It has been nearly three months since October 21. And in all of that time, I have been unable to bring myself to write about Molly's death. I keep thinking about it; she deserves a proper post. But in so many ways, writing about it makes final-final. That I have processed my feelings enough to sum them up here. And I don't think I have.
Our little Mo died on an otherwise-beautiful October afternoon. I'm sure everyone in Minnesota was remarking what a beautiful day it was as I sat on the couch and ticked away the minutes stroking her meringue-fur belly and heavy, silky ears, knowing the time was coming where I would force myself to get off the couch, get in the car with William, and I would betray her by bringing her to vet, where we would have our last snuggle, forever and ever, amen.
Mo long had a heart murmur; we knew that. We knew what would eventually come. Her heart would become too big for her chest, or it would fill with fluid, or any other variety of things. We had been told. But her last few checkups had been great, and I had suspected nothing. Right when we moved, she developed a cough; completely unrelated, the vet strongly promised, to the second-story fall she suffered the day we moved. (Just a sprained paw was all the damage done that day to my little blind baby, who was just trying to find us among the hustle-bustle of the move; little did I know the worst was yet to come, and sooner than later. I kill myself over thinking about that unnecessary suffering.) I kept thinking the vet was maybe a little wrong; maybe her ribs were bruised or something was jostled and irritated, and that the cough would go away.
A couple of vet visits later, and it was confirmed that the early signs of congestive heart failure were all there; that the normally black, clear void that showed as her lungs on the X-ray indeed looked laced with smoke. I could see it. The vet was very optimistic. She said this was treatable; many dogs lived with it with no ill effects to speak of, for years. I sobbed at the table despite her repeated insistence that this was not a surprise and nothing to get too excited over.
Don't they say moms "just know?"
We began courses upon courses of medications, some more expensive than others, and we gave up sleeping at night because her cough intensified then and could be heard throughout the house. William and I took turns sleeping on the couch for the very small bit of relief it allowed. For weeks this persisted, coupled with late-night discussions with our ever-faithful vet, who promised our options were not exhausted—yet. But I knew better. We were just rotating around without any relief for Molly, nothing that really quieted her cough—instead, the diuretic just made it hard for her to control her urine. Her accidents seemed to cause her no end of shame, even as we pet and soothed her that it wasn't her fault, that we knew she was such a good girl.
So then, the day I found out that there was nothing more our vet could do did not come as a surprise, and maybe it came with a little relief to know we had absolutely, positively exhausted every option out there. It wasn't just the congestive heart failure, after all; that had gotten much better. It was another, uncurable thing: Her trachea was collapsing in two places. Vets can administer steroids for relief, but unfortunately, it would intensify her heart condition. The vet looked as though she might cry when she told me. "It sucks, this is really shitty." Her hands fluttered uselessly after she delivered the news. She told me to schedule the appointment when we were ready. She said, "I'd feel confident doing it today if William were here." And she did me the kindness of telling me Molly "seemed tired." A gentle nudge: Soon. I heard her loud and clear. I went home and told William—we hadn't really anticipated that this particular appointment would be The Last One, so I had gone alone. I told him I couldn't make the call, I just couldn't, but I also couldn't have the cloud hanging over my head; the spectre of making the phone call, the knowledge that she might truly be suffering despite her sunny disposition. So my brave husband did what I could not; he scheduled the appointment as soon as possible. "What should I say?" he asked, phone to his ear as it rang. I was speechless. Finally, I said, "Maybe just tell them it's time for us to say goodbye." The code.
We stopped feeding her dog food. We fed her hamburger and rice, and she even snared a taco off the coffee table one night while my back was turned (I must emphasize this was not a dog that seemed sick otherwise, which made this whole decision about dying harder) and she wagged her nub for all it was worth, even though she choked as she ate. I worried needlessly about the onions in the guacamole.
We would randomly hit the icemaker button on the refrigerator, so that it felt like it was snowing desserts—she loved ice cubes so much, and she would come running. We gave her all the treats and yogurt she could eat. We snuggled her and told her we loved her. The two nights before we said goodbye we had a cast of visitors, who came to give her a last treat and pet and keep our spirits up as time ticked down (we were endlessly thankful for the celebration of life, not mourning of death, and for keeping our minds off the clock). She had made quite an impression on everyone in her four short years with us.
Her appointment was scheduled at the end of a Friday afternoon. We spent the day with her, taking her through the McDonald's drive-thru for a McDouble and fries. We walked in the park and took some photos—they turned out beautifully. In some of them, she appears to be smiling. I would swear to you she was happier that day than she had been in weeks. Did she know?
We took the long way to the vet's office, prolonging the inevitable but also giving her a chance to take an extra-long car ride with her head out the window (another one of her favorites). When we got there, they quickly and compassionately dispatched us to The Goodbye Room. They took her and hooked her up to an IV, returned with a clay imprint of her paw, with instructions to bake it when we got home, to make it permanent. They laid blankets and a little potty pad across my lap just in case, then gingerly set her down, a purple bandage wrapped around the IV, her little Muppet fur displacing itself around the edges.
It was so hard, that moment, but she was so docile and settled right in. It's like she had given herself over to the process. Like she accepted it more than we did. I have to believe she knew and she was ready. She was not agitated or fearful. She was so, so, so tired. I have to believe that she thought it was the right thing. That she understood that we had done everything we possibly could; endured as many sleepless nights as we could; paid as many vet bills as we could. I have to believe that she knew that if we could have made it any other way, we would have. We would have moved mountains.
The vet came in. Not our usual vet, but she spoke highly and sincerely of Molly, as though she knew her. It helped. I thanked her for doing such a shitty job—and she reminded us this was in fact the absolute best thing we could do and that she was happy to provide relief. And that we could take as much time as we needed right now.
But we could not stop time and I was a flight risk. I wanted to hike her twenty, fluffy pounds under my arm like a football and win the Heisman running out of that office. I saw myself bounding down the stairs in my mind, one arm out, fur flying. Instead, William and I gave the go-ahead.
I was really glad my sister told me this before we went, and so I will share it with you, in the sad knowledge that some of you may need it sometime: It is a very peaceful moment and the process itself is nothing to fear. The vet administered the drug slowly through a syringe, and, honestly, I could not tell when Molly left us. She never stirred. We cried, but silently—she hated tears. (No, really, she would pace when I cried, and literally wipe my face her her paws.) We murmured all the sweet nothings we always said to her. We held her until the vet assured us that she was gone. (I'll never forget, she said, so kindly, "Her heart is so big, it is taking a little longer for it to stop," as she felt around with her stethoscope. And, oh, how I ached knowing she suffered in her last weeks on Earth, but yet I reveled in the idea that her heart was so big with love.) Her heavy limbs were draped on mine and over William's; she was still warm. I would have sworn to you she was sleeping, like any other afternoon. I wasn't afraid to touch her after she was gone. To me, she was still there. I had to walk out and I tried not to look back. But I did. The vet was cradling her sweetly in her arms. I forced myself down the stairs and out the door.
You guys, saying goodbye to a beloved pet, my sweet Momo, was one of my biggest fears. She was my girl, our girl, our first dog together, our first love outside ourselves together, our first. I can't remember our relationship before her, it seems. I used to panic thinking of her end days. When we got her, she was scared, she had been alone and abused for years; she didn't even know how to play or what to do with toys. The broom made her cower, and sometimes if William stood up too fast she skittered away. By the end of our time with her, she took naps on his chest while he watched football. She never trembled when we opened the closet door. She was our shadow, our family. Loyal and loving, a true companion and master negotiator and peacemaker. She probably saved our marriage a time or two; she hated when we were at odds with each other and she often made the first move when we'd retreated to our corners, as if to say "Enough is enough, just apologize already so we can get back to food and snuggling." She was all the noble things a dog should be, and we loved her unconditionally, and there is no doubt in my mind she loved us back, wholeheartedly and without reserve.
We left the office, and the sun was streaming through the windshield. We drove down the freeway and this Low song was on the radio:
You stretch your wings
You take a breath
You hide your feet
Embrace your head
A tragedy, no there's never enough
You try to sleep
But you never wake up
Try to sleep
but you never wake up
No you never wake up
It gave me chills, the timing of that song. We spent the evening trying to run away from that drowning sadness. Avoided going home to a house without her. William bought me a little rose-gold band with a tiny little pink-sapphire heart atop it. To remember her by.
And the other things I will remember: her face peeking up over the edge of our bed once she knew we were awake for the day; her tightrope-walking routine to get our attention as she edged along the bed; her crazy, crosswise walk outside; her fat, squishy paws that smelled like caramel corn and Fritos and vacuum dust; her love of her stuffed bunny, Bun-Buns, who she would lovingly fake-bite, shake by its neck, then take a nap on every time we came home; her sunny-side-up naps on the couch; and how she snored and ran and dug and ate in her sleep; how she would get up on the couch before I could even sit down, ready for attention whether I could give it or not; her nose snorting underneath the door while I was in the bathroom. Her devotion to the pursuit of food. Her nub-tail immediately wagging in agreement to everything I said. The sweetness that everyone felt about her; that made everyone fall in love with her. That she was ours. So distinctly and loyally and wonderfully ours.
She was meant to be with us. I will remember the door opening as we were about to leave the Humane Society empty-handed and there she burst through the door with the cold sunlight, panting and cute as a button. And our arms raised up together to point at her. It was January 23, and if she were still with us, she would be about to celebrate her 13th birthday (we think). As dog "rescuers" will say: Who rescued who?
She was it. She was our divine intervention.
Our bestest girl in the whole wide world. God. We miss her so.
Showing posts with label molly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label molly. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Molly moments
In the morning, when I wake, our Molly follows me into the bathroom while I put my makeup on, and we have our morning chat.
I tell her I love her, and she wags her tail, not moving the rest of her body. (She's not a morning person, like her Mama). I tell her Daddy loves her, and she wags her tail. I ask her if she loves us back, and she wags her tail harder, and I ask her, "Will you love us forever? We will love you forever," and she wiggles and wiggles and wiggles, like she can barely contain the joy of having a place to call home. Or maybe that's how I feel. But I think she returns the sentiment.
When one of us picks our Molly up from my parents' house, or release her from her kennel, she is so excited to see us. She jumps up and wiggles her butt as fast as it will go, and sometimes if I'm lucky, she lands a kiss on my face. She's quite stingy with her kisses, so you know she must mean it. If she's been in her kennel, she goes straight to her water dish and takes a long drink, wiggling that little nub for all it's worth.
When times are tough, Molly shines. She worries and paces and attempts to soothe any way she can think how to. Her paws to my heart, licking my face, snuggling in tight.
And Molly is not slowed by her enroaching darkness, her blindness. She still loves to play fetch and run just for the sake, the pure joy, of running. She especially loves the snow.
When we drive in the car, she often negotiates her way onto our laps, throwing her head back between jaunts of sticking her face out of the window. She is looking for William or I to kiss her cheek or the top of her head, and she won't move her head out of the way until we do. She leads the way to our door every night, doing her signature cross-wise walk, checking out the dangers that may lie ahead; bikes locked to stop signs, empty wrappers, or god forbid, another mongrel. When we get to our door safely, she wiggles and wiggles and wiggles.
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When I get in bed each night to read a chapter or two of a book before I turn out the light, Molly jumps up on our bed and finds a place to snuggle in. when the light goes off, she jumps down on the floor on my side of the bed, and falls deep asleep. I often doze off to the sounds of her snoring, barking under her breath, and snoozling.
It is because of our Motowns that I notice so many things I might just breeze past otherwise: the joy of seeing someone after a long day apart; the thick, springy, green lawn; the sweetness of fresh summer air; a big bowl of yogurt; eating ice cubes on a hot day; the comings and goings of our neighbors (surely, they are all suspect); the sink-in-ness of the couch, the peace of an afternoon nap.
Life is just good when you have a dog.
I tell her I love her, and she wags her tail, not moving the rest of her body. (She's not a morning person, like her Mama). I tell her Daddy loves her, and she wags her tail. I ask her if she loves us back, and she wags her tail harder, and I ask her, "Will you love us forever? We will love you forever," and she wiggles and wiggles and wiggles, like she can barely contain the joy of having a place to call home. Or maybe that's how I feel. But I think she returns the sentiment.
When one of us picks our Molly up from my parents' house, or release her from her kennel, she is so excited to see us. She jumps up and wiggles her butt as fast as it will go, and sometimes if I'm lucky, she lands a kiss on my face. She's quite stingy with her kisses, so you know she must mean it. If she's been in her kennel, she goes straight to her water dish and takes a long drink, wiggling that little nub for all it's worth.
When times are tough, Molly shines. She worries and paces and attempts to soothe any way she can think how to. Her paws to my heart, licking my face, snuggling in tight.
And Molly is not slowed by her enroaching darkness, her blindness. She still loves to play fetch and run just for the sake, the pure joy, of running. She especially loves the snow.
When we drive in the car, she often negotiates her way onto our laps, throwing her head back between jaunts of sticking her face out of the window. She is looking for William or I to kiss her cheek or the top of her head, and she won't move her head out of the way until we do. She leads the way to our door every night, doing her signature cross-wise walk, checking out the dangers that may lie ahead; bikes locked to stop signs, empty wrappers, or god forbid, another mongrel. When we get to our door safely, she wiggles and wiggles and wiggles.
.jpg)
When I get in bed each night to read a chapter or two of a book before I turn out the light, Molly jumps up on our bed and finds a place to snuggle in. when the light goes off, she jumps down on the floor on my side of the bed, and falls deep asleep. I often doze off to the sounds of her snoring, barking under her breath, and snoozling.
It is because of our Motowns that I notice so many things I might just breeze past otherwise: the joy of seeing someone after a long day apart; the thick, springy, green lawn; the sweetness of fresh summer air; a big bowl of yogurt; eating ice cubes on a hot day; the comings and goings of our neighbors (surely, they are all suspect); the sink-in-ness of the couch, the peace of an afternoon nap.
Life is just good when you have a dog.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A good day
Tonight I made a dinner so horrible we both took about two bites and then promptly threw it in the trash.
And we had peanut butter and jelly toast instead.
I keep giggling to myself about it.
Today was beautiful and sunshiny and birds were singing. I took Molly for a walk and she pranced around, trotting here and there, and wagging her nub. She cruised around in figure eights, sniffing all the new sniffs released after the snow is (blessedly) gone, finding a long-gone rabbit's trail, but chasing like she caught sight. She stopped every few to look back at me, like, Mama! Isn't this the greatest moment ever in the history of moments?
My sweet dog Molly. She has a knack for making those moments.
And we had peanut butter and jelly toast instead.
I keep giggling to myself about it.
Today was beautiful and sunshiny and birds were singing. I took Molly for a walk and she pranced around, trotting here and there, and wagging her nub. She cruised around in figure eights, sniffing all the new sniffs released after the snow is (blessedly) gone, finding a long-gone rabbit's trail, but chasing like she caught sight. She stopped every few to look back at me, like, Mama! Isn't this the greatest moment ever in the history of moments?
My sweet dog Molly. She has a knack for making those moments.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Seven More Days
Seven more days of blogging every day....can I make it? I've actually enjoyed blogging every day but I think the quality veers a little south.
This weekend has been quite lovely for a variety of reasons: staying at aloft (a W hotel that has this younger, hipper, less-expensive-more-style feel) with William for his birthday, dinner at Jax (a supper clubby steakhouse type place) for his birthday dinner, supa tasty drinks at Spoonriver (a natural, healthy, organic, lovely place) afterward--he had mojitos, I had a "tequila mockingbird," which tasted like grownup Pixy Stix--a lovely morning sleeping in, leftover steak with eggs this morning. Good conversation, lots of laughs, a snuggly home to return to. Making fleece blankets with my friend for her class, a short trip to Target.
Now it's 5:30 and I'm sad my weekend is drawing to a close....and now the administrative part of the weekend begins....
What did you get up to this weekend?
This weekend has been quite lovely for a variety of reasons: staying at aloft (a W hotel that has this younger, hipper, less-expensive-more-style feel) with William for his birthday, dinner at Jax (a supper clubby steakhouse type place) for his birthday dinner, supa tasty drinks at Spoonriver (a natural, healthy, organic, lovely place) afterward--he had mojitos, I had a "tequila mockingbird," which tasted like grownup Pixy Stix--a lovely morning sleeping in, leftover steak with eggs this morning. Good conversation, lots of laughs, a snuggly home to return to. Making fleece blankets with my friend for her class, a short trip to Target.
Now it's 5:30 and I'm sad my weekend is drawing to a close....and now the administrative part of the weekend begins....
What did you get up to this weekend?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Forces Pulling from the Center of the Earth Again
Today, I had mindbendingly-long work session in which I feel that my coworker and I should now be awarded a PhD in statistics, even though I can only speak for myself in that I have major issues with simple addition, let alone anything past basic, basic algebra. I feel smart. SMART. We are going to take over the world.
Then: long happy hour to celebrate four (4) people's birthdays. Packed like sardines. Loud people. Frat people. Too loud. Too much.
Then: quick stop at grocery store for NY Strip steaks.
Then: visit with my dad. Pick up my sweet, sweet mutt.
Then: Go home, toasty home, with husband and mutt, cook steaks, asparagus, broiled/toasted cheesy bread. Red wine. Ice water. Candles. Good conversation.
Now: Blogging.
Next: Some administrative stuff surrounding my freelance work. Working a LOT these days. Is good.
Then: Sleep, glorious sleep.
PS: Made major grammatical error and used "that" instead of "who" in last post. Makes my hair stand up on the back of my neck. Promise to avoid those errors in future. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, post-cupcake haze. Mmmmm cupcakes.
Then: long happy hour to celebrate four (4) people's birthdays. Packed like sardines. Loud people. Frat people. Too loud. Too much.
Then: quick stop at grocery store for NY Strip steaks.
Then: visit with my dad. Pick up my sweet, sweet mutt.
Then: Go home, toasty home, with husband and mutt, cook steaks, asparagus, broiled/toasted cheesy bread. Red wine. Ice water. Candles. Good conversation.
Now: Blogging.
Next: Some administrative stuff surrounding my freelance work. Working a LOT these days. Is good.
Then: Sleep, glorious sleep.
PS: Made major grammatical error and used "that" instead of "who" in last post. Makes my hair stand up on the back of my neck. Promise to avoid those errors in future. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, post-cupcake haze. Mmmmm cupcakes.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Sundays
Even though sometimes I get the blues on Sundays, thinking about gearing up for a new week, I've really come to enjoy them.
Now that football season is in full swing, William isn't around as much as he used to be on Sundays but I still luck out occasionally and he makes me blueberry or chocolate chip waffles while I wake up. Reading the Sunday paper. Not feeling pressured to get going early for any reason.
Today I woke pretty late (and I still need more sleep I think), and made trips to Trader Joe's and Target, getting groceries in order. I made a homemade mac-and-cheese hot dish (casserole for you non-Minnesotans), and cleaned up. Now I have the evening to read, watch my weekly cryfest (Extreme Makeover: Home Edition), finish the paper, have a snack, and snuggle up with a newly-groomed Mo and a cute husband.
It's getting colder and colder out, which makes me enjoy the comfort food and blankets all the more, even if I resist the idea that my birthday, and thus winter, are right around the corner. I can't believe I'm going to be 28. It's just weird.
That's really all I've got. It's been a nice, quiet day.
Now that football season is in full swing, William isn't around as much as he used to be on Sundays but I still luck out occasionally and he makes me blueberry or chocolate chip waffles while I wake up. Reading the Sunday paper. Not feeling pressured to get going early for any reason.
Today I woke pretty late (and I still need more sleep I think), and made trips to Trader Joe's and Target, getting groceries in order. I made a homemade mac-and-cheese hot dish (casserole for you non-Minnesotans), and cleaned up. Now I have the evening to read, watch my weekly cryfest (Extreme Makeover: Home Edition), finish the paper, have a snack, and snuggle up with a newly-groomed Mo and a cute husband.
It's getting colder and colder out, which makes me enjoy the comfort food and blankets all the more, even if I resist the idea that my birthday, and thus winter, are right around the corner. I can't believe I'm going to be 28. It's just weird.
That's really all I've got. It's been a nice, quiet day.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Iz in your komputerr
I's steals your komputerr and I's not give it back tilz you feeds me bacon. Dis iz your last warnings. Otherwize I makes you very sorrys.
--Lil Mo
--Lil Mo
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I'm Not Gonna Do What You Told Me
This is what my home looks like right now.
This was right outside our windows on Sunday.
Riot police!
Riot police with riot horses! (I'm more scared of the horses).
Anarchy today (well, Saturday). They also smashed in the windows at Macy's.
A woman after my own heart.
When I was driving home tonight, I happened to be listening to the radio (unusual for me). And I caught that Rage Against the Machine was going to make an appearance at a free concert at the Capitol which is just blocks from my house. I anxiously awaited William coming home, since he loves Rage and I knew he'd want to go. He got home, all sweaty from riding his bike, and we quickchanged and ran to the Capitol, Molly in tow.
As it turned out, the police wouldn't let them play although they allowed the other (unknown) bands to play. It sucked. People were chanting for the band by singing the lyrics. If you ask me, they would have had a docile enough crowd, more so than the angry fans who wanted to see Rage (they also play tomorrow night in a more typical venue, but also for $60). We were surrounded by some seriously patchouli smelling hippies that were practicing synchronized meditation, so I figure we would have been pretty safe. :) Anyway, we waited and waited, with an antsy crowd. Eventually a bunch of cheers went up and they asked everyone to be really quiet and sit down. So we did.
And then we saw this:
That's right. De la Rocha and Morello with a megaphone. Despite teh fact that people had even done the soundcheck for them (and I spotted five guitars in the little rack, so I imagine they would have played a few songs), they werent' allowed to take the stage. So so so lame. In any case, they treated us to Bulls on Parade and Killing In The Name. De la Rocha did the raps and Morello sang the beats. The crowd helped with both.
And then:
I feel it necessary to note that I beat Tom Morello in Guitar Hero. Just sayin'. I do a wicked wah-wah-chicka-chicka-wah-wah, what can I say? (Please tell me you know what sound I'm making over the net.)
Molly doing her part as a concerned citidog. (in my excitement I forgot to put on her Dogs for Choice t-shirt).
Then as we were leaving, we inadvertently joined a peace march.
It was just described on the news as a "bunch of anarchists". It was totally peaceful and within its rights.
There were tons of these, and they're quite intimidating in person.
When they came out, the Fox cameraman I was standing next to said, "You might wanna get outta here, honey." Are you kidding? This will never happen again here! I mean, I'm not into getting tear gassed or pepper sprayed or anything.... I kept a safe distance but I wanted to drink it all in.
We rounded out our walk by checking out Chris Matthews, broadcasting from downtown, outside. Pretty fun. I hear that he Daily Show people got locked inside due to the escalating protesting. We missed the fire hoses, firecrackers, and gas.
I have to say that I love protesters. I'm not in favor of destroying property, especially when it has nothing to do with the issue at hand, but I love people who exercise their right to protest and who express their opinion. It brings an energy that I just love. I love seeing the people who care to a point to get out and do something, rather than just complain (which is something I'm guilty of).
I'm torn about the RNC. It's good for the Cities, financially and put us on the map as more than some kind of igloo country, but I'd rather it was the other ticket in town. We're typically a very progressive state and I feel like hosting the RNC doesn't represent the majority opinion here.
But I gotta say. I love the political process, messed up as it may be. And I'm loving this. Even if it means having riot police right outside my door.
This was right outside our windows on Sunday.
Riot police!
Riot police with riot horses! (I'm more scared of the horses).
Anarchy today (well, Saturday). They also smashed in the windows at Macy's.
A woman after my own heart.
When I was driving home tonight, I happened to be listening to the radio (unusual for me). And I caught that Rage Against the Machine was going to make an appearance at a free concert at the Capitol which is just blocks from my house. I anxiously awaited William coming home, since he loves Rage and I knew he'd want to go. He got home, all sweaty from riding his bike, and we quickchanged and ran to the Capitol, Molly in tow.
As it turned out, the police wouldn't let them play although they allowed the other (unknown) bands to play. It sucked. People were chanting for the band by singing the lyrics. If you ask me, they would have had a docile enough crowd, more so than the angry fans who wanted to see Rage (they also play tomorrow night in a more typical venue, but also for $60). We were surrounded by some seriously patchouli smelling hippies that were practicing synchronized meditation, so I figure we would have been pretty safe. :) Anyway, we waited and waited, with an antsy crowd. Eventually a bunch of cheers went up and they asked everyone to be really quiet and sit down. So we did.
And then we saw this:
That's right. De la Rocha and Morello with a megaphone. Despite teh fact that people had even done the soundcheck for them (and I spotted five guitars in the little rack, so I imagine they would have played a few songs), they werent' allowed to take the stage. So so so lame. In any case, they treated us to Bulls on Parade and Killing In The Name. De la Rocha did the raps and Morello sang the beats. The crowd helped with both.
And then:
I feel it necessary to note that I beat Tom Morello in Guitar Hero. Just sayin'. I do a wicked wah-wah-chicka-chicka-wah-wah, what can I say? (Please tell me you know what sound I'm making over the net.)
Molly doing her part as a concerned citidog. (in my excitement I forgot to put on her Dogs for Choice t-shirt).
Then as we were leaving, we inadvertently joined a peace march.
It was just described on the news as a "bunch of anarchists". It was totally peaceful and within its rights.
There were tons of these, and they're quite intimidating in person.
When they came out, the Fox cameraman I was standing next to said, "You might wanna get outta here, honey." Are you kidding? This will never happen again here! I mean, I'm not into getting tear gassed or pepper sprayed or anything.... I kept a safe distance but I wanted to drink it all in.
We rounded out our walk by checking out Chris Matthews, broadcasting from downtown, outside. Pretty fun. I hear that he Daily Show people got locked inside due to the escalating protesting. We missed the fire hoses, firecrackers, and gas.
I have to say that I love protesters. I'm not in favor of destroying property, especially when it has nothing to do with the issue at hand, but I love people who exercise their right to protest and who express their opinion. It brings an energy that I just love. I love seeing the people who care to a point to get out and do something, rather than just complain (which is something I'm guilty of).
I'm torn about the RNC. It's good for the Cities, financially and put us on the map as more than some kind of igloo country, but I'd rather it was the other ticket in town. We're typically a very progressive state and I feel like hosting the RNC doesn't represent the majority opinion here.
But I gotta say. I love the political process, messed up as it may be. And I'm loving this. Even if it means having riot police right outside my door.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The Fight in the Dog, Part III
Well, more tests (blood and urine)--and "nothing remarkable" about them--meaning, nothing abnormal, out of the ordinary, or even downright wrong.
Miz Mo has been upbeat, even sprightly, since her weird disorienting incident on Thursday morning. Playing with her toys, fetch, keeping up with her Labbie "cousins", loveable, sweet. It's almost as if it didn't happen, like this week was a bad, bad, bad dream.
I feel torn. No bad news, but no answer, either.
Every time I look at her, I have to pet her, hug her, kiss her. Tell her I love her and see her nub-tail wag.
She's our Momo. And she's healthy, for now.
Thanks for your sweet comments and encouragements. Molly sends you can send bacon, if you'd like, c/o Willikat. But she also says thanks, by way of a sweet, brown-eyed wink.
Miz Mo has been upbeat, even sprightly, since her weird disorienting incident on Thursday morning. Playing with her toys, fetch, keeping up with her Labbie "cousins", loveable, sweet. It's almost as if it didn't happen, like this week was a bad, bad, bad dream.
I feel torn. No bad news, but no answer, either.
Every time I look at her, I have to pet her, hug her, kiss her. Tell her I love her and see her nub-tail wag.
She's our Momo. And she's healthy, for now.
Thanks for your sweet comments and encouragements. Molly sends you can send bacon, if you'd like, c/o Willikat. But she also says thanks, by way of a sweet, brown-eyed wink.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Fight in the Dog, Part II
Sorry for the delay in updates. We had a crazy couple of days over here.
The first vet visit revealed: her heart murmur, diagnosed this spring, is a little worse. It's moved from a 2 to a 3 or 3.5. That's on a scale of 6. X-rays revealed that her heart is enlarged, from the extra work it goes through to make up for the valve that doesn't close properly. It could have led to a fainting episode, the scary episode I detailed in the last post. The vet seemed quite sure that was what happened. The progression of the disease is hard to gauge and hard to treat; it's controversial and none too cheap. Some dogs live years and years; some just live weeks. But, since she's been living with it for at least a few months now, I figured it will be a good long time. I was feeling so-so about the visit, sad that she's getting worse, but reassured she wasn't going to drop dead at our door.
Then this morning happened. I noticed Molly was a little more lethargic than normal, but nothing that immediately concerned me. I mean, dogs get tired, too, right? Then it ame time to leave. She heard my keys jingle and immediately jumped up, but when I realized I had forgotten something and went looking for it, she got confused. When I made it back to the door, she couldn't find me, despite my repeated calls for her to come "bye-bye" with me. I could see her shadow on the floor, her paws going one step to the left, then one to the right, as though she couldn't choose where I was calling from. I thought it strange but she eventually figured it out and I sort of immediately chalked it up to my paranoia.
Then we walked a few more feet. Molly, instead of doing her usual cute prance, was shuffling her feet, floppy, loose. Her head wasn't pointed up, but rather in the down position that usually indicates her dog-guilt over an accident or toilet-paper-eating incident. We turned down the long hallway that leads to the street where I park my car. She stopped at least three times and turned to her left, where she thought the door should be, and bumped her head against the wall, as though I'd opened the door for her. She was several feet away from the door.
When I got her to my parents' house, she was no better. Limp-limbed, uninterested mostly in exploring the house, running into my legs, running into the cabinets. I couldn't stop crying. I tried to hold myself together, but holy hell, it's really hard when someone (something, for you purists) is hurting and you can't help. She was responsive when I called her name and that sort of thing, so I felt at least confident enough to leave her there for a few hours, with a call put in to the vet's office.
The vet called me back around 11. My mom had reported that lil Mo was still pretty despondent. The vet told me that maybe it was something neurological, so Mo should come back for more tests (read: $$). I took her in about an hour ago. When I picked her up at my parents' house, she bounded ot the door, jumped on my legs, wagging her little nub-tail. Like my little Mo.
Mom threw up her hands. "Weirdest thing, in the last two hours, she's sorta revived," she says. (Mom, maybe it was your hamburger-and-rice offerings).
So she bonked into a cabinet at the vet's office but otherwise was sweet and gentle. Maybe not as feisty as I would have liked, but definitely improved. She sat nicely for her exam, and the vet reassured me that at least her heart was sounding stable and her lungs clear. There was perhaps some concern that Molly was having vision problems (she already has cataracts), but the vet also said that her pupils were responding and that Molly could definitely see fine.
They took some blood and did a pee test, and we'll hear about those results tomorrow morning. Think good thoughts!
For now, I can't tell you how happy my heart feels when I hear her bark at the slamming doors out in the hallway. That's my girl.
The first vet visit revealed: her heart murmur, diagnosed this spring, is a little worse. It's moved from a 2 to a 3 or 3.5. That's on a scale of 6. X-rays revealed that her heart is enlarged, from the extra work it goes through to make up for the valve that doesn't close properly. It could have led to a fainting episode, the scary episode I detailed in the last post. The vet seemed quite sure that was what happened. The progression of the disease is hard to gauge and hard to treat; it's controversial and none too cheap. Some dogs live years and years; some just live weeks. But, since she's been living with it for at least a few months now, I figured it will be a good long time. I was feeling so-so about the visit, sad that she's getting worse, but reassured she wasn't going to drop dead at our door.
Then this morning happened. I noticed Molly was a little more lethargic than normal, but nothing that immediately concerned me. I mean, dogs get tired, too, right? Then it ame time to leave. She heard my keys jingle and immediately jumped up, but when I realized I had forgotten something and went looking for it, she got confused. When I made it back to the door, she couldn't find me, despite my repeated calls for her to come "bye-bye" with me. I could see her shadow on the floor, her paws going one step to the left, then one to the right, as though she couldn't choose where I was calling from. I thought it strange but she eventually figured it out and I sort of immediately chalked it up to my paranoia.
Then we walked a few more feet. Molly, instead of doing her usual cute prance, was shuffling her feet, floppy, loose. Her head wasn't pointed up, but rather in the down position that usually indicates her dog-guilt over an accident or toilet-paper-eating incident. We turned down the long hallway that leads to the street where I park my car. She stopped at least three times and turned to her left, where she thought the door should be, and bumped her head against the wall, as though I'd opened the door for her. She was several feet away from the door.
When I got her to my parents' house, she was no better. Limp-limbed, uninterested mostly in exploring the house, running into my legs, running into the cabinets. I couldn't stop crying. I tried to hold myself together, but holy hell, it's really hard when someone (something, for you purists) is hurting and you can't help. She was responsive when I called her name and that sort of thing, so I felt at least confident enough to leave her there for a few hours, with a call put in to the vet's office.
The vet called me back around 11. My mom had reported that lil Mo was still pretty despondent. The vet told me that maybe it was something neurological, so Mo should come back for more tests (read: $$). I took her in about an hour ago. When I picked her up at my parents' house, she bounded ot the door, jumped on my legs, wagging her little nub-tail. Like my little Mo.
Mom threw up her hands. "Weirdest thing, in the last two hours, she's sorta revived," she says. (Mom, maybe it was your hamburger-and-rice offerings).
So she bonked into a cabinet at the vet's office but otherwise was sweet and gentle. Maybe not as feisty as I would have liked, but definitely improved. She sat nicely for her exam, and the vet reassured me that at least her heart was sounding stable and her lungs clear. There was perhaps some concern that Molly was having vision problems (she already has cataracts), but the vet also said that her pupils were responding and that Molly could definitely see fine.
They took some blood and did a pee test, and we'll hear about those results tomorrow morning. Think good thoughts!
For now, I can't tell you how happy my heart feels when I hear her bark at the slamming doors out in the hallway. That's my girl.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The Fight in the Dog
About a year and a half ago, a 17-pound, apricot-colored, furry, Muppetish, four-legged, curly-fluffed pal wandered into our life. She walked through the door at the Humane Society, just as we were about to leave, and William and I pointed to her in unison, and breathed out that "ohhhhh" like the Martians in the Crane Game in Toy Story.
She was ours in our hearts from that moment. We didn't buy her that day, but the next day we went back and scooped her up in our arms.
Not a month into owning her, (we think) she ate some of the poisoned dog food--remember that recall that killed so many innocent dogs?--and she had a very scary diarrhea-laden incident, one that led to a trip to the emergency vet and a diagnosis of "possible multiple-organ failure."
But she pulled through the night and continued to get better as the days wore on. After about two weeks of hamburger-and-rice diet, she was back to good as new.
Since then, she has brought us so much joy. So many laughs on a daily basis, so many comforting head-butts and snuggling on the couch. Protecting us from the wind and fellow dog-walkers, blowing trash and scary noises (her own leash unspooling from the handle). She has completed our little family. She is our Momo, like owner, like dog--a little blond anxiety-prone goofball. Like she has always been a part of us.
Last night, I thought Momo was leaving us, permanently. I was lying on the couch, watching a Johnny Cash documentary on PBS, William was at his computer. I looked down, and she was sitting strangely, her head hanging at an odd angle, her stomach heaving in a slow rhythm. I thought perhaps she was going to puke, so I asked her: "Mo, what are you doing?" She turned her head slowly, with a glassy-eyed stare. William also thought she was going to vomit, so he threw on his shoes and coaxed "outside!" to motivate her to go to the door. She managed to drag her little Muppet body over to the door, but while he was hooking her leash, she began to crumple, losing control of her bladder, her front legs stiffening and sticking out in front of her. She fell against the door. I was afraid she was choking, so I tried prying open her jaws, which were tightly clenched. I got my hand in her mouth, searching for something to pull out, anything, goddammit, what the hell is wrong what am I supposed to be doing?
I kept yelling her name. "Molly, Molly, tell me what's wrong, tell me what's wrong!" As if she'd respond. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets. That's when I really lost it, yelling and crying and shaking.
Then, she sort of roused, just as I was convinced she was dying an undignified death, in our hallway, at the hands of her helpless dog-parents. I was shaking like a leaf.
William guided her outside, where she sat in the grass, dazed, head hanging, dead-eyed. I called my sister, in hysterics. She couldn't even understand me at first. Eventually I managed to explain what happened, while William calmly petted Molly and spoke to her softly. Susie thought that she maybe had a seizure. She waited patiently with me on the phone while William and I watched Molly slowly come around.
A few minutes later, William walked her around the block. I stood on the corner, still shaking like crazy, heart pounding, holding a roll of paper towels (to clean up her accidents on the way downstairs) and alternately crying and laughing on the phone with Susie, like a crazy person. Adrenaline was coursing through my body and I felt totally and completely unhinged. Then, finally, William appeared with our Molly, and she looked every bit like the Mo we saw that first day, from that first "Ohhh."
"Is she ok? Is she better?" Molly pranced around my feet, panting.
William says, "Well, she flushed a rabbit out of the bushes and chased it, tried to fight a dog and peed where it was standing, and kicked up the grass afterwards. I think she's fine."
Even then I couldn't calm down, although the words hit me with a wave of gratefulness that I'm unable to properly describe.
She's seemed totally fine in the 24 hours since. As I told my brother on the phone later that night, I think I'm more traumatized than she is. Right now I can see her, splayed out on the wood floor (it's cooler) snoozing away now that snacks are put away, dinner is eaten, and we're just relaxing in front of the TV, like any normal night.
Tuesday afternoon: the Vet. Please don't cost a fortune. Please don't get more bad news about our poor cockapoo, who just deserves to live out her life cushy-style. Please don't let me or William have a nervous breakdown (me really being the please in that one).
I don't know if I've ever felt so desperate, so responsible for a being's life.
What I do know—Molly is our furry baby, she completes our family. I know she won't be here forever, but 9 is too damn young for a small dog. Too little time spent with two people who love her like crazy—plus her grandparents who take her almost every work day and love her too. Plus everyone else. Molly makes people happy. And Molly has a lot more happy-making days in her. I have to think that. There's a lot more fight in the dog, as they say.
She was ours in our hearts from that moment. We didn't buy her that day, but the next day we went back and scooped her up in our arms.
Not a month into owning her, (we think) she ate some of the poisoned dog food--remember that recall that killed so many innocent dogs?--and she had a very scary diarrhea-laden incident, one that led to a trip to the emergency vet and a diagnosis of "possible multiple-organ failure."
But she pulled through the night and continued to get better as the days wore on. After about two weeks of hamburger-and-rice diet, she was back to good as new.
Since then, she has brought us so much joy. So many laughs on a daily basis, so many comforting head-butts and snuggling on the couch. Protecting us from the wind and fellow dog-walkers, blowing trash and scary noises (her own leash unspooling from the handle). She has completed our little family. She is our Momo, like owner, like dog--a little blond anxiety-prone goofball. Like she has always been a part of us.
Last night, I thought Momo was leaving us, permanently. I was lying on the couch, watching a Johnny Cash documentary on PBS, William was at his computer. I looked down, and she was sitting strangely, her head hanging at an odd angle, her stomach heaving in a slow rhythm. I thought perhaps she was going to puke, so I asked her: "Mo, what are you doing?" She turned her head slowly, with a glassy-eyed stare. William also thought she was going to vomit, so he threw on his shoes and coaxed "outside!" to motivate her to go to the door. She managed to drag her little Muppet body over to the door, but while he was hooking her leash, she began to crumple, losing control of her bladder, her front legs stiffening and sticking out in front of her. She fell against the door. I was afraid she was choking, so I tried prying open her jaws, which were tightly clenched. I got my hand in her mouth, searching for something to pull out, anything, goddammit, what the hell is wrong what am I supposed to be doing?
I kept yelling her name. "Molly, Molly, tell me what's wrong, tell me what's wrong!" As if she'd respond. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets. That's when I really lost it, yelling and crying and shaking.
Then, she sort of roused, just as I was convinced she was dying an undignified death, in our hallway, at the hands of her helpless dog-parents. I was shaking like a leaf.
William guided her outside, where she sat in the grass, dazed, head hanging, dead-eyed. I called my sister, in hysterics. She couldn't even understand me at first. Eventually I managed to explain what happened, while William calmly petted Molly and spoke to her softly. Susie thought that she maybe had a seizure. She waited patiently with me on the phone while William and I watched Molly slowly come around.
A few minutes later, William walked her around the block. I stood on the corner, still shaking like crazy, heart pounding, holding a roll of paper towels (to clean up her accidents on the way downstairs) and alternately crying and laughing on the phone with Susie, like a crazy person. Adrenaline was coursing through my body and I felt totally and completely unhinged. Then, finally, William appeared with our Molly, and she looked every bit like the Mo we saw that first day, from that first "Ohhh."
"Is she ok? Is she better?" Molly pranced around my feet, panting.
William says, "Well, she flushed a rabbit out of the bushes and chased it, tried to fight a dog and peed where it was standing, and kicked up the grass afterwards. I think she's fine."
Even then I couldn't calm down, although the words hit me with a wave of gratefulness that I'm unable to properly describe.
She's seemed totally fine in the 24 hours since. As I told my brother on the phone later that night, I think I'm more traumatized than she is. Right now I can see her, splayed out on the wood floor (it's cooler) snoozing away now that snacks are put away, dinner is eaten, and we're just relaxing in front of the TV, like any normal night.
Tuesday afternoon: the Vet. Please don't cost a fortune. Please don't get more bad news about our poor cockapoo, who just deserves to live out her life cushy-style. Please don't let me or William have a nervous breakdown (me really being the please in that one).
I don't know if I've ever felt so desperate, so responsible for a being's life.
What I do know—Molly is our furry baby, she completes our family. I know she won't be here forever, but 9 is too damn young for a small dog. Too little time spent with two people who love her like crazy—plus her grandparents who take her almost every work day and love her too. Plus everyone else. Molly makes people happy. And Molly has a lot more happy-making days in her. I have to think that. There's a lot more fight in the dog, as they say.
Monday, February 25, 2008
matters of the heart
so, our lil mo went to the vet on saturday to brave her yearly shots and exam. she was a trooper, even if mama was not.
i maybe should have known when the vet took an extra long time to listen to her heart. after all, i did notice it took her an extra long time.
after doing all the other stuff—shots, prodding, talking. . . the vet told me that mo has developed a heart murmur. really, i know that heart murmurs can be ok and nothing happens for a long time, if ever. and it's not like she's showing symptoms--no unusual amount of lethargy or breathing heavily that is out of character(she's a snuffly, snorty sort naturally). .. of course my worried mind says that it's a symptom.
but the vet explained that for many of her breed, they are fine for years, but can progress into congenital heart failure...that the valve that is not properly closing in her heart (which makes the murmur-whooshing sound) can eventually fail, which leaks fluid into the lungs. this can often be treated with drugs. some though, fail rapidly after the murmur is detected.
she's supposed to have an ultrasound but people around me are talking me out of it. supposedly it's not THAT big a deal, and it won't reveal much more than they are 90 percent sure they already know. and most likely, they wouldn't even medicate her if that was the case, since it's early stages. it's very expensive for the ultrasound.
as if you haven't figured out things are slightly tight around here for the wedding, so it's an extra stress we're hoping to be able to put off for awhile.
now i know you science and nursing experts reading this are shaking your heads, thinking it's not a big deal and everythign will be fine for now. and it probably isn't and will be. but i am a worrier, it's my job. and mo is my little fur-baby. so i'm going to worry. but i will also think happy little heart-health thoughts for her.
i knew when we adopted mo that we had no idea where she came from, what kind of care she got, or how long that we would have her (she just celebrated her 9th--we think--birthday with some chicken and a new furry toy). but she is a small breed and 9 really isn't that old. i knew that i would have to prepare myself for health problems and aging from the moment we brought her home. i thought her first brush with death--smack dab in the middle of the animal food-poisoning scare last year around this time--she had put in her dues. the emergency vet had told us that night that she could be having multiple organ failure. but she made it! i figured that had ot be it for the rest of ever. you don't get a horrible life and health problems, only to have things look up and then get something else. it's just not fair.
it's not fair that animals have to suffer. all dogs do is love, and love, and love--sometimes to the point where you want to ring their little necks because they get underfoot, put their paws on your laptop, follow you into the bathroom while you pee. but even if you get mad, or in molly's case, even if you put her in the dreaded kennel and leave her alone, she always wags her tail when she sees you again, a completely fresh start.
if i cry, molly is on my lap, rolling on her back, tossing her paws in the air, trying to look cute and be a distraction. never one to lick faces, she licks the tears off and affects her most muppety poses to elicit a giggle. if i yell, she takes my side, back to me, defending me. if i laugh, she wags her tail. if i screw up as a dog mom, she forgives me. (i consequently look the other way sometimes when she pulls kleenex and toilet paper out of the bathroom garbage). or when i sneak her an extra treat because she's just a good friend.
it's astounding how quickly a little furry heart becomes such a huge part of your life, worms it's little way in, with a little head-butt under your hand for a pet, trains those sad brown eyes on you when ice cream is present. (life is too short not to give her a lick.)
so....
i go up and down, worried sick and happy we've had the joy to bring her home with u, to sure that nothing will happen...after all i didn't know before i brought her in for a routine checkup. funny how your expectations are... you think "rabies shot" and the vet says "heart problem". and i don't mean to sound doomsday. i'm sure mo will chug right along through her life, whatever it brings her. i just hope we make the right decisions and mo stays healthy and happy and knows that many people love her very, very much, most of all, her human mama and dad.
ps. it frightens me, and william, how much we are like jon and kate on jon and kate plus 8.
i maybe should have known when the vet took an extra long time to listen to her heart. after all, i did notice it took her an extra long time.
after doing all the other stuff—shots, prodding, talking. . . the vet told me that mo has developed a heart murmur. really, i know that heart murmurs can be ok and nothing happens for a long time, if ever. and it's not like she's showing symptoms--no unusual amount of lethargy or breathing heavily that is out of character(she's a snuffly, snorty sort naturally). .. of course my worried mind says that it's a symptom.
but the vet explained that for many of her breed, they are fine for years, but can progress into congenital heart failure...that the valve that is not properly closing in her heart (which makes the murmur-whooshing sound) can eventually fail, which leaks fluid into the lungs. this can often be treated with drugs. some though, fail rapidly after the murmur is detected.
she's supposed to have an ultrasound but people around me are talking me out of it. supposedly it's not THAT big a deal, and it won't reveal much more than they are 90 percent sure they already know. and most likely, they wouldn't even medicate her if that was the case, since it's early stages. it's very expensive for the ultrasound.
as if you haven't figured out things are slightly tight around here for the wedding, so it's an extra stress we're hoping to be able to put off for awhile.
now i know you science and nursing experts reading this are shaking your heads, thinking it's not a big deal and everythign will be fine for now. and it probably isn't and will be. but i am a worrier, it's my job. and mo is my little fur-baby. so i'm going to worry. but i will also think happy little heart-health thoughts for her.
i knew when we adopted mo that we had no idea where she came from, what kind of care she got, or how long that we would have her (she just celebrated her 9th--we think--birthday with some chicken and a new furry toy). but she is a small breed and 9 really isn't that old. i knew that i would have to prepare myself for health problems and aging from the moment we brought her home. i thought her first brush with death--smack dab in the middle of the animal food-poisoning scare last year around this time--she had put in her dues. the emergency vet had told us that night that she could be having multiple organ failure. but she made it! i figured that had ot be it for the rest of ever. you don't get a horrible life and health problems, only to have things look up and then get something else. it's just not fair.
it's not fair that animals have to suffer. all dogs do is love, and love, and love--sometimes to the point where you want to ring their little necks because they get underfoot, put their paws on your laptop, follow you into the bathroom while you pee. but even if you get mad, or in molly's case, even if you put her in the dreaded kennel and leave her alone, she always wags her tail when she sees you again, a completely fresh start.
if i cry, molly is on my lap, rolling on her back, tossing her paws in the air, trying to look cute and be a distraction. never one to lick faces, she licks the tears off and affects her most muppety poses to elicit a giggle. if i yell, she takes my side, back to me, defending me. if i laugh, she wags her tail. if i screw up as a dog mom, she forgives me. (i consequently look the other way sometimes when she pulls kleenex and toilet paper out of the bathroom garbage). or when i sneak her an extra treat because she's just a good friend.
it's astounding how quickly a little furry heart becomes such a huge part of your life, worms it's little way in, with a little head-butt under your hand for a pet, trains those sad brown eyes on you when ice cream is present. (life is too short not to give her a lick.)
so....
i go up and down, worried sick and happy we've had the joy to bring her home with u, to sure that nothing will happen...after all i didn't know before i brought her in for a routine checkup. funny how your expectations are... you think "rabies shot" and the vet says "heart problem". and i don't mean to sound doomsday. i'm sure mo will chug right along through her life, whatever it brings her. i just hope we make the right decisions and mo stays healthy and happy and knows that many people love her very, very much, most of all, her human mama and dad.
ps. it frightens me, and william, how much we are like jon and kate on jon and kate plus 8.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
molly's first halloween (with us)
so, here is lady mo, our first pet on her first halloween with us. oh, miss mo. we love you so.
i really do think she kind of liked her costume, once she got used to the hat
see? she's smiling!
we took her to the movie store with us (they allow dogs inside) and she got a treat.
[a photo goes here but blogger is being a butt, so i will have to upload it later.]
she wins for cuteness! and, fact, halloween the movie still freaks me out even though i can point out so many more flaws since the first (of many) times i have seen it.
i really do think she kind of liked her costume, once she got used to the hat
see? she's smiling!
we took her to the movie store with us (they allow dogs inside) and she got a treat.
[a photo goes here but blogger is being a butt, so i will have to upload it later.]
she wins for cuteness! and, fact, halloween the movie still freaks me out even though i can point out so many more flaws since the first (of many) times i have seen it.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
i'm sooooo sick of rain
seriously. it has been raining for what feels like an eternity. it makes it hard to be motivated or fun or creative or interesting. all i seem to think about is sleeping, sweat pants, and movies. today i looked at hawaii pictures on the internet to get some sunshine in my life.
i think i have discussed what a not-morning person i am before. well, i'm now sharing that quality with the dog. so, last weekend we took mo to get groomed. i asked them very specifically to leave a little fur on her, even if it meant she needs to get groomed more often. i don't like having her shaved and it's starting to feel like fall, so she might appreciate some coatage. i thought we were on the same page, so i left mo, shaking like a little leaf, in the care of the groomer. i picked her up three hours later, and it was like she was a different dog. she's shaved. totally. barely a fuzz. no curls at all. and she's been shivering for a week. since then, she has been sleeping in bed with us all night. before this, her m.o. was to hang out for about 15 minutes and then get down and sleep on the floor or couch. now she's been glued to my side all night long. so this morning the alarm goes off, and i snooze it, of course. two snoozes later, though, it's time to get up, like NOW, because it's already one more snooze than i should have done, and it's practically NIGHTTIME out still but ok, ok, already. i look at molly, and ask quietly "go outside?" which usually wakes her up immediately and she makes a break for the door. not this morning. she barely opened her eyes, flopped her head back down, and snuggled in more tightly (if that was possible).
now that's my girl!
i think i have discussed what a not-morning person i am before. well, i'm now sharing that quality with the dog. so, last weekend we took mo to get groomed. i asked them very specifically to leave a little fur on her, even if it meant she needs to get groomed more often. i don't like having her shaved and it's starting to feel like fall, so she might appreciate some coatage. i thought we were on the same page, so i left mo, shaking like a little leaf, in the care of the groomer. i picked her up three hours later, and it was like she was a different dog. she's shaved. totally. barely a fuzz. no curls at all. and she's been shivering for a week. since then, she has been sleeping in bed with us all night. before this, her m.o. was to hang out for about 15 minutes and then get down and sleep on the floor or couch. now she's been glued to my side all night long. so this morning the alarm goes off, and i snooze it, of course. two snoozes later, though, it's time to get up, like NOW, because it's already one more snooze than i should have done, and it's practically NIGHTTIME out still but ok, ok, already. i look at molly, and ask quietly "go outside?" which usually wakes her up immediately and she makes a break for the door. not this morning. she barely opened her eyes, flopped her head back down, and snuggled in more tightly (if that was possible).
now that's my girl!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
the puddles gather rain
it's still raining. gah. it's too much people, it is seriously affecting my mood.
we need to go to the grocery store super mondo-plus bad. like, tonight was the last of the last of the crap to put together to make a semblance of a meal. must. go. to. buy. groceries.
i had a bad day.
william and i have this thing where we've projected these lives and conversations on our dog. it's a terrible dog-owner habit. but it's gotten out of control. we just got into an argument about whether molly was a stripper briefly before coming to minnesota. she wasn't, people. she never stripped. bodybuilding, yes. president of mexico, yes. her only thoughts about bacon and carnitas, of course. i draw the line at stripping.
does that look like a stripper to you?
speaking of molly, we had another super funny encounter with a random stranger and molly. we were sitting at a stoplight, and i was driving. molly was sitting on william's lap, her head out the window (as usual). a guy in a cutlass-type car, fully tinted windows, pulls up next to us. Suddenly, the back window starts to go down, niiiice and slow. the driver leans back—yes, his seat was so far back, he could look out the back window—looks at william and molly, and says, "nice cockapoo, man!"
that is funny for approximately 6790932132896345498872343.009 reasons.
i know that my jaw dropped to the floor. i started to giggle. the guy looked over at me, smiled and nodded his head. i meant to say thank you, but i couldn't make the words come out. it was maybe the funniest thing that has happened all summer. i can't believe i didn't blog about this before.
this is us laughing about the incident. molly is wearing an "aloha girl" t-shirt that william's mom found somewhere:
we need to go to the grocery store super mondo-plus bad. like, tonight was the last of the last of the crap to put together to make a semblance of a meal. must. go. to. buy. groceries.
i had a bad day.
william and i have this thing where we've projected these lives and conversations on our dog. it's a terrible dog-owner habit. but it's gotten out of control. we just got into an argument about whether molly was a stripper briefly before coming to minnesota. she wasn't, people. she never stripped. bodybuilding, yes. president of mexico, yes. her only thoughts about bacon and carnitas, of course. i draw the line at stripping.
does that look like a stripper to you?
speaking of molly, we had another super funny encounter with a random stranger and molly. we were sitting at a stoplight, and i was driving. molly was sitting on william's lap, her head out the window (as usual). a guy in a cutlass-type car, fully tinted windows, pulls up next to us. Suddenly, the back window starts to go down, niiiice and slow. the driver leans back—yes, his seat was so far back, he could look out the back window—looks at william and molly, and says, "nice cockapoo, man!"
that is funny for approximately 6790932132896345498872343.009 reasons.
i know that my jaw dropped to the floor. i started to giggle. the guy looked over at me, smiled and nodded his head. i meant to say thank you, but i couldn't make the words come out. it was maybe the funniest thing that has happened all summer. i can't believe i didn't blog about this before.
this is us laughing about the incident. molly is wearing an "aloha girl" t-shirt that william's mom found somewhere:
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
100 Things
So, I've been very absent from writing, but mostly because my life has been super busy, but not with the kind of interesting details one usually aims to write about.
But I feel that an update needs to happen.
I think I'm going to do a 100 things, since I'm not feeling like coming up with a story (nor do I have time for a story) right now. I will try to make it an "us" 100 things, but we'll see....in no particular order:
1. we both love the office and laugh hysterically when we watch it. i love john krasinski. i know william thinks jenna fischer is very cute. it's a funny show with no laugh track--awesome.
2. i'm a freak about documentaries. i love them and usually have to do some convincing at the movie store, but william mostly ends up enjoying them too.
3. we both like wine a lot; i prefer white but am getting to like red, william prefers red but tolerates white.
4. william has gotten me, through sheer breakdown of my will, to like approximately three Muse songs.
5. when we get married, we will have four nieces and nephews combined. we like kids.
6. we are planning on getting married next may in hawaii, followed by a backyard reception in june at my sister and brother-in-law's house.
7. we got engaged on december 6, 2006, on ka'anapali beach in maui.
8. william's a saver, i'm a spender.
9. william is currently obsessed with buying a bike.
10. he is also painting a picture of an elephant that's really cool.
11. we love target equally.
12. i am a writer and editor and william is an architect. we both knew since we've been kids these are the careers we wanted.
13. i have a love/hate relationship with pop music. i am embracing my love for kelly clarkson, gwen stefani, pink, justin timberlake, and others now.
14. i still consider myself a music snob.
15. in eighth grade, i made a periodic table of the history of rock.
16. my mom helped. she's also a music lover.
17. i am also currently obsessed with old soul and r&b music.
18. i write about beauty and get free products in the mail to try.
19. we both want to travel the world.
20. we agree on almost all political viewpoints. i would call myself a super-left liberal. i am excited to see a new person in office.
21. i once said that if hillary ever ran for president, i would quit my job and campaign for her.
22. that was before i realized how important job security is.
23. but i think i'd still campaign for her. my only hangup is her 'don't ask, don't tell' stand on abortion.
24. william and i both have been talking a lot about how to reduce our environmental footprint and are interested in green living.
25. i feel better about myself because i buy earth-friendly cleaning products.
26. i'm a sucker for animals--anything with fur or feathers.
27. i'm terrified of spiders, beetles, centipedes, and other bugs. sometimes i have nightmares about them.
28. i also love candles.
29. i love old-school pop, too, like madonna, michael jackson, et. al.
30. michael jackson was my imaginary friend when i was little. i remember seeing him moonwalk on tv for the first time.
31. i dont' know if william had imaginary friends.
32. he was obsessed with legos as a child.
33. we are both the youngest child in our family, with big gaps in age between siblings.
34. i can play about four chords on the guitar, and at that, badly. i wish i could magically know how to play. and it would be a lot better if i could sing.
35. i own a guitar and it has a cedar top, which means it smells good and sounds 'warm'.
36. william just showed photos in the local art crawl and he is very good at taking photos. also my brother showed photos, and his are equally amazing.
37. william loves seinfeld. i love listening to him laugh.
38. my left shoulder constantly hurts. i have bad posture. i love massages.
39. i am a feminist. i think william is one too.
40. i am a freak about beauty products: eyeshadow, lotion, eye cream, hair stuff, you name it. i've always been that way.
41. i have trouble throwing things away.
42. i love to read.
43. i have anxiety dreams a lot.
44. i am not a morning person.
45. i was in marching band and played tennis in high school.
46. william is a morning person.
47. he was the captain of the engineering and math teams. he also ran cross country.
48. as you can probably tell, we are big nerds.
49. we love asian food.
50. i love people. for the most part.
51. i spent m ost of my summers as a kid at my parents' cabin. it's still one of my favorite places in the world.
52. our loft, which we've been living in for about a year, now feels like home.
53. when i was little, my voice was so high i would make my grandpa's hearing aid make feedback noises. thankfully, it dropped.
54. i only have one grandma left.
55. i think of my other grandma as my style icon.
56. i think of my parents as really wise friends.
57. i get along very well with william's parents. william also gets along with mine.
58. i want to learn to knit.
59. someday i'd love to work from home full time.
60. i think i want kids. then i see teenagers. then i'm not so sure. no, i do want kids.
61. so does william.
62. i am a perfectionist and i get easily hung up on small things.
63. i love dr pepper.
64. william has traveled all over the place: india, the netherlands/europe, japan, and more.
65. i wish i'd known him then so i could have gone with him.
66. i like my eyes.
67. i like william's better.
68. i am the girl that drags her boy into a candle store and makes him smell everything and yells enthusiastically when i find a great scent.
69. both william and i love midcentury modern stuff.
70. we also love art crawls and museums and stuff like that.
71. i want to take ballroom dance classes.
72. william and i went to the same high school, our lockers were five apart, and we had friends in common, yet never spoke a word to each other until about two or three years ago.
73. now we are crazy about each other.
74. i am excited to get married.
75. we like to come up with little projects for ourselves; paintings, photos, shopping for the right thing for our place.
76. we also try to do too much.
78. i cry easily.
79. i hate that.
80. i think it's pretty safe to say we both have champagne taste on a beer budget.
81. we could both stand to be neater people.
82. it seems that whenever we put our heads together for something, we get dumber. is this a bad sign?
83. william is really observant and picks up on small body language cues or tones of voice.
84. he also tries to teach me to not be SUCH a people-pleaser and please myself more often.
85. i'm not afraid of getting older. i am afraid of disease, loneliness, and failure.
86. i'm not sure what william is afraid of.
87. we had a protracted battle over what toothpaste flavor and brand is better: cinnamon or mint. i believe we will be buying mint toothpaste from now on.
88. william makes me laugh with his voices and sound effects.
89. we are also good at annoying each other, already.
90. i think we'd both like to be better cooks.
91. we are proud of our awesome vintage finds for our place.
92. molly has become a huge part of our lives, for good or for bad.
93. william summed it up the other day to molly: "i'm really glad i got you, even though you're a big pain."
94. we love her so much, it's ridiculous.
95. we'd like to adopt a pair of cockapoos the next time around so they can keep each other company.
96. i can't draw; william's insanely artistic.
97. we already finish each other's sentences and thoughts.
98. i can make william giggle.
99. we were definitely missing a piece of our lives before we met each other.
100. we look forward to a long life together.
But I feel that an update needs to happen.
I think I'm going to do a 100 things, since I'm not feeling like coming up with a story (nor do I have time for a story) right now. I will try to make it an "us" 100 things, but we'll see....in no particular order:
1. we both love the office and laugh hysterically when we watch it. i love john krasinski. i know william thinks jenna fischer is very cute. it's a funny show with no laugh track--awesome.
2. i'm a freak about documentaries. i love them and usually have to do some convincing at the movie store, but william mostly ends up enjoying them too.
3. we both like wine a lot; i prefer white but am getting to like red, william prefers red but tolerates white.
4. william has gotten me, through sheer breakdown of my will, to like approximately three Muse songs.
5. when we get married, we will have four nieces and nephews combined. we like kids.
6. we are planning on getting married next may in hawaii, followed by a backyard reception in june at my sister and brother-in-law's house.
7. we got engaged on december 6, 2006, on ka'anapali beach in maui.
8. william's a saver, i'm a spender.
9. william is currently obsessed with buying a bike.
10. he is also painting a picture of an elephant that's really cool.
11. we love target equally.
12. i am a writer and editor and william is an architect. we both knew since we've been kids these are the careers we wanted.
13. i have a love/hate relationship with pop music. i am embracing my love for kelly clarkson, gwen stefani, pink, justin timberlake, and others now.
14. i still consider myself a music snob.
15. in eighth grade, i made a periodic table of the history of rock.
16. my mom helped. she's also a music lover.
17. i am also currently obsessed with old soul and r&b music.
18. i write about beauty and get free products in the mail to try.
19. we both want to travel the world.
20. we agree on almost all political viewpoints. i would call myself a super-left liberal. i am excited to see a new person in office.
21. i once said that if hillary ever ran for president, i would quit my job and campaign for her.
22. that was before i realized how important job security is.
23. but i think i'd still campaign for her. my only hangup is her 'don't ask, don't tell' stand on abortion.
24. william and i both have been talking a lot about how to reduce our environmental footprint and are interested in green living.
25. i feel better about myself because i buy earth-friendly cleaning products.
26. i'm a sucker for animals--anything with fur or feathers.
27. i'm terrified of spiders, beetles, centipedes, and other bugs. sometimes i have nightmares about them.
28. i also love candles.
29. i love old-school pop, too, like madonna, michael jackson, et. al.
30. michael jackson was my imaginary friend when i was little. i remember seeing him moonwalk on tv for the first time.
31. i dont' know if william had imaginary friends.
32. he was obsessed with legos as a child.
33. we are both the youngest child in our family, with big gaps in age between siblings.
34. i can play about four chords on the guitar, and at that, badly. i wish i could magically know how to play. and it would be a lot better if i could sing.
35. i own a guitar and it has a cedar top, which means it smells good and sounds 'warm'.
36. william just showed photos in the local art crawl and he is very good at taking photos. also my brother showed photos, and his are equally amazing.
37. william loves seinfeld. i love listening to him laugh.
38. my left shoulder constantly hurts. i have bad posture. i love massages.
39. i am a feminist. i think william is one too.
40. i am a freak about beauty products: eyeshadow, lotion, eye cream, hair stuff, you name it. i've always been that way.
41. i have trouble throwing things away.
42. i love to read.
43. i have anxiety dreams a lot.
44. i am not a morning person.
45. i was in marching band and played tennis in high school.
46. william is a morning person.
47. he was the captain of the engineering and math teams. he also ran cross country.
48. as you can probably tell, we are big nerds.
49. we love asian food.
50. i love people. for the most part.
51. i spent m ost of my summers as a kid at my parents' cabin. it's still one of my favorite places in the world.
52. our loft, which we've been living in for about a year, now feels like home.
53. when i was little, my voice was so high i would make my grandpa's hearing aid make feedback noises. thankfully, it dropped.
54. i only have one grandma left.
55. i think of my other grandma as my style icon.
56. i think of my parents as really wise friends.
57. i get along very well with william's parents. william also gets along with mine.
58. i want to learn to knit.
59. someday i'd love to work from home full time.
60. i think i want kids. then i see teenagers. then i'm not so sure. no, i do want kids.
61. so does william.
62. i am a perfectionist and i get easily hung up on small things.
63. i love dr pepper.
64. william has traveled all over the place: india, the netherlands/europe, japan, and more.
65. i wish i'd known him then so i could have gone with him.
66. i like my eyes.
67. i like william's better.
68. i am the girl that drags her boy into a candle store and makes him smell everything and yells enthusiastically when i find a great scent.
69. both william and i love midcentury modern stuff.
70. we also love art crawls and museums and stuff like that.
71. i want to take ballroom dance classes.
72. william and i went to the same high school, our lockers were five apart, and we had friends in common, yet never spoke a word to each other until about two or three years ago.
73. now we are crazy about each other.
74. i am excited to get married.
75. we like to come up with little projects for ourselves; paintings, photos, shopping for the right thing for our place.
76. we also try to do too much.
78. i cry easily.
79. i hate that.
80. i think it's pretty safe to say we both have champagne taste on a beer budget.
81. we could both stand to be neater people.
82. it seems that whenever we put our heads together for something, we get dumber. is this a bad sign?
83. william is really observant and picks up on small body language cues or tones of voice.
84. he also tries to teach me to not be SUCH a people-pleaser and please myself more often.
85. i'm not afraid of getting older. i am afraid of disease, loneliness, and failure.
86. i'm not sure what william is afraid of.
87. we had a protracted battle over what toothpaste flavor and brand is better: cinnamon or mint. i believe we will be buying mint toothpaste from now on.
88. william makes me laugh with his voices and sound effects.
89. we are also good at annoying each other, already.
90. i think we'd both like to be better cooks.
91. we are proud of our awesome vintage finds for our place.
92. molly has become a huge part of our lives, for good or for bad.
93. william summed it up the other day to molly: "i'm really glad i got you, even though you're a big pain."
94. we love her so much, it's ridiculous.
95. we'd like to adopt a pair of cockapoos the next time around so they can keep each other company.
96. i can't draw; william's insanely artistic.
97. we already finish each other's sentences and thoughts.
98. i can make william giggle.
99. we were definitely missing a piece of our lives before we met each other.
100. we look forward to a long life together.
Friday, March 30, 2007
puppy power
About a week ago, we experienced this rush of beautiful weather, just gorgeous. So Will and I took Molly for a walk down by the banks of the river, just blocks from our house. It was sunny and warm and people were outside and smiling. It felt like summer--i do believe it was 81 degrees at some point during the day. We walked and talked, in a way that we don't when we're just sitting on the couch or fighting over whether it's a big deal to put the sugar away.
As we were walking back, a little winded and tired, we got to a corner where I noticed out of the corner of my eye a frantic waving from a car window.
When I made eye contact with the driver of this hot little red sports car--I can't remember what it was and Will's not here to remind me--the driver put his dog up to the window, a teeny Bichon Friese--a tiny white fluffball (adorable of course). And made it look really excited to see another dog, practically waving its paw like it was saying hello.
I busted out laughing and giggled the whole way home, waving at the driver. We tried to get Molly to notice the little woof-woof. She was more interested in sniffing the sidewalk like a bloodhound.
I don't know -- maybe it was the weather that made people crave some fun, silly contact. But it just made a nice early evening a great story.
Thanks for making our day, red sports car driver. Nice puppy. Nice car!
As we were walking back, a little winded and tired, we got to a corner where I noticed out of the corner of my eye a frantic waving from a car window.
When I made eye contact with the driver of this hot little red sports car--I can't remember what it was and Will's not here to remind me--the driver put his dog up to the window, a teeny Bichon Friese--a tiny white fluffball (adorable of course). And made it look really excited to see another dog, practically waving its paw like it was saying hello.
I busted out laughing and giggled the whole way home, waving at the driver. We tried to get Molly to notice the little woof-woof. She was more interested in sniffing the sidewalk like a bloodhound.
I don't know -- maybe it was the weather that made people crave some fun, silly contact. But it just made a nice early evening a great story.
Thanks for making our day, red sports car driver. Nice puppy. Nice car!
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
sun is shining in the deep blue sky
i'm working from home today, post-Molly-emergency. two days ago we came home to a very sick puppy. full of doggie doo, puking, shaking, clearly in pain.
off to the emergency room we go, in fear of the bill. several hours later, the vet gives us some scary news...it could be serious but they won't know more until they have her overnight and run $800 worth of tests....um, no.
we declined, they gave her fluids and painkillers, and we took her home. all the while, i worried. the next morning she was still sluggish. william stayed home with her and took her out every half hour or so. slowly but surely, she started to come around. she wagged her tail and ran to the door when i came home.
at the vet appointment, she stood up on her hind legs and threw her "arms" around my neck and nuzzled my face in while they examined her (two rectal exams in two days--and she was a champ). it felt like the most tender moment we've ever had, and my heart melted on the spot. she is our little furbaby.
she is seeming to get stronger and more like herself by the hour. but she is still refusing to drink water. this makes me worry.
the vet called and said that she has a UTI but that her blood levels are all normal, so that is great news. no serious condition! disaster averted!
so right now i'm sitting here, feeling her furry body on my feet, and i can actually hear birds singing outside. i kid you not. it's like the coziest moment... i love her so much it makes my heart hurt. and birds are singing like on frickin' snow white.
it's sunny, it's partway through march, my dog is ok, my boy is ok, our house is ok, our friends and families are ok. it's so nice to emerge, even momentarily, from winter and feel like sunshine and puppies are ahead.
off to the emergency room we go, in fear of the bill. several hours later, the vet gives us some scary news...it could be serious but they won't know more until they have her overnight and run $800 worth of tests....um, no.
we declined, they gave her fluids and painkillers, and we took her home. all the while, i worried. the next morning she was still sluggish. william stayed home with her and took her out every half hour or so. slowly but surely, she started to come around. she wagged her tail and ran to the door when i came home.
at the vet appointment, she stood up on her hind legs and threw her "arms" around my neck and nuzzled my face in while they examined her (two rectal exams in two days--and she was a champ). it felt like the most tender moment we've ever had, and my heart melted on the spot. she is our little furbaby.
she is seeming to get stronger and more like herself by the hour. but she is still refusing to drink water. this makes me worry.
the vet called and said that she has a UTI but that her blood levels are all normal, so that is great news. no serious condition! disaster averted!
so right now i'm sitting here, feeling her furry body on my feet, and i can actually hear birds singing outside. i kid you not. it's like the coziest moment... i love her so much it makes my heart hurt. and birds are singing like on frickin' snow white.
it's sunny, it's partway through march, my dog is ok, my boy is ok, our house is ok, our friends and families are ok. it's so nice to emerge, even momentarily, from winter and feel like sunshine and puppies are ahead.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
molly is the singer in the band
hey kids.
sorry for the delays... william and i both got the wicked puking flu twice and have been down for the count. plus william is planning to show his photos in the st. paul art crawl and has been preparing for that... lots of stuff going on.
one of our bestest friends, jennie, has left for paraguay this morning at 4 am. she joined the peace corps and promises to thank me when she wins the nobel peace prize. i have been immensely excited for her... i think she's gonna love it...and be great at what she'll be doing... but i'm sad anyway. normally i hear from her eleventy million times a day by email and phone. she always shows up when i need her. she makes me laugh. i already miss her giggle. she gives good advice and she is loving and generous and kind. she is smart and pretty, as we like to say. she's had a lot to do with william and i getting together and so we owe her a lot. we will miss her deeply, but we won't forget about her! expect packages, jennie! and you know i want to come to paraguay besides.
william and i have entered into something new and exciting, too. (not as exciting as paraguay). we're now the proud owners of a beautiful little 8-year-old cockapoo named Molly. We got her at the Humane Society two weeks ago today. She is a wonderful little being. She is obedient, polite, sweet-natured, and really playful. She likes her red and pink toys the best it seems, and likes to kick them around the loft by herself and chase them. She also fetches and likes to run away from you when retrieving the ball, then allowing you to "catch' her and give up the ball for another toss. she likes bacon-flavored treats a lot! she has been having some separation anxiety--hates being left alone, basically--and acts out while we are gone by barking and whining and twice peeing in her kennel. but I took her to the vet and she said we can train her out of it and she gave me a prescription for xanax, an anti-anxiety pill, to help calm her down while we are gone (during the transition period... the last two days: no pee, no barking that i know of (we have been taping her for the first hour we are gone). she seems more content, less clingy when we are home, and not so stressed out in general. yay for molly!!!! we call her molly mcbutter, molly dog, mcB, and molly jones (like the beatles song). i feel so lucky she has come into our lives. she loves us both and we are so ridiculously sickeningly in love with her... a couple photos are on the flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/willikat). even a super-scary lookin' gangsta stopped to pet her one day, and many people have stopped and removed their mittens (tough when it's this cold), to give her a pet while we are outside.
so that means we haven't done any wedding planning. we're still contemplating may of next year, at the weisman or como zoo. possibly an away wedding, but not looking like it at this point.
better writing to come, just need some time and internet at home. just wanted to update...
xoxo
sorry for the delays... william and i both got the wicked puking flu twice and have been down for the count. plus william is planning to show his photos in the st. paul art crawl and has been preparing for that... lots of stuff going on.
one of our bestest friends, jennie, has left for paraguay this morning at 4 am. she joined the peace corps and promises to thank me when she wins the nobel peace prize. i have been immensely excited for her... i think she's gonna love it...and be great at what she'll be doing... but i'm sad anyway. normally i hear from her eleventy million times a day by email and phone. she always shows up when i need her. she makes me laugh. i already miss her giggle. she gives good advice and she is loving and generous and kind. she is smart and pretty, as we like to say. she's had a lot to do with william and i getting together and so we owe her a lot. we will miss her deeply, but we won't forget about her! expect packages, jennie! and you know i want to come to paraguay besides.
william and i have entered into something new and exciting, too. (not as exciting as paraguay). we're now the proud owners of a beautiful little 8-year-old cockapoo named Molly. We got her at the Humane Society two weeks ago today. She is a wonderful little being. She is obedient, polite, sweet-natured, and really playful. She likes her red and pink toys the best it seems, and likes to kick them around the loft by herself and chase them. She also fetches and likes to run away from you when retrieving the ball, then allowing you to "catch' her and give up the ball for another toss. she likes bacon-flavored treats a lot! she has been having some separation anxiety--hates being left alone, basically--and acts out while we are gone by barking and whining and twice peeing in her kennel. but I took her to the vet and she said we can train her out of it and she gave me a prescription for xanax, an anti-anxiety pill, to help calm her down while we are gone (during the transition period... the last two days: no pee, no barking that i know of (we have been taping her for the first hour we are gone). she seems more content, less clingy when we are home, and not so stressed out in general. yay for molly!!!! we call her molly mcbutter, molly dog, mcB, and molly jones (like the beatles song). i feel so lucky she has come into our lives. she loves us both and we are so ridiculously sickeningly in love with her... a couple photos are on the flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/willikat). even a super-scary lookin' gangsta stopped to pet her one day, and many people have stopped and removed their mittens (tough when it's this cold), to give her a pet while we are outside.
so that means we haven't done any wedding planning. we're still contemplating may of next year, at the weisman or como zoo. possibly an away wedding, but not looking like it at this point.
better writing to come, just need some time and internet at home. just wanted to update...
xoxo
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