So long, Whiz

My hairy sister was a Chocolate Lab/Chessie mix named Cinnamon.  My parents split the cost of her with my half-sister’s Dad.  Lisa had always wanted a dog.  The reality of owning a puppy wasn’t quite what she expected so the responsibility became mine at the age of six.  Lisa moved away to college and Cinnamon stayed with us.  She became my dog, my friend, my family.  We had quite a bond.


I got older, she became geriatric in dog years and eventually her kidneys and liver began shutting down.  I bought her rotisserie chickens and shared all of my food with her.  At that point, it didn’t matter.  I wanted to make her remaining days the best possible.  She lived much longer than the vet expected her to.  He said she likely wouldn’t be around two weeks from then.  She lived almost six months.  She didn’t appear to be in pain, though she was less active during her last days.  She still followed me around and popped her fronts legs up off of the ground repeatedly when she saw me grab the leash.  Walk time!

We weren’t planning to put her to sleep unless we noticed that she was struggling.  The thing about Cinnamon is that she wasn’t very stoic.  Her doofy doggy sibling, Jesse, had his knee and hip replaced by the time he was three years old and didn’t whine once.  Cinnamon had some fatty cysts removed and cried for two days straight.  I cried with her because it made me so sad.


There we are, crying.  Pansy-ass bitches.

We knew she wasn’t in much pain because she seemed happy, so we gave her and ourselves the extra time to enjoy each other’s company.

I was away for a weekend visiting a friend when my Mom called to let me know that I should come home if I wanted to say goodbye to Cinnamon.  My pup was in the sunroom laying on her side and was having trouble breathing because her entire body had become fluid overloaded, likely because her kidneys had completely stopped working.  She was on a sleeping bag barely aware of her surroundings, but when she saw me walk in, her tail started to smack against the floor.  Her less-hairy sister had come home!  It was difficult to see her like that.  When I walked into the house to announce my presence I could see that my Dad had been crying.

My parents called the vet earlier in the day to see if he could come out to put her to sleep because we didn’t want her to suffer any longer than she had to.  Our vet had been called away out of town and wouldn’t return until the following afternoon so we considered loading her into the car to take her to a 24-hour emergency vet in Columbus‚Äč.

I went back out to the sunroom to be with my homie.  I stroked her head and ears as I listened to her labored, irregular breathing.  I told her it was okay to let go.  She didn’t have to suffer anymore.  Not even a minute had passed before she took her final breath, exhaled, then started to twitch.  A few seconds later, she was completely still, tongue hanging out of her mouth.  She was gone.  Maybe it was a coincidence that she died right after I told her it was okay but I like to think she understood what I was saying and that she was happy she didn’t have to die alone.

Cinnamon was cremated and her ashes were buried under a lilac bush.  That bush has been transplanted three times to three different properties.  Cinnamon, the lilac bush.

We went through something similar just three years ago with our Rat Terrier, Gidget.  In many ways, it’s worse than losing a human family member.  Dogs are inherently selfless and good.  The same can’t be said for most people.  It seems unfair that they have such short lifespans, but I don’t think a person can know true love until they’ve had the love of a canine companion.

I’m reminded of all of this because this morning when I visited Whiz to fill her water bowl and spritz her with shedding aid, she was dead.  She started having problems with her eyes a few weeks ago and was so blind that she had to be hand fed.  What I initially thought was a fungus was actually retained skin that hadn’t shed properly.  I don’t know if this was owner error (a new lightbulb, changing the type of substrate) or if she was just old.  When I was home, I was sure to spray her tank with water a few times a day.  Having been away more often than I’ve been at home for the past four months, I don’t know how well she was taken care of while I was gone.  I also have no idea how old she was when I found her, though I assumed she was a juvenile.  It’s not really a surprise.  The surprise is that she lasted as long as she did after we noticed there was a problem.  Yes, it’s a little sad.  She was cool.  I scooped her up and then…flushed her down the toilet.  Sort of like an urban Viking funeral. ūüėČ


So long, Whiz!


Squirrel Culling

While I was in Ohio and MC was in Florida in March/April of last year, the squirrels helped themselves to the wiring on my car that was parked in the driveway in Maryland. ¬†I was livid, but fortunately the only place they chewed completely through was a marker light on the front driver’s side. ¬†It could have been worse.

The entire year MC was out of country, I didn’t have a single problem with the little bastards. ¬†Thinking back, I didn’t see them in our neighborhood all that often. ¬†Apparently his return coincided with the neighbors across the street deciding to feed the squirrels, so now we’ve got a ton of them. ¬†Fucking morons. ¬†If you feed squirrels near your home, you’re asking for trouble.

We’ve been gone again for three months and it was assumed that the wiring on the truck was too old to be appetizing (they like the sweetness of the plastic coating on wires), so we left it as it was. ¬†They didn’t seem to mess with it before we left.

I’ve decided these particular squirrels are just a bunch of assholes, because they DID eat the wiring in the truck and built a nest on top of the engine block. ¬†They chewed the wiring to the coil pack, which means it’s running on 7 cylinders instead of 8, the ignition switch wiring, the thermostat wiring, and the water pump wiring. ¬†Essentially, it’d cost more to fix than what the truck is worth. ¬†I hate the truck and you may have guessed that I was secretly celebrating the news.

Just because the cost can’t be justified doesn’t mean that the money won’t be spent anyhow because MC is quite fond of his piece of shit truck. ¬†The truck is in the shop and we’re setting live traps up all over our lot, hoping to catch and drown a few. ¬†Yes, I said drown. ¬†I won’t be there to witness it. ¬†In fact, I told him I don’t even want to know when it happens. ¬†As much as I hate squirrels, I couldn’t kill them.

I can call the housing office to ask about pest control, but as long as the neighbors are being fucktards and feeding the little fucks, it’d be a waste of time and resources. ¬†I had considered discussing removing the squirrel feeder with them until I saw a trio of squirrels running into the wheel well of one of the vehicles parked in their driveway. ¬†They can learn their lesson the hard way.

Sudafed For-ev-er

Eight days! ¬†I haven’t heard Harpy’s voice in eight days. ¬†It’s beginning to fade from memory, finally. ¬†MC’s first week with family was a bust – they/he didn’t get anything accomplished, save for getting the stitches out of his arm. ¬†He still needs to see the vascular and heart people here¬†but he doesn’t even have an appointment yet. ¬†I’m content to hang out here in rural ghetto, yet I’m being careful not to unpack my crap and settle in too comfortably.

Whiz survived another long ride in the car. ¬†She has to be one of the most traveled brown anoles in existence. ¬†My parents have friends who own a bait shop, so I refilled my wax worm supply for little miss lizard. ¬†Her new spot in the sunroom between the bonsai trees seems to make her happy. ¬†I base this off of the fact that she hasn’t been hiding as much as usual. ¬†There is no MHI for reptiles.



lounge lizard

I’m still a little too reliant on Sudafed¬†to breathe. ¬†It’s good stuff. ¬†Does it cause rebound congestion like nasal sprays? ¬†Or am I still sick? ¬†I’m so tired of snot. ¬†Allegra isn’t helping at all so the problem is primarily this viral party that wants to hold on until the eventual explosion of my sinuses.

I haven’t had an avocado in 4 days and I’m craving them like crazy. ¬†I’ve got gluten free mixes for brownies, yellow cake, muffins, banana bread, yet all I want is an avocado. ¬†Nature’s green, mushy crack.

Today I shall refill my Sudafed supply and purchase some green, mushy crack. ¬†I’m an exciting person, I know it.


There is High Done, Low Done, Underdone and Overdone

I died. ¬†I’m dead. ¬†Hi, I’m a very chatty dead person. ¬†There will be no cleaning today. ¬†There will be lots of¬†coffee and lots of drugs. ¬†Oh man. ūüėē

My parents are trying to save me from the nonsense because no one knows how to torture me like they do. ¬†Here’s something I’ve often thought about – do we ever actually ‘grow up’ while our parents are still alive? ¬†With me, growing up isn’t an option. ¬†I imagine it’ll feel like I’m alone in the world. ¬†MC’s parents are much younger than mine so it’s time to start feeding them lots of rice and apple cores. ¬†Ya know what I mean? ¬†I hope not, because if you do, you’re nuts.

I hid all of my tasty-yummies (frozen meals, fried pickles, 15 pounds of fries, a big tupperware container full of guacamole) in the chest freezer in the garage, then moved 5 giant slabs of cow into the house freezer.  I bought a huge load of groceries last night, but managed to keep it real, for the most part.  No processed meats, and save for a couple of boxes of cereal and some canned cream-of-whatever soups, no garbage.

I’m reminded of the times I had animal deaths during winter time. ¬†Being that I was a rescuer of all types of small critters, I often got animals that were screwed up somehow. ¬†Example: a lovebird came into my care that had only one half of his lower beak, so I had to give him hand-feeding formula. ¬†He lived a lot longer than anyone expected, but he still had a short (happy) life. ¬†Think of it as animal hospice. ¬†If one of those freaks of nature happened to die, I’d toss them into the freezer until the ground was no longer frozen so I could give ’em a proper burial. ¬†This is one of the many reasons I decided not to become a veterinarian. ¬†Animal deaths are worse than human deaths in many ways.

I didn’t eat anything yesterday. ¬†I picked an odd day to test my hunger cues. ¬†Result; I wasn’t hungry by 7pm when I went grocery shopping, so I waited. ¬†I figured if grocery shopping didn’t make me hungry, my appetite is truly dead. ¬†She’s dead, Jim. ¬†It’s extremely rare that I actually lose my physical appetite. ¬†As in, the grumbles and burning in my stomach when I don’t eat. ¬†Mental appetite is an entirely different animal. ¬†I can convince myself that I’m not hungry, even when I am, to avoid the grief that’s associated with eating. ¬†On the flipside, in the fine tradition of my ancestors, I tend to stress eat. ¬†I am definitely stressed out, but still no hunger. ¬†I expected to work up quite an appetite while attempting to get the house organized, but that didn’t happen either. ¬†Balls.

There really isn’t any point to this post other than to tell you when I died, I went to hell. ¬†Surprise!