A Beautiful Soul

Sauerkraut Here!

I have been very lucky in that I have never had to deal with death, now I have.

As you know my puppy was very old, sick and getting worse. Tuesday night was Ty’s last meal; he got sick to his tummy Wednesday morning, barfing a total of eight times. My mom said she found him lying under the kitchen table Wednesday morning (some say animals go off on their own when they know it’s their time to pass) and that his vomit was full of kibbles. I’m thinking his little body couldn’t digest his dinner, so it came back up the other way. Eventually, he quit barfing (probably because there was nothing left in him) and just lay around.

This morning when I woke up (6:20AM) I hoped for the best. To no surprise, he hadn’t improved. I knew that the next step was to take him to the veterinarian, just in case there was bad news I wanted to be there.

I immediately jumped out bed, got ready and drove to Idaho. By 9:30AM I was at my puppy’s side. When I walked in the door he wasn’t there to greet me, instead he was at my grandmothers bedside. When I approached him his little head was up, waiting to see who just walked in the door, but when I rubbed his skinny body, his tail barely thumped. I instantly knew he wasn’t happy and it didn’t take long for me to realize that he was suffering. I tried to feed him (cheese and an English muffin with butter), but he wouldn’t eat. I could tell he wanted to, but that there was hesitation, as if he knew he would just throw it up. My mom said he wouldn’t eat the McDonalds cheeseburger she bought for him last night and he loves McDonalds cheeseburgers.

Shortly after my arrival my mom showed up and we decided to take him to the vet. We (my grandfather, my mother, myself, and my puppy) pilled in the car and headed to the veterinarians office. From this point forward everything happened so fast.

I needed to be sure that there was nothing we could do to improve his condition before I made the decision to go ahead with what my grandfather and mother had already decided. Part of me thought we could hook him up to an IV, get some fluids/nutrients back in his body and once he had what little strength he had back, he could continue taking his medicine and be comfortable, but deep down I knew that I was hoping for a miracle.

Ideally I wanted my puppy to pass away on his own, I didn’t want to have to “put him to sleep,” a term some asshole came up with to make people feel better about killing their pet. However, I also didn’t want him to suffer while he tried to pass. I believe he was suffering and that he had held on (for us) as long as he could.

Me, the blubbering idiot and the last photo ever taken of Ty.

At the vet I sat with Ty on the cold, hard floor while we waited for the doctor. They were nice enough to put down a blanket for him and to no surprise I asked, “Is this a clean blanket?” I didn’t want him lying on a dirty blanket, he deserved better.

When the doctor came in he had a needle in his hand and I instantly panicked looking at my mother is in, “Say something!” My mom explained to the doctor that I wanted to know, for sure, that there was NOTHING more we could do to preserve his life in comfort. He started talking but my mind had slipped elsewhere, deep in my heart, I knew the answer

The doctor sedated him, “gave us a few minutes” and returned to the room with hair clippers, a bottle of alcohol and a different needle.

I watched as the doctor shaved my puppy’s leg, poured alcohol on it and inserted the needle. I will never, NEVER forget seeing my puppy’s blood shooting up into the liquid, his head falling on my lap, watching him take his last breath or watching his tail fall slowly to the ground.

I watched the doctor listen for his heartbeat and remove his stethoscope. I wanted to hear for myself that Ty was gone, so I asked to wear the earpieces, leaned over and heard nothing. I sat there in shock for another minute, still rubbing his ears (he hated it when I rubbed his ears, but I loved them, they were so soft), still telling him “I loved him.”

I told the doctor I didn’t want him “thrown into the oven with a horse” and I didn’t want him “thrown into a pile of other dead animals.” I asked that he treat my puppy as if he were his own, I hope he does. After removing his dirty, blue collar (which is still in my pocket) my mom picked me up off the floor and I bolted for the car, taking one last glance at him before placing my oversized sunglasses on my face.

I tried to be quit with my tears but I didn’t quite make it to the door. Once outside I let out an awkward, beastly sound. My mother quickly followed behind me, then my grandfather… Carrying a bag of dog food! Honestly, when he tossed it in the back I thought the thump sound was my dead puppy. Good ol’ grandpa, killing to birds with one stone… Let’s just grab a bag of dog food while we’re out killing the ol’ brown dog. Sigh.

Now I’m left with the grief, the guilt, the question of “did I do the right thing,” and the memories.

I had (that’s pretty hard to say) my puppy for 14+ years, that’s half my life. My puppy has seen me grow, he’s seen me graduate high school, college, move away (time and time again) and no matter what, he was always happy to see me and always there with unconditional love.

When you’re used to having something, not having it is shocking. The hardest part for me is one; did I do the right thing? If he could just tell me, through words, that he was ready to go, I would feel much better. But I think his body language and more importantly, his eyes helped me make the best decision.

Although I’ve been preparing myself for this day for sometime now, it came far too quickly. Which brings me to number two, he’s gone. Never again will I see him, hear him, or touch him. Never again will he bark his loud, boisterous bark, do the “happy dance” when I pull in the driveway, or lay down right where I’m trying to work (forcing me to step over him). Never again.

Good dogs are hard to come by, but we got lucky. Who knew that dirty, brown puppy picked up on the reservation would bring us so much joy and laughter, for so many years.

I’d like to think that we gave him a good life and that he felt loved. I’d like to believe that there’s such a thing as puppy heaven. I’d like to believe that he’s happier, healthier, and no longer in pain. I’d like to believe that he’s tromping down the roads of heaven.

I love you Ty. I will never forget you and you will remain in my heart and mind until I too take my last breath.

I love you buddy.

That is all.

Somber Sauerkraut

P.S.  Thank you for hanging out with me, the phone calls and the kind words, they are greatly appreciated.

Sick Doggy

Sauerkraut Here!

I’m not doing well today.

When I spoke to my mom this morning she said my doggy is not doing well. I guess he barfed five times between the hours of 2AM and 6:30AM. At first we were thinking that maybe he ate something that upset his stomach, but when I spoke to my grandpa (his babysitter) around Noon he said my doggy had barfed two more times. In addition to barfing he isn’t moving around very much (less than normal), he’s not eating and he’s not drinking.

I called my mom after work and she said he barfed one more time, that’s eight times in 15 hours. My mom said she is going to watch him overnight and if he doesn’t get better she’ll take him to the vet. If it were me, I would have taken him today. Both my grandfather and my mother think it’s time to put him down. I on the other hand, want him to stick around for as long as possible.

Don’t get me wrong I do not want my doggy to suffer, at all. But, if seems happy and we can do something to keep him comfortable, than I’m going to, even if I have to sell my fat body to pay for it, I’m going to do it. When I am 100% confident that he is unhappy and there is nothing we can do to preserve his life, I will let him go.

I had a talk with him a few moths ago, I told him that if he’s was ready to go, he can. However, I don’t want to murder him. I’m hoping he gets better overnight, but my guts telling me this is the end. If this is the end, I hope he passes in his sleep on the floor by my mom’s bed. What I don’t want is to “put him down,” a nice way of saying, MURDER HIM.

If it is time to put him down, I want to be there. I already know my grandfather and my mother are going to try and do it without me, but he’s my dog and I want to be there. I don’t care if I have to leave work, re-schedule my job interview (assuming they will let me); I need to be there. I have to be there.

In honor of my doggy, Day 8 of the 30-Day Blog Challenge is dedicated to him.

“A picture that makes me laugh…” This photo was taken years ago at home in Idaho. If you look closely my dog managed to fling his drool onto the top of his nose, he’s completely oblivious to it.

That is all.

Sauerkraut

Am I Caught Up Yet?

Sauerkraut Here!

Driving home last night was a bitch, it took me 33 minutes. Out of nowhere came a snow storm and to no surprise it started shortly before I had to travel home, this is usually my luck. In other news, I’m getting a little worried because this dye is not washing out of my hair. It’s growing out, but it’s not washing out, this could be bad. Today is weigh-in day and I will not be participating in this because my diet went away, again.

So jealous.  And yes, that's my boyfriend.

Okay, catch up time… Day 6. “A picture of a person I’d like to trade places for day.” At first I was thinking it would be Kim Kardashian because I think she’s stunning and I would love to carry around her ass for a day. Then I decided I wouldn’t want to BE her, just LOOK like her. And the truth is, when my day was over, I’d look at my flat, droopy, slab of an ass and be very, very depressed.

Again, so, so jealous.

So, who would I want to BE? Honestly, if I could be anyone, I’d probably be a guy, or a different race. It would be interesting to experience society in one, or both, of these roles, it would give me a better perspective on gender/race issues.

Day 7, “a picture of my most treasured possession.” Here’s how I determined “my most treasured possession,” I imagined my house was burning to the ground and I could only save one thing. Assuming my mother and my puppy got out of the house, my car was already parked outside, I would pick… my photos, I guess. If you don’t know, I love photos. I love planning photo shoots, preparing for photo shoots, posing for photos, taking photos, looking at photos, you name it. For fuck sake! I carry my camera in my purse! Hey, you never know when there’s going to be a photo opp. Photos capture memories, preserve history, provide art, and so much more that I won’t get into because I can already tell I’m headed toward the soapbox. So, I would pick my photos. 

Finally, my grandmother thinks she needs a Kindle and I received the following text from my mother: “Ty pooped on gramps front porch.” Classy.

That is all.

Sauerkraut

Day 5 And Some Other Bullshit

Sauerkraut Here!

Day, whatever the hell I’m on? Requires me to share with you a “picture of my favorite memory.” Picking a favorite memory is tough; I’ve been looking at this screen for over 40 minutes!

It’s now been two hours and fifteen minutes.

Okay, here we go. I… Have been sitting here for three hours and 50 minutes.

Why is this so tough? I guess I should just pick one!

It’s now been four hours and seven minutes. Sigh.

I don’t want to talk about this, here’s what I want to talk about. I’ve been thinking more and more about my “Wonderful Disaster” and the more I think about it, the more excited I get. At the same time the thought of it makes me anxious. The thought of leaving Mr. Coconut and Chickpea behind makes my stomach bubble.

I’ve spent so many years alone in Utah and now that I’ve found a buddy, a good buddy, I’m just going to up and leave her!? I’m trying really hard to tell myself that I need to do what’s best for me, that we will stay in close contact, that we will visit each other, etc. But how can I be so sure!?

As for Mr. Coconut, I don’t know what to do? Mr. Coconut is a very, very good guy. However, I don’t feel like our relationship is progressing in the direction I had hoped. My mom once said to me, “Sometimes two people’s lives just don’t mesh.” Without going into detail, I feel like these words sum up my current situation.

If I move forward with my Wonderful Disaster, I need to make rules for myself; so far I only have one, make friends. To prevent another Hermit Episode I need to make friends. I’ve been thinking of a few ways to make friends and so far, my plan is this… Make friends at work and sign-up for a community education class. Sounds pretty easy, right? WRONG! I don’t go to work to be social and I don’t do activities to be social, I do them because I have to/want to. Unfortunately for me, I give off a bitchy vibe. But the truth is, I’m extremely shy. So, somehow I need to make myself not look so mean and force myself to ask people to hang out outside of work/class. Also, if they ask me to hang out, I have to go. Even though I really, really won’t want to. In fact, I’ll probably be on the phone, crying to my mother seconds before the meeting. Moving on…

Today I received this text from The Neighbor Girl:

“I had a dream that you and I were both prego and we had our babies on the same day, I had another boy and you had a girl. You were fighting us and trying to switch babies with us because yours didn’t ‘have a wiener.’”

Seriously, I’m dying… Because I would really do this.

Good news! I’ve been missing several items for what seems like forever. Tonight, I located the last of them! My favorite sunglasses were in my swim bag; my pants (which I was convinced I Heart To Fart stole) were at Mr. Coconut’s house and my shoe! My fucking pink and orange tennie runner, my grandmother found it under my bed, yip-pee! I bet it’s caked in cat piss.

And now it’s time for a photo of ONE of my favorite memories. One night PDX and I got very bored so we decided to pull a prank. We drove to Macy’s, bought a shit ton of aluminum foil, drove to my job (at the time) and covered my co-workers entire cubical in aluminum foil, the fucking thing was glowing!

My co-worker wasn't mad at all, he said it was the "best prank ever."

That is all.

Sauerkraut

Making Up For Lost Time - Day 4

Sauerkraut Here!

I’m doing really badly at this 30 Day Blog Challenge, I think it’s because Day 4 confused me. I couldn’t figure out if I was supposed to take a picture of my Friday night or my Saturday night? Regardless they were both boring.

After work on Friday I filled out an application for a part-time job. I’m hesitant to tell you what the job is because I don’t want to jinx myself. The job doesn’t pay too well but I really need whatever cash it has to offer, I’m that broke. Plus, it’s on my way home from my full-time job, the hours are perfect and more than anything it will teach me a skill I’ve always wanted to learn. I’m crossing my fingers that I get an interview, I should know sometime this week.

After I filled out my job application I swung by my favorite farmhouse AKA McDonald’s and spent the rest of the night painting and struggling to stay awake for the latest episode of Jersey Shore.

Saturday night I ran some errands. I returned a shirt my mom bought at TJ Maxx, returned some pillowcases my mom bought at Macy’s (which by the way I got lost trying to find despite having been there several times.) and got some store credit from a cake class that I won’t be attending… Because I signed up for a different one, that I’m hoping is better.

After that I stopped by Mr. Coconut’s house in an attempt to be nice. I never go to Mr. Coconuts; I just like my own space. Anyways, I cut his hair, he showered and we went to Barbacoa for dinner. We’re both broke as shit so I took advantage of my Gift Card Bag. If you don’t know, I carry around a zip-loc bag full of gift cards that I’ve been collecting since 2005. Working toward my “Wonderful Disaster” I’ve decided to make it a goal to use as many of this stupid things as possible.

Where was I? Oh yes. So that was my Friday and Saturday night, how do I take a photo of that?  Fuck this post is boring and I'm not posting a photo.

That is all.

Sauerkraut

Day 3 Of The Blog Challenge

Sauerkraut Here!

I’m pretty sure I’m having a panic attack. Hold on, I must research this. I have come to the conclusion that I had a mild panic attack. Apparently you experience at least 4 of their listed symptoms, I had eight:

• Feeling dizzy, unsteady, lightheaded, or faint

• Feeling waves of being flushed

• Fear of losing control or going insane

• Chills or hot flashes

• Confusion

• Blank mind

• Sensing time going by very slowly

• Feeling the need to escape

In addition, it said that it would last about 30 minutes, indeed it did. Now that it’s over, I am able to focus and write this fucking post. Shall we begin?

There is a weird vibe in the air today, very weird. Last night I had a very weird dream that I believe was sparked by my search for my house in California.

Last night I dreamt that I was living in Idaho and my brother and I discovered that my father had been in town (for about a month) to have surgery on his back and he never bothered to contact us. I think my brother hunted him down to let him know that we knew he was in town and basically forced him to visit us. He stopped by the day he was leaving town and I remember I was pissed, yelling, “You’re in town for a fucking month and you didn’t even bother to contact your fucking kids!?” I remember he gave me a gift, I think it was an empty journal and he wanted me to write the first chapter of a book he wanted to write. After he left I was yelling at my brother, “This mother fucker is in town for a month and he doesn’t bother to contact his fucking kids or see his grandbabies and he thinks I’m going to help HIM out by writing his first fucking chapter!? Fuck that shit.” P.S. This is exactly how I talk in real life.   I remember watching him through the window, he jumped on his motorcycle (with Skeletor, minus the muscles, who had been waiting outside for six hours and had really bad hair, long brittle and grey) and rode off.

Skeletor

HOLY SHIT!  I just thought of something!  My father wife’s name cannot be Skeletor!  While she does look like a skeleton, Skeletor is cool.  But don't you worry; I found the PERFECT replacement... Oh shit, this is good...

SALLY!  SALLY!  From "Nightmare Before Christmas!"  SALLY!

She's PERFECT! Oh shitness! She's perfect in SO MANY WAYS! She’s a skeleton, she has long brittle looking hair, she's wearing some outfit that only a TRUE hippie would wear, she’s meek, annoying and SHIT! She’s perfect.

Disclaimer: I’m not saying these things because I have hard feelings toward this woman but instead I’m saying these things because they’re dead on. No pun intended.

Little Gorda was in the other room and overheard the entire conversation. I could hear her talking on the phone to The Neighbor Girl (who was simply calling to see if I was okay) and I got really upset. I asked Gorda to end the conversation and then she tried to stab me with a steak knife? Then she called me a “bitch,” bad idea. At this point in the dream I snapped.

The next thing I knew I snatched the knife away from Gorda and found myself smashing a crap ton of green peas in a pot with a potato masher… Apparently the peas were Gorda.  For the record, I will never squish Gorda. 

The next day I went to work and discovered that my boss had taken the yucky mouse pad that I threw away out of the garbage can putting it back on my desk. I was pissed!!! There I was yelling at her, “Really!? We can’t throw away one, fucking disgusting mouse pad!? I can’t have a fucking new mouse pad!?”

And that was my dream. Moving on…

This morning I woke up with a weird feeling. The air seems heavy (despite it being a beautiful day), my mind seems blank, yet busy and I can sense that everyone is just a little off today. I can’t help but wonder if something is going to happen? Something… Minor, but not right. Moving on…

I’ve had a few people ask about my night in KMart and I wish there was some great story to share with you but there’s not. I stayed the night because, in my mother’s words, “I was working the night shift, setting up an ad that was going to start the next morning… IT SUCKED.” And there you have it.

Today is Day 3 of the 30 Day Blog Challenge and the day that I am supposed to share with you “a picture of the cast from my favorite show.” Because I can never pick just one, I’ve decided to share several, a few blasts from the past and a current love.

I had a really hard time determining my favorite blast from the past because I had several, here they are:

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

Family Matters

Saved by the Bell

My current love is Jersey Shore, no surprise there.

I'm going to the Jersey Shore... BITCH!

Finally, I posted a message on Facebook yesterday asking someone to start a fucking blog (And maintain it). Alas! My wish has been granted! The Neighbor Girl started a blog and for several very good reasons: to keep family and friends updated, document the memories and get Auntie Sauerkraut to shut up.

I’m so excited about this blog because now I have something to look forward to, something to do at work and get to know what my nephews are up to. I LOVE hearing stories about my nephews.

Yesterday, my two favorite stories were:

1) The other night at dinner my nephew had a coughing fit, he realized he was getting attention from his parents for coughing so he kept doing it… Until he barfed all over the table. Yes!

2) The other night The Neighbor Girl was watching a movie when Izzy got in her face and the following conversation followed:

Izzy: “What’s your name?”

Neighbor Girl: “Mom.”

Izzy: “Is my name Tit-Tan?”

Neighbor Girl: “Yes.”

He pauses; his little wheels are turning…

Izzy: “Mom, what my weiner name?”

Neighbor Girl: “I don’t know.”

He scratches his tiny, blond haired head…

Izzy: “Mmm, my weiner name is, Girl Weiner.”

Fuck yes! I love this kid!

That is all.

Sauerkraut

P.S. Aside from barfing on the steps up to my apartment my lovely neighbor loves to leave his trash outside his door. Last night, I opened the door to discover, this:

Rockin' out to the death metal.

Fuck my life. I wish I could report this issue to the property management, but considering the property is in terrible condition (couches, dirty diapers, shopping carts… Everywhere!), I doubt they'd care.

Last weekend I was awoken to a bunch of noise, the next morning I discovered that the dumb-fuck neighbor (who was probably drunk) locked himself out of the house and proceeded to use a crowbar to remove the deadbolt from his door, nice.

Earlier this week I noticed he tried to replace it, but it's pretty fucking obvious that someone took a fucking CROWBAR TO HIS DOOR! Perhaps I should learn to look on the bright side? At least he remembered which apartment was his. Maybe I should ask him if I can have the cans for my nephews.

A House Of Memories

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After writing my earlier post I got to thinking about my house in California. I didn’t remember the exact address, but I remembered it was four digits, started with something in the teens and ended in zero something, does this make sense? I remember the street was Kingston Drive and I remember my surroundings: my yard, my neighbor’s yard, my elementary school, etc.). So, after messing around a little I found it: 1904 Kingston Drive, Escondido, California.

Big brother, click on the photo to see it larger.

This is the site of some of my earliest memories:

- Stealing rocks from the neighbors house… I thought they were diamonds and that I was going to rich. Looking back, if they were truly anything of value, why would someone toss them in their yard? My dad made me take them back.

- Working in the garden with my dad. Actually, I think I just ate the cherry tomatoes? Which I would never eat now.

- Picking dead skin off my Uncle L’s sunburned back.

- My lavish Easter egg hunts.

- Playing “Sack of Potatoes” with my brother.

- The evil witch that I was convinced lived in the bathroom between my room and my parents… Turns out this house is haunted. Supposedly. By a man. Not an evil witch.

- Making “honey” using a single bee in a coffee can with my neighbors: Kimmyette, Anastasia and Ashley.

- My one and only, spanking from my father.

- Licking every, single envelope in the house, putting them back in the box and returning them to the cupboard.  I freaking love the taste of envelopes.

So, I am very boring and this post is stupid.

That is all.

Sauerkraut