So now that I have finally talked about losing my dog, I no longer dread looking at my blog, which is a good thing, since I have missed it. Since I last wrote, I moved out of the old place and in with my new roommate, who is a good friend of mine, and so the poor kitty moved back from Michael's place to live with me. She longer has to fear being let and is very happy to cuddle with her new "aunt" who happens to be allergic to her, but bears it anyway. That's love. Other cool things: Michael and I had our first anniversary, year two is going to be just as wonderful; I am halfway through the first semester of my senior year at Alabama, and look forward to graduating (y'all keep your fingers crossed on that one); and I got a part time job at a certain sandwich shop, which makes me feel good because I have a little walkin around money at least. Michael got a job at this same chain, different location. How cute is that? But the most important thing of all going on is football season. I love it. We got to go to the first game of the season, against VA Tech in Atlanta, and that was awesome. The Georgia Dome is a great venue, and they sell beer there, so of course everyone loved it. We ate at the Vortex Bar and Grill, which we saw on Man v. Food, but unfortunately did NOT get any of Gladys Knight's chicken and waffles, also featured on that episode. Michael and I could plan a whole trip around good eats, I think. Picture it, us two Adam Richman groupies following the Man v. Food crew all over the US. Hahaha! So that was a nice trip, and our first time really getting away together. I mean, we're together all the time here, but together and away at the same time is just awesome.
Our next opportunity to travel to an away football game was this past weekend. We went to Oxford for the Ole Miss game, and I will say, that is a pretty town, and I met many a classy fan there. We all have our rednecks and blacksheep in the SEC, but Ole Miss impressed me. I didn't even catch too much hell when Michael and I sat in the Ole Miss student section with our buddy who goes to school there and who let us stay at his place this weekend. I wasn't really worried about all the JT Bowtie business. (Pretty boy Bama fan on youtube who is very vocal with his opinions. I'd like to think he's kiddin'.)
The game at Oxford wasn't much to speak of really, 22-3 with neither team playing good, but I sure did enjoy it. There was a chill in the air, downright cold when the wind picked up and I was thinking, "That's football weather." That smell hung in the air around the stadium, the same smell as Bryant-Denny, a mingling of popcorn and hotdogs. It stinks but you gotta love it. My Bama brethren were there in full force. My thighs were padded with flasks under my dress. I had on my big straw Saban hat, with Michael in his houndstooth tie. I was ready. I had heard the warcry the night before in Oxford's square, "Roooooolll Tiiiiiiiiidde ROLL" louder there than, "Hotty Toddy goshamighty, who the hell are we...?!?!" And I had been hugged and high fived by my fellow Bama fans. The atmosphere was there for sure, and that W is all that matters at the end I guess. After the game some Ole Miss guy grabbed my hand and he looked in my eyes and said "Win. Win. Win the national championship." It was a little surreal. Kinda creepy, but I know what he means. I appreciate that they will all be pulling for us if we end up against Tebow an' them. (I believe the University of Florida now measures time in BT and AT, just sayin...) I'm looking forward to Tennessee, and I can't wait for LSU to come to our house. Then there's always that team on the other side of the state, we've got business as usual with them.
So as long as we have football I'll keep on living for Saturday.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Coming back, I guess.
This is the first time I have looked at this page in what seems like forever. It's funny how quickly things happen. My last entry was all about pets as that was what was on my mind that day, mostly because my little dog didn't feel good. He was sick and pitiful, and I got to thinking about just how much I loved him, and it made me want to share my funny story about the lack of success with pets. I never thought at that time that he was really sick, but as the week went on he got worse. We had two vet visits; they didn't seem too worried. I don't think anyone thought that he would die. But just a few days and lots of money later, I knew there was nothing else to do, and I must be honest and say that by the time Gus gave up I was ready for him to go. Just can't stand to see a sweet little animal suffer.
Now, I've never in my life loved an animal like I loved that pup. I mourned like he was a person, crying every day for a while. Sometimes it still catches me off guard, and I have to cry again, but it doesn't hurt in that same terrible way. My Michael did right by Gus, we took him far out in the country and we buried him, alone together and it felt like the right thing. Think I'm silly if you want, I don't care, but I think you know how I feel, I think everyone has that one pet that means so much. Your Skip, Sounder, or maybe Old Yeller type of love. At the time I was mad, just mad as fire because my little dog dying seemed to represent something so cruel, the worst kind of unfairness after getting something so special. I still love that dog, and I'd trade the one we have now to get him back in a heartbeat. Not that I don't love ya Maggie, but you're no Gus. He was that dog of your childhood, that teaches you about love and death. I just didn't get him until I was an adult.
"They buried him out under our elm tree they said. But that wasn't totally true. For he really laid buried in my heart."
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
No more fish
My boyfriend and I thought it would be a great idea to get a fish. They are cheap, nice to look at, and very low maintenance. So we went out and bought one, and named him Mr. Carter. We were very proud of that fish. He was our first pet together. Things went well for a while, we took great care of Mr. Carter. We did all things necessary for a fish's survival. We looked at him, we fed him, and we changed the water. Or, rather, I changed the water. See, I think that other people can do things just fine, but that they are done BETTER when I do them. But one day I was busy, and Michael insisted on changing the water for me. He was trying to be helpful. I guess he didn't want his fish to be cold, because he put poor Mr. Carter in warm water. And Mr. Carter swam upside down in his bowl all that night and the next day. I was distraught, thinking we should flush him or something. Michael said he was gonna be ok. He was ok, when he finally stopped swimming for good. RIP, Mr. Carter.
Part 2 of the fish phase, we get Rocky, a fat fantail goldfish, and he is a much better fish than Carter, in my opinion. I jokingly say that when he dies we can have Rocky 2, Rocky 3, etc... Now, some back story: I need you to know that I have a cat, a beautiful, long haired, sweetheart who I adopted from the humane society after volunteering there. She is my love, and her name is Donatella. While Rocky is still with us (you see where this is going, don't you?) my cat gets lost, (and when I say lost, I mean the horrible person subletting for the summer from my roommate let her out while I was gone) and I am absolutely mortified. I lost sleep, I searched my apartment complex every day looking for her, I put up more posters than there was wall space to put them on.... during this week from hell let's flash back to dear Rocky, who lives with my boyfriend. Michael decides to set off a fogger to clear the bugs from his college student grade housing. I tell him I don't like those things, don't want to breathe that stuff. Well, we go to his place to eat dinner before another night of cat searching, and I make my way through the (imagined) green fog of poison and skulls with crossbones hanging wetly in the air to check on Rocky. What do I see? Rocky floating belly up. This is just too much for me. Emotional breakdown insues. I declare us OUT OF THE FISH BUSINESS.
Michael wants a dog, all boys want dogs, right? We journey to his mother's house on Saturday to put down his old dog, a nasty looking corgi mix with what looks like cushings disease. And on top of that, my cat has been gone nearly a full week. How do we deal? Grab a classifieds, scan the free pets section. We call and call and call, every add proclaiming boldly, "lab mix," or "bulldog mix" all to no avail. Downtrodden, I say to him, "One will come along." Then I notice another add, saying only that they had "cute adorable puppies" for free. Now, I'm not familiar with that breed, but I was in a what the hell kind of mood. I inquired, and got the pleasing reply that they were Lab mixes, and the Lab is the epitome of dog to Michael. So we go look, and when we get there I figure out the other half of the mix: Heeler, or Australian cattle dog, MY favorite kind. Perfection. So we don't even think, we snatch one up, knowing we don't have any of the necessities but we'll worry about that later.
All the ride home I hold the sweet little boy in my lap, and we talk about quality d
og names for our new best friend. Finally, it hits me. From our mutual favorite book, Lonesome Dove, I pull the name. "Gus," I say, "Let's call him Gus." We go to the pet store before even going home, to get him a collar and tag. That's my biggest regret with my cat, no collar and tag. I've seen the stats, 90% of lost pets without collar and tag are not recovered. Michael types in the tag making machine, GUS. Then he looks at me and grins, backspaces, types AUGUSTUS. I tell him that's a big name for a little dog, but he'll grow into it one day.
I know what you're thinking. But I have not forgotten about that cat, even with all the excitement of the new pup that weekend. Monday morning, getting ready for school I get a call that makes me skip class. Someone has seen the posters, he has my cat, he thinks it's her for sure. I've had a couple of false alarms, people seeing shadows in the complex at night, and "maybe it's your cat, I can't tell." This is different, it feels different, and I know it's her. Sounds like her, "she's inside our store, been here since Friday, we took her out back and put her over the fence of the complex, but she came back" Well sure she did, she has enough sense to know that when you stay in the same place when you are lost, you will get found. So I went and reclaimed my cat; dirty, thin, and happy to see me. Luckily, she's the only cat I have ever know that does not mind a bath. No kidding, she really doesn't.
Here's a picture of her after her bath, looking wet and extra skinny. Now she lives at Michael's house, to avoid any more incident. So now we have a dog, and a cat, and we have not killed either one of them! And I still stand firm: NO more fish. I'd like to think of those fish as a substitute for what we really wanted, but were hesitant to get. Now that we have Gus, I can put the bowl away.
Part 2 of the fish phase, we get Rocky, a fat fantail goldfish, and he is a much better fish than Carter, in my opinion. I jokingly say that when he dies we can have Rocky 2, Rocky 3, etc... Now, some back story: I need you to know that I have a cat, a beautiful, long haired, sweetheart who I adopted from the humane society after volunteering there. She is my love, and her name is Donatella. While Rocky is still with us (you see where this is going, don't you?) my cat gets lost, (and when I say lost, I mean the horrible person subletting for the summer from my roommate let her out while I was gone) and I am absolutely mortified. I lost sleep, I searched my apartment complex every day looking for her, I put up more posters than there was wall space to put them on.... during this week from hell let's flash back to dear Rocky, who lives with my boyfriend. Michael decides to set off a fogger to clear the bugs from his college student grade housing. I tell him I don't like those things, don't want to breathe that stuff. Well, we go to his place to eat dinner before another night of cat searching, and I make my way through the (imagined) green fog of poison and skulls with crossbones hanging wetly in the air to check on Rocky. What do I see? Rocky floating belly up. This is just too much for me. Emotional breakdown insues. I declare us OUT OF THE FISH BUSINESS.
Michael wants a dog, all boys want dogs, right? We journey to his mother's house on Saturday to put down his old dog, a nasty looking corgi mix with what looks like cushings disease. And on top of that, my cat has been gone nearly a full week. How do we deal? Grab a classifieds, scan the free pets section. We call and call and call, every add proclaiming boldly, "lab mix," or "bulldog mix" all to no avail. Downtrodden, I say to him, "One will come along." Then I notice another add, saying only that they had "cute adorable puppies" for free. Now, I'm not familiar with that breed, but I was in a what the hell kind of mood. I inquired, and got the pleasing reply that they were Lab mixes, and the Lab is the epitome of dog to Michael. So we go look, and when we get there I figure out the other half of the mix: Heeler, or Australian cattle dog, MY favorite kind. Perfection. So we don't even think, we snatch one up, knowing we don't have any of the necessities but we'll worry about that later.
All the ride home I hold the sweet little boy in my lap, and we talk about quality d
og names for our new best friend. Finally, it hits me. From our mutual favorite book, Lonesome Dove, I pull the name. "Gus," I say, "Let's call him Gus." We go to the pet store before even going home, to get him a collar and tag. That's my biggest regret with my cat, no collar and tag. I've seen the stats, 90% of lost pets without collar and tag are not recovered. Michael types in the tag making machine, GUS. Then he looks at me and grins, backspaces, types AUGUSTUS. I tell him that's a big name for a little dog, but he'll grow into it one day.I know what you're thinking. But I have not forgotten about that cat, even with all the excitement of the new pup that weekend. Monday morning, getting ready for school I get a call that makes me skip class. Someone has seen the posters, he has my cat, he thinks it's her for sure. I've had a couple of false alarms, people seeing shadows in the complex at night, and "maybe it's your cat, I can't tell." This is different, it feels different, and I know it's her. Sounds like her, "she's inside our store, been here since Friday, we took her out back and put her over the fence of the complex, but she came back" Well sure she did, she has enough sense to know that when you stay in the same place when you are lost, you will get found. So I went and reclaimed my cat; dirty, thin, and happy to see me. Luckily, she's the only cat I have ever know that does not mind a bath. No kidding, she really doesn't.
Here's a picture of her after her bath, looking wet and extra skinny. Now she lives at Michael's house, to avoid any more incident. So now we have a dog, and a cat, and we have not killed either one of them! And I still stand firm: NO more fish. I'd like to think of those fish as a substitute for what we really wanted, but were hesitant to get. Now that we have Gus, I can put the bowl away.
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