Not Really an Issue but Kind of…

It’s about the bed but related to sleeping, not, you know, recreational activity, ahem, as it were…

My partner and I both want the same side of the bed.  If you are in it, it’s the right hand side.  We both have our reasons and we both think that our reasons outweigh her reasons.  So far I am winning.

When T first moved in I let her have the right side.  She wanted it and I was in a tolerant mood.  Soon after, however, I said that I needed to switch sides with her.  I said that the other side was too claustrophobia-inducing for me.  It’s the side next to the wall; the bed is a couple feet away from the wall, but still.  I have a deeply ingrained need to be able to bolt.  Domestic violence scars will do that to a person.  I get a little panicky when I feel trapped.

Her reasons are less potent – to me, at least.  She has always slept on that side; her shoulder hurts if she lies on the other side; she is not as comfortable or as able to ‘get busy’ on that side; and her latest, she can’t sleep through the night when she is on the other side of the bed.

In response to her latest I said that she would just have to get used to not sleeping through the night.  I mean, that’s part of aging, right?!  In middle age our sleep patterns change.  She can’t sleep through the night because she is a menopausal, middle-aged woman!  Not my fault!

We were at a stalemate for a while, she refusing to budge and me being bitter and resentful.  Then, she adopted the scared little dog.  HA!

Tanner has special needs.  One of his needs is that he needs to sleep somewhere that he feels secure.  T built him a special bed and put it on the right side our bed.  That just didn’t work.  He didn’t feel secure, it’s right by the door and there is too much coming and going.  He would run to the far side of the bed and hide but then when I would walk over there to get in bed, he would bark and growl at me and generally freak out.

So, I told her that for the dog’s peace of mind we would have to switch sides.  She agreed; reluctantly, grudgingly and gracelessly, but she agreed.  She moved to the wall side of the bed. 

Now that Tanner has relaxed somewhat she wants to switch back to the other side.  I am holding firm on my refusal to move.  She then asked if we could rearrange the furniture so that the left side of the bed was near the door and the right side would be next to the closet.  It’s not an ideal arrangement by any stretch, and I’m not even sure that it would work.  The door would open right onto the bed that way.  Plus, another of my quirks is that I feel much healthier when my bed is facing south.  It took me many years to figure this out, but it makes a big difference for me, especially in this cloudy climate.  I feel a little too idiosyncratic with this additional requirement, but I’m just being me. 

So far, I’m still on the right side.  Thanks, Tanner.  Good boy!

Ketchup

Here’s a little catch up post:

• ·         The Seahawks won the Super Bowl!  But, you knew that already…  still, we’re happy!  My hair color is slowly washing out.  Still quite colorful, though!
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• ·         Remember the old dog we were fostering?  Angus?  He got adopted!  Amazingly, there were three different families that were interested in him and we had to let him go.  He is now living downtown in one of the swankiest neighborhoods in Portland.  He has a middle-aged dog buddy and two happy humans to keep him company.  We haven’t taken on another foster yet, but we will.
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• ·         I have filled the open support staff position (again) in my office and I am sending up a prayer that it is for the last time.   We’ll see.  Once she gets up to speed, I will be transferring some of my workload to her and scaling back on my hours.  I am so excited at the prospect of working less!
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• ·         A friend from childhood is coming to Portland on a college scouting trip with her son.  She asked if they could stay.  When we were talking about it, I thought the plan was for them to come on Friday and leave on Saturday.  So, I said yes.  Then she sent me her itinerary.  They are coming Thursday and leaving Monday.  Who does that?!  We haven’t seen each other for many, many years; I’ve never met her son; we have other plans…  yikes!  T is fuming, of course.  I mean, it’s a holiday weekend!  We had planned to sleep in!  We’ll see how this plays out.  There’s little chance that they will get a second invitation. (Am I being too grouchy? Not sure.)
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• ·         I’ve been enjoying the Olympics – despite Bob Costas’ eye issues.  But, just like every other time, I take issue with the broadcasting decisions.  Why do we only get to see the pretty people, or the sure winners, or just the Americans?  And, for crying out loud, why is NBC running infomercials on Saturday instead of showing non-stop games?!  Gah!!!  If only I were in charge of the broadcast!  We would see it ALL!
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• ·         The snow.  Ok, I hesitate to add this to the list since all of you live in places that get real winter weather and have been bludgeoned by it this winter.  BUT.  We had a snow storm in Portland that shut the city down.  It was crazy.  Kind of fun since it happens so seldom, but also kind of pathetic and aggravating.  The snow was followed by an ice storm just to add to the transportation woes, but we are all back at work now and the snow has melted.  At least throughout the metro area.  Hopefully we got lots in the mountains and it will last.  We don’t want to follow California into a drought.   I did get my cross country skis out and went around the block.  That was fun.  Then I went inside and watched the Olympians cross country skiing.  Nice juxtaposition, I though.  :-)

I think that’s it for now.  I’m trying to keep track of stuff and actually post the occasional update. 

Cheers, m’dears!

Yes, another.

But, it will be different this time!

Last Saturday we went down to the shelter and picked up another dog to foster.  Not a puppy this time, that was just too hard.  Too hard on T, for sure, because: puppies!  So adorable!  This time, though, it will be different.  Probably too different.  This time we are fostering an old dog.  Here he is:

Handsome oldster, isn't he?!?

His shelter name is Walter, but that didn't work for me because I have a brother with the same name.  Too awkward.  We decided on Angus.  We tried out lots of other names, calling him everything we could think of with a good boy! tone in our voices.  He was picked up as a stray on the 12th and no one has come to claim him.  The shelter originally listed him as a lab cross, but he clearly isn't.  Our best guess is Cattle dog, Australian Shepherd, or Heeler mix.  Hence the name Angus.  I thought that was rather clever.  Soon he will even respond to it!

Here's the thing.  Old dogs don't stand much of a chance at getting adopted.  We didn't want him to have to live the rest of his life at the shelter so we took him in, knowing that we'll probably have him as long as he lasts.  The shelter will call it a foster placement for several months, but after that they will consider it an adoption.  That's ok.  He's super easy going, gets along with the other pets (although, he does want to herd them), walks perfectly on a leash and just wants to hang out with us all the time.  The shelter vet speculated that he was about 10 years old, but who knows.

I wasn't willing to adopt the puppy but I will definitely keep the old dog.

(Photo: taken by me.  But, that is not T sitting behind Angus.  It's a friend of hers.)

Two Old Girls

Conflating

Conflate: noun. 1) To bring together; meld or fuse.  2) To combine (two variant texts, for example) into one whole.

Thursday I have to have my dog put to sleep.

It’s time, I know that.  It’s past time, actually.  I’ve been wondering when this day would come, and putting it off.  She is ancient, especially for a biggish dog.  I’ve written about her before.  She has been declining for a while.  Her eyesight and hearing are nearly gone, as is her bladder control.  I’ve been washing rugs for months.  I buy vinegar by the gallon jug.

For the last couple of months (or years), we have had to help her get up off the floor.  We lift up her back end, under her back legs, and hold her steady until she gets her balance and starts walking.  But now, even that isn’t enough help.  She almost can’t keep all four legs under her at the same time.  We stand her up, she falls down.  We hold up her back legs and the front ones go.  T built her a ramp to get from the deck to the back yard and it works just fine as long as you walk beside her, holding her up.

So, yes, it’s time.  I called the house call vet last week to schedule an appointment, and of course he was out of town.  He emailed me back and we set the time for Thursday, 7 July at 4pm.  It’s ok that I had an extra week.  For one thing, she has gotten worse over the course of the week, and it has allowed me to really see that it must be done.  I wanted her to die naturally, in her sleep, but she hasn’t complied with that.  So, yes, on Thursday I must put our elderly family pet to sleep.

Conflate: to combine into one whole.

I can’t help but look at the other elderly dying family member. 

I am not conflating my mom with my dog.  Not really.  But it feels ominous somehow, or disrespectful, or like I’m tempting fate.  I feel like I am taking away what time Cookie has, time that she could be enjoying a treat, or watching the shadows of people pass by from the front porch.  I’m taking away the tail-wagging, tongue-lolling, happy to see me, cheerful individual who has lived in my house for 16 years.  Am I going to cause a shift in the space – time continuum that will cascade on to my mother?  By putting the dog down am I negatively impacting my mother’s survival?

Of course I know that this isn’t true.  My mum and my dog are not psychically connected.  It just feels too close to the bone, too close to the heart, too fragile.  Too something.

My mum still has some time left.  And, she is in much better shape than the dog!  She has good days and bad days, and yesterday was discouraging, but she is still her essential self.  But then, so is Cookie. There isn’t anything I can do, at this point, to lengthen Cookie’s life, and I wouldn’t want to.  She is tired.  She is old.  She is losing the sparkle in her eye.  If I were to keep her alive it would be selfish.  I’m not doing that. 

And I’m not giving up on my mom.  

Holiday giving

We survived the holiday.  It was touch and go a few times, but we made it.  The very best part?  Walking dogs at the animal shelter at 6am on Christmas morning.

My girlfriend volunteers at the county animal shelter, walking and bathing dogs, and occasionally driving them to a new shelter or rescue outfit.  Her regular walk day is Saturday, at 6am.  It's the shift called potty walk for very good reason.  So, with the holiday falling on a Saturday, we weren't sure how many people would show up.  I offered to go with her and help out.  It's overwhelming but the dogs are so damned grateful to get out of the kennel for a few minutes.

We took them little chunks of cheese and various dog treats.  They were wonderful, adorable and heartbreaking.  T knows that she can't bring anymore home, but she would love to.  It's hard not to!

It was definitely the best part of the day.