Homie’s Jewels

spay-neuter-2Well, today is a good day. The past 7 days have been something. If you are following my blog you know about my best friend, my Homie, my dog.  You know that I have expressed that I will lose my marbles if anything were to ever happen to him. Well, I lost them last weekend. I need to explain.

Homie is a wanderer. He will slip off if he is left outside unattended. He’s an escape artist who can smell a woman’s musk from miles and miles away.  He is a ladies man. I don’t have a fenced in yard. I have wanted one, but I honestly do not think there is a fence around that would keep him in. Boxers jump. HIGH.  They also dig deep if need be. So to have a fence which would be large enough to hold him in and give him plenty of room to run would be outrageous. He loves to run circles around our house and he needs that. He is so full of energy. And I am so unenergetic and unable to take him for runs like he needs. I am just very vigilant when it comes to him. When we go out, multiple times a day, I have to watch his every move. He can not get out of my eyesight. And he knows he can’t and things are okay.

Saturday I was working in my bedroom and I asked the kids to take him out because he had been begging to go. They did and he came right back in. I assume he didn’t have enough time to do whatever it was he needed to do. At some point, later on, he slipped out with one of the many kids or their friends.  It wasn’t until nearly 4:00 pm that I took a break from working and decided to take the dogs outside. I quickly noticed Homie wasn’t home. I panicked. I went up and down the roads in our neighborhood and the neighborhood beside us screaming, “Homie” out of the window. This went on and on and on until after 11 pm. I just knew that this time was different. This time he was gone. This time I had lost my best friend.

I cried, and cried, and cried. Ugly cried. I cried so much that my eyeballs stung. They hurt. I didn’t want to take my night time meds because I was afraid there may be a small chance he would come back and I would be asleep and unable to let him in. I felt like I was to blame for his leaving. I should have had him neutered a long time ago. I should have checked to see where he was earlier in the day. I should have done this. I should have done that. It is, and always will be, my fault. Then I found myself also feeling as if no one else in this house cared about things that I value. Nobody else noticed my best friend was missing. How is it that they have lost him? They must not even love me. These are the erratic things that go through your brain when you are losing your mind. And I was losing mine rapidly and on a grand scale.  At one point I was even mad at my other two dogs for not consoling me during my breakdown. Homie would have been all up in my grits during a fit like that. He would have been there for me. Why aren’t they?

I had planned for this. I knew that this day would come. I just didn’t think it would be this soon while he was still so young.  I’m not sure if other people keep the loss of their pets in the back of their mind the way that I do. I have lost a lot of good dogs in my lifetime. And the loss of them has always been so overwhelmingly miserable for me. I think that because of this I seemingly try to prepare myself in hopes that it won’t hurt as bad. I know that isn’t going to work but, irrationally, I do this anyway.

Finally, around 3:45 am, I decided to take my Ambien. I decided to call it a night. I decided he was really gone. And I laid down on the living room couch to cry uncontrollably one last time before I went to bed. When I got up to go to bed I decided to check the back door one last time.  To my surprise, Homie was there!!! I couldn’t even get on to him for having left. I was over the moon. He stunk, he was muddy, he was slobbering and panting something fierce yet all I could do is hug him and tell him how much I love him.

So flash forward to Monday morning. My first order of business was to call the vet and schedule him to be neutered. At some point during my fall apart my mom told me to make him an appointment when he got back to get him fixed. She would pay for it. Thank the Lord above for that. Because after all was said and done, it cost $364.30 for him to turn in his prized jewels.

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Homie’s last night with his manhood.

 

He went in Tuesday morning. He went happily. He is such a sweet dog. He had no idea what was about to go down. He just trotted his big self right back to the back with the vet tech with absolutely no worry. He thought we were going on an adventure I suppose. He spent the night there after his surgery so that they could give him pain medication for 24 hours. Wednesday morning when I got there to get him that same trot was not there. The vet wanted to explain to me all of the medication and wound care I needed to do for him in the coming week. She felt like I couldn’t hear her because of Homie’s loud overjoyed panting. So she asked the vet tech to go ahead and take him to my car so that I could hear her. I have never seen a dog stand his ground the way Homie then did. He was planted on my feet. He wouldn’t budge. As if he was saying, Nope, I’m not going on any more of your adventures, thank you very much, I have my mommy.

So, there you have it. That is what my week has been like. A roller coaster of events that were game changers for both Homie and me. Piper is scheduled to be spayed on September 5th. I will have all dogs accounted for at that time. I can not stress enough to people how important having your pets fixed is. There are so many unwanted puppies in the world and so many being euthanized. I am to blame for taking such a long time to have Homie fixed. I didn’t want to take his youth away from him. I felt like having him fixed would, in some way, make him a different dog. I see how stupid that was to think now. And if I had it to do all over again, I would’ve had his jewels removed as soon as they were able to be.

Today, as I said, is a good day. Homie is home and his balls are gone and he is on the mend. I hope you all have a great weekend.

1st Day of School – Oh Happy Day!

IMG_3852Well, the kids are at school and I have the house to myself again during the day. I hate to sound like I want to get rid of them, but it sure is nice and quiet.  Bryant, my youngest, walked himself into school this year. It was a sad and happy moment all at the same time. I fully expected him to want to be walked in so when he didn’t I was caught off guard.

 

When you are a mother of 5, the youngest is the one you want to stay little. He is our last. My sweet baby. But he is not a baby anymore and it makes things so clearly seem to fly by. It seems like just yesterday I was potty training him. Now he doesn’t even want to be walked into school. Having an incurable debilitating disease makes you view life a little differently. It is much more apparent than ever how short life truly is. I just hope that he continues to be my buddy a little while longer. IMG_3857

 

I’ve mentioned it before, how my teenagers think I’m not cool and that they know more about life than I. I don’t know if I have mentioned that, although it hurts, I don’t really want to be their buddy. I don’t care if I’m not cool. I don’t care if they hate me some days. I need to instill rules and consequences in their lives. I see so many these days who are more worried about what their kids think of them than they are actually raising them to be good grown-ups one day.  My kids wear name brand clothes, but they are resourceful in getting them. They either own just a few name brand things that they wear over and over again, or they use their birthday, grandparents, Christmas, or whatever other holiday or chore they can in order to attain their clothes. I also use a lot of second-hand shops for some of their items. They know the value of belongings. They don’t always show it, but they know. img_3860.jpg

 

Being the great mother that I am, I never get a group picture of the kids on the first day of school. Today, I didn’t even get a picture of my oldest at all. He has joined the trend of the man bun and he was still working on his hair, of all things, until the very last minute. This is his senior year and he has already signed with the Army for after he graduates. He will then have to say goodbye to his lovely locks. My husband can’t wait. He is not a fan of the bun.

 

Well, school is in so I am going to work today. I am going to work without interruption. That is something I haven’t been able to do since I began this work from home job. Hopefully, I will be more productive and able to get more hours and income.

 

I hope you all are having a nice week. My body still hurts, I am just tired of complaining about it so I won’t this week on my blog.

No Fountain of Youth at the Beach

I have a public service announcement: THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH IN PANAMA CITY BEACH, FL! At least, not that I found over the course of a week. Truth be told, this trip made me feel old. Older than I actually am. I spent 8 nights and days there and guess how many times my faulty body let me actually go down to the beach. 2 (two) visits to the sugar white sand. And two was all I could muster.


The first trip was during the day. I had no umbrella or pop up tent to block the rays from burning my pasty white skin. Mixed connective tissue disease means stay out of the sun. The medications I take for this disease all have warnings about sun exposure meaning stay out at ALL cost. So I loaded down with SPF 100 cream and I went for about one hour to the beach. I watched from afar as my 6-year-old and 37-year-old husband/kids played. Doing things I can not do any longer even though I really want to.
When you go on a trip like this, something we used to do all of the time with no problems what-so-ever, that whole spoon theory really comes into play.

My 6-year-old doesn’t understand it and I don’t expect him to. I don’t even want him to.  He persistently begged me to go to the beach with them every single day. He persistently begged me to go fishing at night at the beach with him every single night. My rationing of spoons told me that if I gave in and went to the beach tonight, I wouldn’t be able to move the next morning. Alternately, they told me that were I to go to the beach today, I won’t be worth a thing when we returned.

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I felt like I was letting my son and my husband down. I felt like I was making my husband mad. I don’t know why I felt this way because he never made me feel like he was mad or anything. On the way down there we found this awesome radio station. It was a great mix of older country music and really old country music. Mostly, the music I grew up with. I am a music lover and I love all music. Rap, pop, rock, country, classic rock, punk, heavy metal, you name it, I love it. On the way down the song, “Different” by Kenny Chesney came on. It caught me off guard. I can’t begin to explain why, but it made me cry. And cry…and cry…

There I was, staring out of the window, hoping no one else realized I was balling crying. I couldn’t hide it well. My husband asked me “are you crying?” “What are you crying for?” I told him that I had no idea. And this did make him mad. But I still don’t know what made me cry like that.

Something about being told you have an incurable disease that may eventually lead to your early death makes you see your entire life different. It makes you see your entire future different for sure. It leaves you on an emotional roller coaster ride that you can’t get off of. I have always had a quirky reply to my kids when they say “that’s not fair”. I have always told them that the fair only comes once a year. You buy your tickets, you ride your rides, and that’s all the fair you’re going to get in this life.

Now, I’m getting my moneys worth out of this ticket to this lifelong roller coaster ride.  The highs are rare, the lows are frequent, the upside-down and twisting is constant. My roller coaster ride doesn’t have an attendant. There is no way to turn it off or make the ride end. The person in control of it is in God’s hands. It’s up to Him, me, doctors, and support. IMG_3737

One of the days we were down there my husband talked me into going to play putt putt golf. Side note: I despise putt putt golf. But we went and I have to admit I had a blast. When we got there I quickly realized we were into way more than I originally thought. This place had an arcade, two Farris wheels, bumper cars, bumper boats, and a crazy house, among other things. The golf was inside in black lights. I didn’t win, but I did in my heart. I was having fun. Fun is something that seems hard to attain when you’re in constant pain.  We had a blast. But the trip was much longer than I thought it would be. And my body started to fail me towards the end. My son wanted to ride the bumper boats one more time before we left. I had just started to dry out from the first ride, but you only live once. Something that is much more apparent to me these days.IMG_3745

He also had to go turn his tickets in for a prize at the arcade. I asked my husband if I could ride the roller coaster while they went and did that.  So I did. I rode that roller coaster by myself. And I felt so alive. I felt so free. I felt so content. The ride was fast and short, and rickety. I don’t know why this one ride made me worry I may get sick and lose my cotton candy. Another childish thing I had done that day. I haven’t eaten cotton candy in forever.  It was so good!

My take away from the beach is this: Live every day like you are a kid again if you are able. I’m not, so this rare day wore me out. I didn’t find my fountain of youth, but maybe I did find a sprinkle of it.

I was ready to come home and see my doggies. They missed me as much as I missed them. I felt so bad for leaving them. They don’t understand. But they’ve already forgiven me.  I wish I could forgive myself as quickly as they can.