Doggone. Losing our beloved pet.

I miss my dog.  I miss her desperately.  I simply do not like (at all) the fact that she is not here with me. With us.  It is so wrong.

I am so sad.  My dog died Saturday.  Or rather, my husband and I held her in our arms as a very kind and compassionate doctor administered the drugs that would kill her.  She was so very sick.

We took her to the vet for an appointment at 3:45pm on Friday and everything went downhill from there.
She hadn't been eating her food - but had still been chowing down on treats and table scraps from our toddler.  She was a tank.  She would, and could, eat anything.  I never worried about her because she was so tough.  I honestly considered that she might not be eating her food because she knew better things were to be had, in combination with her teeth hurting or something.  I mean, she was still eating treats and scraps! She was still going to the bathroom!

On Wednesday evening I had noticed a lump on her side.  She needed to be laying in the right position to feel it, and there were a few times when I couldn't find it that I thought my imagination was playing tricks on me.

That lump ended up being a giant tumor on her spleen (at minimum the tumor was 10cm...the docs weren't able to get the whole thing in one view on either the x-ray or the ultrasound, so they could not be sure it wasn't bigger).  The moment I first palpated it with my hand I had known that something was seriously wrong.  I tried to deny it under the guise of, "positive thinking," but deep down I knew.  My beloved childhood dog had "fatty" tumors on her body, but I just knew this wasn't the case with Kylie.  I tried to think positive and convince myself otherwise.

She was still eating anything except her own food (although on Thursday she actually ate ALL of her food!), and running around as usual.  I actually told my husband that if I wasn't feeling the lump, I wouldn't even bother with a vet appointment for her.  She seemed fine.  She wasn't.  She was far from fine.

I took this picture about 4 hours before her doctor's appointment.  It's hard to believe she was so sick. Thinking of how scary her blood work results were (In addition to the doctor explaining it, one nurse/helper looked at Kylie's results, raised her eyebrows and said, "Whoa! Okay. That's not good."), it just shows how strong she was.

Our vet took x-rays and told us the devastating news about the tumor on her spleen.  As I mentioned, her blood work was no less devastating.  She was severely anemic and they could not find a single platelet on their slide (I don't even know what that means, but I know it is very, very bad).

We were sent to an emergency vet/surgery clinic with the belief that after a blood transfusion, Kylie would undergo surgery to remove the tumor.  So, at this point, we were just praying the tumor was benign. Hoping that she would recover from surgery and be her happy self again.  I stay at home with my daughter, so I was thinking about how I would have no trouble helping her to recover.

But she didn't have surgery.  She spent Friday night in the hospital and after more testing it was determined that she had a very aggressive cancer that had already spread to other parts of her body.  She was in pain.  She was in misery.  We had to let her go.

I feel a horrible sense of guilt and anger that I didn't just know there was no way to save her.  If I had, I could have spared her that last night in the hospital, full of tests and loneliness and misery at being away from her people.  I feel so guilty and sad that she was there all alone, only to perish the next day.  I worry that she was angry at us, and confused and felt abandoned.  We were only trying to keep her alive and hoping to find a way to save her - but there is no way she could have known that, of course.

When they finally brought her to us for our final time together, she was barely wagging her tail.  She was walking, and she gave a few sweet kisses, but she was just so sick, and so tired, and so very sad.  It was awful.

She lay down on a blanket and I lay next to her.  She actually put her head down and cuddled next to me.  I hold in my heart the hope that she felt comfort at being near us.  We petted her, and talked to her, and praised her, and loved her, and then we pressed that horrible button that would let the nurses know it was time.

The doctor that administered the lethal dose was the most compassionate and respectful person we could have hoped for in that awful moment.

I can't continue, because I don't want to describe the final seconds.  It hurts too much.

Oh, sweet doggy friend.  We miss you so much.

Death of a Family Member

My dog, Kylie, was put to sleep on Saturday.  I can't bear it.  I really have no words.  I can think of nothing but my sadness.

Spending a few hours at the park this morning with my beautiful daughter did help to cheer me up a bit, and of course I mostly fake a smile in her presence.  But inside I am heart broken.  I have been working on a post about how deep my sorrow runs, but I can't even stand to continue.

I love you Kylie, and you will be forever missed.  RIP, puppy.

Not Feeling It

I just haven't been interested in writing in the past few days.  We arrived home a few days ago from our fabulous trip to the Upper Peninsula, yet I haven't even finished half the re-cap post.

As this blog is mainly a tool for me to practice and improve my shaky writing skills, this is a total failure on my part.  I can't help it though...the interest just isn't there.

I think I need to wind down from vacation and get back into the flow of regular life.  So, sorry to my one follower (hi mom!), but I will get back to posting daily soon.  And I will get that re-cap post finished and posted.

Soon.  I promise.

Bad Habits

I have a horrible habit of starting something and not finishing it.  I swore up and down that I would post to this blog at least every other day.  Now, it's been a few more than that and I have nothing prepared.

The weekend was busy and chock full of family obligations and several opportunities for Cassie to play with her cousins.  And she adores them.

Then Monday, more family came to visit and we did not get home until late. So, another day where I could have possibly blogged was whisked away.

I suppose I could have blogged during Cassie's nap time today.  I did other stuff instead, though.  I read, I showered, I ate a yummy lunch.  I was busy, darn it!

Anywho, I suppose I shall have to get back to it tomorrow.  We have a big trip coming up this weekend, so I'll be gone for five days starting Friday.  Thus, it is imperative I think of something interesting for tomorrow. :)

This picture is from August 2009.  Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Lake Michigan.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

It's raining, it's pouring.
The old man is snoring.
He bumped his head, went to bed.
And couldn't get up in the morning.

Ever heard that strange nursery rhyme? Most likely, you have. I've been singing it to my little girl every time it rains (rare, these days), and never really thought about the meaning.  Yesterday my husband and I decided to google the meaning...I mean, it's about a dude bumping his head and not being able to get up! We joked about it being a song about someone in a coma.  And by joking, I mean we expected some hidden meaning. We didn't really think it was a song about someone with a head injury.

Turns out it really is as simplistic as it sounds! Yes, it is about some guy with a head injury.  The Wikipedia explanation had us cracking up and shaking our heads: It has been suggested that the verse is a "classic description" of a head injury ("bumped his head") resulting in an epidural hematoma, subsequent lucid interval and resultant decrease in conscious level ("snoring", "couldn't get up in the morning").^[4] The source quotes a variant of the song in which the order of "went to bed" and "bumped his head" are reversed.

I've kind of fudged the lyrics, so in our house the old man just has a concussion, and didn't get up 'till the morning, not couldn't get up in the morning. 

He'll be fine, y'all! 

***More fun rain pictures to come. 

Fire Trucks and Popsicles

Voting

Man, was I disappointed today when I was only the 61st person to vote at my polling place.  There were two sides to the room, so maybe 60 (hopefully more!) people had voted on that side as well, but that still isn't very many.  It was only 1pm in the afternoon, of course leaving plenty more voting time, but I doubt the final total will be very high.

I don't understand people who don't vote.  I honestly don't.  Even if you think that your vote won't make a difference or that the system is so screwed there is no point, I still don't get it.  It is your RIGHT to have a say.  So, have it!

The non-voters who infuriate me the most are the ones who talk about how the government sucks the whole year long - and then come voting day, they are no where to be found.  Really, people? You're gonna whine and complain and not even do the simplest thing to make a change or a difference? I simply cannot understand that way of thinking.

In college I voted in every election via absentee ballot.  It was very easy.  I would contact the city clerk's office in my hometown, have them mail me a ballot, fill it out upon receipt, and then mail it back. Voting complete!

Even with laws trying to limit people's access to the polls being debated all over the country, it is still easy for most people to vote.  This rant is not about those who are denied their right to vote.  That's a whole other topic.  My frustration is just directed at the people who choose not to.

If a person is going to be out of town, at work, or simply busy with something else on voting day, they should get an absentee ballot.  Period.

I have voted in almosy every primary and general election since I was eligible upon turning 18.  I'm hesitant to say every election because my memory may serve me wrong - but I can't recall one I have missed.

I know every person is different, and people have different priorities, interests, etc. Still, it just seems crazy that the percentage of people who vote is so very low.

Morning Affirmation

Not sure about everyone else, but some mornings I need to remind myself to do this.

Camping

Almost every year since I was a baby I have gone camping during the summer for a long weekend at the Manistee National Forest Campground.  When I was young, my parents had a large group of friends (I believe it started out as lawyers and secretaries - that sounds bad, but both the attorneys and assistants brought their own families! - who worked together at the Attorney General's office getting away from the office as friends.  They each invited more friends, and in turn it grew! But it was a lot of lawyers. And secretaries.) who went together, and now the tradition is continued by my siblings (2 sisters and a brother), their families, and our collective friends.

There have probably been about 4 or 5 years in my life I didn't make it.  I can't really remember, but time moves so quickly it's quite possible it's more.  It feels like I went every year though.  At minimum, I've gone for 25 years - and that would be if I missed 8.  Which seems like an awful lot.

Last month, we made this annual jaunt and it was was our second year bringing our little girl. Third, if you count our attendance when I was pregnant with her.

Last year was...okay. I had a broken leg (My 3rd time.  I'm clumsy), Cass was crawling, so we had to contain her to keep her from eating copious amounts of dirt, and she slept like absolute shit.  I couldn't even go down to the lake, because the beach is made up of large dunes, and I had that pesky broken leg (walking cast, but still). There was also the issue of the 2 other group camping sites - there are only 3 - being filled to the brim (we are talking well over 100 people) with a family reunion of sorts.  They even used bullhorns to shout rules for games, eating, etc! And that is the least of it.  Seriously.  I won't go into it, but they were totally oblivious to our 25 person group (of course), and any possible unspoken rules for camping in the woods - like, no bullhorns.

This year, however, was great! Cassie can walk, and explore, and doesn't eat dirt.  Well, not much at least. She was really able to enjoy herself, and even though I had a good time separately from her, her joy just added to my fun.  There were almost 30 of us, including 3 babies under 1. It really was a great time.

Cassandra was too timid to go in the lake, but she enjoyed playing by it.  She had so much fun!

There were 10 children under 4 camping with us at one point, so our little only child really enjoyed the interaction.  Especially with her cousins.  She adores them all.  

And she is still talking about the going to see the sunset almost every day  She loved it. 

Saturday night I went to the beach with my sister-in-law and a friend and we looked up at the stars for hours. I haven't done that in so long, and the stars are not so bright where I live anyway.  The night sky is an incomparable wonder. 

Homecoming

Every year, our town hosts something called Homecoming.  It's a carnival, with two nights of amazing fireworks and an uncountable number of local class reunions.  There are 3 high schools in our city (there are also several private ones, but I honestly have no idea if they have reunions at Homecoming) and numerous graduating classes from each of them gather at Homecoming to reminisce and reconnect.

Neither my husband or I grew up here, but each year come Homecoming time, I wish we had! I don't have much contact with high school buddies (Facebook, of course), and I feel some envy for this yearly, relaxed get-together opportunity.

I was surprised to see a water ride at this small carnival.  It's been a few years since I have attended, so I guess I'm out of the loop on the cool carnival rides.  I looked for the Salt N' Pepper Shaker, Gravitron, and the Zipper, but didn't see them. 

And of course, Cassie had a great time. 

Even snack time is dramatic around here. 

"Hat bowl!"

The next two pictures are her saying, "Hey Dad! I eatin right now!" So cute! 

I have no idea what this sassy slump was about. 

Forgive the horrid lighting and blurry shots.  As is evidenced by the other pictures in this blog, I am no photographer! And it's clear I let Instagram do all of my editing for me. :)