My Autistic Dog

America at War by Dan Rather and the Reporters of CBS News 2003 19 oz 

Captive in Iran: A Remarkable True Story of Hope and Triumph Amid the Horror of Tehran's Brutal Evin Prison by Maryam Rostampour 2013 18 oz

The Iraq War: As Witnessed by the Correspondents and Photographers of United Press International 2003 18 oz

Jihad: The Rise of Militant Islam in Central Asia by Ahmed Rashid 2002 8oz

Total: 63 oz

Method of Disposal: Dog Shredding Them in Preparation of Recycling

Wisconsin was born to a high-strung, energetic, and stubborn young pit bull that we named Georgia, on August 19, 2015.  He was part of a large litter who was temporarily fostered by a shelter employee before coming back to the shelter to be adopted.  Soon, all but three puppies found homes.  The only ones left were the black and white ones, Wisconsin, Nevada, and Dakota.  They grew up at the shelter, became bow legged, fought off mange, and became extremely mouthy.  Volunteers grew scared of them.  Harriet and I took them all home when they hit about 10 months old, to run free with our young pup, Whiskey, until we could find them a family.

Dakota went into foster and was adopted first.  Then, Nevada was adopted.  Finally, Wisconsin went home.  They were great, but they were energetic and clumsy babies.  We were glad for some peace.  Almost one year later, Wisconsin was returned with dark, purple bruising all over him.  He had restraint marks on his wrists and bruising on his chest.  I called Harriet crying, and she let me bring Wisconsin back home.  He proceeded to act more and more strange and, ultimately, it was suggested he might have rabies.  We took him to the emergency room where it was discovered he had a foreign body.  I got a phone call from the doctor who saved him, and she was quite cagey with me.  It did not take long to realize it was because she was trying to determine if I abused the poor boy.

He had been gone 9 months, and he came back completely changed.  He is such a sweet and sleepy guy most of the time, but he is ultra sensitive to sounds, lights, changing environments, activity, and he cannot control himself when he is around water.  Show him a lake, and he will try to drown, biting onto roots at the very bottom and refusing to let go.  Turn on a hose or a blender, and his eyes will change, and he will bite you.  It is hard to explain, but it is not like your typical aggression.  He is just frantic and grabbing everything within reach and, if you are within reach, he cannot distinguish what is what.

After he bit me for using a hose one day, we realized we could not adopt him out.  We understood his triggers.  We knew he needed a routine.  We knew he had to bing the clips on the side of the grill every single time he went outside before he could go into the yard to go to the bathroom.  Who else would have the patience to learn him?  We adopted him.  He was seen by a veterinary behaviorist who said, we do not label dogs as autistic yet, but, if we did, he would be labeled autistic.  We had to keep his toys to a minimum, decrease his excitement, medicate him, and find the right balance of alone time and together time.  It has been a roller coaster, albeit absolutely worth it.

In the last month, we've had a family living with us that lost their home to a fire, and we have loved having them here.  It has changed the routine a bit, and he struggles with toddler bath time.  We've had quite a few casualties.  For a minute there, I was trying to decide if he was extremely interested in the Middle East or just flat out disdainful.  He pulled the above books from various shelves and destroyed them all, on different days.  Given, he took out a printer, paper shredder, garbage can, office chair, an old portrait of my great grandparents, and quite a few original paintings and prints that were hung on the wall.  So...maybe not.

He has an Impact crate, but it is too large to fit in his room.  We ordered him a smaller one--they are not cheap, by the by, at around $1500, but he loves them.  If you leave his crate door open, he will go in there and go to sleep.  He loves being by himself in his room or in his crate.  Just as long as you do not shut the door when something scary is happening--like a blender, vacuum cleaner, FEDEX driver, dogs on tv, headlights bouncing off the walls, on and on and on.  

He has black out curtains, Impact crates, Prozac, Clonidine, Selieo (as needed), Thundershirts, ear muffs.  I have never met a dog like him, and I have worked at a dog and cat shelter for 15 years.  He is a magical beast and highly unusual, but we love him.  Normally.  Right now, I am watching him eat my library book by book so it is a little hard, but I know I will always love him underneath all that frustration.  We all have our limits and our baggage.

 

Journals

 Journals by Kurt Cobain

2003

Weight: 1.7 lbs

Method of Disposal: Recycling what I can and throwing away the rest

My neurotic dog grows more unstable every time life changes in any capacity.  The joyful sounds of a toddler taking a bath wreak havoc on his pea brain.  Once he has sunk his teeth into something he cannot forget it.  He fixates for life.  We went from steel/metal/water from his shelter life to plastic (waste baskets, printers, paper shredders) to paintings to books.  In the last week, I have lost 5 books, including Kurt Cobain's journals.  Broken minds are drawn to each other, I guess.

Before recycling what I can and trashing the rest, I have been rereading each book through the tears and teeth marks.  In the case of this book, Neuro-Dog ingested Kurt's letter to his dad, which I would have really liked to look at, and the rest was just torn up and scattered.  

The journals brought me back to being a teenager and were insightful.  It was fun to see him forming songs, the band name, connections, knowing what they would become, but it was (of course) sad too.  Knowing what happens next.  I sort of think he would have appreciated Wisconsin chewing up his personal musings and shitting them out.  I really do.  So, I guess this was an appropriate way to dispatch this book, though I was very frustrated at the time.

The Berenstain Bears: Trick or Treat

 The Berenstain Bears: Trick or Treat by Stan and Jan Berenstain

1989

Weight: 3.5 oz

Method of Disposal: Donated

I can only begin to describe my childhood love for the Berenstain Bears, and my two favorite books, which I have held onto all of this time.  Trick or Treat and No Girls Allowed.  I have always loved Halloween, dressing up in costumes, animals.  It is no stretch that I would be in love with tiny bears, wearing clothes, and performing childlike dramas.  The illustrations were the best part, but each book has a lesson, of course.  I am confident the Berenstain Bears helped me develop my empathy and my love for reading.  

Halloween is upon us, y'all.  I am struggling to decide what costumes Harriet and I will be wearing this year!  It's the most wonderful time of the year...

A World Without Bees

 A World Without Bees by Allison Benjamin and Brian McCallum

2010

Weight: 10 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating

The trajectory of pollinators, one of the more frightening futures to contemplate.  The critters themselves are always fascinating.  The first chapter or two of this book gives you the fun facts about bees--that the males only live to mate and then die, that sick bees will leave the hive to die so that infection does not spread to the others, that they will not defecate inside the hive.  They are clean and regimented.  They have a plan, they follow the plan, and they perform their dance well.  God save the Queen.

But humans, being the destructive force we are, make it increasingly challenging for the bees to survive.  This book puts forth a wide variety of theories and introduces us to the people who study and stand behind those theories, and they suggest that the disappearance of bees cannot be connected to any one thing we do as earthly inhabitants.  The pesticides and herbicides are a frequently accused culprit, as our parasites and disease that are spread when bees are transported from place to place to increase pollination and the productivity on farms.  A small group of people argue that cellphone use is confusing the bees trying to get back to their hives, though this idea is not popular in the scientific community.  As always, global warming and large-scale farming lacking in diversity of crops are massive problems that we are not sure if the bees can adapt to quickly enough.

Throughout history, bees have disappeared in large numbers periodically, but the current trend seems to be far more alarming to beekeepers all over the world.  In parts of China, honeybees have completely disappeared and people are responsible for pollinating the plants themselves, which is a more laborious project than might be expected.

This book is a great introduction to bees, what life might look like without them, and the massive obstacles facing beekeepers today.  It is clear there is much more to learn, but I feel more prepared to jump into the abyss of information that has been cropping up in the last decade or so.  It does nothing for improving my mood, needless to say, but it is clearly important.

Slaughter-House Five, Or the Children's Crusade: A Duty Dance With Death

 Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut x2

Weight: 12 oz

Method of Disposal:  Gave to a friend who gave it back and then I donated that copy and another to Goodwill

I cannot guess how many times I have given away this book, and it is not my favorite Kurt Vonnegut book at all.  I am not even all that keen on it, though I do respect it.  It is impossible not to see it as important when you think about Vonnegut's time in WWII at Dresden, and the years he said he would right a book about it and finally did.  With that lens, it becomes even more powerful.  And with all that said, it is a Slaughter-House Five quote that I have tattooed on my back.  I got it after working at an animal shelter and losing some part of myself that felt pain, love, and passion intensely.  After losing so many dogs, cats, and people.  The sad stories and the tragedy occurring every day, over and over and over and over and over again.

 

The friend I had given it to now has Stage 4 lung cancer and has returned the book and says she loved it.  She does not even know what her treatment plan is, two chemo sessions in, because our medical system has grown too large and distant.  A life is so important and there are so many important lives.

Today, a coworker that I have known for 15 years lost his person and his kids lost their mother.  She was young.  It was unexpected.  He has been receiving treatment for cancer, in addition to the treatments he already receives for MS.  He is one of the hardest working people I know.  He is a great dad and a kind person.  She sounded like she was amazing too, and she made him happy.

The world is so heavy.  It is so beautiful and so painful.  It is so meaningful and so meaningless.  We all are clinging on in the balance.  We believe we are important.  We are important.  To us.  To some people.  We come slowly, and we go quickly, unless we go slowly, and there is no happy ending.  Though, a lot of happiness can be packed in before The End.  It is what it is.  Until it impacts you.  Then, it is so much more.  And, once you have been impacted over and over and over again, you have to decide whether to lean more into meaning or meaningless or everything and nothing.

The Stranger

 The Stranger by Albert Camus

1989

Weight: 6 oz

Method of Disposal: Donating

I reread The Stranger before donating it and am now reading The Plague, which feels quite pertinent these days.  

The main character in The Stranger is not believable or even all that likeable, but he is representative of an existentialist belief about life and as a tool to show how others interpret and see what they are looking to see in someone.  He is not believable because existentialism is not believable.  Can we care about a character whose life has no meaning?  He is so many things to so many people, but he hardly has an opinion himself except about his mortality and, even that, he lets go quickly.

I read this in English.  If my French were not so rusty, I would love to read it untranslated.  Regardless, I always enjoy Camus.  His books read quickly, but they linger a long time.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

 A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith x 2

1998

Weight: 15 oz

Method of Disposal: Giving one to a friend and one to my Mom

This book was recommended to me by a dear friend who I used to work with at Waldenbooks.  I ended up with more than one copy, and I decided to read it while home sick with COVID.  Many years after I was told to read it.  It was great, and I recommend it.  I can see why it is a classic.  It is the story of a working class  Irish American family surviving and living in the city, and it focuses on the young girl, Frankie, who we watch grow up.  Frankie is incredibly lovable, and all the characters in the book are complex and interesting because of it.  Her dad is an alcoholic, but he is not someone we hate, because how could we? Frankie loves him so much, as does his wife and her mom.  They have no money, but the mom has a strong determination and work ethic and moral compass, which she shares with her children.  It is good.  You should try it.

Them

 Them: Why We Hate Each Other by Ben Sasse

2018

Weight: 1.06 lbs

Method of Disposal: Donating

I was drawn to this book when Trump was in office, and the growing division was unbelievable and stressful.  It seems like the damage has been happening for quite some time now and that now we cannot seem to turn it around.  We took a huge hit in the 2016 and 2020 elections, though they did not start it.  I was feeling frustrated and angry towards the Republican Party, and I was struggling to find compromise.  I was hoping this would be helpful and that, maybe, magically, someone had ideas on how we might heal from this.  Because the thing is, many people think you are for America or against America, but in actuality, many people who want America to change and are fighting for change, love America too.  That is why it is worth the effort and the pain.  There is an idea that compromise and learning and evolving is flip flopping, and this comes from both sides, but it is not.  It is necessary for our current political system.  And, when your side breaks the rules, no matter what side you are on, it will hurt your party in the future when it gets turned around.  We must be ethical and respectful, but how?

You will not find the answers here.  It is clear that the author has a lot of opinions and biases that are quite strong,  It almost felt as if he was saying, the answer for all of us to get along is to agree to embrace the same ideals, to embrace tradition and conservatism. That, clearly, will not be happening.  There must be some other way than agree with me, that is the answer.

That being said, I do think someone else should write a similar but better book that also covers news, social media, politics, and tribalism.  There is a lot in here that is interesting and worth a closer look, and there is a big problem in this country right now with division.  I wish I knew the answers.  I give him props for trying.

.

Mutts: Shelter Stories

 Mutts: Shelter Stories By Patrick McDonnell

2008

Weight: 1.2 lbs

Method of Disposal: Donating

I remember lining the dog's cages at the shelter with newspaper and unfolding the comics to see a Patrick McDonnell strip many mornings.  This one reminded me of one of my favorite dogs of all time, Tenchi, who had to wait years to find her home, but when she did, it was the best home.  She has since passed away, and they have adopted again.  I posted this one on her cage while she was at the shelter because no one would look at her since she barked so much in her cage, and they thought she was unfriendly.  She was absolutely the sweetest girl and was so quiet when she got out and, later, when she was in a home.  It can be hard to know what behaviors from the kennels will stick and which ones will go away with time, exercise, training, love, patience.  I just knew that once she was out of the kennels she would be great though.  I needed to get someone else to see it.

In the end, it was someone doing community service who was around long enough to get to know her, and he took the chance on her. And, I love him for it.

Another memory I have is from 14 years ago.  I walked into the vet clinic, and saw a beautiful brown pit bull, scared and despondent in her cage.  There was blue painter's tape above the bars with the name "Hershey" written in sharpie.  She was the color of chocolate, of course.  I thought to myself, "that is my 3rd dog", and then I quickly shook my head and inwardly rolled my eyes--absolutely not.  I did not want another dog with my boy Phoenix being so old and already having a rocky transition with Sergei (Serg/Sir Gay/Nader/Nader Nader Alligator/Sergio/Asshole/The Jackass/The Criminal/Sergei Ivanovich McKelvey/My Soulmate), coming into the home.  I had been at the shelter maybe 7-8 months, and I was still learning so much.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I still am learning now, after all these years in rescue.  I guess that never stops.  But, I had never seen a dog like "Hershey" before.  I cannot tell you now exactly why I found her so striking.  Maybe it was because my metaphorical heart knew, and the rest of me did not.

I remember sitting on the steps in intake with someone from the old leadership team.  They told me that she was abandoned, tied to the gate on the coldest day in December, but that we could not keep her at PAWS.  They had tucked her away in the clinic while they tried to think of an alternative.  It was a different time then.  She told me that they would rather euthanize her than send her to animal control, where she would surely be euthanized, but she would be so much more fearful as she left.  Now days, we love and support our animal control, and we do not see a dog going there as being worse than death.  So much has changed, not only with animal controls all over the country, but with us, at the smaller, non-government funded facilities.  And thank goodness.

I was told that I would get five years of heartworm preventative, and that she would be spayed and vaccinated at no cost if I would just take her as an individual and foster her until another placement could be found.  They would help me.  I did it because I could not stand to think of that beautiful creature dying for what?  Because she was a pit bull?  She was spayed, and they discovered she had 9 puppies.  And then, I took her home.  My then girlfriend, Vallan, tried to name her "Le Chien Nikita" and we compromised on "Madeleine" (Lion/LyLy/Mattie-Lion). My dear friend, Tracy, told me her ears were something special, like satellites and, when I wanted to know how she was feeling, I needed to only pay attention to those ears.  She has not been wrong.

I had not introduced Madeleine to either of my dogs, and I was winging the whole thing all the way.  By some miracle, she always did well with Phoenix, thank goodness.  He was an old man and had no interest in other dogs, and he deserved peace.  She mostly did well with Sergei,  but Sergei and her were hot and cold, and the cold would present itself in these rare but scary, shocking, and sudden dog fights that would cause me to scream and panic, while frantically pulling them apart.  No one was ever seriously injured, and I know now that is because of them and not just me.  I have many dogs with dog aggression who are a lot more determined and serious about it, and they have been wonderful dogs, but there is no way they will be making any canine friends.

My girlfriend at the time once through beer all of us to break the two of them up.  It did not work, but we were all wet, and I was trembling and worried about what we would do next.  I could not bear it if she hurt Sergei.  I was really uninformed at the time.  I learned over the years that Lion was dog intolerant and would be aggressive to other dogs that jumped on her or tried to play.  Sergei was a resource guarder with food and toys.  Lion was a resource guarder only with other dogs with food and sometimes water.  They both were wary of strangers, but Sergei would actually bite you if you took something away from him or got under the bed (his self claimed space) to grab something, but Lion would not.  I learned to always keep them in separate rooms when I was not there to supervise and to never give them treats or food together.  I learned how to communicate with them better.  Inadvertently, they learned that I would lose my mind if they fought, and they did ultimately stop.  They also learned each other.  If Lion approached the water bowl, Sergei would walk away and come back when she was done.  If Sergei had a tennis ball, she would not try to take it but, if she had a plush toy, he would not try to take it from her.  They worked out this whole system, and they compromised on so much.

This is not how it goes for all dogs, and I do not recommend forcing a dog aggressive dog to get along with other dogs.  It can be dangerous and heart wrenching. But, I do recommend taking a chance on loving a dog that doesn’t love other dogs or doesn’t exhibit the behavior you are use to (but can be kept safely in the community). It is 100% worth it. They need you more then any other dog at the shelter, and many of them will love you fiercely. They will absolutely teach you a lot, and you will love them fiercely too. 

Madeleine was just tolerant enough, and both of their triggers were really easy to work out, with some time. Sergei is the only dog I think Lion has ever truly loved, though she tolerated a handful of others within reason, because her moms work in rescue. I catch her spooning with him now, and I did even before her mind started to go. Now, he makes her feel safe. She lays close to him so she won't fall off the bed with her poor mind, bad vision, and hearing, it is an absolute necessity for her at night when we all go to bed.

She is scared of going outside at night, and she will not go to the bathroom without Sergei there. He is very tolerant of her needs and does not even growl (though he will groan) when she stumbles all over him and steps on his face. I never would have believed it circa 2008-2015. They have not fought in ages, and I do not expect they ever will again, though I am always sure to separate them when I am not there and do all the things I have always done to ensure they get along and are happy. I suspect they would be fine, maybe even better than fine. They have really worked out their differences, but Harriet and I agree. It is not worth the risk. They done so well all this time.

Unfortunately, before Vallan and I knew that Lion did not like dogs, she took her to a friends house to play with their smedium dog, Lucy.  Lion, apparently, hopped like a bunny, grabbed the dog in her mouth, and started shaking her.  Vallan got in the middle of it and was determined to break them up and save our friend's dog.  Not surprisingly (she was a determined and passionate person), she was able to break them up, but she got bit in the process.  Lucy was totally fine, but Vallan had to go to the doctor.  

All the support I had been offered went away.  I was told to euthanize her.  There were too many friendly pit bulls dying to hold onto an aggressive one.  The vet I assisted in spay/neuter surgeries was angry with me for not listening to reason.  The trainer was more gentle and offered alternatives but, ultimately, agreed that euthanasia might be the best option.  And the thing is, neither of them were wrong really.  In some situations, there are dogs that are truly unsafe to adopt out, but they weren't right about my Lion. I just knew it was dog aggression and that she had redirected on Vallan but was not dangerous.  Vallan agreed.  

We kept her and began looking for a home for her.  We made flyers, contacted the pit bull group that everyone vouched for (but was later shut down after a Fox 5 Investigation).  We posted her on social media and told people in the line at the coffee shop about her.  There was no one looking for a dog aggressive pit bull with a bite history.  I was so frustrated.  I did not want to keep her.  I remember saying that, "she was the only dog I ever met that I did not like."  I was resisting her, but it was all so ridiculous, because Lion was and became the best dog.  She was well behaved, protective, loving, playful, loyal.  So, we gave up looking for a home.

I love everything about Madeline. I loved her then, all the years in between, and I love her now, more than I could possibly describe here. She is 15 years old and has developed cognitive dysfunction and has serious mobility issues from muscle wasting. I wish so much that Harriet and I could soothe her mind and strengthen her legs. When I most felt alone, and I was at my breaking points, I always had Lion and Sergei to soothe and strengthen me. Phoenix had passed away of a heart attack some time after Vallan moved out and, in time, the three of us became a true pack and a family. I stayed and fought for my life because I could not imagine letting them down. No one had wanted either of them. Who would possibly take care of them if I did not?

The deal was that if Vallan and I ever broke up, she would take Lion, and I would take Sergei and Phoenix. Phoenix (P-Beast/Feanie/Beast) was my childhood dog after all, but the way life worked out, she would only have been able to take Phoenix, and I would never let him go.

I am so glad.

I’m so glad I fell for it and took Madeleine home, though I don’t recommend getting people to rescue that way. I’m so glad no one else adopted her when they had the chance. I’m so glad we could see past her dog aggression and know that she was not human aggressive, though maybe wary of strangers. And, I am so glad I ended up with custody of all three dogs, though, at the time, I felt overwhelmed. Vallan sent "dog support" and always loved them. It is funny to me now to think about how worried I was, after all the dogs Harriet and I have fostered, rescued, worked with, and even adopted. Three dogs? We have five now, and they are not "normal" dogs!

Lion met Harriet maybe four years after Lion met me, and they’ve loved each other ever since. I can forgive Lion for considering Harry to be her favorite, as she has been my favorite human too. So, I understand.

Madeleine has been the best girl, and almost everyone who has met our pack has considered her the favorite because she is so sweet, loyal, and playful, but also, she is the best behaved pup in the pack.

I’ve never had a dog love me like Lion has. Until her cognitive dysfunction took over, she would do anything to protect me. Unless Harriet was around, and she had to choose. Then, she would choose Harriet, and that was perfect because I am protective of both of them. It is hard watching her age and change, but I am so grateful for the opportunity.

Now, we have been battling with the knowledge that she will need to be euthanized before this gets worse, but it is hard to admit that, after all the medications, food, the expensive Impact crate , all the love and attention and thoughtfulness. She never had to be crated before, but she started hurting herself when we left. My dad began to call her "The Termite" (He is responsible for "The Criminal" too), as she was eating our new house from the inside out. This was not a trajectory we expected. Over the last year, she has begun having accidents in the house 2-3 times a day after being a housebroken dog all her life. She will chew on the window frames and base boards if we let her free roam when we leave. She is our sweet girl, and we know she cannot help it. We just take her out often and try to make her feel safe. But, it is hard to see her like that and know she is scared too.

She panics and hurts herself when we leave so we have her on anti-anxiety medications that might take the edge off, and the crate does help a little. Maybe. We play calming music and sometimes use diffusers with lavender oil. She has been restless at night and now she is restless anytime she is not in her bedroom. Her legs sometimes spasm, and she gets up with a start and takes off, but she can't "take off" anymore so she will fall and then panic and not be able to get up without help. It is shattering our hearts to watch her, but we've been able to find ways to bring her happiness even as she forgets everything and we have mom ears for when she is struggling, even when we got COVID and a fever and thought we could only sleep. If she was struggling, we were up and lifting her and telling her to slow her roll. It was okay. She is no longer wary of strangers and loves them. She no longer knows the words/commands she once knew. Her whole life revolves around eating and when she can get her next treat. She has become fixated on food. She gets confused sometimes when trying to figure out doorways or turns. She will completely fall, splayed out, if she is even accidentally nudged by Sergei or one of us.

We said we wanted to say goodbye to her before she did not recognize us anymore. We did not want her to feel like she was with strangers when the time came, but there are times where she clearly does not know us now. Most of the time, I believe she does know she loves us and feels safe with us, but when she doesn't, you can see her get scared and confused. She almost "snaps out of it" when the recognition finally comes--usually from your smell, or your voice, or something she is used to hearing you say even if she does not know what it means. She has no muscle and falls over her own feet, Benebones on the floor, the weight scale, a piece of fluff, pretty much anything. And, if she falls, she cannot often get up. We cannot leave her alone because it is torture for her.

And yet, I cannot imagine living in a world that does not include her. At this point, that does not revolve around her. I know that we have to, and that it is not fair to her to make her suffer now that she is truly suffering more than she is not. We are supposed to say goodbye to her Tuesday, at home, but I keep telling myself and Harriet that we can cancel it, but I know we cannot and Harriet knows we cannot.

I worry about Sergei. He is also fifteen and is wonky after a bout of vestibular. How will he handle losing Lion? I've always said he was a sociopath, so he might be okay, but I do suspect that they love each other deeply after all these years. I thought as they aged, their relationship and Sergei's attitude would get worse but, like I have been so many times, I was wrong.

Tonight, when I was pulling up her breakfast for tomorrow, and adding all her "powders and potions," I realized that, once she is gone, I will miss the whole process of feeding her because, even though there are calming probiotics, fish oils, Clonidine, Prozac, Galliprant, Dasequin, Gabapentin, and it is changing all the time with new medications are coming and old ones are leaving. While I am pulling up all these things, I know she is still alive. And, when I am not, I know that she is gone and that we might have bought time, but there are no miracles other than that we all found each other eventually. I know that there is no amount of money or effort that can turn this around or change a forever goodbye. It is unbearable. Harriet and I use to agree not to cry in front of her when this all started. We did not want our sadness to increase her anxiety, but now she does not even notice tears or tissues or whimpers or cries. She is always seemingly trying to figure out who and where she is and what she is suppose to be doing.

One of the kindest things we will ever do for our dogs is to let them go. And while it can be scary, because you do not want to take away any bit of happiness or hope from them, and you cannot ask them what they want, you know there really is no other option. It goes against every desire in my body to imagine laying in bed without feeling her body in between mine and Harriet's. She sleeps there now, with Sergei at the foot of the bed to feel secure. I need to see her senior lady tongue, hanging out of her mouth while she snores. On what planet will I be that now she cannot spoon me or Harriet when we are not spooning her. When I was single and living alone, she would always through her paw over me and hold me like a human, and it was oddly comforting. I can see her at 2 years old, leaping, and running, and chasing her teaser toy--a toy on the end of a rope on the end of the stick. I can see her at 4, when we used to go hiking every weekend. One time, we almost went over a waterfall, but I grabbed her by the harness with super human strength and pulled her out of the water just in time to get her back onto sturdy ground and then scramble up after her. Was she six at the horse farm, when Sergei went missing, and my world was falling apart, and I could not function, but she was right there, concerned, and ready to comfort Harriet and I. We took her on walks all over, hoping her female marking would give Sergei a path to follow home, and maybe it did. Who knows? But, he came back, and it was the happiest day of my life. She loved Kong Wubbas and then she loved those weird, round Bark Box toys--the Olympian in particular. We ordered her another after her first one was destroyed. She loved the toys that had smaller toys inside of them she had to pull out. She loved Harriet's mom, and her gifts from England. She loved everything about us, and we continue to love everything about her.

There are so many stories, so many beautiful and happy moments. There are thousands of pictures and videos, but there will never again be another Lion. I am grateful I got to spend her life with her but, right now, I am just scared and heartbroken and dreading Tuesday, but feeling like it might also be too long for her to wait, and hoping she will rally, as dogs do, right before the end.

Different Loving

Different Loving: A Complete Exploration of the World of Sexual Dominance and Submission by Gloria G. Brame, Jon Jacobs, and William D. Brame 

1996

Weight: 1.8 lbs

I collect books.  I am not trying to hoard them and am happy to give them up and rehome them after reading.  It is rare that I will read the same book twice.  There are too many books and, as they say, too little time.  It is a real possibility that I could die before completing my current collection, and THAT keeps me up at night.  It keeps me up and reading anyway.  I am on a mission.  

I remember when it started.  I knew the name of every book and every author I had ever read.  I realized that I was collecting knowledge and that, in a way, I could know at least a little bit about everything.  My adolescent mind did not yet comprehend what it would be like to hold too much information and to not be able to access it all completely.  I did not know what it would feel like to almost know so many things but to not know enough to explain anything.  That is where I am at now, but it is a compulsion and a need at this point.  I must read.  I must surround myself with all the things I hope to know.  I always have a few hard copies nearby, a couple on my Kindle App, all my shelves full, and boxes of books waiting for shelves to become available.  But, if you ask me if I want a book of yours, the answer is always yes.  100 times yes.  The less you are like me and making a recommendation the better.

I love the smell of both, old and new books.  If you bury your face in one, the smell is strong but, before I bring them close, I cannot smell them at all.  I love the feel of a good trade paperback--malleable but strong.  I prefer matte covers to shiny ones.  The shiny ones feel cheap and remind me of self-publishing.  Self publishing can be a wonderful thing, but it is mostly just scary.  It seems like the less money the publisher puts into the book the more of a gamble it will be.  How elitist of me.

I think about the people we have lost and the books they never read.  If they had advanced warning, which ones did they scramble to read before they would never read again?  Sometimes, when you are very sick, reading is one of the only things you can do until you can't.  Will I regret all the time I have spent reading or will I regret that I did not read enough?

I make plans.  If my eyesight gets worse, there is always large print, or you can change the font size on a tablet.  If that is no longer useful, there are audio books.  Is there anything in the world that has not already been written?  It seems like there is an endless resource, an endless combination of words, and some combinations just make my brain crackle and come back to life.  I live for that something new.  I hunt for it constantly.

The North (And Almost Everything In It)

 The North (And Almost Everything In It) by Paul Morley
2013
Weight: 2.23 lbs
Method of Disposal: Recycling (damaged)

I bought this while visiting Harriet's family in Northern England and, almost two years ago, Wisconsin started to eat it before it was rescued by Harriet.  The back of it and the index right up to S is missing.  Likely, it ended up digested and in the woods to the back of our house.  Luckily, I could still read it, and I did.  Or, I slogged through it.  I was not in love.  I might have felt different if I grew up in the North and/or was around the author's age.  I am not sure.  As it was, it felt disjointed and lengthy without reason.  I am also not a sports fan so could not relate there either.  My favorite moments were when he described his boyhood, and there were some clever snippets about Northern England in there.  They were just few and far between.

Four Winds

 Four Winds by Kristin Hannah
2021
Weight: 1.62 lbs
Method of Disposal: Giving Away on a Buy Nothing Group

My grandmother gave me this book about a strong, though insecure woman who survives the Dust Bowl with her children and, at least partly, with her in-laws.  It was rough to watch the main character just get beaten down over and over and over and over again.  Sometimes the story seemed to move to fast and then slow down for a stretch before speeding up again.  It wasn't my favorite, but I was invested and interested. I do feel like I learned a little about the desperation of the time in history.  I cared more than I did in history class.

I am amused and horrified by how much some people have turned on the author and the anger they spew, claiming the novel is Communist propaganda.  Some things never change.

Easy Crafts for the Insane

 Easy Crafts for the Insane: The Mostly Funny Memoir of Mental Illness and Making Things by Kelly Williams Brown
2021
Weight: 1.6 lbs
Method of Disposal: Giving Away on with a Buy Nothing Group

This book left me with an uneasy feeling for days and was, ultimately, "the straw that broke the camel's back" for me.  I have been battling depression unsuccessfully for quite some time now.  I do not want to ruin the book for you if you have not read it.  So, stop reading here now if you want--how odd to think about "ruining the story" when you are talking about someone's life.

In this book, the author talks about her own struggle with depression and the impacts it had on her relationships with her friends, self, boyfriend, and family.  She also describes her near death experience with suicide.  The way she described it haunted me in that she did not think of herself as someone who would die that way and then found herself just minutes away from death.  Her boyfriend could not recover from it and was deeply wounded.  They ultimately broke up.  I did not think I would go that far either, but there were many times I scared myself with how deeply I was sinking anyway.  Especially right before, during, and after my period.  I could not live like that--feeling like I could not control my own actions for half the month each month.  The author wrote about her brain being unhealthy in the same way other parts of her body could become unhealthy.  She would not think twice about taking medication to help other parts of her body.  She described how it felt after she took medication for her mental health.  

I wanted to be a better wife and partner.  I started looking into psychiatrists and finally decided to talk to one and started to take Prozac.  It was not easy.  Over a decade ago, I had a negative experience with a psychiatrist and therapist that left me unwilling to seek help for my mental health since.   I got desperate enough.  That is where I am at.  The edge has been taken off, and I am trying to figure it all out with a little less drama.  I am grateful to the author for the insight.