Remember To Back Up Your Computer!

Everyone and their brother will be posting Thanksgiving related blogs today, but I have something different to put forth:  the importance of backing up your computer!

Husband and I have just been through the ringer trying to save our computer from obliteration after a nasty malware virus infected it.  It was quite the odyssey!

First we took it to our trusty computer guru who has worked on it before, and assumed he'd just work his normal techie voodoo and all would be well in a day or so.  He assumed so, too.  But when the voodoo didn't work, he tried something else.  Then something else.  Then something else.  Then.....well, you get the idea.  I don't understand enough about how computers work to be able to explain what happened, but nothing he tried worked and he ended up having to store all of our personal files to an external hard drive, then wiping our computer clean and reinstalling Windows.  

Windows XP:  soon to be obsolete!

All of this took 6 days, during which I had his phone number memorized as I was constantly calling him for updates while I pulled my hair out, and he added me to his stalker list and contemplated going into a witness protection program to avoid me.

Six days of which I fretted and moaned and cried and dreaded the possibility that we were going to lose everything on the computer.  I mean, think about it.  In this day and age, who doesn't have their entire life stored on their computer?  Photos.  Financial records.  Saved emails, scanned legal papers, documents created for stories, schoolwork assignments, diaries, downloaded music (legally, of course!).....everything!  Most worrisome for me were the photos.  Documents and the like can be recreated, music can be re-purchased and re-ripped, but photos....no.  I mean it's not like you can resurrect the dead and restage a photo, or go back in time and retake it, right?

Digital photos are great, but no automatic hard copy or negatives to keep!

Finally, finally, all was ok and our little outdated and oh-so-ancient [insert sarcastic voice here] computer was back at home, safe and sound yesterday  (I say that because it was hinted numerous times that we should think about upgrading to a new computer.  I hate forced obsolescence!).  The computer guru dropped it off at our house and said he never wanted to see us again and that he was changing his phone number.  Not really, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had.  

Anyway, now that the ordeal is over, I realized that I never want to be put in that position again....that full-of-dread, helpless feeling that your most vital and precious items stored on the computer could just be wiped out in the blink of an eye.  Poof.  Gone.  I learned my lesson:  back up, back up, back up!  Oh, and invest in a good antivirus protection software - don't rely on the free stuff, which is what we had been doing.  But that goes without saying.  Back up, back up, back up!

I'll be spending my Thanksgiving vacation methodically going through files and saving them to outside sources:  flash drives, discs, and online photo storage sites.  Hard copies of your most important documents and photos inside a bank safety deposit box is a good idea too.  Of course nothing is infallible, that's why it's important to back up to multiple sources so in case one fails, you still have your stuff.  You could lose your computer due to theft, fire, even a bad coffee spill too, viruses aren't the only culprit!

Do you have back up sources for your most precious documents?  Or is it on your to-do list?

Oh, and have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Homemade English Muffins

I made English muffins today!

I used this recipe from the Tasty Kitchen.  They were super easy, but very time consuming.  Most of the waiting comes from the rise time, and the time to cook in the skillet (10 minutes per side, so I had two skillets going at the same time so I could get more done at once).

I can't wait to try one with my breakfast tomorrow, where I'll make my homemade version of a sausage egg muffin everyone loves from the restaurant beginning with "Mc".  One more food item from the grocery store that I no longer have to buy, now that I know how to make my own, AND know everything that's gone into it.  

It's becoming increasingly important to me to learn how to make as many things from scratch as possible.  Not only is it cheaper (in most cases), but healthier to boot.  Yes, it's more time consuming and requires more planning, but I don't mind.  It's worth it, in my opinion.  

What have you made homemade lately?

Nostalgic For A Time That Didn't Exist

One of my favorite songs on my Frank Sinatra V-Discs set is "Homesick, That's All."

Here is the YouTube link to the song (it won't let me embed it), and following are the lyrics:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n07b3JABRfI&feature=related

I miss the thrill of grammar school romances
I miss the junior prom and graduation dances
The gossip in assembly hall
I'm homesick, that's all

I miss the gang that hangs around at Miller's
Devouring chocolate sodas, with those whipped cream fillers
The girl I promised I would call
I'm homesick, that's all

I miss the midnight services on Christmas Eve
And the joy when Christmas morning came
I miss the scramble for the wishbone every Sunday
And the big Thanksgiving football game

I miss the times I had to set the table
I miss the rolls my mother made when she was able
The fragrant bonfires in the fall
I'm homesick, that's all

I miss the times I had to set the table
I miss the rolls my mother made when she was able
The fragrant bonfires in the fall
I'm homesick, that's all

This song has such a melancholy pull on my heartstrings.  It makes me long for a time that no longer exists....not only my childhood, but of a simpler, more innocent time.  

But did it really exist?  We tend so much to look at the past through rose colored glasses and only see the good things of a particular era.  Or, to see an era as we experienced it ourselves, unexposed to the horrors of the world around us.  

For example, the 1970's was a time of major political, cultrual, and economic upheaval.....for the rest of the world.  But for me, my biggest worries were figuring out what to bring to show and tell at school, and waking up early enough on Saturday mornings to watch my favorite cartoons.  I look back at that period with warm nostalgia about those cartoons, the toys I played with, the family gatherings I went to, and businesses around town that existed back then but are gone now.   I was never exposed to the harsh realities of the world around me.

I actually had this album!

Certainly for an adult who lived through those times and remember gas lines round the block, the continuing Vietnam War, the Nixon scandal, and shocking behavior from the youth as social conventions gave way would remember that era in a different light.

Not having lived through the Golden Era (1925-1955) I have to learn about it second hand from books, video, and first hand accounts from my parents.  Now, my parents each had very different experiences growing up.  My Mom was born in 1930 to an upper-middle class family and had a nanny.  She remembers driving with her dad in their big black car and seeing people standing in bread lines on the street, and wondering why they were there.  The Great Depression had hardly any effect on her life.

My Dad, however, was born in 1931 to a dirt-poor farming family struggling to eke out an existence in dust-bowl stricken Colorado.  The 13th child, he knew bad times, and knew firsthand how harsh life could be.

While Mom has happy, fond memories of that period, my Dad doesn't like to remember them at all.  While my Mom learned afterwards the bad parts of that era, because they didn't effect her directly, she still sees it all through "rose colored glasses" just like the way I view the 70's.  

Of course every era has it's good parts and bad parts, that's just life.  There always have been and always will be the bad with the good, and I think it's important, when looking at the past, to take into account both sides.  One shouldn't whitewash the past and say only good things happened; on the flip side one shouldn't condemn an entire era solely for the bad parts and discount the good.  

So when I get to feeling nostalgic for the past - a past I never lived through, such as in this song - I guess what I'm really nostalgic for is the idea of an idyllic past.  It's more pleasant to think of the past as how it's depicted in It's A Wonderful Life or Leave It To Beaver.  No one wants to think about segregation, racism, gender inequality, child abuse that was kept hush-hush because one doesn't air the family's dirty laundry.  It's easier to pretend that life was shiny-happy and to believe that our authority figures were all honest and could be trusted and that the cure to all woes was a slice of mom's apple pie.

I truly wish such a time existed.  That's what I'm nostalgic for.  A world where there weren't any troubles, everyone no matter their race, ethnicity and gender got along, no one told lies, and everyone helped their fellow man.  

It could be great, wouldn't it?

My Yard

As you can see, I've been adding some pics to my page to spruce things up.  Ginger photos are back!  (why did I ever get rid of them!?) Ginger Rogers that is, not my late doggie.  And before you ask, no, we did not name her specifically after Ms. Rogers....the name "Ginger" just seemed to fit her personality so well!

Anyhoo, I thought I would share some photos of our yard.  Why?  I already have spring planting on the brain!

The front of our house

See, this past year, I had held such high hopes for growing my own food.  I had visions of my own little urban homestead dancing in my brain, and of learning how to can.

The problem is, while we do have a rather large yard for a city dwelling, it's too shady.  We simply have too many big trees in our yard to be able to do much veggie growing.  We do have a couple of small places in the yard that do get at least 5-6 hours of sunlight a day (the bare minimum for most veggies), but I just didn't have my "poop in a group" (so my former boss liked to say) enough to take advantage of it.  I did attempt a couple of tomato plants in one of them, but thanks to blight and weird weather I didn't get squat out of them.

Our front steps and "flower patch", one of the few spots that gets lots of sunlight.  Perfect for container gardening!

Not to be defeated, I am determined that I will produce something next year!  I have been researching raised bed and container gardening, as well as how to amend the soil with compost.  Because I have to take as much advantage of what sunlight I can in the yard, raised beds make the most sense.

Oh yes, and did I mention that our backyard - the area with the most space - is on the north side of the house!  Another blow to maximum sunlight.

Our back yard.  Because most of the big trees are on the south side, it's shady most of the day.  Darn tree shadows.

Looking towards the back northeast corner of the yard, which is one part that does get lots of sunlight in the summer.  Note Sasha at the fence, looking longingly at squirrels on the other side.  Ignore the pathetic remains of my failed tomato plants.

And here is the northwest corner of the backyard.  This space does get kinda ok sunlight, until early afternoon hits.

Oh yes, did I mention that the tree in that northwest corner is a black walnut tree?  Another blow!  Because of a toxin they emit, not many plants will thrive around these trees.  The squirrels love'em, though.

This is our neighbor's cat, Foo.  He likes to hang out on our porch columns and look in our windows (I took the pic looking through the window, which is why it's kinda fuzzy).  This has nothing to do with the post, but he's so cute I couldn't resist.  Wouldn't you agree?

Anyway, I wanted to show what the yard looks like now, to be able to compare it to what it will look like next spring.  I am determined to find ways to work around my gardening obstacles.  I will, I will, I will! 

Did you garden this year?  How did it turn out?

Renewal

Life is slowly beginning to gain back a small sense of normalcy at our house, despite us languishing this past week in the throes of a horrible cold virus.  Let's just say that our household does it's share of keeping the makers of Puff's Plus with Lotion in business!

Now that I'm on the mend, both physically and emotionally from this horrible past month, I hope to get back to blogging for real again, and also hope to start on my "domestic path" again with a renewed sense of purpose.  Cooking from scratch, avoiding processed foods, learning to knit, crochet, sew, etc., and basically living a more authentic vintage life.  By that I mean living how "Grandma used to", not so much getting caught up in the trappings of a vintage lifestyle (clothing, decor, etc).  Not that there's anything wrong with that, and I would if our budget allowed it, but right now we need to embrace true Depression-era living in these scary economic times!

(I do realize the irony of trying to live more in tune to the values of the past, while admitting above that we use Puff's......shouldn't I be using cloth handkerchiefs instead?  Well......since my sinuses are capable of requiring me to go through an entire box of tissues in just a handful of hours, the simple answer is, NO.  Sorry, TMI.)

Anyhoo, just wanted to check in and say that I haven't dropped into oblivion again so soon, and also wanted to say thank you so much for all of your kind and supportive comments this past month.  They are truly appreciated!

To Knit Or Not To Knit

Finding joy again in things that interest you following a death can be hard enough, but what if the task at hand has powerful (therefore painful) connections to the loved one that passed?

What I'm struggling with right now is knitting.

When I would knit, it would always be on the living room couch, and many times Ginger would be stretched out next to me.  Sometimes she would rest her head on my skein of yarn, and if I had to put my work down for a moment, she would rest her head on my work, needles and all.  The project I was working on when she died was a dog sweater for her.

I feel like Mrs. Meade in Gone With The Wind when, as the crowd is gathered to hear the news of Gettysburg, she hears that her son has been killed.  "I was knitting these mittens for him.....he won't need them now," she says, as she succumbs to tears.

As I was cleaning house the day we brought Sasha home, the sweater on the needles was laying on the coffee table, in the same place it was the last time I had worked on it when Ginger was still alive.  It about killed me to pick it up and put it away, out of sight.  Part of me was tempted to just rip it off the needles and wind the yarn back up.  The maddening practical side of me said no, you'll want to finish it someday if only to practice the new techniques you've been learning with this project.  So I opted to just put it out of sight for now until I can bring myself to look at it again without crying.

I've been wanting to find something new to work on, something easy that I could make for Christmas presents, say.  Like a bookmark, or super-easy scarf.  But every pattern I come across seems too hard to even contemplate, like I don't have the mental capacity to do anything more complicated than garter stitch.  I don't know if that's just being lazy and not wanting to apply myself, or just the grief talking.  Maybe both?

I'm not an accomplished enough knitter to just be able to pick up and knit anywhere, owing to the fact that I don't really hold the needles right.  I've found that sitting on the couch allows me to rest my elbow on the arm of the couch, and letting the work (and sometimes the needles) rest on my upper body helps me hold it.  Bad habit to get into, I know you experienced knitters are probably cringing right now!  But it's what works for me.  I don't think I'll ever get good enough to be one of those knitters who takes her knitting everywhere and can just pick up and work while waiting in a lobby (for one, how do you not need the pattern right in front of you!?).  So, I feel the only place I can knit is on the couch, and that reminds me too much of Ginger.

I'm not really sure of the point of this post, unless it's just to vent.  I want to knit something, but feel like I'm butting up against a wall.  I think it would be a nice distraction in the evenings to keep me from dwelling on the grief, especially on nights when I'm alone when the Husband is in night class.

Anyone experienced anything remotely like this before?  And how did you move past it?

Some Doggy Photos

Some photos of our Ginger through the years.  She had such an expressive face that could be sad, happy, goofy, somber, saucy, you name it.

Feeling very sad as we brought Ginger's urn home tonight.  She's now sitting with Panther on the shelf.

This is the only photo I seem to have of Ginger and me together.  Probably because I was always the one behind the camera.

Cats make good pillows!

I love this photo!

All the cats loved Ginger

This was the last photo ever taken of her, 7 days before her death.

And now some of our new dog, Sasha........

Sasha in the backseat bringing her home from the Humane Society

Sleepy!

Sasha loves to look out of the windows

Seeing Sasha on Ginger's bed still gives me a jolt

Sasha had some issues with her spay incision healing so for the last couple of days, and for many more days to come, she has to wear The Cone Of Shame.

Still getting used to things one day at a time, both Ginger's absence and Sasha's presence.

Housecleaning

Ever go through your blog subscription list, or your browser's bookmark list, and wonder why you ever signed up to follow that site in the first place?

I just spent some time cleaning out my list of blogs I follow here on Blogger, many of them I couldn't remember following in the first place.  Some of them had obviously quit blogging altogether as it had been over a year since they last posted.  Some had moved to WordPress.  A few of them just didn't tickle my fancy anymore.

Perhaps because it's been such a melancholy week for me that I'm thinking this way, but sometimes I wonder if the reason a person hasn't posted to their blog in over a year is because they have had something horrible happen to them or they have died.  Who would think to update their loved one's blog to relate the news?  Or how many spouses or family members would know the log-in information to be able to update the blog?  Unless the blogger was famous and making a living only blogging, I doubt it would happen.

We're taking Sasha to get microchipped today.  It still seems so odd to have her, but I know it will just take time to adjust.  One thing we're learning is she's very possessive of us, especially if she's on the couch laying beside us.  She doesn't want the cats on our lap and has lightly nipped at them a couple of times for being there, which is something we'll have to nip in the bud.  She doesn't seem to realize that she's at the bottom of the pecking order at the moment.

I wonder if she and the cats will ever get as buddy-buddy as Ginger and the cats were?

Ginger and Runty

Made It

I managed to get through last night - the one week anniversary of Ginger's death - relatively unscathed.  I only cried once and that was when I called Sasha Ginger and realized what I'd said.  Everything still feels so surreal with having a different dog in the house, but we're taking it one day at a time.  Sometimes just one moment at a time.  After all my doubts about getting Sasha so quickly after Ginger left us, she's turning out to be a godsend.  It's just too bad the timing of it all was so weird, but maybe it's weird because it was meant to be this way?  A member of that pet loss support forum I posted to the other day suggested that perhaps Ginger sent Sasha to us, and as kooky as that might sound, I take comfort in that thought.

As I try not to wallow in my grief I'm trying to force myself to pay attention to (and care about) the things that interest me again.  It's so hard to care about anything when you're depressed and grieving, but to not try at all, I think, is worse.  Come to think of it, even prior to last week's upheaval, I haven't been caring about the things that interest me.  Time to get a grip on this depression, for sure.

I'll be posting more photos of Ginger as I start to go through them all on my computer, as well as of our other furry family members.  And Sasha too, of course.  They are, after all, our "kids", and other people post photos of their kids, so why not me?  I think I never really did all that much before because I didn't want to be known as one of those people, you know....the person you roll your eyes at and think "Oh God, she's posting another photo of her stupid cat again" types, lol.  We're really not crazy pet people, honest, but to say that we don't love our animals to pieces would be lying.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the weekend and getting back some sense of normalcy, whatever that is!  I'll be trying to blog more and see if I can get back in the swing of things.  I think I may change the name of this blog back to Gingerella's Corner which is what it originally was when I started it 2 years ago.  I've messed around with the name, format, and the URL of this site so much that I think my new posts might not be showing up in followers' feeds like they used to.

Yes, Gingerella was one of Ginger's nick names, and one that I stole years ago to use for my online activities.  One day we were being silly with her and started singing the "Cinderelly, Cinderelly" song that the mice sing from Disney's Cinderella to her, then we changed it to "Gingerelly-Gingerelly."  Another memory to add to the list.  :)

Soul Searching

So obviously I haven't been around for awhile.....I'm not really sure why.  The need to blog and write just vanished for a time.  I stopped reading all of the blogs I was following and went into cyber-hiding.

This past year has been a difficult one, for multiple reasons that I don't really want to go into, and then of course we're still reeling from the tragedy of losing our dog last week.  Perhaps that has made me feel that I want to be involved in the blogosphere again.  I need to be involved in the things that interest me again.

Change isn't easy for me to deal with, which is silly because the only thing in life that is guaranteed, besides death and taxes, is change.  Change for the better, change for the worse, either way, it's going to happen.  It's something that I need to learn to handle better, especially sad, unwanted changes.

Last week unwanted change was forced on us and with it has come some painful soul searching.  Amidst my grief and tears, I have to come to terms with some changes in my life that I know need to be made, but that I've been putting off and putting off for far too long.  Because, change is scary, even when you know that change will benefit you!  Why is that?  Crazy.

They say that "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."  At the moment I want to say that "what doesn't kill me is only making me a bitter, blubbering mess" but I'm beginning to see and feel some weird glimmers of hope.  Loss is never easy to cope with and this is no exception.....but maybe there is some truth to that old adage because I think I'll be able to recover from this better than the last time I lost a pet.  Perhaps "better" isn't the right term, I don't know.  Maybe that feeling will change in the next 5 minutes, but right now I feel like I'll be able to get through this.

Tonight being the one-week anniversary of Ginger leaving us, I'm dreading spending the evening alone.  Husband will be at night class, and I don't want to continually be watching the clock and thinking about the timeline of how the events of that night played out.  I thought about going through all of her photos and creating a slide-show tribute, but I know that will just make me sob all night.  There are a couple of movies we rented that we haven't watched yet, maybe I'll just sit on the couch with Sasha and the cats and watch one to distract myself.  I don't know.  But either way, I'll get through the night, because I have to.

This is my favorite time of year, fall.  I love the cooler weather, the soft breezes, watching the leaves fall from the trees; it's a gentle time of year.  Ginger came into our lives in the fall, and she has gone out of our lives in the fall.  I think I can begin to find a little bit of closure in that fact.  

The New Normal

We lost our dog last week.  I posted the following to a pet loss support forum today and wanted to archive it here.

---------------------


We lost our dog Ginger this past Wednesday Sept. 28th.  She was 11 years old and aside from a few minor health issues, was healthy and active.  We thought for sure she would have at least 2-3 more years with us.

Wednesday she seemed like her normal self, and when I got home from work at 5:00 pm all was as usual.  But as the evening wore on I noticed she acted as if she didn't feel well.  She vomited a little, but that didn't worry me because she was one of those unfortunate dogs that is inclined to eat her own poop and if we weren't diligent about keeping the yard clean, would sneak a little "Ginger Snack" from time to time.  Sometimes it would make her throw up, but afterwards would be fine.  So, I thought this was just one of those occasions.  I took her outside in case she had any more to throw up, and noticed her panting really heavy.  She then laid down on the ground, exhausted.  Still, no red flags went up for me at this time.

A half hour later I noticed her walking around the house slowly, still panting, with her head down as if she wanted to try and retch up something.  I took her back outside and after a bowel movement she came over near me and flopped down on the ground as if her legs wouldn't support her anymore.  THEN I started to get worried.  My first thought was that maybe it had something to do with her ending a run of steroidal medicine she'd been on for a couple of months for a skin infection.  The doses had been tapered down but that was the only thing I could think of that could be causing this abnormal behavior.  I got online real quick and learned that steroid withdrawal can be dangerous in dogs, so I called the vet clinic and their after-hours answering service picked up.  I asked that the vet on-call contact me right away because this was an emergency.  I brought Ginger back inside, where she flopped down on the floor next to me, and we sat there for 20 agonizing minutes waiting for the vet to call.  By now I was seriously freaked out, heart pounding, trying to figure out what was wrong with our doggie.  He finally called me and I tried to explain her symptoms over the phone.  He asked me some questions, and I brought up about the steroid meds.  He didn't think that was it but without seeing her he couldn't say, of course.  He asked me if I wanted to have him look at her tonight (at an after-hours charge, of course), and I hesitated.  I was fighting with myself, part of me feeling like I was overreacting.  Then he asked me if her stomach looked or felt bloated at all.  I thought that was an odd question, and I answered no, because how in the world do you tell if a dog (who admittedly was a little overweight) is bloated or not?  I equated bloat with the human kind of bloat, like when you eat too much fast food.  Uncomfortable, but not serious.  He said to try to see if she would take a little food, watch her overnight, and bring her in in the morning if I thought she still wasn't doing good.

The bloat thing had me curious and so after hanging up I hopped online again and looked up "bloat in dogs."  Oh my god, did I get a rapid and heartwrenching education in those few minutes, and I called him back and said yes, he needed to see her right away tonight because I couldn't make that judgement call on whether she was bloated or not.  So by now it's 9:00 pm and I'm on my way to the clinic to meet him.  I left a note for my husband, who was in night class, to drive up to the clinic if we weren't home by the time he got home.  He must have just missed us because he drove up about 5 minutes after I got there.

The vet arrived and with the tech did an initial exam, and he questioned me more thoroughly on everything she did that day, ate, when she pooped, etc.  He could see that she was obviously in distress but no immediate diagnosis was screaming out at him.  He asked us to leave her there with him that night as he wanted to do blood tests and xray, he thought it might be pancreitis.  At first I misunderstood and thought he was just going to keep her there overnight and do the tests in the morning, but he said no, he was going to do them right away that night and that he would call us with the results.  So my husband and I left to go home.  I didn't even pet her goodbye, we just left.  We had no idea that it was going to be the last time we saw her.

He called us at home about 10:30 pm and said the xrays showed bloat and the beginnings of twisted stomach happening and he needed to do emergency surgery right away.  We said yes of course and then the wait began.  He then called us at 12:30 am with the bad news that she had died, and that he hadn't even had a chance to operate because they had trouble getting her to take the anasthesia because she was in so much shock and distress.  By the time he called us he had already been doing CPR on her for 15 minutes to try and revive her.  My husband, who spoke with him on the phone a little bit told me he thought the vet sounded shaken himself, and that he'd said in all the 30 years he's been a vet, that this case would stay with him for a long time.

The next day, Thursday, we were both pretty much just catatonic.  I stayed home from work and my husband canceled classes.  We went to the clinic and spoke with the vet and he reassured me that there wasn't anything I did wrong, given the circumstances I did all I could do and couldn't have done more.  I just couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that she was actually gone.  I'm still having problems accepting that.  The pain is so acute it's overwhelming and I burst into tears at the drop of a hat.  I can't walk anywhere in the house or in the yard where I'm not constantly reminded of her.  Her toys are still strewn around the house.  Her bed (two old comforters folded up) is still in the hallway right outside our bedroom door.  Her harness is still in the backseat of my car from when I transported her to the clinic that night.  I couldn't stand to see any of these reminders, but I couldn't bring myself to remove them out of sight either.

Well Friday, I stayed home from work again, still completely unable to grasp reality.  I was still bursting into tears out of nowhere so I knew I couldn't be at work, but I forced myself to get up and do stuff around the house and fell into kind of a numb trance as I cleaned.  I think it was just me caving into the shock and denial of it all, because later that afternoon I felt almost normal like nothing had happened.  When my husband came home from work he jolted me with the news that maybe to help with the healing, we should go be around dogs.  He wanted to go to the humane society and just look at the dogs, not to find a new one, but just to be around their doggyness.  I relented and said yes.

So we go up there, me ready to break into tears, and inevitably he wants to see a dog so we get the staff to bring the dog to the consulting room and my husband got the doggy hugs and kisses he apparently needed to heal, and a few bite marks (it was a very rambunctious puppy) and then we left.  We tried (or least I tried) to pretend everything was normal by going out to eat and renting some movies.  We also have 4 cats so we spent the evening watching movies with all our cats piled on top of us, and that was healing, but the glaring absence of our Dog-Dog was so hard to accept.

Saturday, my husband said maybe we should think about getting another dog.  I couldn't believe he was even suggesting it, and Ginger hadn't even been gone 3 days yet!  I felt betrayed and also felt that he must not be feeling grief over her as deeply as I am.  Our lives had just been turned upside down and now he wants to create more heartbreak and chaos by replacing Ginger.  I was distraught and I guess wanting to feel that maybe having a doggy presence in the house again would help me heal that I went along with him back up to the humane society.  He said he didn't necessarily want to get another dog so soon, but he wanted to interact with different breeds to feel them out, or "test drive" them for when we are ready again.  Well the one dog he was interested in had been adopted earlier that day so we wandered around the other kennels again and then saw a dog that hadn't been there the day before.  She was immediately different than the other dogs in that she was quiet, not barking, and when we knelt down to let her sniff our hands she put her face against the bars so that we could rub her cheek.

So into the consulting room she goes with us and it's obvious she really, really liked me.  She's an older dog, they estimated her to be about 5 years old, and a german shorthaired pointer.  Very affectionate, very gentle, and very obviously longing for someone to take her home.  We spent a lot of time with her in the room, and then we asked the staff if we could take her outside in the yard to see how she reacts in other situations.  It's obvious that she's had some hunting training and is generally well behaved.  We leave and go home, and spend the evening talking about everything that has happened, me frequently bursting into tears, and incredulously contemplating bringing a new dog into our lives so soon.  To distract ourselves, we got online to research about german shorthaired pointers because we were unfamiliar with the breed and its temperment.  We've never had a pure-bred dog before (and it's obvious that this dog is purebred, not a mix).   Ginger was a "Heinze-57 variety", with some german shepherd, possibly some chow and possibly some sharpei.

Sunday comes and my husband seems completely set on bringing this dog home, now.  I'm still so depressed and still having trouble accepting that Ginger is gone.....on top of all that I feel such a huge amount of guilt.  Guilt that I didn't get her to the vet sooner that night, guilt that I didn't even pet or hug her before we left the clinic, guilt that I'm actually contemplating getting another dog already.  I trust my husband's judgement much more than I trust my own sometimes (he's less emotional, more stable) and so I allowed his cautious enthusiasm and hope to buoy me up.  We spend a couple of hours cleaning the house, dog-proofing it (no need to proof it with Ginger, she knew the ropes) and me feeling like I was in the Twilight Zone.  Then we go back up to the humane society and ask to see the dog again.  We also asked if we could "test" her around cats, because we'd read this breed, being a hunting dog, can see cats as prey if they haven't been raised around them and we had no idea of her former history, so they let us take her into the lobby to see how she'd react to the resident lobby cats.  She had no reaction at all, didn't even bat an eyelash at them so that was a good sign.  I told my husband that if we took this dog home and she harmed our cats, that I would never forgive myself, or him.

So moving along, we took a flying leap off a cliff and went ahead and adopted her.  We named her Sasha.  We brought her home and slowly introduced her to the cats, and thankfully our fear of her harming them was a non-issue.  Two of the cats took to her right away, the other two will take some time to come around.  We spent the rest of the day getting to know her, and showing her around the house.

Monday, yesterday, I went back to work and during my downtimes went searching out for pet loss support advice because I was still so in the depths of grief for Ginger, with a heaping amount of guilt and confusion over Sasha coming into our lives so quickly.  I couldn't reconcile the two together, and last night let my husband know how upset I was over everything.  He was taken aback, because he can't relate to my feelings of still not being able to accept that she's gone.  He can process his feelings and come to terms with reality much speedier than I can.  I had told him, before we got Sasha, that one of my fears was that I would start to resent the dog for not being Ginger.  Yesterday I started to have some of those feelings, seeing her on Ginger's bed, seeing her in Ginger's yard, sniffing around Ginger's things, drinking out of Ginger's water bowl, etc. etc.  It's not fair to  Sasha but I couldn't help it.  I told him that I also resented him taking advantage of me like that, knowing I was in an emotionally vulnerable state, and leaving the final judgement call on whether we got Sasha or not up to me (I was the one who said the final yes, let's do it.  I really did not know what I was saying).  He should have known how conflicted and upset I was and just said no, you're right, it's too soon.  He reassured me that he was sad too, missed Ginger terribly, but insisted that Sasha would be good for us, and that we would be good for her.  He asked me if I wanted him to take her back to the humane society and re-surrender her.  That got me even more mad because now she's totally at home in our house, loves us to pieces and how fair would that be to her?  And how could he ask me to make that decision now, after we'd already made the committment?  He could tell that I was pissed so he said if it hurt me too much to be around her that much to care for her, take her for walks, etc that he'd be ok with assuming total responsibility of her care until I was ready.  I didn't want that answer either, but I was so upset nothing he could have said at that point would have been right.  At least he acknowledged my feelings, apologized, and agreed with me that perhaps I was right, that it really was too soon.

So that brings us to today.  I'm at work right now writing this.  I went home over lunch and spent the hour outside with Sasha, in the serenity of the yard.  The weather is nice, leaves are falling everywhere, and it was quiet.  Sasha came over to me and I hugged her and started bawling for Ginger again.  It almost felt like Ginger was there in the yard with us.  It was a little bit healing.  Registering for this site, and writing this all out has helped too.  Maybe I just needed to get it all out.  Sasha is very clingy and seems to need to be touching me at all times when she's not sleeping or running around the yard.  Today I could see through my grief a little for the first time that maybe she can sense my distress and is trying to help me.  I don't know.  I'm still so hesitant to try and create a bond with her, like it's a betrayal to Ginger.  I'm not ready to let go of her yet.  I'm not ready to try and forge new feelings for another dog.  But maybe she will help me to start releasing some of this awful grief, the emptiness and guilt.  I even feel guilty for wanting to release the guilt so soon, as if I haven't punished myself properly enough.

Sorry for the book, but I've been aching to write all the details out for days.  It's all so raw and confusing, dealing with the loss of our Dog-Dog (one of her many nicknames) in such a traumatic and unexpected way while simultaneously dealing with getting used to a new, strange dog in the house, a dog that doesn't know our ways and we don't know hers.  Yesterday I was feeling so mad and resentful that I was being forced to learn a new dog so soon.  I'm not really sure where I'm at today.  Tomorrow it will be one week since Ginger died.  A part of me still cannot believe it.  For a long, long time to come I think I'll still be waiting for Ginger to be there, to come trotting into the room, to hear her jump off the couch, to hear her toes clicking across the wood floors, to see her holding her rope toy in her mouth wanting us to throw it.  That's another thing that's unnerving with Sasha, she's a very, very different dog than Ginger but some things she does are similar and it disturbs me.  Her sighs sound just like Ginger's sighs.  Sneezes too.  I was in the basement and heard her walking across the floor above and for a split second I thought it was Ginger.  When I sit on the couch Sasha lays next to me, her rump pressing against my leg, in the same position Ginger would do.  Instead of being comforting, it's disturbing.

Just when I feel that I'm stronger and can get through this, it all comes crashing down on me again and I feel that I'm in a worse place than the night she died.  Yesterday I totally felt like I was regressing, not progressing.  I've been through pet loss before, in 2007 I had to put my beloved 17-yr old Panther cat to sleep after battling kidney failure.  But that was different.  He had no more life left in him, and I knew it was time to let him go.  I had closure.  I got to hold and comfort him before it happened, and we got to see his body afterwards.  I had never experienced anything so gut-wrenching in my life up to that point (I've never had anyone I was really close to die before).  This time though, it's different because Ginger had A LOT of life left in her, and this completely hit us out of the blue.

To think that a perfectly healthy dog could die from a freak occurrence like bloat in a matter of hours is hard to grasp.  I blame myself.  What kind of dog owner am I, to never have heard of this phenomenon before, when it's (that we've since learned) the second leading cause of death in dogs following cancer!?  Now that I know about bloat (or twisted stomach, or gastric torsion), I know a lot of things we could have done differently with Ginger to prevent this from happening.  I guess it's good that we know it now, and have that knowledge for other dogs, but did we have to learn the lesson so harshly?  If you've never heard of it either, please look it up online and educate yourself.  I never want anyone to have to go through what we did with this.

Thank you for listening.

Emergency Preparedness - For Real!

Last night brought home to me in a very real way how important it is to be prepared for emergencies.

There was a series of strong storm systems that passed through Nebraska yesterday evening which included several tornado spottings around the state.  My town was in a tornado warning with sirens blazing for an hour while funnel clouds were spotted on the ground north of us as well as south of us.  As Husband and I decided it was time to head for the basement, I was running around trying to locate flashlights, emergency candles, our wallets with our drivers licenses and other important items, my asthma medicine, pillows and blankets, all while trying to herd our dog and 4 cats down there with us.

Obviously, I haven't gotten started yet on my emergency preparedness plans, despite having talked about it on here in the past.  Obviously, I haven't practiced what I've preached!  Don't worry, the irony wasn't lost on me as I stood staring out of the basement window watching our trees thrash back and forth.

Fortunately, no real damage was done and it only amounted to a really bad thunderstorm with rain, winds and hail.  Still, being sandwiched between two spotted tornadoes, even if they were miles from us, was a sobering thought after seeing the destruction from Joplin, MO and other southern states that have been ravaged this spring.

So what will I be doing tonight after work?  Getting started on my emergency preparedness plans of course! 

My town, Kearney, was hit by a wedge tornado (actually 2 of them simultaneously, kinda back to back) on May 29, 2008.  (interesting that last night was one day past the 3rd anniversary of that event!) They were categorized as an F1 and F2 respectively, and caused some major damage around the town; fortunately, no injuries, but some buildings were demolished.  I remember well feeling the wind blast against the house that knocked the power out and me thinking, "OMG, this is really happening!" while I grabbed flashlights and thew the pets in the basement.  You'd think after that I would have gotten right on this preparedness thing, yes?  Well, no.  

Photo of the tornado system that hit my town in 2008, taken from Interstate 80 looking north west at the town.  We were even on the show Storm Chasers on the Discovery Channel!

So, no more being unprepared like that.  I did not like the feeling of being helpless and unprepared with even the basics.  I mean, how hard is it to keep some flashlights and batteries and a couple bottles of water in the basement?  

What steps have you taken to be prepared as we enter severe storm season?

Minor Car Repair - Win!

Yesterday I had a winning moment in my quest to be more self-reliant.  I taught myself how to change out a burnt bulb in my car's tail lights!

Not my car, but same make and model, and even the same tail light!

photo from here

Now, if you're a "car person" you're probably chuckling to yourself over something so simple.  Now that I know how simple it is, I'm chuckling myself....but after reading my car owners manual, searching for tutorials online, and struggling for an hour and a half on the task itself, I was about ready to throw in the towel and take the darn thing to the repair shop.  I don't have much mechanical aptitude and the instructions were written with the assumption (to my mind, anyway) that the user understood certain terminology.

After much gnashing of teeth, I figured it out.  The bulb cost $5.49 at the auto parts shop, which is considerably less than what the labor charge would have been at a repair shop.  Yay!

Next on the to-learn list for cars:  jumper cables and changing tires.  Oi.

View From My Lap

As you can see, Max is the one who is on my lap most often.

"Mommy, mommy!  Look!"

"The sun came back out and it's warm outside and all the snow melted!  See?"

"And you were able to put your little seedlings back in the windowsill!  Does this mean it's truly Spring now?"

"It better be," says Runty.  "I need the sun to make me happeeeeeeeeeez!"

"I'm still cold, think I'll stay by the heat vent awhile longer," says Sisco.

Here's hoping the sun is shining where you are!  I hope-hope-hope all the snow and ice are truly gone this time and won't come back until the winter!