This long hiatus has absolutely nothing to do with scooping poop and neither does this post. Unless we’re using it as a metaphor for Where I’ve Been for over a month, or perhaps for what I should do with all this crap I’ve been dealing with. I’ve written/started several posts that were never shared. After this period of no-rest-for-the-weary, every time I returned to these unfinished posts, I just couldn’t.

Now, I want them off my screen and wherever they belong next. Here follows some snippets. There’s nothing funny here, so if you want to avoid “heavy” I’d suggest skipping this one.

*****

Damp and dreary. I’ve been up since 3:40 a.m. It’s Friday again and Todd is working downstairs and I’m enjoying my day off. Again. The dogs are enjoying it too. They’ve already been outside nineteen times – Todd lets them out downstairs when they pester him too much and then I let them in upstairs and dry them off and then they run right downstairs to be little assholes again. This is how Friday rolls.

It’s been an eventful week and a half. Niecelet was followed to our house by her ex-boyfriend one afternoon, whereby he barricaded the end of my driveway with his truck and proceeded to shout at her as she sat in her car. The accusation was that she “almost hit” him as she drove past his house.

Twenty minutes before I arrived home from work. I cannot express how angry I am that I missed this. Had it been twenty minutes later, the neighbors whose attention was riveted to my home would have seen me drive my car over my lawn to intervene. I’d have shown him what “almost hitting” someone really looks like. And then the neighbors would know how crazy I can be. So I guess we’re all lucky. And then I guess he’d be the one with the restraining order.

[Retracted most of the exchange caught on camera, but here are a few gems…

Call whoever you want, do whatever you want… I’m not bothering you, I’m not harassing you… Okay? OKAY?

Why do you do this? Why do you act like this?

Don’t fuck with me, or you’re gonna get it. You understand?  I haven’t done anything to you! NOTHING. Okay?]

Ted overheard this from inside the apartment, windows closed, and tv on. Came outside to put an end to this disruption of his peace. I’m grateful he was there. Ex threw one more at her before storming back to his running truck…

Cry me a river! And stay away from my fucking house!

It’s another sad reminder that we never really know what goes on between people until there’s a crack in the façade. Charming, funny, handsome. Hard to believe someone like that would denigrate someone they say they love, when no one is listening. Or, in one case several months ago, when they THINK no one else is listening.

How could I not have seen? How could I not have known? It was an afternoon in the kitchen, and she was once again upset and having full-on anxiety over him and then he called. She had him on speaker. The way he was talking to her was appalling. Angry. Accusatory. Criticizing. Name-calling. Threatening. And then… gaslighting.

The instability of her emotions suddenly snapped sharply into focus for me and I SAW. I saw what I hadn’t seen before. Unfortunately, all too familiar. I know this game.

Look, nobody’s perfect. She’s not perfect. She is fantastically human, appropriately immature, and forgivingly flawed. She will grow and she will evolve and she is blessed to learn this lesson before marriage and kids complicate her life. The blessing is knowing he’s all wrong for you before it’s too late and – as was in my case – too expensive.

This event certainly looked like an escalation of behavior that frightened her. She filed for a protection order. I went with her to the court. Ted came too.

Ex brought a lawyer who looked like he dropped straight out of The Sopranos, his wavy hair slicked back and what I think was meant to be a tiny ponytail. Whether his presence was for intimidation or to babysit his client is anyone’s guess.

I was a wreck from the moment I woke up that morning. I told Todd maybe I wasn’t the right person to accompany her. There was a grapefruit-sized lump in my throat before we even walked in and my heart was in fight or flight mode. This wasn’t even about me, but the anxiety of being in a courtroom made me physically ill. I don’t think she noticed.

SO MANY PEOPLE have experienced some form of abuse that it would be easier to calculate who hasn’t. We had a domestic incident in our office recently that unnerved everyone. I wasn’t there that day and I’m grateful I wasn’t.

In a conversation yesterday I learned that a coworker had married young to a man who beat her. She divorced and later married a man who was verbally abusive. These are not topics that people normally bring up at the lunch table.

It feels almost pervasive – abuse. Because it comes in so many forms, in so many ways, in its casual frequency and its sudden, drive-by attacks. Sometimes I feel motivated to share more of my story, to help others find familiarity and clarity and support, but then – like the attempt to write it in long-form – it’s too intense to revisit. Well, except in short bursts or to illustrate a point. To revisit is to relive it. No thanks. Next.

Today is a better day. She started over the day she walked away from him four months ago, and she’s starting over again. There’s a protective order that defines and affirms that It’s Over.

Lucky her.  

*****

That same week, my daughter had a bit of a problem with a sorority she accepted a bid from that escalated into harassing text messages and bullying/scare tactics. She asked me for advice and guidance. I did some digging and I am positive there was no legal issue to stand on, but she ended up paying them the money they said she must pay before they send it to a collection agency. I’ll admit I got a bit involved in the outrage of it, and then the big let-down of her handling it her way left me feeling, I don’t know, spent. I hate when people to do wrong to others and there’s seemingly no justice. But, as my mother would say, that’s HER path, not yours.

*****

I did a deep dive down the rabbit hole of 2020. Not sure why, exactly. But dive I did. I know that I am not alone in my disbelief that that was SIX years ago. 2200 days ago we were stunned by news of this deadly plague they called COVID-19.

[I wrote over 1,000 words for the above post and was still in editing stages when I got distracted as I always do and figured I’d return to it. Spoiler: I haven’t. But I will share soon, even if it’s past due.]

*****

Bee, so full of joy and life, is like a bull in a china shop. I have bruises on my legs from body slams and a rather large bowl of water she literally RAN THROUGH to get to the door first.

[This was the second paragraph of a post that began with musing over cabinet doors always being ajar. I have no idea where the post was going but it’s irrelevant now.]

*****

Easter Sunday was shit. Todd and I had gone to the restaurant the night before to spend with mom – as she wasn’t up for going out for Easter and, truthfully, neither was I. We both wanted to relish a day off and relax.

HA! HA HA HA

Sometime around noon I got a message from a friend asking me if I was with my mom. There was a post from mom’s local Fire & Emergency page where they post dispatch news like, “Reported a 75yof fell through deck – unable to get up,” with my mother’s address.

Now I’m in full-on panic mode. She wasn’t answering her phone. I’m frantically throwing on my shoes and grabbing my bag and keys when my phone rings. It’s her.

WHAT HAPPENED? I asked her. She seemed surprised that I already knew and when I told her how she was mortified that it was on FB. She ‘’self-extracted,” and had only managed to skin the entire front of her left leg but didn’t break anything. After she told me how nice the new township officer is and how the entire fire dept came rushing up the hill to her deck to save her, she asked me to “fix” the FB post.

So I went to the post and stated she was fine and thanked the first responders profusely. THEN I went to the restaurant’s page and posted about “the incident” and said not to worry, she’ll be back in time for business on Wednesday. With a It’s just a flesh wound Monty Python meme. (For the unfamiliar, it’s a knight with both arms cut off.)

It took me at least an hour for my heart rate to return to normal. I’m sure some of you can imagine what those moments are like when you first hear of a loved one’s accident and you have no idea if they are okay. I considered having a drink. That was quickly quashed about an hour or so afterward by Bee.

She was acting strange so Todd let her outside. When she came back in I reached down to dry her paws and her legs were leaden. This is a standard poodle who moves at the speed of light and is very light on her paws. Something was wrong. When she walked away from me I could see it.

Her normally svelt frame was blown up like a balloon. I’ve never seen it before, but I knew instantly what it was. I called for Todd and then ran to get myself together. It felt like pure chaos as we loaded her into the car and tried to pull up the directions for the emergency vet.

The emergency vet where I’ve taken two cats in crisis who never came home. It’s about 45-50 minutes away. Todd called them while I was driving and so they knew we were coming. I understand that their goal was get her stabilized before it was too late.  

What I didn’t know was that there was no emergency surgeon on call who could save her life. They got her stabilized while we waited in agony, trying to call other emergency vets to see what we could do. Like anyone, we were willing to do whatever it took. We were not prepared to let her go.

Ultimately, there was no emergency surgeon on call at any vet within a reasonable distance, this being Easter Sunday I suppose. We were left with no other choice for her – this beautiful, bright-eyed, chaotic wonder dog who was so filled with JOY just to be alive – than to let her go. This has been the most soul-crushing of all the things.

I hate that we had to make that call. I hate that an emergency vet is good for nothing when there’s a real emergency. I hate that Shuggie has lost her companion, that she has never known a day apart. I hate that my grief often spills over on her. I hate that there’s another dog who is going to need a home and I want nothing to do with it. I hate that I think I’ll never have another pet after Shug because I just can’t bear it.

And I hate what all these emotions have opened up in me. The anxiety, the fear, the knowledge … that I will lose more in the coming years. I hate the ticking clock. I hate that I worry about growing old and that I have no idea what that looks like – except, eventually, alone and lonely. And I hate that it makes me want to die before I feel any more pain.

Instead, I think I’ll go outside on this beautiful, sunny, Spring day and scoop up some of Shuggie’s land mines while she makes more.