I hate Halloween. I absolutely despise Halloween. And I’m not even going to describe how crazy my dogs get whenever somebody knocks or ring the bell or talk loud outside or yell trick-or-treat right outside the door.
Anybody who knows me well enough knows that I’m not fond of kids. So I don’t have kids and I don’t plan on having kids. Now because I don’t want the responsibility of having kids, they tax me more so that people WITH kids can pay less tax. And then I pay almost $10,000 a year for school tax, the school for kids I do NOT have. And then, they demand that I spend MY money to buy other people’s kids candies.
OK, fine. What the fuck. I’ll pay more tax than people with kids because they must have more expenses than I do. I don’t mind helping out like that. And ok, I’ll even accept that I’ll pay the same school tax as the people with kids who actually go to these schools, too, because I’d rather have good schools around me than bad ones. Fine. And you know what? I’ll even leave the candies out for the kids one day a year if the chaperoning adults would make sure each kid takes only one or two. But NOOOOOOO, that never happens. Because, you know, that would be TOO FUCKING CONSIDERATE!!!!
I do not like being blackmailed into giving out candies. When I get home from work at 7 or 7:30 in the evening, my house is already shaving creamed and egged all over. If I leave them out during the day so that the kids take a couple of candies conscientiously, my house is shaving creamed and egged all over because it takes just one greedy kid to run off with the entire booty. Do they want me to take a fucking day off from work and lose a day’s pay just to give out candies I bought with my money to kids who go to school funded by the tax I paid without having no use for the school for myself at all?
I hate fucking Halloween.
Yesterday morning, Brandy attacked Georgia. Brandy was gnawing on a little tree branch and she walked away sniffing around and doing something else. Georgia went over to the tree branch and started gnawing on it. Brandy saw it and she jumped on Georgia. I got Brandy off of Georgia pretty fast without any injury to myself, but Georgia’s lone front leg was bleeding profusely. I had to separate Brandy first to do anything with Georgia, so I put her inside a crate, picked up the rolled bandage and ran back outside. I have never seen so much blood in my whole life and I seriously thought I was going to lose Georgia from losing too much blood.
I put the bandage on her and drove to the nearest emergency vet where they clipped the wound and examined it. Then the attending veterinarian thought it was best for a surgeon to open up Georgia’s leg because there were just too much blood coming out and was worried about damages to any ligaments or nerves. I called my vet Dr. L, and drove Georgia over where she opened her up and confirmed there were no permanent damage, it was just that the bite was to the largest vein in her leg. They put a drain in her leg so that the blood accumulated in her leg would drain out and I was told that she’s doing well. I either pick her up later today depending on how much the swelling goes down.
Brandy will have another thorough check up on Saturday because of her recent aggression. Besides, I’ve been worried about her general health since now she smells like a dog. For those who are going “isn’t Brandy a dog?” Yes, she is. But ever since I’ve switched all my dogs to prey model raw diet, they just stopped smelling like a dog even when they are soaking wet. But now Brandy smells like a dog and I just know something’s not right on top of her pneumonia and on top of her bacterial overgrowth (her stool is STILL loose). She’s been having accidents over night and now her eyes are so watery she has tear marks under her eyes. I’m really worried.
Life is a bitch and I’m tired of her.
Life has been throwing punches at me left and right and I have been quite overwhelmed by life this year. Looking back, I’ve been whining quite a lot, and my dear little group of readers, I apologize. I don’t even feel like myself any more and I feel I’m even losing the ability to crack jokes about it as a result of every single cell in my body being occupied with dealing with life. I apologize ever more profusely because as you might have guessed, here comes another whiny entry. Please bear with me. I AM trying and trying hard to be positive and to not feel sorry for myself. But some days it gets to be a little too much.
As a matter of fact, I should have been ecstatic today. I should have been walking around with a stupid grin on my face. Because I came home last night to find the letter from INS waiting in the mailbox, with my citizenship interview appointment in December. How long have I been waiting to be a citizen? For about 20 years. For 20 years, I’ve been dutifully paying taxes without representation. Now I’m this close. But do you know what I did upon opening the letter and skimming through its contents? I cried. And my tears were most definitely not the tears of joy or happiness but of frustration. Oh shit! Not now! ANOTHER thing I have to prepare for! Why does it have to be now? I can’t even think straight. Where did I put all these documents that I need to bring there and when am I going to look for them?
It’s funny how the smallest thing could throw you off. I was exhausted yesterday, so I forgot about it pretty soon by sleeping. But I woke up with a heavy heart, found out Brandy had emptied her bladder on one of the dog beds, spewed plentiful variations of the word fuck about 478,399,643,715 times, feeling as if that letter was staring at me while I busied myself to get ready to go to work.
Just yesterday morning, I found myself happier than usual because I received the New York State STAR rebate check that I didn’t know I was getting and told people that it would cover most of Brooklyn’s hospital stay and joked that I needed another three checks like this to cover Brandy’s and my medical expenses. Come to find out today, I was lucky and saved by the check, since without it, I would have been short when making this month’s mortgage payment.
At work, when I finally opened my mouth to talk to a coworker, my tear gates opened and I couldn’t stop crying. And all I could say was, It’s just too much. Too much at the same time. I’m too overwhelmed. The coworker couldn’t say anything for a while, and when he finally replied, the only thing he could say was, I wish you were a millionaire. I stared at him and replied, Yeah… who doesn’t?
Yes, I know. I’ve been trying hard to see it as what it really is — happy and joyful events, as in I would have been short on my mortgage payment but hey look! This rebate check materialized and I’m good now! And I finally get to be a U. S. Citizen and exercise my rights as such! Yippeeeee! and so on… Yes, I’m trying very hard and will be trying hard. But I need to get this out. And again, I apologize.
I’ve been scheming to take the full advantage of my recently shrunken stomach since I can feel it’s already expanding, now that I’m eating normally. For years, I have seen on TV and read articles either online or in magazines about foods with negative calories. In other words, foods that make you burn more calories than they contain when your body tries to digest. So far I have found the following food items to contain negative caloric values.
| Vegetables | Fruits |
|---|---|
| Asparagus Beet root Broccoli Cabbage Carrot Cauliflower Celery Chicory Hot chili pepper Cucumber Garden cress Garlic Green beans Lettuce Onion Radish Spinach Turnip Zucchini |
Apple Apricot Blueberry Cantaloupe Cranberry Grapefruit Honeydew Lemon Lime Mango Orange Papaya Peach Pineapple Raspberry Strawberry Tomato Tangerine Watermelon |
I somehow remembered apple being one of them so I’ve been eating an apple a day. And I have decided that from now on I will;
- eat chips always with spicy salsa (tomato, hot chili pepper, onion and garlic)
- always have pickles (cucumber) with my sandwich from cafeteria
- ask for lettuce, tomato and onion in my sandwich even though I don’t like tomato in sandwiches
- always put either strawberries, blueberries, raspberries or peaches in my cereal
- ask for more lemon wedges with my fish and squeeze them on the fish liberally
That’s all for now, short of eating these dreadful vegetables (I generally despise vegetables) and fruits by themselves. I thought eating lemon sorbet or apple pie or peach cobbler often was pushing it.
My coworker and I went to get coffee this morning shortly after I arrived at work. The said coworker proceeded to snatch up the only scone left in the cafeteria while I was getting my coffee, noting out loud and emphasizing that his was the only scone left there. I paid for my coffee, he for his scone and we came back to our desks.
Thirty minutes or so later:
He, holding the scone: Do you want this?
Me: Why? What’s wrong with it?
He: Nothing’s wrong with it. I just don’t want it.
Me: Then why did you get it?
He: There was only one, and I didn’t want YOU to have it.
Me: So you decided to not only let me have it, but also pay for it?
He, frowning: … um… yeah… I guess…
This was the third time in about three years that I had to take prescription medications while I didn’t have the full use or even partial use of one hand or arm. I broke one of my fingers and got a pin inserted for a while in 2005, I had a shoulder surgery in 2006 because of a car accident, and now the dog bites. All three times, I had to take antibiotics of course and pain killers. And all three times, the pharmacists kept giving me pills in child-proof bottles that are impossible to open not only when you can’t use one hand but also when you have the full use of both hands! All three times, I was clearly bandaged up or wearing an arm sling – this time even the blood seeped through the heavily bandaged hand because the wound was left open intentionally. But it’s like these people are either blind or don’t have common sense. I even asked for “NO child-proof” bottles a few times and somebody even volunteered to put it in the system so that I never have to ask for it again or worry about it again. Well, yet, they keep giving me those hard to open child-proof bottles.
This time was no different. I didn’t remember to ask for it – in my defense, I was on morphin! When I had to take the medication, I realized the pills were in the wrong kind of bottles. After trying to open one in many different ways, I finally was able to by holding the bottle horizontally with the cap against the wall and pressing my body against the bottle while twisting it to open the fucking thing. It took me good 5 minutes to do it, and once open, I wasn’t going to put them back in there. So the antibiotic was in vitamin B bottle, and percocet was in calcium bottle. I’ve just transferred back the medications to the properly labeled pill bottles cause, you know, I don’t want to have to take percocet thinking that it will help my bones get stronger.
I’m already not happy about all these child-proof this and child-proof that and being forced to be inconvenienced by them. I have to dog-proof a lot of things and my dogs can get through child-proof pill bottles and what not IF they were allowed to get to it. Why can’t parents simply put things away from the reach of children just like I put things away so that my dogs can’t get to them when I’m not looking? Yes, I might be fretting about things like this because I don’t have kids. But isn’t it true that people are increasingly transfering the child-rearing responsibilities to the general public than the child’s parents?
There is a reason why I don’t have a kid. I don’t want one. I don’t want the responsibility. So yeah, call me cold and petty and uncaring. I still don’t like being forced to use child-proof products.
I lost weight. Finally.
When I went back to work, my boss told me I lost weight, which of course made me ecstatic. I came home and remembered to weigh myself, and I lost 4lb!!!
In the emergency room, they gave me morphin, which made me throw up anything I put in my mouth except for ginger ale for 2 days. That shit is strong! Then I took percocet for the pain, and of course THAT made me all nauseous and puke. Not only that, I really wasn’t hungry most of the time. I had to force myself to eat something just so I don’t take the medications in empty stomach. Congratulate me. That was the first time I’ve ever had to force myself to eat something and couldn’t even finish WeightWatcher’s frozen dinner!
Now I haven’t taken any medication for 3 or 4 days, and I have resumed my normal eating schedule. But guess what? My stomach must have shrunk cause I’m full with just one frozen dinner? How about that? Now I only have to fight the urge to pig out whenever I’m hungry. So at least one good thing came out of my worst nightmare…
There has been much could’ve, should’ve and would’ve on my part for the past week or so. I should have seen it coming. I should have been more careful…
Ever since Georgia and Brooklyn were moved downstairs, I have felt that Brooklyn has been giving Georgia cold shoulders. Georgia is jumpier and more easily scared now that she can hear outside noises a lot more clearly and I thought maybe that had to do with it because Brooklyn gets a little annoyed by Georgia running around not knowing what to do with herself. Then when I started dog-sitting Houston, I started getting a weird vibe from Brooklyn whenever I brought Georgia back into the livingroom after the meal.
Before the new living arrangement, because Georgia and Brooklyn stayed in the master bedroom, Georgia used to eat inside the master bathroom and I only had to open the bathroom door after both Georgia and Brooklyn were done eating. Everybody has to be fed separately in this house because otherwise one would try to steal another’s food and fight would break out.
After Georgia and Brooklyn moved to downstairs living room, Georgia had to be fed outside the living room. Monday night, I brought Georgia back into the living room after their meal, and that was when Brooklyn attacked Georgia. Georgia doesn’t bite back and she tried to hide behind me and in my poor attempt to take Georgia back out of the room, I opened the door and that’s when Brandy charged in. Brooklyn and Brandy were going at each other for what seemed to me like forever. I was desperately trying to separate them and both of them bit anything and everything near their mouths including me.
After I finally separated them, my right hand had blood clot coming out of a hole, the right side of my shirt and pants blood-soaked, my blood smeared and splattered everywhere. I was hyperventilating and feeling extremely cold and felt like I would pass out soon. But I was somehow abnormally calm. I looked for the number to call a cab, packed a new shirt and a pair of pants, cell phone and the charger, pager, and the organizer while waiting for the cab.
Fortunately, nothing was broken, so after about 5 hours, I was released after given pain killer and antibiotic with the instruction to see a doctor next day. I came home at about 2am, and let the dogs out for a quick potty break, and took Brooklyn to the emergency vet clinic where she was hospitalized over night. Then I came home and took Brandy to the same emergency vet clinic, and she was released with an antibiotic after confirming all her wounds were superficial. I made a stop at a 24-hour Walgreen’s for a case of Ginger Ale since even drinking water was making me puke. I came home at around 4am and started to make another arrangement to separate Brooklyn from Georgia and others.
Brooklyn was pretty banged up. She had to have drains inserted in two places and got stitches as well. She’s been on antibiotic and pain killer. She looks quite pathetic and must feel that way as well because she screams and howls as if she’s getting slaughtered whenever I leave her by herself. But she’s getting better.
Some people were assuming that I’m weighing the possibility of putting Brooklyn down because of the bites or her dog aggression. No, that’s not it. I know she’s dog aggressive and I have known it ever since I got her. I know I get bitten when I try to stop a dog fight. Note to self: go get the fucking break stick and the citronella spray already!
No, that’s not why. It’s because Brooklyn gets so miserable when she has to be in a room by herself when clearly I’m in the same house. She cries her heart out whenever I take the other dogs outside. Sometimes she hears me addressing other dogs and starts crying and tries to get out of the room by destroying it – fortunately she’s wearing a cone and it’s preventing her to do any damage right now. I know her look when she’s unhappy. I lived with unhappy Brooklyn for more than a year when I first got her. I remember how miserable she was…
Brooklyn is a good dog. She’s a very very good dog. She’s the most trouble-free dog I’ve ever seen if there is no other animal around. She doesn’t steal my food. She doesn’t chew anything. She never touches anything that belongs to me. She NEVER EVER has an accident even if she has to hold for 2 days and even when she has the diarrhea. She doesn’t bark incessantly. She walks very nicely on leash. She loves people. She loves me oh so very much.
Right now, I’m just trying to get her better. I can’t handle thinking about it when I have to tend to her wounds and mine. I’ll see how she does living in the room without Georgia to keep her company when I can’t be there with her. I have to see how she handles it… and go from there…
Five years ago today, I brought Brooklyn home.
After seeing Georgia coming to life and even willing to come right next to me to get closer to another dog when I was dog-sitting, I decided I’d adopt another dog at a local rescue facility. I didn’t want a puppy, so I asked them if they had dogs over 2 years old, good with dogs and cats, and already housebroken. Somebody led me to Brooklyn’s kennel. She was sleeping with an E-collar on, and I could see all of her bones sticking out. I also noticed 3 servings of her meal untouched in her kennel. They told me they thought she was hit by a car before coming to the rescue. When the lady woke her up and took her out of the kennel, she seemed to come alive. They said she’s good with other animals and perfectly housebroken. I couldn’t take my Georgia to see Brooklyn because Georgia was deathly terrified of everything and anything including going outside. So I trusted them, signed the adoption contract saying I could return her in 3 days if she doesn’t work out with the other animals, and brought her home.
As soon as she laid her eyes on Georgia and 2 cats, I knew she was most definitely not good with other animals. But she kept having the most severe unscoopable diarrhea that would be absorbed by the earth leaving just stains. I had to treat her diarrhea first, and since the rescue has its own veterinary clinic which is free for the pets adopted within 10 days, I took Brooklyn there. They hospitalized her because she hadn’t been eating. Then discharged her saying she ate some puppy chow wet food some flavor!!! No tests run, nothing at all, and she still had diarrhea.
The adoption contract, as it should be, forbade the adopter to give the dog away or adopt her out, and I had to take her back to the rescue if I were not to keep her. I decided I would not take her back to that rescue because she was so thin, having this horrible diarrhea, and obviously not eating, but these people just kept shoving food inside her kennel! Not to mention the fact that they lied about her being good with other animals. I couldn’t return her back there! I contacted a Shiba Inu rescue and told all this, whose lawyer went over the contract to see if there is any loophole. There was none. I had to keep her or return her, OR find another home for her knowingly breaking the contract. I chose the third option.
Brooklyn managed to almost kill Grizzley and attacked Georgia a few times when I felt sorry for her cooped up in the bedroom and tried to leave her out in the livingroom with the leash attached to me. I got bitten by her 6 times in the first 5 months I had her, all 6 times were when I was in her way of getting to another animal. Now I could not find another home for her knowing that she bit. I’d rather want it to be me that she bites than having her bite another person or another animal and possible be killed in a shelter. I had to keep her.
So Brooklyn lived in my bedroom, separated from other dogs and the cat. I consulted behaviorists, trainers, vets, even a pet psychic, which I don’t believe. Nothing worked. Brooklyn loses all senses once she sees another animal. About half of those I consulted told me to put her down. The other half wished me good luck. Not only that, other dogs seem to resent her presence even before she sees them. For instance, Houston never met any dog he didn’t like, until he laid his eyes on her, who didn’t see him yet, and he started growling and trying to get to her with his hackles up and snarling.
In the mean time, I was struggling with the decision. Brooklyn seemed so unhappy. She’s the kind of dog who’d just follow you around and is just happy being in the same room with you or she’s a so-called velcro dog. But having to be separated from the others inside the bedroom, she was plain miserable. I cried almost every night trying to decide if I should put her down or not. I held her and looked into her eyes and wished her to somehow tell me either she’d want to live or die. I just couldn’t put her down. Some people might label it as selfish, but I just couldn’t.
But the help came from the most unlikely source. Georgia. She would run from one end of the livingroom to the other end and jump around with such happiness to see Brooklyn whenever I took Brooklyn out of the room on the leash to taker her outside. Brooklyn would show her aggression, and Georgia would completely freeze, not even making her breathing heard. Then Brooklyn would lose interest. This continued day after day 3 or 4 times a day, and Brooklyn’s reaction went from aggression to being upset to being annoyed to cold shoulder to acknowledgment to err…. happiness! Of course I stuffed her face with something yummy whenever Georgia sprinted towards us, but finally she seemed happy to see Georgia.
When I moved into the house, I finally let them be together, and they loved each other. Brooklyn couldn’t stand to be by herself, and I was frequently heard saying Get a room, will ya? when mutual licking sessions went on and on and on. Brooklyn was finally happy. She groomed Georgia endlessly and she played with Georgia when outside. Brooklyn tore the room apart if Georgia was in the house but not in the same room with her. Brooklyn loved Georgia. Until this last Monday night…, which I’ll blog about in a few days.
Brooklyn is a very sweet girl who just wants to be in the presence of people. Her cinnamon roll looking tail wags like crazy when I come home from work and she screams in joy while her entire butt is moving from side to side. She’s very concerned about how she looks, so she grooms herself just like a cat, and lies down with her front legs crossed. And I know she will protect me when I’m nervous about certain people while walking her at night – more than once, she kept a crackhead and drunks away from us. She loves me so dearly and I love her to death.
Happy gotchaday, Brooklyn!!!!! Love you so much.
I might have to make the decision to put Brooklyn to sleep soon.
I hate myself.
Serious Stuff. Seriously
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.NaNoWriMo
Yeah, I'm gonna try this time. I must be crazy... not surprisingly.
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