Lonely House

Someday the hole will fill.

I'll feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and smell the wind and not get so choked up. There's so much beauty out here. Not a day goes by that I don't think how lucky I am to be driving along a road so full of pine, elk out in pastures grazing, coyotes calling to one another, and the little bunnies that dodge the cars at night. How many people live in such a place as this?

Soda loved it too. He liked the freedom of being outside to sniff around as he liked. Someone said he went out to find a female, and that could be true, but I think he went out for many of the same reasons I do.

I've called a few people to tell them. My sister cried. I didn't think she'd get choked up since she was one of them that kind of made fun of me when I went ballistic another time when Soda went missing. It was Nate's 40th "surprise" birthday party. Soda was no where to be found. I had arranged for people to pop out for Nate and stuff like that and I ended up going all over our neighborhood in the night calling for my dog. It turned out he had followed me into the storage room in the basement when I went to get wrapping paper and I shut the door with him still in the storage room. Lori made fun of me because I was so upset.

He had a habit of taking off for hours, only this time he didn't come back. I knew that it wasn't that he didn't come back, it was that he couldn't come back.

I prayed that if someone had him that they would be honest and take him to a vet or shelter to have him scanned. Then I just prayed that if someone knew where he was that they be honest. I was given an answer to this prayer.

I don't think of much else around this house. So much reminds me of my puppy. I read other peoples blogs and wonder if I'll ever be able to blog about something humorous, or witty, or about something that just makes me laugh.

I am a journal writer, not a blogger, so this tends to be more journalistic. I keep feeling like I'm supposed to write for someone elses benefit. But I can't. I keep thinking I should be less sad and move on.....but I can't. I keep feeling as if someone would read this and say....."OMG, it's just a dog!!!". But he wasn't "just a dog" to me.

The house feels empty. I'm afraid to brush the stairs with the new hair remover brush because once the dog hair is gone, there won't be more to clean up ever again.

It's so final. I so want to see him again. I want to hold him and cuddle him and feel the soft spots behind his ears. I was looking forward to smelling his newly washed coat, it had only been a day since his bath and I worked so I didn't get to hug him while he smelled clean and fresh.

He was like one of my kids. My kids even know he was like one of the kids. I've called him "your brother" to Whit a few times. He didn't appreciate it.

A Mournful Day

It's 7:o2 right now on October the 6th, 2007.

I prayed last night that I would get some sign or be told where Soda was, and in my dream I heard ...........He is not in your area...........

I didn't know if that meant he had gone as far away as Colorado Springs or Castle Rock or what. I know now that it meant he has left this earth.

We just buried our puppy. Someone called us this morning saying they saw the sign we put up in Larkspur and gave us the exact location where to find him. We hurried into the car to see if it was him......... and it was. My heart was racing as we went to see if it was Soda. I didn't want it to be him, but I also wanted an end to the worry and wonder about where he was, if he was with someone or if he had been hit. Since he's been gone we've been up and down that road looking for him, everyone of us looking for several days and none of us has seen him. A lady came out of her driveway which is directly on the other side of the road where his body was and she said she's not seen his body there for the last three days. We feel that the person that called to tell us where to find the body may have been the one to have hit him and placed the body where we would be able to find him.

I'm not mad at them, Soda left when it was dark. He's black and would be near to invisible on a dark road in the night. When I've taken him running with me along this same road I've had a devil of a time getting him to stay on my right on the dirt edge of the road. I would stop jogging just to make a point of teaching. He didn't ever understand the danger of a car. I finally stopped taking him on my jogs afraid he would get hit.

He did any way.

We've had him for about 8 years and got him when he was about 2 months old, just three days after the death of our other dog Zacharia Rufus. Zach was a Schnauzer and belonged more to Nate than to me or anyone else.

I think that's why when we got Soda I went out of my way to bond with him. Whit and Heather came here to Colorado to spend the summer with Grandma and Grandpa. So I took advantage of the special time between me and my new puppy. I bathed Soda and loved him up hoping he would become mine. He wasn't really MY dog per se, he was our family dog, but I think everyone in our family will agree who he looked to as his "head human".

So many things remind me of him. Just coming into the door is a reminder as I take care not to open it too fast or with too much force for fear of hitting him in the head. That habit will take time to change. I will miss him before I go to work as he was my companion and kept me from being lonely that early in the morning. I will miss him jumping up on the bed eager to share in the licorice crows Nate and I would eat while watching a movie. I will miss his hair all over the carpet and stairs, his hunching so as not to pee when he gets too excited when I get home. I'll miss his funny screeching cry when the kids would run and hide and he would run from room to room looking for them yelping and screaming, everyone laughing their guts out. I'll miss playing ball and frisbee with him.

We buried him up on the land amidst pine trees and scrub oak. I put three balls, a can of room spray, some pictures and one of the signs we put up when he was lost. He loved to take walks with us and would run up ahead and then back to me and jump up on me, then he'd run up ahead and come back so excited and jump up on me again. It drove me nuts. But I'd love to have him back to take with me on walks and kiss my face stinky breath and all.

Aubrey asked me if we'lll get another dog. I don't want another one right now. I just want to remember him and all the wonderful things he was to me.

I hope there is a heaven where there is lots of green grass, frisbees and balls and most of all someone to love him as much as we do. We'll miss you Soda.

Soda Pop

Born Approx May 1999

Died Approx Oct 2nd 2007

Blogs on Dogs

It seems I've created a few blogs about someone elses dog, now it's about my own. My dog Soda decided to go for a jaunt on the night of the 2nd of October. He hasn't come back. This has been an ongoing thing with him to leave when let out at night, but he usually comes back. I would go ballistic when he'd been gone over a couple of hours, and the family kind of made fun of me for it. Maybe they know now how I have felt each time he has taken too much time outside. It's so vast out here. There are too many places for him to get lost, or bears could eat him, or he could get run over or stolen. My fear is that someone isn't honest and wants to keep him. He is cute, trained, sweet, loving. Everything a person could want in a dog. He has a microchip, but without the collar, I wonder if someone would take the time to have him checked for the chip.

My heart aches for my loss. He was my shadow 24/7. I'd get up early to go to work, he was up on his hind legs kissing me while I sat on the toilet. He'd lay on the floor of the bathroom while I showered and would lick the water off my legs when I'd get out......... Yeah, he was trying to help me get dry. He'd look forelorn when I left for work and would wait at the window for my return. He would sleep on my neck at night if I let him. His obsessions included any kind of ball you could throw for him and he never forgot where it was if it went under the couch he would take you to it. He loved it when you sprayed room spray. We could spray it and he'd hear it from upstairs, and run down to bite the canister. He wanted you to spray him in the face. But the one thing he loved the most was his shot put ball. He would push it around on the grass of our West Valley back yard. Our yard was tiered so he would push it down hill, then football hike it between his legs until he got it back on the top of the hill, then push it down again. His front teeth are worn down from that ball, as well as a little permanent pink spot on his snout from it.
We have video footage of him pushing it around in our back yard. I've let him play with it out here, but the ground is as much dirt as grass and he ends up throwing up from the inhaled dust.

His dish of food and water sit untouched in the kitchen. His racketballs and tennis balls rest in the little container on top of the woodburning stove. I check for his hair on the chair of my bedroom where he slept. I've looked all around the house for little pieces of hair to keep and smell to remind me of him. I was always picking up his black hair off the frontroom floor, he was always rolling around to scratch himself. We had just given him a flee bath the night before he left, that's why his collar was off. It was hanging on my treadmill to dry. If only I'd kept it on him after his bath, but it was wet and not letting the hair around his neck dry.

I can't think straight. My mind is bogged down with worry and sorrow. I keep feeling like others think I'm overreacting, but they don't know how much of a friend this loving dog was to me. He was unconditional. He would love me and kiss me and hug me all the time. Even when I was mad at him. He was always there, always ready for attention and love and ever willing to give it. Who wouldn't want a dog like that? That's why I think someone would keep him.

I have to go through the pictures I have and make some posters to put out. That is my plan today

Soda goes missing

I've tried three times to blog and I keep getting kicked out of this site. Maybe the subject matter was all wrong. Maybe I really just want to cry outloud in hopes it will help with the pain.

My dog is gone. I hate the word "dog" because it has been used to describe an ugly person or given as an insult to someone. He is my "friend".

He is the best dog I've ever had and I'm so sick with grief I can think of nothing else.

He took off after being let out before we went to bed and hasn't returned. We've put calls out to every pound, kennel, vet in the area. This place is so big, I can't imagine we will ever see him again.

We had given him a bath so we took off his collar to dry. The tags on the collar have his name and address on them. This is the only time he's been outside without the tags. He's been chipped but who knows if that will do any good.

I am so used to saving the last piece of my toast, or anything I eat for that matter, for him. He follows me everywhere, gets up with me before work, waits at the window for me when I return from work. Would sleep on top of me if he could. He hugs me, I mean really hugs me. Knows when I'm upset so he'll come be near me and always want my attention. I can't stand the thought of not having him around. I just don't know what to do.

I keep praying, but I feel nothing in return, not a sound of comfort or anything. So I think of my niece who lost her son to cancer, and I feel selfish for asking for help from god to return my dog when she wasn't granted to keep her son. But, I love Soda so much. I can't think of anything else. I don't even want to eat.

He left night before last. Today is the fourth of October, so he left the night of October 2nd.

Go Figure, Wobbley Legs Walks Again

I don't get it. Earl came home on Tuesday after going to Utah for a week for a friends funeral. We were afraid he would come home and have to bury another dear friend. I was anxious to see Earl's reaction when he saw how gaunt and debilitated Vic had become, and sure enough, Vic demonstrated his weakness and inability to get from here to there, looking a bit like a frog with his hind legs tucked up under him bent and feeble. I could see it hurt Earl's heart. It made me cry.

So I come home from work last night on Wednesday and Vic greats me fully up on all fours, mostly stable. He's had a hard time being completely able to move his feet without tripping since he was hospitalized, but this was amazing to me!!! How could he go from being so weak and unable to move and then be fully able to walk with little more than and occasional trip of the feet? And then to top it off, I come home from shopping today and Nate tells me Vic has been up on the land with he and Earl while they were cutting down scrub oak and Vic followed them all the way up to the top of the land and back down. What? He walked all that way and back? How in the.......................!! I don't believe it.

The only explaination I can come up with, is that every time Earl leaves, poor Vic goes downhill. I think he gets depressed and it truly effects him physically. I think he is afraid Earl won't ever return. What a love. What an amazing kind of love between dog and master.

Vic reminds me of Earl, he is big and kind of scarey at times. Yet I can see in Vic's eyes that as he gets older, he becomes more vulnerable. Both of them like to be in the open spaces of the land and enjoy their independence. Neither of them understand what's happening as their bodies age and become more feeble, unable to perform as they used to. Both are desperately devoted to those they love, yet there is a side that is misunderstood. Vic being beaten as a pup has made him very defensive about anyone, more specifically males, getting close to his hind quarters or his face.

Both Vic and Earl are big. It's their breed. They don't know when they're being scarey. They don't understand why some people stay away from them. But those who stay away don't know what they are missing. It's been worth it to me to earn Vic's love. I can see it in his eyes. He loves me and I know he knows I love him too. I know Earl knows I love him, even though I've bared my teeth in defense of my kids or the things I believe in. I hug him and tell him I'm glad he's come home. I hope his children will some day come home too before he is gone and it's too late.

Old Wobbly Legs

This was the last of three days of work in a row. By the time the last of three comes, I feel like a stretched out rubber band. Nate called me yesterday at work to tell me Vic couldn't use his legs and that he got stuck in a ditch. Nate said he tried to hump Cisco, the other Rotty, and his legs became useless appendages after that. He's been having trouble with his hind quarters ever since the last time he was sick. He's lost a lot of muscle mass in his back legs, but he really looks cachectic now.

Nate and Heather tried to move him, but he kept trying to bite them. When I got home yesterday I went to see him (the dog) right away and it really hurt met to see him struggle just to move from one spot to the other. It breaks my heart, I help old people in and out of their chairs and beds to the potty all day long and I can't help this dog, whom I love, and I know he will inevitably be put down because he can't walk to get his water, food and go pee. Granted he's over 14 years old, he has cataracts, but he still has the gumption to play humpy-humpy with Cisco. We had to let Cisco sleep in the basement garage just so her smell wouldn't send Vic into a frenzy!!

I know Vic loves me. I'm the only one who dares put my face close enough to his to let him kiss me on the cheek. And he will give me a kiss when I ask him. He bit Nates face when all he wanted to do was hug him. The wound looked like a dollar sign and I took a picture of it with my camera phone. Nate now has a scar and won't go near Vic's face. As I recall, Vic bit Whit on the lip when Whit was about four years old. Vic also ate Whit's bicycle seat. We could have pushed to have Vic put down the first time he bit my boy, but I know Vic's sad and cruel history. When he was a pup, some kids beat him to a pulp, cut his legs and abdomen, smeared grease in the wounds, kicked him in the nuts so hard he swelled. The vet was amazed Vic was still alive. I can't hate him for protecting himself, or, at least feeling defensive around males.

Tonight I came home to find he is still in the same shape, dragging his old bent legs around and feeling pretty upset that Cisco can get to the water bucket and he can't. He dragged himself over to the bucket so he could have a drink of fresh water tonight. I'm not sure if I'm going to allow Cisco to sleep in the upstairs garage tonight so Vic will sleep.

It seems every time Earl goes to Utah, Vic goes spiraling downward. Earl is due to come back tomorrow and his way of putting a dog down is with a 22 rifle. I won't let that happen. I'll pay for the priviledge to ease Vic into the next life where he will frolic free and easy, lay on green grasses and never feel the pain in his legs again.

That time is probably only a matter of hours away and I can barely choke back tears with the pain and sadness of him being gone. I'll miss him, even if he nearly eats my own dog when ever they are near each other.

Accentuate the Positive

Loyalty, or the lack thereof, is a touchy subject to me. Especially when it comes to the loyalty that I see a lack of amidst mine and my husbands family. As a child I just felt that there wasn't anything better than being with my cousins at grandma's house playing in the basement. Aunts and uncles upstairs smoking and drinking coffee, and just talking about what was going on at the time. The house usually smelled like Camel cigarettes, coffee and food. It was the smell of security for me because I found security in being with my family. But those feelings have all changed and it hurts me very much to see us all go our own ways, getting so caught up in our own little lives and not even including those I found to be my security blanket of youth.

Brothers bad mouthing brothers. Uncles sleeping with nieces. Sisters sleeping with their sisters husbands. Family complaining because this one stole from that one. This one loses their kids to the state. Family adopts them, then excludes everyone from the kids lives. This child won't speak to her father because of lies started years ago and the pride to admit wrong doing is too great between them. A father makes devastating changes in his life leaving those who love him hurt and humiliated. So instead of showing the unconditional love they are taught about every Sunday in church, his family lashes out at him by humiliating him to every person they know in the community and in their own church.

Adultery, stealing, lying, hate, anger, all those negative things that can happen have happened in my family. And I wonder where the love has gone. And I wonder why the innocense is gone. And I wonder if I will ever feel the easiness of the wind in my hair as I eat a green apple with salt like I did in grandma's back yard as a child.

I had a dream once of being surrounded by tires and junk in a pool of water. I looked up the meaning in a dream interpretation guide and it said that water can represent the soul, and polluted water is the soul being polluted. That's how I feel. Like I want so bad to be clean, but so many things around me are polluted. My spirituality is unclean, or so it feels. Especially the innocense that goes with the spirituality.

My husband and I just celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. On the way back from the restaurant we started discussing how easy it is to write about sad or negative things. I blog about things that bug me and he writes music that has a bit of a negative edge. Why is it that being negative seems so much easier than being positive.

How does one write about the happy things if the soul doesn't seem happy? Really? I know that there are a multitude of things out there that are bad and it's easy to find a subject to write about.

Children have always been a subject that I can find peace in. Perhaps it's because they are so young, nieve, innocent and it's easy to forgive them their follies. Sometimes their follies follow them into adulthood. Like my son. As an toddler, he used to pass out when he was really mad. It scared the crap out of me the first time he lay limp in my arms. Then after that, I recognized it as a tantrum. The tantrums of fainting have gone, but the tantrums have taken on a different color. My daughters recognized it early on but I ignored them. Now I pay the price and have less control of his behavior or in manipulating him to do as I say. But he is still as good at manipulation as he was as a little boy, only now the things he wants are much more expensive.

One good thing I have to write about is my granddaughter. The thought of her makes me smile and brings me back to the same feelings of innocense as I felt as a child. I love her little laugh, her bright blue eyes and her fair skin which she inherited from her fair mother.

Yes, there are things in my world that can bring me back into the world of happy and Claralynne is one of them. Her parents make me happy too. They have their problems, but don't we all.