alright, alright.

i dunno what the hell i'm doing. i feel like i struggle to stay on a consistent path. and the only consistent thing in my life is the love of friends, family and God. and boyfriend. and doggie. and maybe food too.

but really! wtf happened? i'm a mess. i find that i mentally kick myself in the posterior a lot. and maybe that's another consistent thing too. but why do i only work my hardest when it's for a religious retreat/encounter? what major fail on my part.

i need to do something.

ps, warm milk is delicious with honey.

hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

happy birthday

just one of those days.

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maybe it's because of rainy days like these when i feel the most lethargic.

i've figured out (or rather, someone else told me) that while one is in a state of lethargy or fatigue, you tend to lose sight of things and those around you and you consentrate on just yourself -- all of the faults, mishaps, and insecurities just come out. And you get into that mini emo phase for no apparent reason whilst irrationally rationalizing yourself to a smaller size than what you really are. Well, that's how it works for me anyways. But lately... it hasn't been that way. No. In fact, now these moments of "tired depression" are rare, only occurring one every other-other-other week (maybe it's a seasonal thing as it is rainier in the fall?). But when they do happen nowadays, they are no longer of myself in general but of sad things i've had to endure for only the past two years... but more recently, the past two months.

Two months ago, my dog Nola passed away. I didn't know how I would recover. But I was already so willing to adopt another dog -- a "second-second" dog to keep Dusty and I occupied (which was the original plan) ... but money and timing is a cruel thing and just as those factors disallowed me from saving my dog from a sudden death, it has also prevented me from adopting a second-second one. Which may or may not have been for the better. Because I now catch myself still in a smaller scale moment of grief over that terrible and almost traumatizing loss from two months ago. I phase into it as quickly as a failling brick and only Dusty has been able to pick up on it. And maybe my boyfriend but only by the tone of my voice or if i tell him so. And I don't mean to phase into that state of mind, it just happens every so often -- usually on a gloomy day like this. But would those depressing moments still come had I adopted a second-second dog sooner? I don't know. Maybe. Who knows.

In order to pull myself from that moment of sadness, I end up going on Adopt-A-Pet.com (where I found Nola) and Petfinder.com. Is it weird that I try to find comfort in looking for other dogs that I know I can't have? And does this make me a bad person if I'm browsing through these adoption sites while I still have Dusty to love and take care for?

...I don't know. All I know is that I miss having two dogs. Two dogs that would follow me around everywhere and two dogs to walk around the neighborhood. I missed having a little black dog playfully flee from my room whenever i woke up to realize her presence. And I sort of missed Dusty's frustration whenever Nola decided to bash into him for a small hit-and-run. I remember her terribly smelly breath and the way her eye lit-up like green Christmas lights with her long tongue bobbing in and out of her snout. How she would just strike at the moment you were least expecting it while Dusty would make it so obvious as he contemplated on his plan of attack first. I remember her all time spunkiness and competetiveness against a passive, non-competetive older brother (poor Dusty). Last week I kept having a series of dreams... I kept dreaming that I owned multiple dogs. Usually 2-5 extra dogs along with Dusty. Sometimes I'd have those dreams with Nola too. One time I had a dream that Nola really did come back and that her death was just a medical miscalculation and that the stuff that Dr. Hornstein injected into her bloodstream just put her in a short coma and brought her back to health. There would be times when all i dreamt about was owning dogs in general and I'd wake up thinking Nola was still here with Dusty in the kitchen. But generally speaking, if those dreams weren't disheartening then they were fucking haunting as anything. You'd think it would be cute... and it kind of was if you disregard my current semi-not-really-trauma. But it wasn't.

What kills me the most is not only the fact that money was such a deciding factor in this but that there will never ever be a dog like her out there. She was a one-of-a-kind mutt and not even her siblings were quite like her. She was the only one that was fuzzy as a younger pup and had long, silky fur when she reached 6 months. The rest of her siblings had shorter, courser fur and none were a solid black. I've known others to have Corgi-spaniel mixed dogs that didn't inherit the Corgi feet (and instead maybe the Corgi ears, etc). I heard a vet say to herself, "wow, she must be a very special mix," when she first caught sight of Nola. I've told my friends that she was comparable to a Shiny Pokemon (which you wouldn't understand unless you played the Pokemon Trainer games for the Gameboy and/or DS. Geeky, huh?). And because she was a mutt, I thought that she would live a long life (which may or may not be an urban myth), even outlive Dusty. Boy was I wrong... It's hard to find another dog exactly like the unique mutt that she was. With purebreds, at least there's a whole population of the same breed (sorry, I don't mean to generalize or anything -- sorry Dusty).

Speaking of Dusty, he's completely fine. He was a messed the two days after she had disappeared but you could tell that he'stotally moved on. Dogs tend to have a healthier outlook on life than humans when it comes to moving forward. I don't know how the rest of my family sees this but I do know for a fact that I was the one that was largely responsible for her well being and I was the one that had a more solid relationship with her (and Dusty too). But I don't know. When will I truly be able to get over this? Will it never leave me? Am I just going to have to adapt accordingly?

The next time I adopt, I'll make sure that the dog is already at least a year old. Adults are harder to place in homes than puppies and they're usually already house broken. And when I do adopt this second-second dog, I'll make sure that it isn't to 'replace' Nola. That was a big thing when I decided that I wanted to adopt again. Nola will never be replaced.

I wonder what she would have matured to be if she had been able to grow into adulthood.

Petco sent me a birthday card with a coupon for Nola's upcoming birthday next week.

I guess they didn't get the info.

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Goodbye ...

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....

July 8th. Nola's health had plummeted. 11pm, we went to an out of town Animal Hospital because it was open 24/7. They recommended that she stayed overnight, but we couldn't afford the expenses so after some vaccinations, we went home and planned on going to our local vet the next morning.

July 9th, 11:30am. Dr. Hornstein said that they were very deeply concerned with her condition which seemed to have worsened overnight (he mentioned that had she appeared in the condition she was in at the other hospital, they would've refused to ;et her go back home). By noontime ... I was forced to make the decision between paying $2,000+ worth of hospitalization expenses .... or putting her to sleep. I had only 3 hours to decide because they closed at 3.

After much consolation with my mom and my siblings and a lot of effort into applying for Financial Vet Aid ... I was left with no other options. By 1:30pm, I had made my decision.

Sooner after praying over my poor, sick puppy and spending my last time with her, the doctor injected the needle into her IV plugs ... and she faded away.

She was only 9 months old. I only had her for half a year. Three more months and she would have reached her first birthday.

As much as I cried (and still do cry), I don't regret it ... Her condition was just terrible. Her decline in health was very, VERY gradual in the beginning but then it just suddenly went downhill so fast in her final days... some sort of bacterial infection caused her kidneys to fail. Anemia, hypothermia and irregular levels of chemistry in her body... loss of appetite, shedding & thinning of fur, eventual muscle spasms and chattering of the jaws, difficulty in walking, diarrhea, and if she DID eat: vomiting. Yeah, we couldn't afford the referral hospital's price but there was still no ... guarantee at all that she'd get better. We weren't approved for any of the financial help they could offer anyway. It was best to end her suffering instead of prolonging it. No... i don't regret putting her down.

What blows my mind, though, is the fact that she was still a puppy. I did *not* wake up that morning with any thought of making that kind of decision. I did *not* think we would all end up helplessly at a dead end. I did *not* think she was going to die. I thought she would get better. I thought that she would live another 15 years. I thought I would be able to cuddle with her in my bed when she got better. This was THE most unexpected event i had ever experienced. And I kind of can't believe it all just happened the other day.

But it's okay... life moves on! I will mourn, I will grieve, I will cry and I will miss her (I do right now)... but this sadness won't cripple me. I will grow from this. I'm just glad she at least had a vibrant life if not a long one.

She loved pillows. She would ONLY sleep on pillows. [Unless it was a really hot day in which she would sleep on cool, hardwood floors]. She had one inside and one outside. The inside pillow was considered her bed.... they're still there.

.... What was nice, though, was that Mike was with me throughout the whole thing. I cannot express how lost i would have been if he weren't there to help me handle the situation. I give him an enormous amount of credit. My gratitude has never been greater. It is, at this moment, second to none (but God) [lolz i like having faith respect it k]. But i guess that's another-ish story.

I miss you, Nola-girl... but i believe that you're in a better place now. And... I don't know if 'all' dogs really go to heaven... but I do know that God tries to make the best out of even the worst situations. So, thanks be to God who offered all He could through you, baby girl.

I love you & I miss you.

Rest in peace...

[I never updated to Xanga that I had two dogs... Dusty and Nola.]
[This is just a copypaste blog from dA...]
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