Always an Adventure

Well, I went to pick up Scruffy's ashes over the weekend. She was taken to the Hinsdale Animal Cemetary for her creamation services. Little did I realize at the time that this place was an honest to god pet cemetary. I didn't even think such a thing existed.

Only in the mind of Stephen King...or so I thought.

We pulled into the lot, and were surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of headstones...only slightly smaller, and for animals. It was so weird. I mean, it was nice...and peaceful, but still, weird. I went inside the building in hopes of retreiving her remains. I stood around waiting for a moment while the gentleman went into the "back room" (which I happened to see a glance of the oven? as the door swung open....did not need to see that) to get her. As I waited, I parused the different varities of urns, and the animal caskets.

Yes, animal caskets. Same thing as normal caskets. Just smaller.

After a moment or so, he brought her out. She was in the small white cardboard box...heavier than I would have expected. I signed for her (because apparently there's a huge problem of people stealing other people's animal remains these days.) started getting all choked up, and had to force my legs out the door. Once I managed to get out there, I was ok. It all just hit me at once. Very strong emotions.

Jonah and I drove to the cemetary where Mom is buried, and attempted to spread some of Scruffy's ashes on her grave. Attempted was the key word. Somebody upstairs (Mom) thought it would be HILLARIOUS to have a HUGE gust of wind start blowing the moment I started pouring from the bag.

Yeah...faceful of ashes. Love-ly! I let out a little scream, and both Jonah and I started laughiny hysterically. Even in death my mother is the eternal prankster.

Very Funny! =)

I think the worst part of the grief process with Scruff is over. After that day I've felt a sense of calm and peace in the house...it was as if you could feel part of her suffering, and now that's gone. Don't get me wrong, I still miss her like mad...but I think we're all ok for the most part.

I ordered her urn the other night. It's a cherry wood box with a slot for a picture on the front, and and engraved nameplate. There's room for three lines, so they go as follows:

1) Scruffy
2) 1996-2008
3) **This is the one I was having trouble with. I wanted to put something funny like "No you can't have any. It's chocolate." Or, "Wait until the commercial." But I didn't...I figured for once in my life I'll be serious. This is what I decided on:
"She left a paw print in our hearts."

Yeah, it's sappy...but it's cute all the same.

She was my kid, after all.

An Update

It's over.

She's gone.

It wasn't as bad as I assumed...but it was still probably the shittiest thing I've ever had to witness. I got home about 1:30pm, and immediately lied down next to her on the dining room floor, balling my eyes out. I kept apologizing to her, telling her how much I was going to miss her.

I think she understood.

The two of us proceeded to the back patio where I sat on a cold chair, simply watching her. I sat there for 2 hours, talking to her...petting her...telling her how much I loved her and how much I was going to miss her. Angie arrived a few minutes before the vet, and the two of us sat on the ground holding her, crying.

Scruffy decided to sit up and give me a bunch of kisses. I needed that more than you could ever imagine.

The vet arrived shortly there after, at which I started crying hysterically. It was all too real. I had to sign some paperwork, and then say my last goodbyes. Oh my god, I'm sitting here balling my eyes out as I type this. I said goodbye, took off her collar, and helped hold her while the vet administered the first shot. This one helped put her to sleep; it took about 5 minutes. She started to get woozy and swayed all around. I guided her to the ground and held her. After she was asleep, the vet shaved a portion of her front leg, and prepared to administer the second shot; the one that would stop her heart, and ultimately end her life. I had to walk away.

Angie and I stood a few feet from them, while the drugs were administered. I heard nothing, which was a relief. I couldn't watch. Angie told me she was peaceful, very peaceful. Another 2 minutes passed, and it was all over. I walked back over to her to pet her and say my final goodbyes. She simply looked like she was sleeping. Calm, and without pain.

The vet and her husband put Scruffy's body on a stretcher, covered her with a dark green blanket, and took her away.

I can't believe she's actually gone. It hasn't hit me yet. I just came home a few minutes ago, looking for her, without thinking...

I emptied her food bowl, and keep looking around, expecting her to come plopping down the stairs any moment now.

But she won't.

She's really and truly gone.

I miss her like hell, already.

Goodbye my friend.

Well, the time has finally come. The day I've been dreading for YEARS upon YEARS. Scruffy's health has deteriorated beyond anything that we could possibly fix with medical care. She has barely consumed a scrap of food in the past 4 days. She's been vomiting non-stop. Jack told me she had blood in her stool yesterday.

Her time has come. We have a 3:30 appt this afternoon to have her put down.

I haven't felt this miserable in years. I know it's horribly selfish of me to say, but I wish she would go on her own. This has been the hardest decision I've EVER had to make. Every time I look into her eyes, I think to myself "There's no way I can go through with this." But then I think about how much pain and misery she's in, I know I have no other choice.

I don't know what to expect. I've read up on it, and for the most part it's supposed to be peaceful, except for that last gasp for breath. That's what's going to kill me most. I still don't know if I can sit there with her. I'm not that strong. I hope it's peaceful, and that she just goes to sleep. I don't think I could live with myself if she shows any sign of struggle.

I'm going to miss "My Kid" sooooo much. I remember the day we got her. I was 15...and a sophomore in high school. We got her at the local pet store. There were about 5 other dogs in the bin...her brothers and sisters. The other dogs in the bin were sleeping; except her. She was standing on her hind legs, peering over the side at us saying "take me home, take me home!" And we did.

Scruffy has always had the most incredible personality. When we would laugh, it would seem that she had a smile on her face. When we would cry, she would nuzzle up to us to try and cheer us up. She was there when my Mom died, and was an incredible source in silent strength when we began the healing process.

She would always run to the back door and greet my when I came home; regardless of whether I was coming home after an aggravating day at work, or stumbling in drunk from the bar @ 3am with friends. It's kind of like a marriage: in good times and in bad...in sickness and in health, she's always been there.

When Scruffy was diagnosed with diabetes early this Spring, I knew she wasn't invincible, and that sadly, her days were numbered. I was EXTREMELY NERVOUS about giving her a daily insulin shot, but the two of us became a team, and made a routine out of it. I'd give her breakfast, she'd eat, then run to the backdoor. I'd then proceed to give her the shot, spank her on the butt 4 times, and let her into the yard. Neither Scruffy nor I were big fans of the needle, but we made it work.

I'm going to miss her like Hell! I'm going to miss her daily greetings at the back door...the way she nudges your arm when she wants you to pet her. I'm going to miss playing with her big ol' ears...and her "snoot." I'm going to miss watching her jump into the pool and swim her traditional lap, before resting her nose in one of the holes in the ladder. I'm going to miss her anxiously sniffing around her stocking at Christmas time, full well knowing she's got treats waiting for her. I'm going to miss everything about her.

Scruffy, you were a great dog, and an even better friend! You will not be soon forgotten!

Tee Hee Hee.

Looks like they'll be making it 101 years, as the Cubs were SWEPT in the playoffs by the La Dodgers! Ya know something...I actually feel bad for the Cubs.

Well, almost.

GO SOX! Game 4 tonight. Sox down 2-1 in the series vs Tampa Bay.

Even if the Sox do end up getting knocked out of the playoffs, at least we weren't SWEPT like those losers on the North side.

*CUBS

Completely
Useless
By
September

Yeah, pretty much! (Or October for that matter!)

I'm not getting sick. I'm not getting sick.

I've been avoiding it like the plague...no pun of course. I came home last Thursday evening to find a tin of Sucrets sitting on the kitchen counter. I whirled around to find the first person I could, grabbed him by the shirt collar and demanded, "WHO'S SICK?" Turns out to be the boy. Damn him. I've been tip toeing around the house with my can of Lysol in one hand, and Clorox wipes in the other. (No, I'm not working promotions for either of those companies. Although...)

So far I've been pretty successful at avoiding it.

And now my Dad is sick.

Fan-frickin'-tastic! I'm staying in a hotel for a week. Just until Angie's wedding has come and gone.

One week folks. One week.

20 minutes to kill before class

So...it's been a LONG time since I've sat in a computer lab of my fellow students and peers.

Boy oh boy I don't miss this. Not one bit.

It's day one of the Cubs playoffs...and everything I hear is "Go Cubbies" this and "Go Cubbies" that. I swear to god, if I hear that one more time, I'm going to let out the LOUDEST blood curdling scream ever to echo throughout these hallowed halls.

Seriously people.

I guess that's what you get for going to school in the North side of Chicago.

Boo. Nobody cares!

In other news, the White Sox (Yay!) won the American League Central division last night. Yes, it took 163 games...but the job got done, nonetheless. And let me tell you, they played FIERCE! If they play like this throughout the playoffs, they just might stand a chance. We shall see.

Jesus...I just realized that it's frickin October 1st. This year has flowin by like nothing else. Ugh...I turn 27 in a couple of weeks. (On the 20th, if anybody is plannning on sending gifts!) Angie's wedding is next weekend. FINALLY! Helping her out with this has been a part-time job. I asked her for a paycheck, but I don't think she took the bait.

10 minutes left. What else to talk about? My mind is so frazzled with work and school and sick dogs and all...I'm lucky that I remember to get out of bed and face the world on most days. Tell me again why I signed myself up for this?

Melissa, the Boy and I went to see LIVE last weekend at the House of Blues. GREAT show as always! The opening band...they left a lot to be desired. Ok, let me rephrase that. THey were just plain bad. But shirless, sweaty, jumping Ed made up for that! I swear, there's nothing in life that makes you feel more glad to be a woman that to see that man standing on stage covered in sweat...in his tight jeans...and singing his heart out. Perfection at its best!

The drunken old guys standing in front of me? Not so much. It wasn't necessarily that fact that they were really tall...and obnoxious...and talking the whole time. It was more the fact that one of them FARTED (without any regard for the other concert goers) THE ENTIRE SHOW! I was feeling a little vengeful that night...so out of nowhere I grabbed my bottle of hand lotion from my purse, and proceeded to squirt some in tall guy's pants pocket. It took about 10 minutes for him to finally put his hand in his pocket...

Oh my...the look on his face was priceless!!

WTF?!?!

And I leave you with that thought to ponder.