This trip was long and hard. It was absolutely insane with 6 kids. We stayed Friday night in Los Cruces, NM. Long story short, it was 1,100 miles of, "Are we there yet?" "How many more miles?" "How far have we gone?" "When will we be there?"
Yeah... fun times. It really wouldn't have been so bad, but the questions started in San Antonio, which was only about 25 miles into our trip. By Junction Texas, about 200 miles into the second half of a 2100 mile trip, I had told the kids they couldn't ask anymore location questions until after we stopped for lunch on Saturday. That actually lasted for almost 100 miles.
So anyway, we stayed Friday night in Los Cruces. The hotels pet policy said only dogs under 50 lbs and no cats. So basically we had to smuggle two 80 pound dogs and one very angry puddy tat into a hotel room, on the third floor. Saturday morning we thought we would hit the road early, but in reality, after feeding and watering 6 children, 2 dogs and the very angry puddy tat, we didn't get out of Los Cruces until closer to 9 local time. And then we hauled ass... like the devil himself was on our tail. We made Tuscon around oneish, fed children again and turned North. Things were pretty uneventful on the last day. We made it from Los Cruces to Black Canyon City with no major issues.
Then it hit. The last 20 miles or so on the interstate was a 6% mountain grade, going up roughly 4,000 feet in about 12 miles or so. The Suburban struggled with that big damn Uhaul. I thought we were in the clear when we turned off of I-17 onto Hwy 69. There was only about 20 miles to go at that point. I was feeling sorry for the ole truck and was trying to go easy on her. Temps and oil pressure were fine, but she was still pretty sluggish. Just past Mayer Arizona it happened. She just died. Engine shut down, but at least we still had power steering.
So there we were, 15 miles from the final destination, stuck on the side of the road. We think that the transmission overheated, went into 'save my own ass' mode, and just shut down. That's just a theory. Since I don't have a handy dandy trans temp guage, we aren't positive. Stuck on the side of the road with 6 kids, 2 dogs and the very angry (and plotting our deaths) puddy tat. We called Tim's dad to come get the Uhaul and we called my dad to come get animals. For the 20 minutes or so we were stuck there, only one person stopped to see if they could help... a 60ish man on a motorcycle.
Anyway, the dads showed up. Tim's dad took the Uhaul and mine took C and the animals. My poor dogs and cat weren't doing so well, being stuck in the truck with no AC. By then we were able to start the burb with no problems and made it the rest of the way into town with no problems. We haven't had a problem since then. So who knows.
So now we're here. End of trip. End of that story. If I should ever decide to take a 2100 mile roadtrip with half my life in a Uhaul behind me and all my kids/critters in the burb, remind me of all the 'fun' that we had on this trip.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday
God bless Texas… with courtesy lanes, kickass barbeque, 80 mph interstate, and wide open skies. The courtesy lanes are a concept that is still slightly lost on me. What looks like a 2-lane highway with really wide shoulders, is in reality used as a 4-lane highway. Those aren’t shoulders, they are courtesy lanes. I thought the guy in front of me was just being… well courteous, when he moved off to the shoulder to let me blow by like the bat out of hell that I am. Turns out that’s the ‘thing’ to do in Texas, drive down the shoulder courtesy lane and let the speed demons go by.
The barbeque… holy hell the barbeque. We stopped at this pit barbeque in Lockhart today. When you walk in the door there is a sign that says, ‘Vegetarians enter here. Normal people go to the back.’ When you go to the back and through the doors, you are literally walking into the pit. There are a few counters with giant steel grills behind them, and then the fire pits below those. The lids on the grills are so enormous, that there were counterweights to lift them. Anyway, we ordered a pound of brisket and a few sausages. They piled this meat up on sheets of butcher paper and wrapped it up with about half a loaf of bread and a half package of crackers. We took that into the Vegetarian room where we got our sides, baked beans (with meat) and German potato salad (with meat). I suppose the vegetarians are supposed to eat the condiments. The whole experience was slightly barbaric. We tore into this pile of meat with our fingers and I think it was probably the best brisket I’ve ever had. When it comes to brisket, it’s hard to beat anything we’ve gotten in Texas. They can sure do brisket.
Yes, I know I’m jumping around a lot. We’ve just passed mile marker 398, which means we are just over half way through Texas. This state is almost half of our entire trip. It’s crazy. The good news is, on this stretch of interstate the speed limit is 80mph. Tim calls it morale speed. Considering we have 6 kids, 2 dogs and a very angry black kitty, 80mph speed limits are a Godsend. A FREAKING GODSEND! We picked up Tim’s stepson H, his brother M and sister K in Lockhart. We’re delivering the latter two to their father in Arizona. I must be freaking crazy for volunteering to do this. The questions haven’t stopped for more than 30 seconds in well over 200 miles. I’m sure there is a special place for people like me reserved at the nut hut.
Aside from all that, it really is beautiful out here. We’re about 140 miles East of Fort Stockton TX and there are clear blue skies, dry creek beds, and rolling hills for as far as the eye can see. Aside from the interstate slashing through it, it’s beautiful. It’s peaceful in the sense that so much of this land is still untouched. It’s nice to see that after living in fairly large metropolitan areas for the past 5 years.
The barbeque… holy hell the barbeque. We stopped at this pit barbeque in Lockhart today. When you walk in the door there is a sign that says, ‘Vegetarians enter here. Normal people go to the back.’ When you go to the back and through the doors, you are literally walking into the pit. There are a few counters with giant steel grills behind them, and then the fire pits below those. The lids on the grills are so enormous, that there were counterweights to lift them. Anyway, we ordered a pound of brisket and a few sausages. They piled this meat up on sheets of butcher paper and wrapped it up with about half a loaf of bread and a half package of crackers. We took that into the Vegetarian room where we got our sides, baked beans (with meat) and German potato salad (with meat). I suppose the vegetarians are supposed to eat the condiments. The whole experience was slightly barbaric. We tore into this pile of meat with our fingers and I think it was probably the best brisket I’ve ever had. When it comes to brisket, it’s hard to beat anything we’ve gotten in Texas. They can sure do brisket.
Yes, I know I’m jumping around a lot. We’ve just passed mile marker 398, which means we are just over half way through Texas. This state is almost half of our entire trip. It’s crazy. The good news is, on this stretch of interstate the speed limit is 80mph. Tim calls it morale speed. Considering we have 6 kids, 2 dogs and a very angry black kitty, 80mph speed limits are a Godsend. A FREAKING GODSEND! We picked up Tim’s stepson H, his brother M and sister K in Lockhart. We’re delivering the latter two to their father in Arizona. I must be freaking crazy for volunteering to do this. The questions haven’t stopped for more than 30 seconds in well over 200 miles. I’m sure there is a special place for people like me reserved at the nut hut.
Aside from all that, it really is beautiful out here. We’re about 140 miles East of Fort Stockton TX and there are clear blue skies, dry creek beds, and rolling hills for as far as the eye can see. Aside from the interstate slashing through it, it’s beautiful. It’s peaceful in the sense that so much of this land is still untouched. It’s nice to see that after living in fairly large metropolitan areas for the past 5 years.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday
*Sometime this afternoon* So we’ve left Georgia behind… along with some really jacked up memories/events. But we have also left behind some good memories, and good friends. I suppose I haven’t really been myself this year. I’ve been prone to impulsiveness that isn’t like me. I’ve done some things that are totally against the very person I am and those things have left both Tim and I scarred and weary. I can’t go into detail. I’m not ready to air the dirty laundry just yet. Instead, we’re going to make this 2,100 mile trip… and leave all those things far behind us.
We’re only about 150 miles into the trip right now. It’s 1:23 p.m. CST. We got stuck behind an accident for 2 hours on the interstate. Stuck at a dead standstill. Good thing I packed something to feed the kids for lunch. Nothing moved, except us when we ventured out of the truck to walk the dogs, have a smoke, stretch, etc. And while we were sitting there, those memories and events caught up to us, which led to another awkward discussion and more tears. There have been far too many tears and way too much heartache in the last week or so.
On the flip side of that coin, we’re leaving behind some great memories. We’re leaving behind a very good friend and the area that we both fell in love with and the place we both hope to come back to some day.
*Later today* It’s been a long day. We’re well into Mississippi, only about 68 miles from the Louisiana state line, only about 3 hours behind what we had planned. We were aiming for Baton Rouge for dinner time. Instead it was fast food in Redneckville USA. The kids have had enough. They’re usually really good travelers, but after being at a standstill for 2 hours and allowed to run around the truck and play, they aren’t really into this being seat belted down business.
Anyway, Alabama was a rough state. We had too much time for reflection and discussion. It led to some difficult conversations about some hard lessons learned. It’s true what they say about hurting the ones we love the most. So far Mississippi has been an easy state with no difficult conversations. We agreed before we made it out of Alabama that Mississippi would be easier for us. We still have about 1,700 miles to go on this trip, but hopefully the worst of it was in the first couple hundred.
At the end of the day and at the end of the endless interstate, I realize that the most important person in my life is behind the wheel of this truck. Everyone and everything I need is in this truck and trailer. I’ve got my husband, my kids, and my memories. No matter the mistakes I’ve made, it’s a comforting thought to realize they are still here with me. Even though I’ve been a complete idiot, he’s still here. They are all still here. I still can’t believe that I was lucky enough to find him.
We’re only about 150 miles into the trip right now. It’s 1:23 p.m. CST. We got stuck behind an accident for 2 hours on the interstate. Stuck at a dead standstill. Good thing I packed something to feed the kids for lunch. Nothing moved, except us when we ventured out of the truck to walk the dogs, have a smoke, stretch, etc. And while we were sitting there, those memories and events caught up to us, which led to another awkward discussion and more tears. There have been far too many tears and way too much heartache in the last week or so.
On the flip side of that coin, we’re leaving behind some great memories. We’re leaving behind a very good friend and the area that we both fell in love with and the place we both hope to come back to some day.
*Later today* It’s been a long day. We’re well into Mississippi, only about 68 miles from the Louisiana state line, only about 3 hours behind what we had planned. We were aiming for Baton Rouge for dinner time. Instead it was fast food in Redneckville USA. The kids have had enough. They’re usually really good travelers, but after being at a standstill for 2 hours and allowed to run around the truck and play, they aren’t really into this being seat belted down business.
Anyway, Alabama was a rough state. We had too much time for reflection and discussion. It led to some difficult conversations about some hard lessons learned. It’s true what they say about hurting the ones we love the most. So far Mississippi has been an easy state with no difficult conversations. We agreed before we made it out of Alabama that Mississippi would be easier for us. We still have about 1,700 miles to go on this trip, but hopefully the worst of it was in the first couple hundred.
At the end of the day and at the end of the endless interstate, I realize that the most important person in my life is behind the wheel of this truck. Everyone and everything I need is in this truck and trailer. I’ve got my husband, my kids, and my memories. No matter the mistakes I’ve made, it’s a comforting thought to realize they are still here with me. Even though I’ve been a complete idiot, he’s still here. They are all still here. I still can’t believe that I was lucky enough to find him.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Now this is Patriotism
Somebody please buy this guy a beer... when he's old enough to drink it of course.
Embedded video from CNN Video
Friday, May 15, 2009
Jimmy
Growing up, my parents did foster care. Jimmy was one of those foster kids. He was the one foster kid that would ultimately break all of our hearts. I don't remember how long he was with us, but it seemed like forever. When we got him, he was a terrified little shell of a child. He was scared of everything. It didn't take too long before he came around and it was like he had always been a part of our family. Jimmy was about 10 months younger than me. I got a respite from being the baby, and he got a real family. So it was a win-win situation... at least for the two of us. He knew left from right but I didn't. I could tie my shoes but he couldn't tie his. So putting shoes on became a group effort for the two of us. He would make sure I got my shoes on the right feet and I would tie his shoes for him.
Having Jimmy around just seemed natural. I remember going with my mom to drop him off with his mom for visits. It was usually to some seedy hotel room, and Jimmy never wanted to stay. He didn't want that woman to be his mom. He wanted my parents to be his. I was okay with that. I knew that if I could share my parents with him, that meant I got to keep him too.
My parents were in the process of trying to adopt him. We hadn't planned to let him go. He wasn't going to be another foster kid through the revolving door. We wanted to keep this one!! Then one day... it was over. We lost him. His mother had complied with whatever it was she was supposed to do. She took him. She took him and moved far away from us with him. We never saw Jimmy again. He was the last foster kid my parents took in. After him, none of us wanted to see another child come in broken and abused, only to walk right back out and into the situation that got him/her there in the first place. It was just... over.
Over the years, I've tried to find him. When I was a child, I was foolish enough to hope that just maybe I would find him at school. Or maybe I would run into him at the gas station. Then as I got older, I thought I would find him on the Internet. I thought I could just type his name into some search engine, and there he would be. Now 20+ years later, I'm typing his name into Facebook. There are over 500 Jimmy Bowmans. I wouldn't recognize his face anymore. All I have to compare to, is a faded picture of a 5-6 year old little boy. That 5-6 year old little boy would have turned 28 this January. 20+ years can do a lot to a body. I'll never recognize him by a picture.
At the moment, I'm fresh out of hope again. He could be one of 500+ Jimmy Bowmans. Or he might not be one of them at all. Who's to say, he didn't get placed with another foster family later on. Another family may have been able to adopt him... change his name... give him the life he deserved. For his sake I hope that was the case. For my sake, I hope his name is still Jimmy Bowman, and that one of these days I will be able to find him. Not just for me, but for my parents, my sisters, all of us.
Having Jimmy around just seemed natural. I remember going with my mom to drop him off with his mom for visits. It was usually to some seedy hotel room, and Jimmy never wanted to stay. He didn't want that woman to be his mom. He wanted my parents to be his. I was okay with that. I knew that if I could share my parents with him, that meant I got to keep him too.
My parents were in the process of trying to adopt him. We hadn't planned to let him go. He wasn't going to be another foster kid through the revolving door. We wanted to keep this one!! Then one day... it was over. We lost him. His mother had complied with whatever it was she was supposed to do. She took him. She took him and moved far away from us with him. We never saw Jimmy again. He was the last foster kid my parents took in. After him, none of us wanted to see another child come in broken and abused, only to walk right back out and into the situation that got him/her there in the first place. It was just... over.
Over the years, I've tried to find him. When I was a child, I was foolish enough to hope that just maybe I would find him at school. Or maybe I would run into him at the gas station. Then as I got older, I thought I would find him on the Internet. I thought I could just type his name into some search engine, and there he would be. Now 20+ years later, I'm typing his name into Facebook. There are over 500 Jimmy Bowmans. I wouldn't recognize his face anymore. All I have to compare to, is a faded picture of a 5-6 year old little boy. That 5-6 year old little boy would have turned 28 this January. 20+ years can do a lot to a body. I'll never recognize him by a picture.
At the moment, I'm fresh out of hope again. He could be one of 500+ Jimmy Bowmans. Or he might not be one of them at all. Who's to say, he didn't get placed with another foster family later on. Another family may have been able to adopt him... change his name... give him the life he deserved. For his sake I hope that was the case. For my sake, I hope his name is still Jimmy Bowman, and that one of these days I will be able to find him. Not just for me, but for my parents, my sisters, all of us.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Day 1, Year 6
Today is the beginning of a new year for us. Tim and I have officially made it to that 5 year mark. At this time 5 years ago, we were getting ready to head to the courthouse to make our case as to why the judge should waive the mandatory 3 day waiting period and grant us a marriage license. It was a Wednesday.
Tim had picked me up at the airport late the night before. Less than 12 hours after the ink had dried on his divorce papers. Which made it slightly less than 24 hours that he was a free man, with no wife to tie him down. Rather than celebrating his singleness, he was preparing to tie the knot again. He was legend in his squadron at that time. Guys got a kick out of 'divorced May 4, married May 5.' Which did lead to some interesting conversations between Tim and his first shirt about whether anything improper had happened while he was still married to hoebag.
Yes, we met while he was still married. He had gotten tired of her running around, and finding her boyfriend sitting on his couch when he came home from a mission was the last straw. He took leave, went to AZ, which is were we met. We went out a few times in AZ, and then spent the next 2 1/2 months talking on the phone, waiting for the divorce to go through. Technically speaking, we got married on the fourth date.
The whole deal was crazy. I spent a few days in DE with him and returned to AZ for a couple months. Telling Dad was one of the hardest things I think I've had to do. There is no easy way to tell the person closest to you that you eloped, without them there. It was a difficult conversation. I knew Dad wanted to be mad. I knew he was mad. I knew he wanted to yell and give me the ass-chewing of my life. But that's not Dad. Instead he hugged me, said congratulations and how he wished only the best for me. A couple months later when Tim came out to help me move across the country, to be with him... the only thing Dad could bring himself to say to him was, "You better take care of them." That was it. Those were the only words he spoke to my new husband. He didn't threaten Tim, but we all understood the meaning behind those words. It sounded more like, "If you hurt my little girl, I'll bust your kneecaps."
Dad tried awful hard not to like Tim. It took him awhile to get that Tim was the polar opposite of all the mutts I'd drug home before him. But he found it hard not to like him and it didn't take long before the two of them had actually become friends. They actually liked each other.
The first year was hell. We fought most of the time. By the second year we had gotten to know each other and started to get along and play nice. By the end of year two, we had J together. Year three was getting easier, I had finally gotten used to the idea of being married. Year four we had I. Then year five, we spent the majority of apart due to military commitments. And now year six... we'll be apart for most of it also. I'm getting ready to head west, and he's already pretty much 'living' at Dover. Eventually we'll end up in the same place again.
So today is somewhat bittersweet. I'm thrilled that we're at this five-year mark. It's a huge milestone. For both of us. For marriage in general in this day and age. But I'm also sad, lonely, and I miss him. I just want to be able to spend today with him, instead of being 750 miles apart. I just want to be with him and to be able to just touch him. Instead we'll spend today apart, but more in love with each other than ever.
Tim had picked me up at the airport late the night before. Less than 12 hours after the ink had dried on his divorce papers. Which made it slightly less than 24 hours that he was a free man, with no wife to tie him down. Rather than celebrating his singleness, he was preparing to tie the knot again. He was legend in his squadron at that time. Guys got a kick out of 'divorced May 4, married May 5.' Which did lead to some interesting conversations between Tim and his first shirt about whether anything improper had happened while he was still married to hoebag.
Yes, we met while he was still married. He had gotten tired of her running around, and finding her boyfriend sitting on his couch when he came home from a mission was the last straw. He took leave, went to AZ, which is were we met. We went out a few times in AZ, and then spent the next 2 1/2 months talking on the phone, waiting for the divorce to go through. Technically speaking, we got married on the fourth date.
The whole deal was crazy. I spent a few days in DE with him and returned to AZ for a couple months. Telling Dad was one of the hardest things I think I've had to do. There is no easy way to tell the person closest to you that you eloped, without them there. It was a difficult conversation. I knew Dad wanted to be mad. I knew he was mad. I knew he wanted to yell and give me the ass-chewing of my life. But that's not Dad. Instead he hugged me, said congratulations and how he wished only the best for me. A couple months later when Tim came out to help me move across the country, to be with him... the only thing Dad could bring himself to say to him was, "You better take care of them." That was it. Those were the only words he spoke to my new husband. He didn't threaten Tim, but we all understood the meaning behind those words. It sounded more like, "If you hurt my little girl, I'll bust your kneecaps."
Dad tried awful hard not to like Tim. It took him awhile to get that Tim was the polar opposite of all the mutts I'd drug home before him. But he found it hard not to like him and it didn't take long before the two of them had actually become friends. They actually liked each other.
The first year was hell. We fought most of the time. By the second year we had gotten to know each other and started to get along and play nice. By the end of year two, we had J together. Year three was getting easier, I had finally gotten used to the idea of being married. Year four we had I. Then year five, we spent the majority of apart due to military commitments. And now year six... we'll be apart for most of it also. I'm getting ready to head west, and he's already pretty much 'living' at Dover. Eventually we'll end up in the same place again.
So today is somewhat bittersweet. I'm thrilled that we're at this five-year mark. It's a huge milestone. For both of us. For marriage in general in this day and age. But I'm also sad, lonely, and I miss him. I just want to be able to spend today with him, instead of being 750 miles apart. I just want to be with him and to be able to just touch him. Instead we'll spend today apart, but more in love with each other than ever.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Baby
It was July of 1999. I wanted a dog. It was a time when I didn't have a dog I could call my own. So I called this number in the paper and went to look at this puppy. When I got there, I found this little tiny ball of yellow fur, only 4 weeks old. Her momma had been hit by a car. She was confined in a tiny dog run and her coat was covered with mud, feces, and God knows what else. She wasn't what I was looking for, but I couldn't turn my back and walk away from her. She was so pitiful and scared. She would flinch every time I reached out to pet her. Within a few days, she was sleeping in my bed... nestled up against my chest.
The years have not been kind to her. At about 12 weeks, she was hit by a car. She wasn't hurt too bad. Mostly it just tumbled her, scared her, and left a few scrapes. About 6 months after that, she somehow sliced the pad completely off one of her paws. Another 6 months after that, she got her left front leg caught in a coyote trap (we think). It scraped the flesh clear down to the bone and left her with a permanent limp. She was accident free for about 5 years when I left her with my mom. Since she has a tendency to chase horses, she got kicked several times, breaking several teeth. At some point, she was either kicked by one of the horses or hit by a car (we really never figured it out) but it completely shattered her right front let. At that point we were faced with the options of amputation or surgical repair. Since she had already had a serious injury to her left leg, the vet didn't know if she would adjust to amputation or be able to support her weight on that one bad leg. So surgical repair it was. Two steel plates, numerous screws, and $600 later, she has a gimpy right front leg, but she had two legs. Shortly after that she came back to me.
Now we are creeping up on her 10 year birthday. Two years past the life expectancy for her breed. Her body is starting to fail her. She has a harder time controlling her bowels and bladder. The poor girl feels so badly when she has an accident. She will just hang her head and look at me, and I know if she could speak she would say, 'I'm so sorry.' She has a harder time getting up these days, and I can tell she is in a significant amount of pain when she walks. Not only in her previously injured limbs, but in all her joints. Sometimes just the pain of getting up is enough to make her yelp. She isn't as content as she used to be and she doesn't always meet me at the door anymore. Most days she would rather just hide in my bedroom... where she is safe from the accidental owies that happen with two toddlers in the house.
I have always thought that as long as an animal has a good quality of life, then I would not make the decision to put them down. But now after 10 years, I'm faced with trying to measure how good her quality of life is. Is she still happy? Is she still content? How much pain is she really in? The vet is coming tomorrow. I originally made the appointment with the intentions of updating her vaccinations and doing a yearly exam. But I guess at this point I need to have the quality of life versus quantity of life discussion with him. Hopefully he can just give her something to ease her discomfort. I'm not ready to let go of her. She has been my protector, my faithful companion, and a part of my family. No matter how timid and terrified of people she is, she will always put herself between me and any stranger. Do I let her suffer for my own personal benefit? Or do I look into the possibility of easing her discomfort on a permanent level. It's heartbreaking and I'm torn.
The years have not been kind to her. At about 12 weeks, she was hit by a car. She wasn't hurt too bad. Mostly it just tumbled her, scared her, and left a few scrapes. About 6 months after that, she somehow sliced the pad completely off one of her paws. Another 6 months after that, she got her left front leg caught in a coyote trap (we think). It scraped the flesh clear down to the bone and left her with a permanent limp. She was accident free for about 5 years when I left her with my mom. Since she has a tendency to chase horses, she got kicked several times, breaking several teeth. At some point, she was either kicked by one of the horses or hit by a car (we really never figured it out) but it completely shattered her right front let. At that point we were faced with the options of amputation or surgical repair. Since she had already had a serious injury to her left leg, the vet didn't know if she would adjust to amputation or be able to support her weight on that one bad leg. So surgical repair it was. Two steel plates, numerous screws, and $600 later, she has a gimpy right front leg, but she had two legs. Shortly after that she came back to me.
Now we are creeping up on her 10 year birthday. Two years past the life expectancy for her breed. Her body is starting to fail her. She has a harder time controlling her bowels and bladder. The poor girl feels so badly when she has an accident. She will just hang her head and look at me, and I know if she could speak she would say, 'I'm so sorry.' She has a harder time getting up these days, and I can tell she is in a significant amount of pain when she walks. Not only in her previously injured limbs, but in all her joints. Sometimes just the pain of getting up is enough to make her yelp. She isn't as content as she used to be and she doesn't always meet me at the door anymore. Most days she would rather just hide in my bedroom... where she is safe from the accidental owies that happen with two toddlers in the house.
I have always thought that as long as an animal has a good quality of life, then I would not make the decision to put them down. But now after 10 years, I'm faced with trying to measure how good her quality of life is. Is she still happy? Is she still content? How much pain is she really in? The vet is coming tomorrow. I originally made the appointment with the intentions of updating her vaccinations and doing a yearly exam. But I guess at this point I need to have the quality of life versus quantity of life discussion with him. Hopefully he can just give her something to ease her discomfort. I'm not ready to let go of her. She has been my protector, my faithful companion, and a part of my family. No matter how timid and terrified of people she is, she will always put herself between me and any stranger. Do I let her suffer for my own personal benefit? Or do I look into the possibility of easing her discomfort on a permanent level. It's heartbreaking and I'm torn.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Atom Feed (xml)