My roommate has almost always had multiple dogs and/or cats. And especially chihuahuas.
I’ve never been a big fan of tiny dogs, but her dogs have been great! Sadly, we lost Crosby at age 19 a few months ago.
Roomie has been shopping for ‘someone’ to replace her spot in the pack. Yesterday afternoon, we got a rescue dog -
She’s hysterical! Non-stop prancing and dancing and playing! And wanting to play with the dog in the mirror. The other girl dog is a little jealous; the cat wary (she wants to play with the cat, who usually hisses in response!). But the lummox boy dog loves her!
And so do we!
Yesterday was the anniversary of the accident.
Had she lived, she would be 31. Instead, she is permanently 12.
She was a terrific kid, blossoming into a terrific young woman. Smart, funny, aware, and a good citizen.
I love you and miss you Molly.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
IF YOU TAKE NOTHING ELSE FROM TODAY’S POST, GO AND HUG AND KISS THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE, AND TELL THEM YOU LOVE THEM.
BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW…
(and no place for comments today – you’ve all been kind enough, thank you! - Guffaw)
My good friend Old NFO discussed this most recent of ‘infamous’ drug deaths. I was reminded of the PBS Series on JAZZ. They’d mention some historic jazz figure, and then, more often than not came this line:
…and then, they died of an overdose…
Is it the artistic personality, fame, fortune or humanity which binds all these folks together? Are we all, at our core, addicts of some sort? (Wikipedia – List of Drug/Alcohol related deaths)
I come rife with an addictive personality. I have excess weight, due to compulsive overeating. I’m neurotic, but not particularly artistic. My real mother died when I was in grade school as a direct result of her cigarette addiction. She had emphysema. ( I remember her turning off the oxygen tank and lighting up!) My father was an alcoholic, ate too much and smoked cigars. I come by my addictions honestly. Even though I’m getting ‘help’ for my addictions, in all seriousness, I don’t expect to see 85, like my maternal grandfather did. My fraternal grandfather made it to 68. My own father to 61.
Today is my daughter’s birthday. She would have been 31. Auto accident, age 12.
At least it wasn’t drugs or alcohol. :-(
Tonight is New Year’s Eve! (for those who just crawled out from under a rock where there was no Wi-Fi.)
The traditional celebration of the passing of the previous year, and the birth of the new. Along with fond remembrance of times past. This usually involves food and sometimes libations.
Please be careful out there, and if you drink, don’t drive (or text or phone!) And watch out for those who have.
And take a moment to remember those who are no longer with you. And love those who remain.
Because you never know…
Brigid reminds us often of the love, responsibility and loss we acknowledge in our lives. Recently, her friend Vic @ Monkeywrangler had to put down her beloved dog Charlie.
I was never allowed pets as a child. For many years, I believed it was because my parents didn’t trust me with that responsibility. Later I found out my Dad had both a dog and a cat in his teen years. And they died. And it was he who couldn’t bear that pain, again.
Once I was out of college and had my own place, I more of less by default acquired a cat, a black longhair with yellow eyes. Partly feral. Beelzebub. The moniker seemed appropriate. She would sleep on my chest and upon my awakening bat at my eyes with her claws out! Guess it was time to get up. The landlord had told me no dogs. He saw the cat and amended his statement to include cats. Bastard! To the so-called Humane Society she went. I’d no other choice at the time.
It was years later when I met my future wife I learned she had a kind of chi-weenie. Lady Eowyn. She was very timid, and didn’t like me, and ran away. Then we got a Spitz (Nessie) and a knee-height brown shorthair mix (Ilsa). And a Calico shorthair cat (Gracie). And some kind of special Siamese with a tabby skeletal structure (Bear). They all left this World in various ways: disease, fights, old age.
And this process about killed me. Each time. I now know something of what my Dad must have felt. Our pets were not working animals; they were part of the family.
Now, living with my exgf, and her three Chihuahuas and black long-haired cat, I know this will happen again. I was here before when another cat passed away. And the old lady dog is 18 1/2 years old!! Blind, deaf, no teeth. But in no pain and a real sweetheart. And the two other dogs are 14.
I’m constantly reminding you to love the people in your lives. Love your animals, as well. Do it now.
Because you never know.
Guffaw’s got the blues…
I try not to let the state of
the World the Nation my life get to me. I try not to be self-centered. I do realize that there’s very little I can do regarding the state of either the World or the Nation. I’ve let my opinions be known, and I voted. I’ve spoken out on this blog. In many places on the globe these things are not allowed, and subject to sever penalties.
But, I can do something about my attitude! I’m approaching a landmark anniversary in my life (if you reckon in Base 10); I’ve no partner to share it with; no money – on disability (which is both a description of lack of funds and physical ability).
I’ve a number of chronic conditions, and seem to acquire more every day. I owe medical bills.
I drive a 13 year old car, when I can afford gasoline.
And last Summer, because my disability income is 60% lower than my previous meager income, I lost my home. (“We lived in a hallway!” “We dreamed of living in a hallway-we lived in a cardboard box!” – Monty Python) Fortunately, a good friend offered me a place to stay.
Two weeks ago, my sister had a minor stroke. (If there is such a thing). She’s back to work, and coping, but it does get one’s attention.
But all is not lost.
Re: this upcoming calendar mark – My new neighbor and EX-wife (and friend) contacted me, and asked if she could put a little celebration together in my honor!
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, “If you have friends, you have everything!” You know, like the end of that Christmas movie…
Time to remove my head from it’s regular inverted resting place and get moving.
Thanks for listening.
Gun Nuts Media reminded me of today’s event.
Many boys get to go to the range, as part of family tradition or Scouts, but, sometimes girls are excluded, just because it’s assumed they have no interest.
And, we ALL know what happens when we assume.
So, take hold of your Saturday and get out there with your girl(s) and pop some caps!
It teaches patience, personal responsibility, skill and it’s FUN!
I was fortunate enough to take my daughter to ranges many years ago, and those experiences are many of my fondest memories. Go make some of your own. – Guffaw
h/t Caleb Giddings
Back in the early 80′s, a client wanted me to locate a star witness against Swami Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, an East Indian mystic who had established a commune in Oregon, and amassed great fortune (while committing many crimes).
This witness was a poor-little-rich-boy, who had rebelled against his filthy-rich parents, and run off to join the commune. Hey, free sex. I’m not going to say I misunderstand the appeal.
Anyway, he was a State witness, and had gone missing. Apparently intentionally. My understanding was he feared the peace-loving denizens of the Swami’s commune would find him and kill him for his treachery.
Following the teaching of a former PI boss, The Thin Man ™, I opted to look for something in his previous life which might again get his attention, in spite of his ersatz-fugitive status.
As in the true story The Falcon and The Snowman, the Falcon was captured in part because of his love of falconry. Falconry-heavy regions were being watched by the authorities. And he was caught.
Our boy was an avid polo player in his past life. And, I focused on that. And, I found him on a polo field in Indio. Took me a couple hours calling polo fields.
If I remember correctly, he ended up testifying against the Swami in one or more of the many criminal cases against him.
Funny, the commune folks were unable to locate him…?
And I did it spending a few hours on the telephone, calling long-distance.
Ah, the glamor and excitement of private investigation!
Quizikle did a posting today, regarding a lost love.
I was originally going to say that got me thinking, but that’s not true. I’d already been thinking about a similar situation in my life for some time.
And, I promised myself, when I started blogging, that I wouldn’t turn it into therapy. I’ve kept that promise, mostly.
I’ve been an investigator, in the sense I’ve had the means and skills to research others and their circumstances, for almost 40 years. About half of that time was pre-Internet.
And I’ve had both joy and tragedy during that time. Love, romance and loss. As most of us have.
This woman taught me I had worth, even when I didn’t think I did. And, most importantly, treated me as a human being, when she could have discarded me like a used tissue.
And that made all the difference.
One day I hope to be able to thank her.
But, she’s off the grid.