9. Things Can Change Quickly and Then Everything Changes

I often blog ahead, especially in this year-long marathon thing.  I write the bare bones of an entry as something enters my head, leave it in draft form, and then come back and edit it and tweak it sometimes a dozen or more times before the publishing day.  The parts you see below in black were written ahead to be published today in a "Random Wednesday" blog entry.  Then something happened that made the original entry seem trite and empty and unimportant.  But I decided, rather than completely change the entry, I'd just add to what was already there, just to illustrate how quickly one's whole world can change.  The parts in blue at the end are the new parts.

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(vegetarians and low-fat eaters, please turn your heads)

IF YOU LIKE TO COOK AND IF YOU LIKE CHICKEN:

That coq au vin recipe I tried the other night was so damn amazing, I just have to recommend it to as many people as I can reach. Please, in the name of all that is holy and pure, make this dish.  I added carrots to it in the last 15 minutes of cooking, and I served it on broccoli that I froze from my garden last summer.  I'm still dreaming about it.  It was that good.

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Vincent has good days and medium days and not-so-good days, but overall he seems a bit better.  He is tolerating the liver supplement well (though he has started to fight me giving it to him in the morning) and is eating and seemingly responding well to the raw food.  Just when I thought everything was great, the vet called and said that the specimen taken from his kidneys was not sufficient for testing, and I need to bring him in for another.  Gah.

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I think I've sent out everything from the stash sales.  If I have forgotten to contact you, please let me know.  It has really helped me to feel lightened up and a bit more clear-headed.  Thank you all for buying my crap!  Now I need to work on decluttering and simplifying other aspects of my life, not just the fiber side of it.  And believe me, there is plenty more to be done. 

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The workouts are going great. At TMK (the "silent partner" of Mossy Cottage Knits fame)'s recommendation, I bought a new book.  Word on the street is the next time we DON'T see TMK, she'll be a newer, more buff version of the TMK none of us has seen.  And I like the subtitle of the book, "Lift Like A Man, Look Like A Goddess."  Actually, since you pulled the truth out of me, I dislike that subtitle with the power of a thousand goddesses.  It may be exactly what I might be thinking, and I do indeed OF COURSE want to look like a goddess, but I feel that subtitle is a cheap marketing piece of crap, aimed at entirely the wrong crowd.  Just leave it at The New Rules of Lifting For Women, please.  I think I'm going to go take my Sharpie right this instant and black out that subtitle. 

I've been reading it and trying to digest and assimilate it.  I wish I had access to a trainer locally who I felt confident would understand the concepts properly and help me to incorporate them, but I think I may be left mostly on my own, which is fine with me too.  What I need is a trainer who "forgets" I'm a woman and doesn't insist that I lift "Barbie weights" as the book puts it, or also leer and, you know, be "a guy" when I'm trying to work out.  Also, it would be nice if all the grunting, sweating men who are trying to impress themselves, and end up dropping ginormous weights that make big huge crashing noises that make me jump and afraid I'm going to lose a foot or an arm, would clear out of the gym while I'm trying to work out.  So basically I need a couple eunuchs -- one as a trainer and one to clear out the riffraff.  Is that so much to ask?
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Which leads to the answer to a question that was asked by Dave the other day on Question Day: 

"Ding-dong.  It's the doorbell.  Who do I wish was on the other side of the door?"

Ed Frickin' McMahon, that's who, with a Publ****** Clear******** check.  If I had my own gym with my own trainer at my own place somewhere in the Caribbean (or Montana -- I like it cold and remote -- heh-heh), I wouldn't have to worry about that crap.  All those asterisks are sort of an inside knitblogger's joke.  Cara was served with a genu-INE cease and desist order once, for a ridiculous reason, for using words that that particular organization said they OWNED.  Fucking hell.  (No, not those words.  Different ones.  "Fucking hell" I own, and if you use them, I'll come after you to cease and desist!)

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I suddenly realized that university starts up again next week, and my schedule is not yet cast in stone.  It looks like it could be ok, but carries its own stresses.  Basically nonexistent turnaround time between classes that are fair distances across campus, for example.  (Wishing for a Star Trek-style transporter system in addition to the two eunuchs AND the Pub.Clear. check.)  I'm just a wee bit freaked out that it's time to start again.  Apparently I could get used to this lazy lifestyle. 

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At 11:40 a.m. Tuesday, Vincent went to sleep in my arms.  I was stunned how quickly it happened, and even when the vet was administering the drug, a part of me wanted to say, "Stop!" but it was too late.  And yet it was just on time.  My poor little buddy had had a bad couple of days, after a month and a half of mostly bad days.  He had spunk and spirit.  I was his wolf mother, and he wanted to please me so much that every once in a while his spunk and his desire to please me would take over and he'd have a good day, and it would give me hope for a miraculous recovery.  But it was not to be.  He needed to be held most of the day Monday, and all night he whimpered in pain.  When I gave him his liver pill Tuesday morning, he threw it up, and he did not eat.  His abdomen went very full and rigid, which I guessed meant that the mass had perhaps bled into his abdomen.  He was in a lot of discomfort.  I couldn't take it any more, and I couldn't force him to take it any more. 

The new vet was lovely and supportive in every way, which made it a lot easier for me.  After it was over, I didn't really believe it was over.  You know, my friends, I spend a lot of my time denying that I am sentimental and insisting that I'm a cranky old ass.  I know you see right through that (but don't you dare say so!).  However, I am truly not one to wallow in self-pity, and I need to just get on with it.  The more humor in the process, the better.  I know you all love pets, and I know you all care about me.  I have a lot of people around me who love me and care about me and who take really great care of me.  There are times when I wish I had not started down the road of being so open in this blog.  To be very honest, this is one of them.  I thought of leaving it unsaid, but I do feel the need and desire to tell you about this.  To borrow the words of my sweet Cookie yesterday, "I'm not sure if I can handle the kindness that will want to come my way."  Just sort of kick me, will you?  Gently.  But please, I'm not sure if I can handle the kind gestures that I know you will want to give, because it is all so hard for all of us.  I love you all.  I loved my little boy Vincent. 

This is a photo of how he looked the first time he was able to run with the ball again after his first liver collapse over a year and a half ago.  This is the way I'd like to remember him.

That's my boy.

LATER:

My nephew Dylan sent me this sympathy card, using the above photo that I had sent him. 

Let me explain.  That's Vincent with all his favorite things.  Carrot sticks were his favorite treat, he loved his chicken, and we always assumed he was chasing rabbits when he would dream and make little yips in his sleep.  "The stuff that looks like vomit is rice," says Dylan.

Awwwwww.  Sniff.

Comments

[Kristin]

I'm so sorry to hear about Vincent. I'll give my pup an extra hug for him. Rest in peace.

[Katherine]

I'm sorry to hear that, babe.

[Tish]

So sorry about Vincent. Glad that you have so many years of good memories to look back on. Dylan has the right idea- something to make you smile thru the sniffles.

[Alida]

I also had a doggie that looked exactly like Vincent. Her name was Mietie and she was my companion for thirteen years. At the end her suffering was just too much for her and us to bear and we also had to make a decision to release her from her suffering. Although we still miss her, it was the best decision I've ever made. You will miss him, but in time the pain will ease and you will only remember the good times. I love Dylan's card. I enjoy reading your blog. Best wishes. Alida, South Africa

[Alarming Female]

Norma, you don't make me cry very often (never--unless it's tears of laughter) but you just did it.

I hate people.

(j/k--hoping to make you laugh)

[kmkat]

I'm so sorry, Norma. Those doggies just crawl right into our hearts.

[Mel]

Oh crappity shit. I'm sorry, sweetie. I know that anticipating it didn't make it any easier, either.

[Kathy in San Jose]

Hugs (and a kick!) to you.

[Paul]

What a precious card Dylan made for you! I'm very sorry you lost your little guy. :-(

*hugs*

[Rabbitch]

I'm crying. I'm so sorry.

And I still think you're a twat.

[Anne]

Bah. Humbug.

(Picturing you as a wolf mother. We all say you're a foxy lady, but I wouldn't want those fangs bared my way either.)

[Cindy in Oregon]

I was lion mom to a great kitty named Squeak and I know exactly what that situation feels like. :(

Now, get off your arse and don't wallow. Remember the good times and know that Vincent is still with you in spirit.

Go out and howl at the moon, wolf mom!

[no-blog-rachel]

Oh sweetie. I'm sorry.

Now I'm crying.

[Stephanie]

Damn. That just sucks ass. I'm so sorry.

[Sibylle]

Oh Norma so sorry you had to let him go. I know what it feels like to loose a loved pet. Take a big hug and do not feel wrong to becaue you told blogland about it. Might be all the nice word which will come make you cry more but in the end, the earlier you start to cry it out the earlier you can stop crying. And sure everybody knows you have a big heart :) Sorry if my words are not the best, but you know I am no native speaker.

Take Care

Sibylle

[Wen]

A good sweet boy now at peace.

[Debi P]

Norma, I so sorry to hear this. It sucks.

[MJ]

It takes far more strength and courage to love and admit it than it does to act like you don't care. Your attitude (and way with words, food, and yarn) is why I read this blog. Your willingness to care and try to make a difference is why I respect you.

My condolences on your loss.

[janine]

You did the right thing - part of you probably hates you for it (I know I did when I had to do it) but there comes a time when you have to decide if you are hanging on to them because you don't want to say goodbye, not that they have had enough. Hugs

[yvette]

I am so sorry to hear your sad news, take care.

[Carole]

I know exactly what you mean about not wanting people to be nice to you. I remember when I went back to work after my mom died. I dreaded it because I knew people would keep offering sympathy and being so frickin' kind that it would make me cry. I went around for days muttering, don't be nice to me, don't be nice to me. But the truth is that if they hadn't been nice to me that would have been even worse.
So, here I am, being nice to you. I'm so very sorry about Vincent. I wish I could be there.

[Lee Ann]

I'd kick you in the ass, but I can't see anything. Snifffff.

I'll try not to get your blog all snotty. Much love to you during this very difficult time. Hell, much love to you ALL the time.

[Paula]

Fucking hell, Norma. You know how I felt about Vincent. As for you, I think you are like a campfire marshmallow, golden and crusty on the outside...

Hugs.

Eeeww! Now I'm all sticky.

[Sandy]

Pass the tissues.
I send you hugs and lots of smooches.
Okay, not so many smooches as hugs.
sniff.

[Leslie]

I've taken 4 beloved cats on their final rides to the vets - it shits. You feel you've failed them when really, Norma, you're doing for them what we will want done for us when it's time. You're helping them out of pain with dignity and love. You did the right thing. Get on with your life. Vincent would want it.

[Nora]

Norma, I'm so sorry. Been there. You did the loving thing.

[Dave Daniels]

Oh, Norma, this totally caught me off guard, and I had to read it several times before it sank in. I'm so sorry to hear about Vincent. I'm in tears right now for you both...

[Betsy]

Crappity shit...has Mel copyrighted/trademarked that? It's perfect in so many situations...including this one...
Been there, done that Norma...none of us can take away that searing pain you feel...

[Wendy]

I know how you feel, having been there. And I understand how in grief you sort of want to just curl up inside yourself because the kindness of others somehow makes it hurt more. But I'm thinking of you!

[ann]

HUGS...

[Vicki]

Sending even MORE hugs to you, Norma.

[ellen]

I am sorry to hear of the loss of your precious friend. I hope that was not too nice.

[Jane]

I'm thinking of you, too, Norma. Having stood where you are now a few times in my life, I get what you're saying, but I can't help it if I want to give you a big hug! I love the enhanced photo of Vincent -- he'll probably get that rabbit now.

[Leanne]

I did the same thing just a week ago. I know how crappy you feel. I so want to turn back time and do something different, but I know that that wouldn't be fair to her either, since she was in pain and suffering, and was never going to get better. It sucks.

[Marika]

Sorry to hear that, Norma. *kicking to make sure I'm not too nice*.

[DebbieB]

*sigh*

[maryse]

oh i'm sorry about vincent.

i was going to write something snarky but it's too early in the morning.

[Bonney]

You were very brave for Vincent to make the right choice. I'm sorry he's gone. Wishing you lots of happy memories.....

[Karen]

I'm so sorry for your loss. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

[marianne]

....a gentle itty bitty kick here, another one there, will that do? Mere words simply cannot express the emotions behind the tears streaming down my face. cry it out with the big sobs. Sweet Wolf Mama, watch for your sweet boy Vincent in your dreams, he will come to you, you'll see.
That's one sweet kid you've got for a nephew.... oh fuck it, you're getting hugs from me {{{{{{{{{{{{{Norma}}}}}}}}}}}}
(that Paula... just love that Paula)

[Rachel]

Your nephew left you out of the photo, running along side, poking your homeopathic shit down his throat. It's the reason he was able to chase those other things for as long as he did. Unlike people, who piss us off most of the time, pets fly under the radar, just being lovable and cute so that when they leave us it often hurts ten times worse.

Damn them.

[Alotta]

So sorry...hugs...

[Lisa in Georgia]

I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm giving you a kick, since you asked for it, but it's not full force due to tears blocking my vision.

Here's a small hug on my way out the door to get another kleenex.

[Karen]

I'm so sorry...

[sue]

I'm sorry about losing your Vincent.

[Shanti]

I'm so sorry Norma, Vincent was such a cool little guy.

[Carla]

Sending love!

[Carol]

Break my heart and make me cry first thing in the morning and I can't even send a virtual hug? Bitch.

[ann]

:(

[Sarah]

Whether you like it or not, I'm a little weepy now, and thinking of you very kindly and lovingly. So just shut up and take it.