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:

https://www.southernbellecharm.com

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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.

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Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2020/02/a-song-raven-and-shrimp-use-your-words.html

Spatulas on Parade https://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/2020/02/middle-aged-slump-feb-uyw.html
Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

Follow Me Home https://followmehome.shellybean.com

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/2020/02/the-ransom-of-sally.html

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2020/02/use-your-words-thongs-vs-flip-flops.html

Southern Belle Charm https://www.southernbellecharm.com

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo https://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/

Medicated Musings https://mymedicatedmusings.blogspot.com    

Sunday Confessions: Celebrate

This week's confessions topic with More than Cheese and Beer is "celebrate."

Everywhere I look in my life there are reasons to celebrate. 

From the beauty of the scenery around me here in this small, quiet town

to my rockin' son to my pets and my record collection, I find fulfillment. There’s a reason why the people with the dirtiest, hardest jobs, the ones down on their luck, even the homeless can smile through it all or be thankful over the smallest gestures of kindness. We’ve learned the importance of celebrating the little things in life. Since I can’t afford to fill any voids in my life with material possessions that help me escape any emptiness I feel, sunsets take on new meaning. Each one may look the same to others, but when my everyday life is a struggle, those cloud shapes and splashes of color take on a beauty that leaves me breathless and fulfilled and at peace.

When I’ve had a long week, walking outside to quacking ducks that love the sound of my voice and respond to it by waddling up to my feet and loudly professing their adoration makes me celebrate the work I put into raising them from downy babies that loved to tread water in my sink to fully grown adults.

 Celebration is listening to my sweet old dog and my adoring niece snore in sync during their daily nap hugged up together like "best friends" as I fall asleep beside them victorious in squeezing in an extra hour of sleep.

The first cherry tomatoes of the season growing rounder and fuller then finally turning a bright red is reason to celebrate especially after that first one is picked and popped in my mouth right in the garden rows, delicious juices threatening to spill from my lips because I can't contain my grin.

I can celebrate a hard life lived in spite of obstacles by delicately slipping one of my dad's old records or one I have added to the collection myself from its cover, place it slowly on the player, and carefully and lovingly lowering the needle in place. The cracks and pops feel the hollows of the room just before the songs kick on and it is everything.

When times are their hardest, the gorgeous views around me, the love of my many, many (17 in all) pets, the sound of crickets at night, the evenings spent playing air guitar and sharing tunes with my child can all be reasons to celebrate my life when the obvious reasons seem to elude me. I've learned to stop obsessing about where I should be and celebrate where I am right now in the moment. It truly is the little things in life that bring me peace...every day I find new reasons to keep living and to do it with a smile on my face and a fullness in my spirit. It's that tenacity that will keep me going and working and striving to better myself despite every time I have been knocked down. I may be financially poor and struggling, but I have a life that begs to be celebrated and I will gladly give in. I am rich despite my financial woes. I am strong in the face of the adversities that have threatened so often even from childhood to hold me back, and that will always be reason to celebrate.

celebrate these with me: 

vinyl decorated walls

feline friendships

tall pines

overgrown, blue streams

ancient and majestic oaks

shadowy  farm buildings

lazy streams hidden in the forest

still-as-glass ponds

dirt road walks

country sights

Silos in fading light

Lydia's silliness

Strummer's obsession

Dog love

cat snuggles

epic halloween costumes

warm sunsets

pen pal flash art

Sunday Confession: Aging

Again, I am writing for Sunday Confessions with More than Cheese and Beer. This week, it's about aging as the title suggests. It's not really what one might expect out of such a post, however.


I coexist in a house with my son and a roommate (my best friend). We also live with 5 dogs, 5 cats, 4 ducks (who stay outside), 2 lizards, and a fish.

It sounds like a lot, and it is. I'd probably be better off if I opened up as a petting zoo and told kids my great dane is a pony. The work involved with keeping all those tummies full, terrariums scrubbed, wading pools filled and coats clean is sometimes exhausting, but the love given back is at least 100 fold. There is very little in this life that compares to the devotion given to you by a pet. So the work is very well worth it--the relationships I have with my pets is far from one-sided. But don't quote me on that on a day when the great dane has an accident in his kennel. On those days, it's best not to talk to me at all. 

Two of my dogs, Capone (Cap for short) and Georgia, are seniors. Their aging is something that never really leaves my mind given the continuous graying of their fur and tendency to be a bit cantankerous. At 32, my own aging hasn't really affected me yet. I remember my own mother crying and being depressed on her 30th birthday, but I hit the big 3-0 without too much insecurity. The older I get the more I dig myself even my looks. There are no lines and wrinkles that bother me, no gray hairs (especially since I dye mine so often I can't remember the natural color anyway), nothing too saggy yet. I can't say the same for the dogs, though. 

Cap

Breed: Great Dane

Hobbies: blowing himself 

Favorite past time: refusing to eat until he gets his way 

Favorite treat: Poptarts

Accomplishments: World Record for most Toilet Water Held in Lips then deposited in Mom's lap 

Georgia

Breed: Chiweenie

Hobbies: Catching flies

Bucket List Goal: To eat her own weight in sweet potato fries

Favorite Past time: burrowing under the covers 

Favorite Smell: Cat Ass

As you can see, their grays are pretty obvious. Their teeth aren't as strong nor do their bladders hold as long. They still run and play and get around pretty well, but the other dogs and the cats know better than to bother them when they're napping (usually). I see it every day and help make sure I'm taking extra precautions. We play easier with these two and give them special treats with added glucosamine and chondroiton to help battle any arthritic joints. Their age is constantly a presence not only so we make sure they're happy and comfortable but also because I don't know what I am going to do when they're gone. 

Cap has been a part of my family since he was only 4 months old. He turns 7 on Valentine's Day. Great Danes have a limited lifespan of only 8-10 years. He has grown up with my son who is 8, and the two have always been buddies. I can't imagine a day when there is no Cap around to haul his 150 lb ass into my lap as if he only weights 1.5 lbs or to jump onto the bed like he owns it. He makes me laugh out loud even when he's covering me in drool and dripping toilet water in my lap from his jowls. I love him even on the days when he barks at every noise he hears because his hearing isn't so keen anymore, and he loves me even when I refuse to give him more rookies (cookies) no matter how many tricks he does. This dog made me just as much a dog person as I am a cat person because he's just that fucking awesome. 

Georgia came to this house about 4 years ago. I dogsat her for my roommate's parents. She never left. It was only supposed to be a couple days, but I fell in love. So did the kiddo. She is a total lap dog that never leaves my side. I see Moms complaining all the time about their kids not letting them have privacy in the bathroom. I never really had to many problems with that...it's the fucking dogs that love to watch me take a piss especially Georgia. She loves the cats and cuddles with them as much as they'll allow. She enjoys car rides and still looks good in a dress even though her boobs are pretty sadly saggy these days. Given that she was rescued in 2004, there's no way to really gauge her age. She's been with me 10 years and was nearly full-sized when she was rescued, so a good estimate is maybe 12. Life expectancy for this mix (guessed mix given her looks and temperament) is roughly 13-17 years. Most days she tends to nap and eat and nap some more. But, that's okay. She makes an awesome couch buddy. I can't think about life without her without tearing up. She has made that big an impact in the few years she has been here. 

Both dogs are close to entering the low side of their life expectancy, and it almost seizes me up with fear and sadness. A lot of people like to question why I have so many animals. I don't *have* them. They live here just like I do. This is their home, and they're part of this family. That's why it is so hard to imagine a day when their presence is gone...when their fur isn't part of the technicolor fur coat that I have to remove from my clothes every day, when their barks aren't echoing through the house, when their silliness is just a memory that makes me laugh and cry at the same time. It's hard not to feel that sense of impending doom when you think about two beings which have done nothing but love you unconditionally for the past several years without the drama and bullshit that comes with human relationships not being a part of your every day life anymore. 

Maybe one day my own aging will actually be a topic that concerns me, but I'm still of the frame of mind that I'm aging gracefully like Parker Posey or Gillian Anderson. For now, I'm only worried about what aging means in terms of losing two of my best friends. 

Cap and I. buddies. 

yeah, he drinks from the sink

he lets the kid lay on top of him

Georgia and my niece

she owns this bed

two weenies