Friday, February 14, 2020

The New Addition

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words were: dog, coffee, remote, denim, cotton, and fake

they were submitted by:

It's a bit serendipitous that I got these words with "dog" included. My little family has had some big changes over the past couple months involving dogs.

In early December, our senior lady Georgia, a chiweenie of unspecified age but definitely older than 15, got sick, needed emergency surgery, and never came out of anesthesia. It happened so fast. She was definitely getting older, but we honestly thought we had a few more good years. She had a lot of energy, still bossed Rost, our great dane, around, had herself a full time cat boyfriend, and was absolutely spoiled. So it was unexpected to say the least. And devastating. It didn't help that we lost another dog tragically in August to a random snake bite that I wrote about for one of our challenges last year. 2019 was not at all kind to our family, and the loss of Georgia felt like the nail in the coffin.

The cats were depressed, howling for her night after night. Rost missed her. And our holiday smiles were absolutely fake. It hurt. And it hurt badly. This was our 3rd pet loss in 3 years (my last great dane in early 2017 to old age), and we were feeling it. Anyone with pets will tell you those losses are as hard as any others--sometimes harder--and the grief involved is very real.

We weren't necessarily looking hard to find another dog. We weren't sure we ever wanted another. But I had scoped out some rescue and humane society pages missing the little tapping paws following me around the house. I had come close to going to check out a couple and even emailed for more information, but in the end, it just wasn't the right time or fit. The idea of bringing another dog in so soon was weird. Georgia's shoes could never be filled.

I did ask my mom to keep her ears open for me. She has a much bigger local network than I do. I hide out in the country and pretty much cut off 90% of people I know locally for my own sanity. But she works for the courthouse and my stepdad owns a bait and tackle/gas station/convenience store type thing (what a combo...get a sausage dog and a bag of crickets when you fill up your tank) and has for a long ass time, so they know a lot of folks. I told her we weren't in a hurry to move on, so she didn't have to go asking around, but it still wasn't even two days later that she sent me a message about a little shih tzu that had been surrendered to her vet by its owner who was too sick to take care of it anymore. Chewbacca was his name, and he certainly looked the part.

I debated on it a few days. The kid wasn't sold. A shih tzu didn't really seem like our kind of dog, but he certainly looked so differently from Georgia, and that would help ease the pain of comparisons. A couple more days passed and we found out that someone who was supposed to meet the dog didn't, so we took a chance. The possibility of him coming home with us seemed remote.

But then we met him.

He looks like a little werewolf baby. Long hair with gray, black, and white and sometimes a tinge of brown. He has a little floof of white cotton on his chest and a tail like a feather duster. We brought him home on a week long trial. The first meet with him and Rost went better than expected, but it felt so weird having him here. I wanted to cry but also hug him and never let him go. By the second day though, he acted like he's been here forever, so more or less he cbose us. Even the cats took to him pretty quickly considering he's only been here 3 weeks, and his personality keeps shining out more and more. He plays with us, with Rost. He knows his new name. He weirdly never answered to Chewbacca so we call him Fizz which is short for Fizzgig from the dark crystal. If you know the movie, you know why. Haha. He's trained, never pooped in the house and only had two pee accidents. He's good in his kennel but of course he's already sleeping in the bed all night.

I have my mid morning coffee while he dances around the kitchen grinning with his bottom teeth. He sleeps in the bathroom with the Dane while I shower, and anytime I actually get a chance to sit down, there he is begging to be held like a baby so he can sleep.

Now he just needs a ripped denim jacket that says Teen Wolf. Way better than a letterman jacket. And he'll fully look the part of the household cryptid.

He's certainly no Georgia, but that's kinda the point. There could never be a replacement, so why try? He's got a personality all his own, but one that fits in better than I ever could have imagined, and it's been so little time. I can only see it getting better.

Nothing really takes away the hurt and missing our old lady...but Fizz is certainly making those smiles and laughs genuine as hell, and for that I am so thankful.


Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado

Spatulas on Parade
Wandering Web Designer

Follow Me Home

On the Border

Part-time Working Hockey Mom

Southern Belle Charm

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

Medicated Musings    

Friday, February 7, 2020

First But Not the Greatest Love

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 9 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is: With Feb we think about love. Who was your first love? Do you know where they are now? Are you friends?

It was submitted by:


I've talked about my first real love a time or two on this blog. It's not a sore subject. The relationship ended badly and our attempt at a redo ended even worse. But overall, I don't look back in anger. Oasis taught me not to anyway.

Let me back up a moment and focus on the qualifier "real" that I used here.

I had what I called, at the time, relationships in both middle and high school, but these were extremely superficial. I mean what else can they be in middle school? I had a longer relationship in high school, and I really was infatuated with the person at the time, but I can't reflect back on it and say I was in love or loved them. It was something to do really, and I didn't even cry when it was over. I was relieved. I wasn't in the right place to meet my high school sweetheart, fall in love, and marry at 18. That wasn't who I could be nor was it who I wanted to be. I was still exploring my sexuality, still not processing having been assaulted, still with so much resentfulness over the shitty childhood I had and how fucking awful living with my father was and then my stepfather after that. It wasn't an easy time and having been assaulted at such a young age, I wasn't every going to be able to have an intense romance. My innocence was long dead along with the child I never got to be.

I was so very angry.

It was the year after I graduated that I started this first real, serious relationship with one of my good friends all throughout school who had expressed having feelings for me but at the time I hadn't been ready to date. Anyone. It wasn't personal. I just couldn't do it. It took awhile for me to get to a point where I thought I was emotionally ready for it and to recognize the feelings as genuine and not some silly crush or feeling obligated because he had those feelings. Even then I recognized we're so often taught as young women to prioritize boys' feelings and shit over our own. Realizing the genuineness of my feelings did very little at first though. It was some kind of heartache for awhile when I first figured things out. I thought I had ruined my chance by never wanting to take it further when he did.

It all worked out eventually, and we moved in together when we were just 19. I really think that was our downfall. It was too much responsibility too fast. He had been really sheltered and never had to do much for himself. We both had issues, dysfunctional families... I had unresolved trauma. I HAD to get out of my mom and stepdad's home. It was all too much too soon, but we kept at it for a year and a half. Trying to manage an apartment and college and jobs and still make time for each other and our friends really made enjoying our new found freedom pretty difficult. It didn't help that my past with other dudes and me being queer made him insecure. And it certainly didn't help that I had like zero self esteem. We were an absolute mess.

To be clear, I don't think if we had gotten together under better circumstances that we might still be together. I'm so vastly different than I once was, and he's more or less an adult version of the same guy. A few more wrinkles, a little less hair, some life lessons, and even more responsibilities now than when we failed, but essentially he's the very same person I once knew. I had to go through literal hell to address my traumas and be reborn as something mostly whole. Kintsugi for the proverbial soul isn't exactly easy. And the older I've grown the more my humor has changed, the more I've addressed my innate biases, the more I've become intersectional, a feminist, and a far leftist. I would hardly recognize the girl I was when he met me, when we were together, or even the girl he left behind. Ive fixed so many cracks, she's virtually unrecognizable.

Life happens, as they say. And I'm okay with the direction life took for me. It hasn't been easy, sure, but I'm okay. I'm at peace with WHO I've become even when life isn't easy, and I think coming from where I did that's really the best I can hope for. It's better than a lot of folks who walked a similar path.

We aren't friends. I don't think we're allowed to be because new partners get insecure about friendships with old ones. At least that's how it usually works around here. (On his end not mine. I don't go for that shit in my personal life ever.) I do miss the friendship, but if I'm really truthful I know it wouldn't be much of one even without insecure significant others. We're too different. My values and humor are too different. And I draw a hard line on people who use vulnerable populations as a punchline. I stopped even being Facebook friends with all the people we hung out with at the time especially since one of those is a trump supporter who literally grabbed me by the crotch one night WHILE we were dating and they all still make excuses for it. Go figure.

We did talk a few times over the years expressing our responsibilities in why things went bad without reminiscing, apologizing without it being awkward. I don't duck or run when I see him in public which is rare now that I'm housebound. So it wasn't awful even though it really was my biggest heartbreak to date. And it wasn't something I held onto resentment over. But it's never going to go down in history books as a great romance or in my own history as the one that got away. But I did love him, and I'm thankful for everything I learned about myself and relationships along the way.


Here are the rest of the participants!

Baking In A Tornado

Spatulas on Parade

Wandering Web Designer

Part-time Working Hockey Mom

A 'lil HooHaa

Southern Belle Charm

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

Medicated Musings