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The dreams dashed. The dog died. The heart broke.

So tiny he almost got lost among the pillows!

So tiny he almost got lost among the pillows!

Monday was bad in epic proportion. The dashing of dreams, refers to that. But I will get to that later in a different post. Because, as bad as it was…it was a trip to Disneyland in comparison to yesterday. Today? Well…see for yourself.

The house is quiet, and I’m a mess. Still in my pajamas, even after taking The Girls to school. Sobbing. Probably only a matter of time before it turns into weeping, because I am exhausted, and will not have the energy left required to sob.

I miss Lester. A lot.

I got Lester in November 1998, when I traveled back home to attend my Granny’s funeral. He was the last of a litter of puppies my brother John’s dog, Aubie, had birthed. My brother had already named him Lester, after our Papa, and it really seemed to fit. The picture above was taken about a month after I got him. My reason for wanting him was simple: I had a tiny Miniature Dachshund named Edie who had been an only dog for a year, and she needed a friend. So I paid fifty bucks I didn’t have to put him on the plane with me. She was overjoyed to have a playmate and they have been buddies ever since. At one point, they tried to be more than friends, but we “nipped that in the bud”…literally. Lol. Shortly after Lester came to live with me and Edie, we all went to live with The Man at the beach. It was the beginning of our family. Two lovebirds and their K-9 babies 🙂

Over the years, we added to our family. Three precious daughters and a revolving door of dogs, cats, guinea pigs, lizards, bunnies….you name it! We are animal lovers, what else can I say? Each time a new critter came to hang out at our house, Edie and Lester just shrugged it off. They reigned supreme, and they knew it. We had them first. The Girls have been raised to love living creatures, so it’s no surprise that I have a treasure trove of priceless memories involving them and our pets. If y’all have pets, I’m sure you understand. The obvious drawback, is they don’t live forever. A reality our little family is faced with yet  again, in less than a year.

Almost a year ago, and just 3 weeks after we lost Leroi, our King Charles Cavalier to diabetes, Lester had a seizure while hanging out on the front lawn. The Man immediately rushed him to the vet. The diagnosis we received sucked. He had a Stage 3 heart murmur and was in congestive heart failure. Due to his robust size…almost 14 pounds…his heart was working in over-drive to circulate his blood. As a result, fluid was collecting around his heart and in his belly, putting pressure on everything. What I thought was a seizure, what in actuality, a heart attack. Essentially, his heart was being squeezed and his breathing compromised. All because he liked to catch scraps more than he liked to exercise, bless his bones! The vet said he would be lucky to make it another year. Medication was prescribed, and he was sent home. We vowed to let him enjoy the time he had left. No holds barred 🙂

All of us, but especially The Girls, took a renewed interest in him. Loved on him more, took him on extra walks, tried to no avail to teach him to play around, rather than just lay around. At first, his medication seemed to keep fluid retention and mini-heart attacks at bay, and put the spring back in his step. Of course all the attention certainly did! The Oldest even began having him sleep with her at night. Lester LOVED that, and sort of became her personal protector. He would seek her out at bedtime, and make her follow him to her room. HE was tired, and it didn’t matter if she was or not. LOL. But we all knew the inevitable was going to happen. We just didn’t know when. An agonizing purgatory to be caught in.

About 3 months ago, his ‘episodes’ increased. They became more frequent. Instead of having them once in a while, when he got excited, they often happened a couple of times a day, unprovoked, and he would lose control of his bladder/bowels.  Then he would stand back up, and appear normal. However, we noticed a change in his personality. The spark was fading from his eye, he no longer stood at our feet begging for food. You want to know the most notable change though?

He stopped his sympathetic crying. 

Throughout the course of The Girls lives, anytime Lester heard the sound of them crying, he howled like a banshee. Having 3 daughters in the house, you can imagine the amount of crying we witnessed…daily. Lester’s “sympathy” was a running joke among friends and family members. Inevitably, I would be on the phone talking to someone, a sibling rivalry would break out, causing an injury, and one or more of The Girls would cry. Lester would instantaneously begin making a sound that can only be described as shrill and eardrum splitting. “EYE, EYE, EYE, EYE..,” he would howl! In the midst of it all, the doorbell might ring, just because God thought it would add to the chaos and be damn funny. I swore I was going to get it all on video someday, but I couldn’t ever manage to diffuse all the problems and get everyone calmed down while handling a recording device. Go figure.

Anyway, about 2 weeks ago the CHF really started digging in and it was clear his time was approaching. His fluid medication was no longer controlling the retention very well. Despite continuing to eat, he was losing weight everywhere except his belly, and his mobility became compromised as a result. He didn’t want to walk anymore. Nothing to do but wait until he indicated he was ready to let go, or that he was in pain. So far, he hadn’t given us any indication of that.  Until Sunday morning, when he refused food for the first time in his life. Then Monday night, he started whining. I stayed up with him all night, cradling him in my arms and making him as comfortable as possible. When he lost control of his bladder, I bathed him in warm water, and gently dried him with the blow dryer. I hugged him as tight as I possibly could, without adding to his discomfort, while rocking and whispering to him how much we loved him and how we were going to miss him. I also told him about whom he could expect to see and play with in Heaven: Mama and Daddy; Leroi; Aubie (his mama); Hannah (my sister’s dog); Zoe & Ginger (my in-laws doggies); Mazzy & Keely (Vicky’s kitties); Sasha (Grace’s dog); Lucca (Shea’s dog) and Ben (our neighbor’s dog). I wanted to make sure he knew he would be in good company 🙂

Yesterday morning, The Man said his farewell to Lester before leaving for work. The Girls gave their before heading out to school. They were very brave, and no tears were shed. After the trauma of our loss a year ago, they were, obviously more prepared than I for the void about to be created in our lives. Once everyone had been delivered to their obligatory places, it was up to me. So, with a heart as heavy as stone, yet as fragile as glass, I pulled up my bootstraps, gathered him in his favorite blanket, and drove the half mile to the vet, with him in my lap. For his last visit. It was time to say goodbye to our precious doggie after 13.5 years. He was suffering, and we all knew it. It was the right thing to do, because he needed to rest peacefully.

The weather was shitty. Cold, gray and rainy. It’s the same today. Having called ahead, they were expecting me, and the entire staff was very sad. They knew Lester. They loved him too. It was awful, but their compassion made it bearable. He slipped peacefully into eternal rest, with his human mama holding his paw and kissing his nose. Once it was over, I sat in the room with him, alone, for what seemed like an eternity, yet not nearly enough time….crying.

And I haven’t stopped since.

We sure are going to miss this guy.

We sure are going to miss this guy.

“You got 10 Minutes?”

There should be a picture of a MAN.

There should be a picture of a MAN.

Okay, I learned a valuable lesson yesterday:

Don’t read posts from other blogs to The Man, as he will inevitably ask a question related to the post, leading to a discussion I really don’t want to be a part of. How did I not anticipate that? Dammit.  

That being said, his question inspired this post, so I suppose I should mumble ‘thank you’ under my breath at some point later this evening. Of course, that will depend on how many views it gets…lol. Yeah, I’m a bitch like that 🙂 

Anyway, after reading this to him, from Chopping Potatoes, The Man asked:

“Why do women always put the desire of sex on their mates, by saying ‘he might get lucky’? How come I’ve never heard a woman say, ‘It would make my day if I GET LUCKY later’? Do women view sex as an obligatory chore?” 

wow. Wow. WOW.

I sat speechless, which almost never happens. Searching for, not just words, but the right words. Blurting out what I was thinking was simply unacceptable, but I had to say something, right? So I stammered and managed to evade a direct answer by saying I needed to consult other women before opening Pandora‘s Box. He suggested I blog about it, and here I am. Something tells me after reading this, he will not make that mistake again 🙂

My theory is that, sex drives and desires are unique to each individual woman. You’re probably thinking, “Damn. This woman is a genius!”  Yeah, right.  This being said, I believe once you become a mother, a completely different light is cast upon sex, and it occupies a less emergent spot on the “to do list”. When a woman is single and dating, or committed–yet not tethered to small humans demanding her undivided attention–sex is a little more, dare I say?…exciting. Something you WANT TO DO. It can be spontaneous, and happen almost anywhere, anytime. If the mood hits, BAM…you can be in the moment. However, when you are constantly aware of the bazillion things you must do to maintain order among your tribe, it somehow morphs into…well…a chore. One more thing you have to schedule into your already-bursting-at-the-seams calendar. Something reserved for date nights, the occasional kids are sleeping at a friends’ or  their grandparents’ house….OR the miraculous, by the grace of God, once every few years, “grown up weekend away together”. Oh what I would give for one of those! And even then, I suspect, I might just want to sleep. LOL.

There is another aspect to all of this though. Scientific evidence exists to support the fact that men think about sex more often than women, they seek it out more frequently, and are more straightforward in the approach and expectations. An excellent article highlighting these statements can be found here at WebMD.  Honestly, my own husband could be the poster child for the article. There is a running joke in our house associated with the normally benign statement “Hey, you got 10 minutes?” as it is code for “I want to bang you like a drum–right now. The problem is,  The Man asks whenever I am busy with things like getting ready for a meeting, catching up on laundry, doing dishes, taking care of the family pets, paying bills, gathering internet research or performing just about any other responsibility that must be completed in the precious hours of the day when all three of  The Girls are at school, and before they need to be shuttled here and there for after school activities.

Oooohhhhh…..Did I forget to mention The Man has been on hiatus from his job, intermittently, for the better portion of the last 7 months? And he doesn’t have any hobbies. NONEAre you understanding why this is a problem for me? Yes. I thought so.

On the flip side, I AM thankful that, after 13 years of marriage and 3 delightful children…he still honestly believes I am the hottest thing on two legs, and is genuinely attracted to me. How do I know this? Because he tells me. Every. Single. Day. So, it’s not just an attempt to satisfy his biological need to “release” in order to avoid the apparent pain of blue balls. My apologies for the ‘frat boy’ reference. I just couldn’t think of a better way to say it.

I do realize I suck for not “hoping to get lucky” more often and for never being vocal about it when I desire to. Dear Husband, I owe you an apology for that. From now on, I will be diligent in my effort to let you know how very much I want to screw your brains out love and desire you, and show you how blessed I feel that you are my smoking hot hubby. Oh, and I vow to ask “You got 10 minutes?” every single time I witness you doing dishes, vacuuming floors, making dinner, or watching a big game on ESPN.

Promise.

Actually, I think I got a fandamntastic start on this with the “Trophy Husband” tee-shirt I bought you today, huh?

Night, y’all 🙂

N

M. This one’s for you.

Pretty much sums up my personality.

Pretty much sums up my personality.

Seriously.

It’s also precisely why I try not to engage in conversations about religion, politics or parenting, with family, friends, friends of friends, potential friends….oh hell…even perfect strangers for that matter. It just doesn’t pay off. For me.

I will, however, argue over just about anything else. For example, this. For as long as it takes to win. Or beat my opponent down.

Or I turn blue in the face while correcting their grammar to save face.

Or both.

I realize this is not a redeeming quality, and often leads to the silent treatment for hours at a time from The Man, and The Oldest Girl. Who, btw, is just like me. A formidable opponent, if only she had the years of life experience I have up on her.  Wait, did I just put THAT out into the universe? Crap.

Anyway, this talk of arguing brings me to my second post about blessings. My first was about one of my besties, Grace. Who, btw, gave birth to a perfect baby boy named  Ayden, 19 days ago. Mama and baby are doing marvelously. I am thanking God for that, and for the fact that he is a HE, because do we ever need some blue up in here to balance out all this pink 🙂

So.

This blessing post is dedicated to my sweet friend Marilynn. You can visit her blog here. She’s amazing. And just became even (to quote my Youngest Girl) “amazing-er”, recently. I’d tell you why, but it’s not my story to tell. So you’ll just need to follow her blog and see what happens, I guess. So there.

Right about now you are probably wondering how on earth I’m going to tie this into my love for arguing, aren’t you?  The thing is, I met Marilynn 5 years ago, via a cyber argument on a now defunct parenting site called CityMommy. Oh how I miss CM!  The topic? Spanking. The mother of all, “do not comment on” topics you might see on an open discussion forum on a parenting site. Yep. I swallowed the bait….hook, line and sinker. No. That’s wrong. I actually ate the pole, come to think of it.

Maybe even the boat, too.

Of course, this was before I decided never to engage in conversations about parenting. In fact, it was the very first time I ever had, on the first parenting site I had ever joined. Call it a rookie mistake. Yes, that’s it.  And, although I, metaphorically speaking, got my ass chewed out while doing so, I made quite a few friends in the process. Still have most of them to this day. Shocking isn’t it?  By now, you’ve figured out where I stood on the topic, haven’t you? I should add that being the opinionated Capricorn I am, I argue with organization, efficiency, and grace. Especially from behind a computer screen. No, I don’t hide behind it. What you read is what you get, and I have no problem saying it to your face. Period.

Anyway, the debate on CM lasted several days and resulted in me inviting a relative stranger to travel halfway around the world to stay with me and my family in our house, so I could gather up all the participating CM’s in Los Angeles and throw a party in her honor. My sister who lives in Alabama was also involved in this shindig, but that’s another blessing story altogether, and I have to work up to it. Might be a novel all by itself.

So, now we are back to Marilynn, and why she is a blessing in my life.

Quite honestly, she is one of the reasons you are reading this blog at all. She’s a physically stunning, wise woman, phenomenal mother, gifted educator, published author and experienced mommy blogger. In other words, she wears many hats and knows the ropes. The ones I’m up against daily. Except for the whole physically stunning/published author part, because I look like a tiny, gray-rooted troll in worn out yoga pants on a good day. And the only thing I’ve published is this blog.

At any rate, I asked for her help, and she started spewing advice left and right. She explained why I didn’t have any followers, despite the fact that I started the blog over a year ago on a different site. “That’s more of a visual blog site. Not one for content heavy bloggers like us,” she said, matter of factly.  Then, she sent me a link on how to move the blog to WordPress. And here I am. Honestly, if word gets around, and I become known in the blogging world as a force to be reckoned with….WordPress owes her, big time. What I will owe her, goes without saying, of course.

Marilynn and I are two women from completely opposite sides of the world, with radically different ideas about parenting and motherhood, who bonded over the common ground of an argument and developed a glorious friendship in the years following. How about that? She even taught me how to Skype! Once that got going, we chatted at least once a week for very long periods of time. That is how we truly became friends, and discovered we had quite a bit in common, despite our divides. Obviously what everyone says is true. The more you talk to someone, the better you know them. Lines of communication really are essential. Keep them open, even if they are lines of disagreement.

And if you lose the connection? Call back. It’s usually worth the time.

Over the past year or so, Marilynn and I stopped making time to chat. Or maybe just I did. My life got really mucky and all up in the way, and I decided to hide. Recently, I’ve come out of hiding and she was right there, waiting on me, and our conversation picked up just where it left off. Easy and comfortable, between two old friends.  Want to know the best part? She’s really attentive, and listens when she knows I need her to, and then says all the right things after I’m done rambling.

That’s the real blessing.

And M….You just have no idea the can of worms you have opened.  Thanks for that 🙂

xo,

N

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