I Still Hate Mothers Day

Maybe not HATE.....but I still get weepy and emotional and sometimes grouchy when it rolls around. I just hate when this time of year comes along.

Of course, it's better than it USED to be!!! Oh, LORD have mercy, I remember that first Mother's Day without her. Hiding out at Kendra's house, so we could both avoid the day together.
Since her Mom died DAYS before mine, she and I were on the same "grief timetable". What a crappy year that was.

It's been a little over ten years since our mothers have passed. My friend is now blessed with hansome (albeit ornery...) young children of her own, so hopefully Mother's Day now has a more joyful feel in her life.
But I know she still grieves, as do I.

The thing about grief, there is NO timetable. People who have not faced a profound loss just DON'T GET IT!!!
Just because one year, five years, a decade may have passed does not mean you just "get over it".
Yes, in truth, it is easier now than those first few years. But it doesn't go AWAY, it just becomes a part of you that you learn to live with.

Somewhere around year five or six without her, I was at church (different church than Unidiversal...VERY different! LOL!) forcing myself to sit through the Mother's Day service.
I think it was the FIRST Mother's Day service I went to since she died. I figured that enough time had passed that SURELY I would be over the "weepiness" by NOW.
No such luck.
So, it's after church and I'm weepy, Travis is comforting me, and a friend from church asks what is wrong and appears to be sympathetic.
She asks how long it's been since I lost my Mom, and I tell her.

And she just looked at me stunned, kind of confused.
"Oh.....I thought with they way you were upset it happened recently".
Look, it FELT recent. And isn't 5 or 6 years recent when you talk about losing someone that had been there everyday for the previous 28 years???

Oddly, I've never had a problem with Father's Day. I guess since I never celebrated it, it never made much of a dent in my mind.
Father's Day, Flag Day, Presidents Day....big whoop.
I get more out of Groundhog Day!

And why can't pet parents celebrate Mother's Day? Let me tell ya, I love my furry kids, but they are WORK! I take care of them EVERYDAY...because I am their Mom. And I love them.
Actually, I bet Hallmark has a card for that by now....don't you think?

Celebrate tomarrow, enjoy your Mom if she is still on this earth....or if she's worth enjoying...I know some people were NOT blessed with good Moms.
Love you kids, furry and non-furry alike.

But I still hate Mother's Day.

Last Call

I know....been spending WAY...too much time in "da clubs" with my band lately.
But I'm talking about a DIFFERENT "last call"....

Tonight, I was talking to a friend who has someone in her life who has been told they have "TERMINAL CANCER".
Yeah....lovely news to get from the Doc...right?
Both she and I have been through this MANY times before. More times than either of us care to mention.
Here's the thing....the doctors that gave him the "terminal" news...no hope, no chance.....have put him on aggressive Chemo.
He's sick ALL the time. He hurts. He's tired. He's sad.

Okay.....so if it's "TERMINAL"......why the Chemo? To do....WHAT, exactly?
Tourtue him for his last days/weeks/months?
Drain his insurance companies wallets?
Prove a point?
Film an episode of "House"....(Google it...I'm too sleepy...)?

As most of you know, My Mom died September 7th, 1998.
She had a "blood cancer", known as CML.
They have a drug called Gleevec that can treat it now...but it wasn't ready then.
Granted, by the time they figured out what was WRONG (It took months!!! No one would take her seriously. All they saw was an over-weight woman with low income and their answer to EVERYTHING was...."lose weight"), it would have been too late anyway.
They gave her three months to live.
That was April 17th, 1998.

Now, even though they told her she had NO CHANCE WHATSOEVER of getting better......they INSISTED on more tests.
Some very painful. Some that made her cry. And get sicker. And hurt....more.

I was not "allowed" to make decisions for her. That was left to my Aunt. Her older sister.(there is a backstory there about 16 pages long....no need to go there now).

The point is....my family felt they "had" to do what the doctors said. It never occured to them that they could say...NO.
NO more.
Stop.
Now.
So my mother's last days were a blur of tests, trips, meds, pain, medical hustle and bustle.
When it was Granpa's turn, he too fely he could NOT say "NO"...but he had his own way.
He'd let them out in the needles, say thank you....and pull them back out. Every, single, time.
No tubes. No needles. No meds. He was 92. He was done. He was ready.
After my Aunt saw all of this unfold...it eventually becamr HER turn.
Now SHE had "TERMINAL CANCER".
No chance, no hope.
She refused all treatment.
The doctors FREAKED!!!!!!
How could she? How dare she? She was going to DIE???
Ummmm...yeah.....isn't that the whole point of "terminal", doc?
You're gonna die....big surprise.
So WHY was it SO horrible that she choose to go out on her OWN terms?
She had no more tests. No more weird meds.
Her last memories were of being in her favorite chair, with her cat on her lap (the same cat that is on MY lap now...shedding on the keyboard...), in HER home.
Her comfort zone. She slipped into a com in that chair. Never woke up. Died the next day.
Most of you also know I am a animal lover. Maknig that choice for their "last call" is a VERY hard thing to do.
It SUCKS!
Even when you KNOW they are ready...it hurts so MUCH to let them go.
But people tell us that's a "kindness".
Letting an animal linger and suffer and struggle and hurt....that's bad.
I AGREE!!!! They deserve better.
But.
If a human, of sound mind, chooses of their OWN FREE WILL to deny "treatment" that will NOT help them at all and only make their "last call" drag on in a horrible way.....they are wrong too?
Whoa...wait a minute.
Seriously?
Why?
Because animals don't pay insurance premiums?
And this "all life is sacred" stuff......
So, if it's sacred.....why let them die a slow painful death when they tell you they are done? They are ready?
If they refuse "treatment" so they can have a FEW days of peace before their "last call".......why is that so wrong?
It just doesn't make sense to me, none of it.
The creatures we "can't" communicate with....we can see in their eyes and their behavior that they are READY. We let them go becasue we LOVE them.
The creatures that "CAN" communicate with us tell us in our OWN language that they are READY.....and we let them suffer some more....beacuse we love them???
WHAT??????
Look, I don't have all the answers.
Cripes...I don't even have all of the QUESTIONS....but....
if ANY of you are around when it's my "last call"....and I tell you I am ready, I am done, I am NOT afraid.....
treat me like you would your most beloved "furry-baby", okay?
You can even bury me in the backyard.

Cheyenne - I love you - Goodbye

Cheyenne is gone. It happened Monday. She was ready, but it still hurts.

Cheyenne was a Golden Retriever/Yellow Lab mix. She spent most of her life being "the dog"....NOT family.
The family that owned her before were not loving people. Not kind people.
The dumbass, worthless daughter pawned poor Cheyenne off on her elderly parents when she was about 10 years old.
She lost interest.
A ten year old dog isn't "fun" anymore.
The selfish biznitch might have to....."work".
HEAVEN forbid!
So the elderly father did his best.
But he was married to the "Wicked Witch of Fort Wayne".
Evil, hateful old woman.
She did not want Cheyenne in the house for fear she might get fur in her pristine home.
I will spare you the details, but eventually Cheyenne was sent to the garage.
To live.
Or die.
14 year old bones. NO bed. Lying on the hard cement floor.
Day after day.
Potty in the Garage.
Sleep in the Garage.
Die in the Garage.
A good friend of mine and I basically lied our (CUTE!!) little arses off to get poor Cheyenne out of the goulag.
When I finally got her, she was 14 years old.
Her hair was falling out in clumps.
She was SEVERLY malnourished and dehydrated.
She had an untreated Urinanry Tract infection that had been working on her frail system for MONTHS.
It permanently damaged her kidneys and bladder.
I was afraid she would not make it through the weekend.
That was August 4th, 2008.

Amazingly, after my husband and I got her some medicine, GOOD food, water and an orthapedic bed, she not only improved, she FLOURISHED!!!
She romped in the yard! Chased squirrels! Balls! Dug holes (yeah, THANKS Obie!! Why do they ONLY teach each other the NAUGHTY stuff???). She went on walks and rolled in green grass!
She sat on the couch. Ate pizza crust (her favorite!)! I cooked her meat (I don't cook my HUSBAND meat!!).
She was loved.
Viola, our HUGE Maine Coon would sleep with her each night.
Viola is sleeping on Cheyenn's bed right now.....alone.
Evenyually, poor Cheyenne's body began to break down.
She turned 15 in October.
She stopped eating. Stopped drinking. Stopped romping.
She was READY, I know it. I could tell.
Her eyes said "Okay, seriously? I'm just done now."
I know it was the right thing to do to have her put down. She was ready, it was time.
Why does it still HURT so bad?
Since Febuary 2008, I have lost 5 of my children.
Othello (my most PRECIOUS baby boy) at 13, Molly (Travis' baby, VERY hard for him, VERY hard) also at 13 yrs, Milton (8 1/2 year old ferret...OLD for ferrets!!), and poor sweet Angelou to the..."incident"
It's in my blogs. Don't want to talk about it anymore.
And now Cheyenne.
So, I am left with 6 babies.
3 cats. 2 dogs. 1 ferret.
The house feels oddly empty.
I told the others they are FORBIDDEN to die!!! Or they will be in SERIOUS trouble!!!!
I'll let you know if that works.
Seriously, I need a break. I just cannot DO this anymore. Not for awhile.
The death. Saying Good-Bye. Ashes. The "room" in the Vets office.
It hurts too much.
It sits in my brain. In my soul.

Oh, hey, THIS is fun. The evil old woman who sent Cheyenne to the goulag called my Vet.
She wants my address. Wants to send me a "note".
Can't WAIT for that.

But would I do it again? Take in an animal I knew had a short life span ahead. To help them. To show them some peace and love and comfort in their last days?
Even if it ripped out my soul one more time.
YES.
Always.
It's what I do.
It's WHY I am here.

Travis...The Chimp...

No, this is NOT about my HUSBAND Travis...although he can be a bit "chimp-like" at times.....

This is about the teenage Chimp, named Travis (ironic), that was recently killed by the police for mauling a friend of his Human Mommy.

From what I understand, Travis was not "just" a pet, he was this woman's son. She taught him to dress himself. He could use the bathroom on his own. Ate fine foods at the table. Drank his wine from a long-stemmed glass. Surfed the Web (for what....ummm...not sure, but hey, why not?).

I started writing this post right after the whole bit was in the news. For some reason, if felt to soon for me, like I needed to let it all "settle" in my mind.

Now, the "odd" parts of this woman's relationship with Travis, her chimp-son. They cuddled to gether and slept in the same bed.
Now, I gotta be honest, 2 of our dogs and one of our cats sleep in our bad every night. I actually sleep BETTER with them there. So, to ME, this sleeping with a monkey in your bed doesn't seem that weird. Whatever.

She apparently bathed with him.
Okay, THIS I do find a bit,,,wierd. I mean, when I bathe my dogs I DO get a bath in the process....but...not the same thing. I dunno....jury is still out on that, I guess.

I won't belabor the details, I'm sure most of you heard ENOUGH of it already.
Basically, Travis freaked out for some unknown reason and attacked a friend of his mommy's. Someone he apparently knew and otherwise liked.
The police had to be called, and Travis was shot dead.

Now, I don't know about you, but if one of my dogs attacked someone, and I couldn't stop them, and had to watch the police gun down MY baby......it would not be a good thing.
This is just ME, mind you, but I can tell you right now, it's something I would NEVER get over. That image would haunt me for the rest of my life. Every. Single. Day.
I don't think there's enough drugs in the WORLD that would help get me over THAT situation.
It really made me angry, the jokes at the woman's expense.
At Travis' expense.
I don't care how odd/freaky the relationship was, the poor old widow (she was in her 70's) just watched her son, her baby, her LIFE gunned down in front of her!!!!!!!!

Cripes! Do people have NO compassion for ANYTHING they don't understand?

I'm not going to get into the debate over whether or not apes should be kept as pets, wild animals in the home, ect.
I'm no expert on that, so I just can't go there.
Regardless, she loved Travis. He loved her. It appears she took good care of him. She watched him die, violently. Just leave the poor woman alone.
She's suffered enough, don't you think?

Better day....

Just wanted to check in...all of you know I had a horrible day on Wednesday.
Just wanted to let you all know I am still here, I am feeling some peace.
I love my Obie, I desperately miss my Angelou, and I still am heartbroken by the events of "Jan. 7th, 2008"....but I am okay.
I know I will see my little ferret girl again.
Just wanted you all to know, I am sad...but I will be okay.
Love and Peace to you all....

Death

******WARNING****** THIS IS NOT DIRECTED AT ANY OF THE WONDERFUL, SWEET PEOPLE WHO SUBSCRIBE TO MY BLOG..........

This is to people who will likely NEVER IN THEIR LIVES visit this site. The following is ONLY an outlet for my grief and anger, thank you, and I LOVE you!!!!!!

I am the world's worst mother. Yes, it's true. I am a horrible, evil, stupid, worthless "person"....I suck.
Today, Jan. 7th, 2009, my sweet, fiesty ferret Angelou died, and it was all my fault.
I desreve to suffer.
I, as most of you know, am a life-long animal lover. Truth be told, I get along with animals and "fringe" groups of people WAY better than most "normal" humans.
I have had ferrets since about 1994. My THEN boyfriend..."J"...(someone I love reading this introduced us...) impulsively brought one home from the Pet Shop where he worked.
I fell in LOVE !!!! We named him SHAKESPER....he was a sweet, gentle ferret.
But ferrets are social creatures, they love to cudle up to other ferrest as they sleep, bounce, play, chatter...basically party, party, PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have had an albino named Einstein, a perfect sable (Shakespear), a cinnoman Sable named Milton, a Chocolate Sable named Marlowe, also traditional Sable Angelou and my big, chubby, chunky Shelley-belly.
I have also been pround to be owned by several, cats, dogs and rats over the years..(yes, Rats..they are SMART!! And will dance for CHEESE!!!)
On March 17th, 2008, we adopted a small, dirty ball of puppy-fluff that had been abaondoned on the interstate. He was precious!!!
Later, we discovered (through testing) that he was a Chow/Akita/Terrier mix.
Oh dear....that means he is a BIGTIME hunter...of small...furry....prey...like ferrets.
Crap.
He is GREAT with people, a big lovemonster!!! Likes cats, loves other dogs...all kinds...but ferrets...? Not so much. Too much like squirrels.
I took great pains to keep Obie away from the ferrets. Most of the time they are in their cage. But they need "Play Time" to stay healthy. Bouncing, chattering, being ferrets.
We have had some close calls...but Today was THE day. Obie was ready.
It happened so fast I barely can remember...but Obie knocked me down and charged upstairs.
I tried to grab his tail. I couldn't hang on. I screamed. Loudly.
As I desperately tried to climb the stairs, I saw it happen. Angelou screamed...(ferrets scream...it is a horrible, heartbreaking sound...). I saw Obie pick her up. He shook her....her spine broke...she was gone. Just.Like.That.
Oh dearest Lord in heaven...PLEASE!! I beg of you...give me another chance!!!
Angelou was playing one minute, and in an instant...she was gone.....just like that. NO!!! PLEASE...one more chance? But no, it was done.
I deserve to die.
HOW could I let this happen? What a worthless excuse for a parent am I.
Once I pried Obie's jaws open, I knew she was already gone. I held her in my arms. She had that sweet "Corn Chip" smell....her tail was still in "Bottlebrush" mode from the attack. She was gone. Limp, devoid of life. I did it. I am scum.
And it was over, almost before it began 8 babies...now 7...oh dear GOD I am the worst mother in the world.
She was so sweet, fiesty, LIVELY!!! She talked ALL the time!! She loved milk, climbing pant-legs, tunels.
She survived a fire, and a home where she was NEVER let out of her cage...we adopted her...full of love and HOPE....and we let her die.

I received precious little sympathy...people think it is STUPID to greive so deeply over a ferret.
Several said it was my fault, because I had too many species in one home.
They are right...but they were/are ALL rescue animals.
So who WILL give them a home???? Fine, so Susan cannot do it all.....could SOMEONE freakin' HELP me????
There are animals EVERYWHERE in need...who will save them?
Was it better that Angelou had 1 1/2 years fo happy life than 3 in solitary confinement?
But why couldn't I SAVE her...?
I am the worst person in the world.
Do you know that almost NOBODY offered me any kindness today? One person actually LAUGHed..."OH SUSAN, YOU'RE SO funny"....

I am sorry...did I miss something...? My CHILD died today and you...laugh????
Linda W., you suck.
Dear Lord in Heaven...I had more to write....but I am in dark place right now.
If you pray...PLEASE pray that Angelou forgives me...though I do not deserve it.
Please love your babies while they are here....Peace to you all.....