind the actual day of any given holiday; what bothers me most is the period of time in advance of each holiday, time that is spent preparing and decorating and spending money for one “special” day. I have always found much more happiness and…
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Grief Is a Jerk.
It’s been nine weeks, and depending on when you ask me I’ll tell you either it feels like forever ago or it feels like it was yesterday. Regardless of how it feels, it wasn’t yesterday. Yesterday I was dreading what I had to do today, spending an hour dicing apples into tiny pieces for the charoset I am taking with me to a Passover seder this afternoon. I wasn’t dreading the task itself; I was dreading completing it without the presence of my kitchen companion. I think if dogs could claim to have favorite holidays, Passover would have been high on Roxie’s list because of all the apples. Anytime she…
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Day Four.
Roxie has been gone since Friday morning. It’s been so difficult, but bits and pieces of my days are getting easier. On Friday I cried and cried and cried. On Saturday I cried and cried and slept, mostly unable to get off of the couch. Yesterday I didn’t cry at all, only becoming a little teary-eyed when taking my first walk without her. Today, Day Four, I was fine until the vet called to let me know that her paw print was ready, and when I drove over I felt my chest tighten and all of a sudden when I parked the car I was hardly breathing, trying to push…
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Quality of Life
Advance apologies: this might be difficult for you to read, but I had to get it out, for myself. This dog. Twelve days ago I was walking her down the street, both of us happy as could be. Today, we said goodbye to her. She was happiest when she was outside, running down the sidewalk. Actually, she was happiest when she was eating any kind of food: hers or ours. (Beagles, man.) But getting out on the leash was a close second. She was only eleven, one month short of twelve. Our beloved vet, Dr. Withers–who has seen Roxie ever since she was getting puppy shots–has been telling me for…