4 Days

Hours upon hours of schoolwork, voting, and a depressing election day.

Truly, not worth blogging about, but I'd hate to leave a day out.

5 Days: A Boring, But Stressful, Day

• Weather forecast: 62 degrees, 10% chance of rain. It gets better every day!
• Another day of the angry wisdom tooth keeping itself under control.
• Another frosty morning.
• On campus by 8:15 AM. Long gap between arrival and my first class, so I took another sociology test online. I really do hate that stupid class.

• Read How To Sew A Button & Other Nifty Things Your Grandmother Knew. That book is adorable. It seemed fitting, on the eve of the eve of the eve of the eve of the eve of the day that I become someone's wife. Why do I love this book? Paragraphs like this:

• My sister will be joining me at my grandmother's house on Friday night. Yesssss!
• Vending machine lunch with Eric.

• Anthropology class. Ran into my professor in the restroom before class and walked to class with her, talked about wedding stuff. Boring class on the social construction of identity.
• Psychology class...with a lab. Whomp whomp. I think that it was about some variation on identity, too. Taking four social science classes in one semester turned out to be trickier than anticipated. It all blurs together.
• Home, cleaning, stress, frustration, family members not playing well with one another. One time Eric's family had some general drama and his mother not-seriously said that she wanted a stiff drink. Still being fairly new to the family, I asked semi-earnestly, "Is it because your family sucks?" It became a running joke, and I've been thinking about it all day long. Then sorting out a quadruple-million booked Thursday, then a 1.5 hour final phone meeting with the DJ. He has a guest request thing on his website where guests get a login code and can request songs they'd like to hear at the reception. Some highlights: Gangnam Style. Uprising, by Muse. Motivation, by Kelly Rowland (my sister owned up to that one). Some of these songs...they got vetoed.
• Failed attempt at coordinating bridesmaid schedules for the day-of.
• Semi-failed attempt at figuring out who's coming to the rehearsal.
• Kind of a disaster overall, but I guess it's all technically settled.
• A walk with the dogs. Eric's idea. I protested it due to the freezing cold, but it may have been the best part of the day. Admittedly, the standards were not high today. Tomorrow's a new day.

A Very Long Post Full of Happy-Bittersweet Endings

What a day. It's been an interesting enough day to warrant an actual, not-just-pictures blog post.

So I came home from morning volunteering at the daycare today, all geared up to write my sociology blog assignment for school that I'd put off all day week. I went out back with Eric and the dogs for a minute before starting and saw a dog running up the street about one house over. Now, I would've done what I could to aid any loose dog that was friendly enough to be approached, but something about this dog said "herding breed" to me, so it was on. I happened to have a handful of baked tortilla chips, grabbed Natalie's leash, and headed across the road. Java was going nuts in our yard because Java is unfortunately not much of a team player when it comes to strange animals. His requirements for a potential new friend are quite specific, but more on that another day. Among them are "is a girl," or "is a boy that I've known since I was a baby." This dog was neither, ultimately.

The pup was quite approachable (more so than my jerk of a doberman, I'm afraid) and interested in tortilla chips (who isn't?). He had on a blue collar with a cute skull pattern, but no tags. I easily got a leash on him and headed back home, formulating a plan as we walked. Among other reasons, Java would make it near impossible to keep him in the house for any length of time, and though he appeared to be healthy I was reluctant to expose our own herd to a dog with an unknown health situation. He was an interesting dog, sort of long and short, almost like a corgi, but with a square spaniel-esque head and a lot of fluffy, almost-but-not-quite Collie-like hair. He was white with a lot of black speckles and several big black spots. Eric and I had some heated debates about his potential breed mix, but all the same...

He seemed to be in good shape, not underweight, in need of a good brushing but nothing extreme at all, pretty clean and very mild-mannered and perfect on a leash. Neutered. I surmised that he probably hadn't been lost for all that long, and headed off for a good walk around the area. We knocked on doors, asked lawn-mowers and joggers if they knew him. No one had ever seen him. It's a subdivision, I feel like we usually kind of know what dogs live where. I began to suspect that maybe he wasn't from around here. I sang him a little song that went like "I've been through the suburbs with a dog with no name, it felt good to get out of the ra-aaain..." We walked and walked, and now and then he would abruptly pick up his pace and look animated. I wondered if maybe he spied his home, but as far as I could tell, nope.

Eventually we went back home and decided that the next logical step was to take him to our veterinarian to be scanned for a microchip. Maybe we would luck out and they would recognize him, even. Our veterinarian's practice is very near our house, and very small, so it seemed possible. He was also a very good boy in the car, but no chip, no recognition. We went back home and let him into our backyard with some food and water while I went inside to formulate a plan. It was about 3 pm and a lot of people weren't home, so I figured maybe he escaped while his people were at work, and I'd check again around 6 or so when people would be getting home. I called every local veterinarian and every local shelter. I posted a found ad on Craigslist. We have a pretty nice local resource, a Facebook page where people can post their lost and found pets. It's well-publicized, and they also watch for and post strays that are in shelters and other places. I posted for him there, and a few minutes later found a found ad for him... from four days earlier. There went my "probably just escaped today" theory. Four days ago, from what I can gather, someone in our neighboring subdivision picked him up, took him in, took his picture, and when they failed to find an owner, turned him loose outside again.

Now, I guess this may not be a black and white issue, but in my personal belief system, it is. We have a handful of smaller rescue organizations in this area (excluding breed-specific rescues, of course), and about three major shelters. One technically takes strays and owner surrenders, but the wait list to even have an "assessment appointment" to discuss surrendering the animals can be several weeks. There's no walking in and saying "I found this dog." They technically do not euthanize for space, but I really emphasize the word "technically" here. Another accepts immediate surrenders, but because of this they have an extremely, notoriously high kill rate: dogs have four days to get adopted or claimed, generally. The third pretty much just pulls from the first two and is no-kill. To me, a safe place and a humane euthanasia would be a better fate than being left to the elements to be hit by a car or starve to death. Tragic, yes. But less so than releasing a pet into the wild. The only option C, assuming that keeping the animal yourself is not on the table, would be attempting to rehome the animal yourself.

So the plan was this: post found ads everywhere we could. I reached out to the Collie rescue that I volunteer with for resources, got two that were ingenious dead ends. Post a rehoming ad explaining his situation as candidly as possible, see what that nets. Walk him again: knock on more doors. If nothing could be done by the end of the day, take him to the shelter.

I posted ads. I made calls. No dice. I took him for one last ditch walk into the next subdivision, and...we came upon a gaggle of pre-teen girls, who stopped what they were doing and said "Oh my God, that looks like Patches!"

We said "Really? Does this look like a missing dog that you know?" and the dog was engulfed in these girls, screaming "Oh my God it's Patches!" Turns out the leader of the group's best friend had lost her dog about a week ago and had been weeping (though apparently not looking too hard) ever since.

It was a happy ending. It was really kind of heart-warming.

I don't know exactly what the circumstances were, but I couldn't help but think: if any of our dogs were missing for one minute, or one week, or one year, or any amount of time, I would not rest until they were home. I would live outdoors. I would not sleep, or eat, or have fun, or go home, or anything, until at the very least every inch of the city had been plastered in fliers, every door in a five mile radius had been knocked on, every mailbox had a flier in it, every stone had been turned to bring them home. It is beyond me how anyone else could respond any differently, but..."Patches" is back with his people, and he seems to be very happy about it, so we'll chalk it up as a happy ending. Luckily in particular, as we had a massive, torrential storm just a few hours later.

On a different but strangely similar note...

A little bit of backstory on this one, if you'll bear with me here.

On December 31, 1996, my mother bought a one year old, red, longhaired dachshund. I was 8. She wanted a dog for some reason or other (I was 8, I don't know why) and responded to an ad in the newspaper for a large mixed breed female dog. I don't really remember what happened, the dog was already gone or my mother didn't like her, something, but the lady's daughter and son in law had a dachshund that they needed to find a home for. They brought him out, and he walked right up and lifted his leg on my mother's shoe. He came home with us. His name was Chancey, but it didn't suit him at all and he was renamed Quincee (my mom has always had a thing for the E-Es...).

It would in no way be an understatement to say that Quincee and I grew up together. We got a second dachshund, my dog, Taylor, in 1997, and he was my pup until he died in 2002. Quincee, though, was there for everything. He was a bird dog, in spite of his three inch legs, and caught several birds in the backyard. He played a mean game of tennis ball. Throw it once and you'd be throwing it for hours. If you hugged him, he'd do a little moan that we called buzzing, every time. He slept under the blankets on my mother's feet, every single night for 15 years. He was wild about bananas - wild. He would hear one being peeled from across the house and be there, ninja-like, on silent feet. I called him Q. Mom always figured he kept thinking of me as 8, because he never listened to a damn word I said, which was fine. For a brief time when he was 3 or 4, my mother (a single mother) had housing issues, and he went to live in Michigan with my grandparents temporarily. She called every day and talked to him on the phone so that he'd remember her. He came home after a couple months. A million pictures of Quincee. A million more memories.

About 1 year ago, Mom told me that Quincee had begun barking all day while she was at work. She lives in an apartment and was (is) very tight financially, but tried everything that she could for while. She tried tuckering him out, tried leaving him with someone during the day, tried Benedryl, tried acepromazine, tried baby-gating him into the kitchen with a peanut butter Kong and blankets. Nothing worked long-term for one reason or another. Eventually she was told by her landlord that she would be evicted if she didn't get rid of her dog. Ordinarily I would think "Well, move to a different apartment," but truly, there is not an apartment that would be cool with 40 hours of barking each week, and a house was not an option for her. I was absolutely unable to take him. A friend and coworker of hers offered to take him into her home. She was married with a few kids - Quincee loves kids, and it was as win-win as it could be for quite some time, close to a year I believe. The next part is messy, and I was not truly involved, so all I will say is that the woman began having an affair and from what I understand, using her "I did you a big favor and took your dog" upper-hand to use my mother as an alibi for her husband. This part is second hand for me, so I will refrain from commenting much on it. The whole thing turned into a trainwreck. As these things always do, the infidelity came to light, my mother and the woman had somewhat of a falling out, but she continued to update her with pictures and reports on Quincee.

Quincee turned 17 on August 22. The woman had recently been unwilling to respond to texts about how he was doing.

Immediately after the stray dog debacle, I was just browsing Facebook when I happened to see a post from my local Humane Society's page (I have it "liked," so it shows up in my newsfeed). I skimmed the text without looking closely at the picture, a 17 year old dachshund named "Quincy" had been dropped off that day, extremely matted, and what a lucky dog, a young couple had adopted him without hours of his arrival and grooming. Yep. Quincee.

His new people look very nice, and bless them for adopting a 17 year old. But I won't lie, I am gutwrenched to see how this story has ended up. It was painful enough when he left his home of 15 years, but to know that he's been not well cared for and was dumped in the Humane Society makes me sick to my stomach. I am kicking myself for not somehow moving heaven and earth to take him myself when he went to that horrible woman, even though I know rationally that it would not have been possible. As far as I can tell, he has an awesome home now, and I truly thank God for that. Still, the whole situation just... I commented on the post on Facebook in order to reach out to the new family in case they are interested in medical history, allergies (he has several!), preferences and quirks, photos...anything. Really, I'd just like to be able to see him keep being happy. In any event, it has a happy ending I guess, but I'm still feeling very saddened about the whole thing right now.

The Snoozy Chronicles

It has been a very very busy week.

In the mad rush of getting ready for the new semester, starting classes, getting down to the wire on the wedding, raising dogs, aspiring to have a life - well, not really, I'm starting to get snarky comments on Facebook from people who haven't seen us in way too long... sometimes, you crash.

 

 

General Updates + Manny the Mantis

School started today! I kicked off the week with anthropology and psychology. So far I really like both of my professors, and all of my classes this semester are social science classes, which are fairly easy. I went light on myself. I'm getting married in two and a half months, and I'm not missing even a day of classes to do it, so it seemed like I should set myself up for success, yknow? So the semester is looking good so far.

I got my wedding band today! It is just beautiful. It looks perfect with my engagement ring. I'll be going shortly to pay off the ceremony and reception venue and catering. My sister's maid of honor dress has been ordered, and it is perfect for her. Now, I have to make a final choice on my own dress. I'm significantly behind on this (and getting more so by the day), but I'm still on the fence.

My throat hurts, and I've been around someone with strep. Next week may be a bad one.

Without further ado, I bring you...the praying mantis that made himself at home on my mailbox. He was creepy. Intensely creepy. I had to get right up close to him to get the shots, and I was sure he was going to jump onto my hands and...take me back to his home planet, or something. He didn't, but wow.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Since I haven't posted in a month and a half, I suppose it goes without saying that things have been busy.

Fall semester's official, final line-up: sociology, social work, psychology, and anthropology with a professor who's apparently some sort of natural birth activist - so I feel like we'll get along well!

We finally found a church home - after much ado, we're thrilled with this church, and incidentally my grandparents (and former boss!) are members there. It's been very nice getting to see my grandparents every Sunday morning. New member classes start in early October, but we go every week now.

We have a foster puppy here with us. She is a 15 week old deaf Aussie named Natalie, and she is an absolute doll. It remains to be seen how long she will be here with us, but we're in no particular hurry to rush her along. She's sweet and spunky, phenomenal with frisbee, Violet and Java both adore her and go out of their way to be gentle with her. Dogs have kept our hands full, but what's new there? Wouldn't have that any other way. Pictures of Natalie will follow, naturally.

Wedding: save the dates are out, engagement pictures are taken, little things are getting done bit by bit. Favors are assembled, things like that. 14 weeks and counting until our wedding day - it seems so real and soon. I'm thrilled. More than likely, at least one dog will accompany us on our honeymoon. Come on, what did you expect?

The rest: slowly, slowly starting to make space and rearrange the house for the time, post-wedding, that we'll expand the family. Photography. Lots of new recipes. The daycare. Family. Eric's birthday last week. 15 days until the fall semester starts. The next two weeks are the calm before the storm - maybe I'll actually do some blogging, huh?

 

Natalie's Martha Stewart sheep: forsaken for a dollar store sheepskin sheep.

 

Return of the Prodigal Blogger

Well, I'm not even going to look at how long it's been since my last post, but I'd put it at three weeks. But I'm back. In the last month...

• I finished the semester. Did I mention that? At the end of it, I did well. Not perfectly. I did not keep a 4.0 like I wanted to. It was my first semester and I found that my educational background hobbled me a little more than I expected in Astronomy, I didn't know the basics of chemistry and that became a huge problem, but I made it through. Mythology was tougher than expected at first, but I hit my stride after about a month and came through it with a good grade. My arch nemesis, bane of my existence, ultimate foe, math - actually, I did alright. I had a high B when all was said and done, and for me, well... I still haven't expanded on that "educational history" story, but a year ago, I didn't know the most very, very, very basic algebraic concepts. I had a fifth grade education. So for me, a B in a college math course is something to be happy about. English - A. That class was kind of a nightmare because of the professor, but the material itself was never difficult for me.
• I registered for next semester's classes. Sociology, history, bigger English class, and social work! Yesss! My first major-specific class. I'm excited.
• Eric had back surgery. We had to drive to and from Cleveland to see a specialist, twice - once for surgery, once for follow-up. On the first trip, Java came. Violet is anxious in the car and bad about jumping up, so she was definitely not able to come, and I was very wary to leave Java. I didn't want it to turn out to be a wonky socialization experience. Two hours into our six hour drive, Java developed diarrhea. Explosive diarrhea. Diarrhea all over the middle of a sidewalk at an extremely well populated rest stop. I think that we both wanted the earth to swallow us up, and he continued to have diarrhea for the entire several-day trip and hotel stay, but to his credit, he had not one single accident in the car or hotel. It cleared up shortly after we returned home, but it was an interesting trip, with a completely bed-ridden, half out of it fiance and a sick dog in a strange city. We all handled it with aplomb in the end, and all was well. On a positive note, Java got socialized half to death, and he rose to the occasion.
• I'm reading Train Your Dog Like a Pro by Jean Donaldson, and following her program for Java's training. We're through the basic basics and proofing his duration sit-stays now. He will stay all day until I release him, the only challenge is not letting him lay down and turn it into a down-stay. Today, we'll be proofing with distractions today.
• 5.5 months until the wedding.
• My camera died for a week or two. Turned out the battery had just crapped out on me, but Cleveland and the camera have been the two reasons behind my slacking here. I'll be making up for it now, don't you worry!

Let's begin with the Cleveland pictures.

The very best traveler.

  

Baby wrinkles.

  

Cowlick on his nose.