Will wonders never cease

Okay...hang onto your shorts people! I have had an AWESOME day!!! I know...right...weird! No depressive episodes, no weird brain farts from meds, no nasty aches and pains. Today...everything went right...I know it won't last but it feels awesome right now.

I slept in and then got up and took care of the boys and had some breakfast. Then I got dressed and headed out for my annual cemetery tour. I had my camera with me of course so there were a lot of stops and distractions along the way. I had finished out at St. Agnes and was wandering my way toward Pulaskifield when my phone rang. It was my cousin Jim and after about 3 tries we found a spot where I had enough bars on the phone to carry on an actual conversation. My first thought, I admit, was shit, who died? As it happened he was having a small family get together and remembered that I would probably be coming out to decorate at Pulaskifield and he invited me to come visit and eat.

Shockingly enough...I agreed. I know...I know...I do love my family and it makes me so happy when they remember me. It's not their fault really...we just have never been able to spend a lot of time together. People have families and grandbabies and are busy and you just forget. It's not a big deal. And let's face it...sigh...I am a bit of a hermit. I do tend to spend a lot of time alone and actually seek that time alone. I love people but deep down I am still that shy little girl I have always been and it's just easier for me to enjoy my own company because of the emotional energy required for me to interact with folks.

So...I willingly set aside my OCD...and stopped mid-cemetery tour to spend time with my cousin and his wife and their sons and their children. We missed you Mel. I even got to see my Aunt whom I have not seen in a couple of years. That's my fault really...I know I need to visit her but there is no way to do that without spending hours and hours there and I just can't bring myself to do it. My bad. I had a lovely visit and got to watch the kids be kids and had a lovely supper. It was so nice to be out in the country just relaxing. I did find myself uttering a phrase that seemed really foreign to me. One of the grandkids asked me..."Who are you?" That's a fair question...she doesn't see me very often. I replied "I am your grandfather's cousin." Is it just me or does that sound weird? I never thought I would utter that phrase. God...I am old.

I then resumed my tour. Wandered the long way back toward Carthage taking a lot of pictures along the way and thinking crap...I need to get this over with and get home to the dogs...but it's such a lovely day. I'll wander over here for a bit...crap...it's getting late. I finally finished up and got all my flowers delivered. Came home...took the dogs out...extracted Kitten Face from the armoire drawer so she could eat...fed the dogs...scarfed down a double cheeseburger from Sonic...took a shower and am now relaxing on the couch knowing I do not have to get up and go to work tomorrow...YEAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! It has been an awesome day!! Enjoy it before the whining begins anew.

Fy nghalon i

So for a week now I have been trying to find the emotional energy and strength to blog about Fiona. It has been difficult to summon up the courage to do so because to write about her will bring up all those nasty feelings of grief I have been stuffing away. So be patient with me as I try to honor her spirit.

13 years ago we lost our beloved Schnauzer Scooter to old age. We swore we were not going to get another dog right away. We lasted a week! We could not stand the silence in the house. The lack of toenails clicking away on the laminate was deafening. We went to look at a Schnauzer puppy but something did not feel right. She could never be Scooter. I had been reading the "Sneaky Pie" mystery series by Rita Mae Brown and I loved the way she wrote about the spirit of the Corgi Tucker in her books. I found a Corgi breeder in Western Minnesota and off we went to visit.

There we met Fiona and her brother racing around the living room playing with a little boy. We fell in love with her ears and her little short legs and her expressive eyes. We were SO naïve. So all the way home...I did not realize that the town was almost on the South Dakota border...we discussed a name for her and she did not like the sun shining on her so she crawled up and laid across my shoulders the entire way home. Somewhere along the way we decided to name her Fiona. Yes, she was named after the Lovely Princess Fiona from Shrek. Little did we know at the time that Fiona would be the PERFECT name for her.

She was SO freaking cute!!! She had one ear up and one ear down until it popped up. She was adorable and early on we realized she had a lot of energy for such a little dog. She was a turbo in a very compact frame. She was obsessed with tennis balls and Frisbees and we spent much of her puppy months trying to wear her out. It was exhausting...for us! At some point I realized she needed more socialization and an outlet for her energy and I discovered a doggie day care in our town.

That was the BEST phone call I ever made. Not only did I find the perfect place for Fiona to be Fiona but I made a friend for life in Candace. I am not sure Candace knows just how much she taught me about dogs and what an impact she has had on my life. She also helped me and Fiona to reach some sort of détente. Remember when I said that Fiona was the PERFECT name for her...I was not joking. When she got close to her terrible twos we had quite the crisis. We were both determined to be the boss and neither were willing to budge on the subject. We had a lot of spectacular rows before Candace taught me a calmer and more civilized way to deal with Fiona's Elvis lip and defiant nature. We reached a reluctant truce and although we did have to have periodic "Come to Jesus" meetings over the years we both managed to live through it.

I also met one of my best friends at day care. At first we did not know one another's name. I was Fiona's human and she was Chole and Ricochet's mom. We did manage to get to know one another and through day care and work we got to know one another and Fiona LOVED Aunt Julie. Aunt Julie...being more experienced with herding dogs...got her. Aunt Julie understood and Fiona was devoted to her. Fiona spent so many joyous hours playing with her Border Collies. Refusing to admit when she was exhausted. Chasing that Frisbee and trying to take poor Ricochet's legs out from under her. Fiona was in heaven!! Those were some of best times of my life. Sitting in Julie's back yard watching the dogs be dogs and talking about everything under the sun. I treasure those memories.

Now she is gone. It doesn't seem right that her little spirit and energy are gone from this world. Yes...she could be an absolute turd but she was my turd. We butted heads constantly but I loved her so much. I would have given anything to be able to take away all her pain. For the last year of her life she could not walk anymore. She would push herself along with the one hip and drag the other. It was incredibly hard to watch. She graciously tolerated...well sometimes not so graciously...me carrying her around and walking her in her stroller. But ultimately it was lack of dignity combined with the increasing lack of mobility that forced me to let her go. She was ready even though I was not. The hardest thing I have ever had to do...other than holding my mother's hand as she left this world...is to know when to let my fur babies go. To put aside my feelings and to do what is right for them. To honor their life and their dignity by helping them to move on.

So...Fiona is home with me again. Her presence is less vocal but it is here none the less. When I contemplated what I wanted on her plaque I depeneded on the internet for assistance so I want to apologize to Welsh speakers everywhere if I got it wrong. According to the Welsh/English dictionary, fy nghalon i means my heart. Fiona you were my heart. You brought so much joy and happiness to my life. You made me nuts sometimes as I am sure I did you but you were my companion and my friend. When I was in the depths of my most horrible grief you would come and look at me and lick my legs and hands and let me know that it was going to be okay. I miss your punkin' butt, your stubby little legs, your expressive eyes and your stubborn, intelligent and sensitive soul. I love you Fiona Louise and for the rest of my days I will feel your absence in my heart and in my home.

It's a mess in here!!

Yes folks it's a mess in my head tonight. My brain is a little bit like the nest of these squirrels which prompted me to share them with you. I know they are rodents and have fleas and such but I have always admired squirrels. Except for their need to be smashed by cars at any given moment they are really quite resilient. They can figure out any squirrel-proof bird feeder I have ever seen. Our squirrels in Arkansas would stand at the base of the bird feeder pole and look into the house reminding us that if we did not feed them they would capture the bird castle and all its seed. They would even come up on the deck and peer into the French doors. Cheeky little bastards! And I think it is this cheek that I like. They are saucy, feisty, and barky and who doesn't like that in a squirrel?

I am trying out a new strategy this week. My depression has been bad lately. Not...I am going to throw myself off a bridge bad but hard to function none the less. I have felt fragile...like one more thing was going to send me to the ward. If that happens, by the way, I expect you all to visit me and bring doughnuts! Depression is the silent disease...or not so silent in my case because I have no problem talking about it with others. The problem is that I have a problem in my relationship with my depression. I will become very quiet as I carry on my silent fight with it. I will tell it to go the fuck away!! It has no business here but it does not listen. I fight it and I fight it and I refuse to let it win most days. But you know what...that takes a toll on my emotional and mental energy.

I have always known that I have depression. I did not always know what to call it but I always knew it was there. One day I will be fairly perky and in a good mood for no good reason...even hyper and the next day I will wake up and...good feeling gone now. I argue with myself. I criticize myself. I tell myself all of the reasons why I have no right to feel depressed. Because you see...that is the evil of depression...the secret brain illness that no one can see. Unless you are a sobbing heap on the couch with the Oreos and the ice cream. There is no good reason for it sometimes...it just is. It is always there with you waiting to rear its ugly little head. Lurking behind your façade that you show to others so you don't make them uncomfortable.

Oh look a chicken...I am wandering off topic...AGAIN! So...my strategy this week has been to try and just live with the monster in my head. Because I will talk about my depression and put a happy face on it but I have never wanted to admit that I can't control it. I have never wanted to admit to myself that I can not defeat it with logic. I have never wanted to admit that I have this flaw that I cannot fix. I lie to myself and I try to explain it to others so that they will understand but it's hard to convince others when you cannot convince yourself.

My depression sucks you all and I have NO CONTROL over it. Dammit...it's true. Every day is a battle to get out of bed and get to work. Every day I try to put on a brave face no matter how crappy I feel...and it's not a good face let me tell you...because I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve...so people who know me well can tell I am struggling but they have no idea how bad it really is because I bury it in my lie. So this week I have been working on just accepting my depression for what it is. I have been embracing the suckiness so to speak. I have been telling myself...okay...you are depressed...let's just feel it and deal with it and move throughout our day without fighting it. It's there...no more lies...it's there...but we have to move forward. It has been working fairly well until tonight.

Tonight I am embracing the bastard but the bastard is fighting back. My brain is racing a hundred miles an hour. It's taking everything I have to concentrate on writing this. I am listening to my beloved Corgi, Fiona, snoring on her pillow knowing that soon I may have to let her go. It's killing me. She is 14 now and her hips are gone and her kidneys are beginning to show signs of strain and I am straining with her trying to decide if we are ready to make that decision yet. Is she ready to go? Can I let her go? Have I done all that I can do for her? She's so brilliant but alas...she cannot speak to me...and let's face it...it would be in Welsh and it would probably be a curse and I would not understand it anyway.

So tonight I sit with my depression and my squirrel's nest of a brain and wonder what the hell I am doing. I guess...like my little saucy friends...I will keep trying to make friends with the monster in my head. Even if it plows me down in the road. It's better than fighting with it and trying to keep the internal lie alive. God...I am tired.