I Still Can't Believe It

But I forgot to wear deodorant. It's small victories I have to applaud anymore. Things like "I remembered to brush my teeth" are celebrated with solo high fives. It's kinda awkward, but it's something you get used to. There's this thing that Corn Dog does, well more specifically DOESN'T do, that really makes me insane. I'm pretty sure every other dog in existence knows that when you say "Wanna go outside?", you go to the door and the human let's you out. But not CD. Noooooo. That would be too easy. Cassady went to the door in a flash if he needed to go out, but somehow Corn Dog never picked it up. She'll sit there and look at me and put her paws up and whine and when I ask...she goes to her bed. I'm pretty sure she's about to puddle, but she just lays down. Meanwhile, my avoidance maneuvers are still firmly in place as well. I've successfully avoided a number of crucial things that I've really needed to...

Last week, I had to do the unthinkable. I had to play God. In the aftermath, I'm left with only the hope that I gave Cassady a decent home, a decent amount of love and a decent passing to the Great Big Piney in the sky. Friends assure me that I did, but when it's just me and my thoughts...I have regrets and I wish I could go back and do things differently. When I start to struggle with those regrets, I'll be able to look back on this entry for posterity. Like I told the vet after the deed was done, Cassady taught me a lot. Not because he didn't have any issues either - it was because of his issues (and mine) that I was able to grow and learn so much about life and love. Here's to the good and the bad of a 14-year relationship with a dog. A great, great dog. Random things I don't want to forget about Cassady: I got Cassady from the Animal Protective Agency on Christmas Eve 1994. I'd gone there every day on my Christmas break from school looking for j...

Corn Dog did indeed try to kill me last night. She left her rubber chewy bone cleverly hidden on the stairs to the basement, about halfway down. You know how this ends, right? Yes, with me stepping squarely on the bone and slip sliding my way down half a flight of stairs. On my ass. And apparently on my wrist. My right wrist is super tender, sore and poppy now. As an old friend would say, Gooooooood Corn Dog. Tonight, Corn Dog has been faithfully barfing all over the house. First a nice liquid version over a shockingly large area of the rug in the family room and then a nice chunky version on the hard wood floor. Don't worry sister Jenn, she's just getting it out of her system before she comes to stay with you and her boyfriend Indy. Isn't that nice of her? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous about leaving the dogs for another 10 days after just leaving them last week. It's not that I don't trust the people that are so kindly caring f...