3 Days of Valentines

On the first day of Valentine

my true love gave to me:

A dozen peach colored roses with purple bells

On the second day of Valentines,

My true love gave to me :

A bag of Peanut M&M's Cupids Mix

On the third day of Valentines,

My true love gave to me:

A lovely Hallmark greeting

that was very moving!

We have had a bad week at our house. We are trying to adjust to George not being around. We are getting used to no one standing at the door when we come in. We are looking in the local shelters for a new dog. We submitted our application to the local rescue. They wanted 3 references and were going to call our vet. We may get invited to attend the open house at the Dober haus next week. It is a little intimidating. Are we suitable parents?

The Joe pet decided that since I was having a bad week, I might need 3 Days of Valentines instead of one. He is my reward! On Thursday, I had a beautiful bouquet of peach colored roses and purple bells. On Friday, it was the Peanut M&M's Cupids mix. Oh, I could not stop eatting them, and then my stomach sent me a Valentine, telling me it does not appreciate the peanuts. Then on Saturday morning, I had a beautiful, sentimental Valentine. On Saturday night, we met our friends Harry and Ruth Ann at our favorite restaurant - Frescos. We always go out on Valentines with Harry and Ruth Ann. They have been married forever!

In a former life, Valentines was not happy. It was white knit pajamas with red hearts from Victoria's Secret and some nasty, cheap, heart-shaped box of chocolate that ruined it. It symbolized a failure for me.

God's grace is wonderful. He is a God of second chances. He knew the desires of my heart. God brought Joe into my life and Valentines has changed. I have a man who made Valentine's into a three day event. It is grace this side of eternity.

I am not saying I am running into Victoria's Secret to buy some foo foo pajamas. I don't even go into the mall. A catalog does come to my house. One of the girls must have ordered it. I will always hate cheap, heart-shaped chocolates.

I finished and mailed some Valentines for my friends that I had started earlier in the month. I just mailed my kids Valentines on Saturday. I am sorry Katie and Jamey to send late greetings. I hope you have a wonderful belated Valentine burger on me!

Second chances are the sweetest!

Valentines I made for my BFFs.

Oh, I did make a sweet one for Joe too.

Fly away, George Bailey

We brought George home from the shelter almost seven years ago. The ladies who operated the shelter found him running loose in a Hurst neighborhood. Joe thought he was about 3 years old but when we took him to the vet, they thought he was about 7 years old. Either way, we estimate him to have been between 10 and 14 years old. For a Doberman that is a very old dog.

George acted like he was young. He could put the fear of God in a cheeky squirrel who dared to run along our fence. He and Katie ran from one side of the house to the other playing hide and seek. He behaved like a hormonal teenager when Finn came over to play. He just wanted to be loved and petted by everyone.

Two weeks ago, George started coughing like he had a hairball. Joe took him to the vet and she said she was not sure what it was, but gave him an antibiotic. He took 8 pills daily for 10 days. He decided at day 5 that he did not like those smelly pills. We used all the tricks we knew to get him to take the pills. He took his last dose on Saturday. He chased his final squirrel on Saturday. He wanted to lay on the tile as if he was hot. He had some trouble getting up off the floor.

On Sunday, he started coughing again. He whined all day. He was breathing very hard. We called our daughters who have vet tech experience. Katie said we should take him to the emergency clinic. Joe got him to lay down on his bed and he started shaking and gasping. It was so difficult to watch. I knew that this could not last all night. I called the emergency clinic and they said a vet was there.

We loaded him up in the truck and drove him to the clinic. He could barely get in the truck and I had to help him up. We waited to see the vet tech for about 45 minutes. Georgie just panted and could not lay down. I got on the floor with him and he laid across my lap.

The tech said she heard an abnormal heart beat. She took him to let the vet listen and she confirmed the abnormal heart beat. The vet came in and said it was a serious problem. She took some x-rays. The results were not good. We were separated from George for about 40 minutes while the tests were run. When he came back in the room, his breathing had worsened. He was exhausted, he stepped from foot to foot and could not sit or lay down. The vet said George had an enlarged heart but that was not the worst part. His lungs were filled with white stuff that the vet said was cancer. She said there was no medicine available that could fix that. She gave a few minutes to talk. Watching George struggle, made the decision easier for us. He would not have lasted through the night, and I would not allow him to suffer the last hours of his life.

The vet and the techs were so kind. I sat on the floor and pulled him over to me. Joe scratched between his eyes like he loved and I rubbed him. George relaxed and layed down and then his heart stopped. We cried and said our goodbyes. I never imagined that we would not come back home without him.

We came home tonight and there was no one standing at the door to greet us. I went into the bathroom and no one pushed the door open and followed me in. I haven't opened the green treat can all day. The little pink pill box sits on the counter undisturbed. I prepared my lunch this morning and had the throw the juicy bits of fat in the trash. Joe was home today all alone and it was very lonely. George has been his constant companion these last months.

When you have a pet and an empty nest, you become a family of three. George was our baby. He loved us unconditionally. He never held a grudge. He was always happy to see us. We spoiled him completely. Joe always made him his own pancake or waffle. I fed him off of fork whatever I did not eat. He had a little rug between our chairs at the table so he would not have to sit on the cold tile while we were eatting. He loved everyone and offered all the opportunity to pet him.

I am thankful he did not suffer long. I whispered to him to go find Rudy as he slipped from this life. She would show him how things worked when he got to heaven. Fly away home Georgie boy, we love you and will never forget you.

Did A Little Birdie Tell You?

Daddy making goard birdhouses in his workshop

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  Daddy and Buck
  
  

  Daddy and Katie - 1986
  
  
  

  
  Me - pregnant with Katie - and Daddy in front of our trailer at NOBTS.

  1985
  
  

  1974
  
  

  My friend from work who suffered an aneurysm a month ago called me today and she is doing great. She had some vision issues and her eyesight has improved to 20 - 25. I believe she has experienced a miracle. I told someone that I felt that loosing your sight would be one of the hardest things to adapt to. The person I was talking to said, no, the worst thing is loosing your memory. I thought about it and decided that it may be difficult for those around you to see you loosing your memory, but would you be aware that it was happening? I hope not.

  
  I started thinking of my daddy. He died eleven years ago last month. In the last months of his life, I believe he started to repeat himself - alot. He would tell you something and then in a hour or two tell the same story again. It was a terrible feeling to see him slip away. In those last months of life, he became obsessed with his high school football team. In his senior year, the high school football team won the state championship. The year he died, the school once again won the state championship. It had been over 60 years between championships!
  
  The local newpaper put his team picture in the paper. My dad cut it out and showed to everyone. I picked him out of the group. If my studio was not so disorganized, I could find that picture and post it here. But, I don't know where it is and no, my memory is fine.
  
  Over the years, I had heard my daddy talk about playing football in high school. The coach was a tough guy named Coach Morgan. Coach Morgan was a bachelor when he started coaching the team, but he met a sweet, youthful teacher from the school, fell in love and married during the year. I imagine to a team of 17 year old boys, that must have been a wonder to behold and ponder in their spare hours. I think Daddy thought they were a very odd couple.
  
  Daddy told me about a conversation the boys overheard between Coach Morgan and the new Mrs. Morgan. I sort of imagine that Coach Morgan looked like a life size Popeye, but not as fun. I never saw him, but Daddy said he sort of talked out of the side of his mouth. My daddy would do a Coach Morgan impersonation. Coached asked the Mrs. "How do you know, did a little birdie tell you?" For some reason my daddy thought that was so funny. I guess you really had to know the Coach to appreciate the humor in that story. I believe I got my memory genes from him. If I am taking after Daddy, I have about 30-something years, before it starts failing me.
  
  As Daddy continued to loose his memory, he was diagnosed with some serious blockage that was possibly contributing to the loss of memory. He took an ambulance ride to the hospital and never returned home. It was a very risky surgery for him, but the alternative was for him to just stay in the house and not exert himself in any way. For my daddy, that would have been torture. The cardiologist, performed the surgery, and there were many complications and Daddy went to the CICU.
  
  Family members and friends would gather outside the doors waiting for those few minutes every hour when you were allowed to go in and visit the patient. As we were waiting by the doors, we learned that in the same CICU was Coach Morgan's wife. The coach had died many years earlier and his widow was right there in the same unit with Daddy. It was such an ironic chain of events. Coach and Mrs. Morgan had one daughter and she was driving in from somewhere in the midwest. Mrs. Morgan had church friends checking on her until the daughter arrived. I spoke to the daughter, and told her that Daddy was on Coach Morgan's team the year they won the state championship and that he spoke of it often in his last months.
  
  Daddy suffered several complications and died. He never really woke up after surgery. We all waited for one last glimpse of recognition from him, but it did not happen. However, I think very fondly of those final days in the waiting area of the CICU. I still miss him. I don't think I will ever stop missing him, the sadness gets less painful and the memories bring you more joy.
  
  I am certain I don't want to loose my vision. I want to always think I have a great memory and please, no one tell me if starts to slip away.