A New Kind of Blue

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 are: lively, hop, hands down, give an inch, popular. They were submitted by: http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

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The day before Trump was inaugurated, I lost one of my furbabies (I wrote about it a little before). I’d had Cap since he was just 3 months old, and, at 10 years, he had lived a long, full life for a great dane, but neither of us was ready to say goodbye. Life had other plans though, and after a short battle with a mysterious illness and a 2 year bout with cancer, he took his last breath here at home getting love until the end. It has been (and still is) a devastating loss. Even with all the pets I still live with, the house felt empty. A dog that large with that huge of a personality makes his place in a home. He was part of the family, 100%.

That hurt really took its toll the way that only grief can, and life sort of lost whatever luster it had left especially with Trump taking over, the insanity of our current government, and other life troubles I dealt with at the same time. I was overwhelmed by everything, but not having Cap here to listen to me bitch about it while he looked up at me with those big browns and begged for “rookies” (Scooby doo speak for cookie) left me shattered and feeling those first tendrils of depression taking hold pulling me into the dark.

And then by a small miracle I happened to look on a swap and shop page on Facebook and found an ad for 10 week old great dane puppies. It wasn’t much of an ad--seriously just a woman without a profile picture commenting that she was posting for friends. She didn’t have any idea of the cost (usually this breed is reeeeallllllly expensive, like way out of my cost of living) or how old they were or any details, but she left the number of the owners, and I took a screenshot of it while I mulled over what to do. I mean, let’s face it, buying a dog versus adopting is irresponsible as it is, and my household needs another dog about like we all need lobotomies, but everyone here was hurting, and every dog deserves a good home no matter whether you pay money or adopt one. I know I am justifying here, but every other animal in this house has been rescued and often nursed back from being extremely sick. Just ask my cats. Also, if you have ever been around a dane or live with one, you know there is really no substitute for the giant lap dog mentality and clumsy goofiness, so I figured I would reach out just to see…there’s no hurt in asking, right?

Two days later I traveled down to their house and brought home our new addition, a blue dane we named Rost. Of course I did.

I don’t think I can put into words how much this not-so-little, lively bag of elbows has lifted our spirits. He isn’t Cap by any means, and that’s okay. It’s not a competition or a popularity contest, and I try my best not to compare them, so in no way has he completely erased the hurt and loss I have felt the last couple months, but there’s a new levity here filled with laughs, floopy lips, and doofy ears.

Part of the therapeutic nature of this whole thing is how much attention the little shit requires. Haha. He is absolutely a handful. With him, you absolutely cannot give an inch. One minute you’re folding clothes and the next he is running out of your room with your favorite plush owl in his jowls. Give two dogs the same chew toy and he will throw a tantrum because he wants both. He also throws tantrums when you disturb his sleep or walk in the kitchen (because he doesn’t like the floor and won’t follow you), when you pay attention to anything but him, and when you make him complete commands before he can get a treat. He is a great dane through and through with all their weird, breed-specific idiosyncrasies, but he definitely has his own personality.

He’s been here 6 weeks and in that time, he has mastered about 8 commands, learned to walk on a leash, and potty outside. There is no end to my delight when we’re working on commands, and he hops back into “sit” with those ears still flapping. And the other animals have really taken to him, especially my old dog Georgia. She has played more and gotten more exercise in the past few weeks than she has in months. The two of them are adorable together. Life is adorable, and I’m happier than I can remember being in a while. Hands down, this is one of the best completely irresponsible decisions (out of many, many irresponsible decisions) I have made in my life, and I wouldn’t trade it or him for anything even when he does pretend he hasn’t gotten too big already to lay between the couch and coffee table on top of my feet. These days I cry from laughter far more than the empty weight of loss, and that’s no small victory.

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Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado http://www.bakinginatornado.com/2017/04/cookies-or-jail-use-your-words.html

Spatulas on Parade http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver http://www.thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html

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

On the Border http://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/

Bookworm in the Kitchen http://www.bookwormkitchen.com/

The Bergham Chronicles http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

Simply Shannon http://shannonbutler.org

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

The Angrivated Mom http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com/

Climaxed http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

Not That Sarah Michelle http://notthatsarahmichelle.blogspot.com

Everything and Nothing

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 15 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 subject is: Clippings. Dozens and Dozens of newspaper clippings. 

It was submitted by: www.someoneelsesgenius.com

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The little house on Clermont drive was filled with clutter.

Okay that was probably an understatement.

When Shannon walked into her mom’s little 3 room bungalow on the outskirts of town nestled under a canopy of trees, she really wasn’t prepared for how bad it was. She hadn’t been here in several years which is something, she thought, she would eventually have to come to terms with rather than letting the guilt eat at her. But she also knew why--she knew she couldn’t deal with the mental instability that plagued her mom over the course of her entire life and rather than be pulled down with a sinking ship, Shannon had jumped and for the last 7 years she hadn’t looked back. She had spent her time swimming to shore and setting up her own life on a relatively mom-free island. She had managed to phone her a couple times a year since then but that was the extent of their newly defined mother-daughter relationship.

Then she got *the* call.

Her mom, now 77, had fallen at home by herself and broken her hip apparently, but she had no way of getting help. She couldn’t get to the phone from where she was especially with all the clutter, and no one was around to check on her. Shannon was the only relative she had left really. She died there in the middle of a pile of old magazines and garbage. Alone and in pain and forgotten.

Shannon pushed her way inside the house and was taken aback by how much her mom had started collecting since the last time she saw her. Even then it was pretty bad, but that was nothing compared to this. The first room is the living/bed room. There were newspapers clippings everywhere covering every wall and every surface, faded and yellowed and falling apart. Crates of old magazines were stacked in every corner, on every table, and covered her mom’s bed in the far corner of the room. Where she slept was as good a guess as anyone’s especially since the couch was littered with old plastic cups from fast food restaurants piled high and overflowing the arms like ants turning out of an anthill, and the recliner was a storehouse for packets of ketchup and salt.

In all the house, there was only one tiny walkway that was clear of junk, flanked on either side by high piles of this and that. She took the tour being careful not to bump into either side out of fear of avalanche and felt more and more lost the further along she crept. The woman who had lived in this house couldn’t have been her mother. Not this bad. Could she? The woman who lived here had been so empty she needed to collect garbage trying to fill, essentially, a bottomless void.

The first room to the left was the kitchen. The doorway itself was open and free of her mom’s insanity, but she had no idea why. The room was impossible to navigate. None of the dishes were clean laying in haphazard piles on the floors and counters and spilling out of the sink. Garbage poured out of the garbage can, fermented and musty and swarming with fruit flies. Rotten banana peels, takeout cartons, bits of rice, and tiny maggots were strewn across the floors. Glass shards twinkled in the little bit of sunlight that pushed its way through the dusty window above the sink. There wasn’t a single spot on the floor not covered by filth and debris.

The bathroom was next and to the right. Magazines were stacked in the bathtub, water damaged and moldy. The toilet was black in spots and the smell alone was enough to make Shannon feel her insides squirming with threats. Toilet paper scraps covered the floor and paper rolls were stacked by the dozens in the sink and on the countertop. Toothbrushes, worn down and unable to be discarded, laid in heaps in front of the linen closet. The toilet might have been usable even if completely unsafe, but there was no way her mom had been able to bath in quite some time from the looks of things.

She moved on then unable to come to any real grips with the hopelessness of collected toilet paper rolls coming to the end of the hall, the back part of the bungalow. Every room had been checked, every room filled to the brim with nothingness, the desperation to walk away and pretend she had never seen any of this welling up inside her screaming at her to get out, get out, get out.

She should have listened.

There at the end of the path wedged against the cold, metal back door was a makeshift pallet of old nappy towels and a worn and yellowed pillow. This is where she slept, her mother. The woman she had loved despite her flaws had slept in her own house on rags in a back corner like a forgotten urchin, house filled to overflowing with trash she couldn’t bear to part with because she had nothing else.

She collapsed then on her knees crying and guilt-ridden and still knowing there was no other way this could have gone.

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Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

http://www.BakingInATornado.com Baking In A Tornado

http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade

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

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

http://www.renasworld.com/ Rena’s World

http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/ The Bergham Chronicles

http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Never Ever Give Up Hope

http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com The Angrivated Mom

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch Confessions of a part time working mom

http://thelieberfamily.com The Lieber Family Blog

http://www.JuiceboxConfession.com Juicebox Confession

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com Climaxed