Loss of a Pet

Recently (4 days before Christmas) my sweet fur baby passed away. Living with a pet inside the home makes them family even more so than when your animals live outside the house. Let me just say, I haven't grieved this much since my grandfather passed away.
She was fine that morning, the routine was very normal for a very chilly morning. BARK. The first bark of the morning was always my alarm clock to get out of bed. BARK. The second bark of the morning was "Feed me."  Yes, she ignored my opening the doggy door. Breakfast came before going out to potty. After she ate, she wouldn't go potty unless I told her to. Then she would run out her doggy door, do her business and come back in and BARK.  The 3rd bark of the day was, "I'm ready for my morning treat."  Then we would sit on the sofa. She would lay beside me and paw at me if I didn't start giving her an ear massage quick enough.

Eventually, she would get up and BARK. Which meant, "Time for your breakfast. You can drop something for me if you want. I'll make sure to clean it up."  I would get my breakfast. Sit in the living room. Watch the news. BARK. This time she was telling me to get up and get ready for work. I would head to the bathroom. She would lay down by the bathroom door. 

Occasionally, she would stick her nose around the door to look in at the shower. She has done this since the day I adopted her. Before, when there was a shower curtain, I would see her little nose and whiskers stick through the edge of the shower curtain, thus one of her nicknames was Mousey.  If I took too long to get ready, BARK. This bark would mean, "You need to leave."  I knew she was a big part of my life but now I realize how much of my life she was. 

Yes, she had a barking routine in the afternoon when I would get home from work. But before that would start, she had this little dance and putting up her paw to indicate to me, "Come down here and give me some attention."  And so I would.  Then BARK, "Feed me!" BARK, "Give me my treat." Then we would have the "go potty" game where she would run out the doggy door and right back in. She had a bladder of steel. If i arrived and woke her up, she needed to go potty but getting attention and food were priorities, so I would have to tell her to go potty.  She would go out the door and "fake me out" with trying to run right back in. "You didn't go potty. Go potty."  Or she would go half way to the door and stop, waiting for me to insist that she go potty. She did a wonderful job at making me laugh every single day that she was with me.

Tuesday, Dec. 20, 2016, when I arrived home from work, everything changed. I found her laying on her tummy in the living room. As soon as she saw me she started wagging her tail, but she couldn't get up. Something was wrong, very wrong. I sent texts and called, trying to find somebody to help me. The vet office was closed. I needed to find a 24 hr vet. Finally, a friend called back, gave me info on a 24 hr vet and said, "I'll meet you there." 

I tried to stay calm, but wasn't doing a very good job of it. What was wrong with my baby? Did she hurt her back or leg. She wasn't yelping in pain. My neighbor came to help me get her in the car. I drove, trying to stay legal yet wanting to drive faster than ever before. Kept my flashers on to try to indicate that I was driving to emergency. I carried her in. Now the look on her face was the look that something was very wrong. She wasn't excited to see anybody, but still tried to wag her tail some. The vet didn't have any good news. Internal bleeding which will happen again. Tumors. Only aggressive measures might give her a couple of more months. Damn cancer!  That stuff is the worst thing on earth. Nothing could be done to fix her. I couldn't do anything to fix my baby. We were there for hours. I held her. Another one of my friends brought her soft serve ice cream like we use to get once a year at Sonic after her rabies shot. I held her some more. I held her to her last minute and beyond.

Thursday, Dec 29, 2016, I buried my baby at Smoke Rise Farm Pet Cemetery. I petted her one last time, giving her one last ear massage. I carried her to her grave. I helped lower her in. I gave her all her favorite toys and watched as Michael, on of the workers there, gently covered her with her blanket and buried her.

Now this place is quiet. No 3rd alarm clock. No four legger bossing me around. Nobody greets me at the door. Nobody is here waiting for a hug and love. The last 4 weeks have been some of the most difficult weeks of my life. Lonely, Quiet. Only the good memories are left. I still catch myself looking for her, almost calling for her when I get home, looking to see if there is water in her bowl, and wishing she was here to hug me.  There is nobody to travel with me to grandma's (her grandma's) house.  Sochi, the neighbor's dog, came looking for her yesterday. Snuggles, mom's dog, was very puzzled that she didn't come with me at Christmas. Harley, Abby, and Billy (a friend's dogs) don't understand why I don't bring her for play dates anymore.

My sweet Valee, I miss you so much. I miss all of your quirks, your loving everybody that you saw, your companionship, your love. You made me laugh, You helped me live. You loved well.

American Family Farmers

I just saw this video and did it ever bring back the memories. I drove many hours in the wheat, alfalfa, corn, and maize fields on a John Deere tractor for my grandfather. Now his son runs the farm. 

My uncle is a 3rd generation farmer and 2 of his daughters have married guys who are in the cattle business. 

My brother has tried his hand at raising calves, but he is much more talented at being an entrepreneur and doing contracted sales. And I'm quite proud of him and his successes. He is also a very good cook! Somehow, I suspect that many years from now he will settle back into the farming aspect or back into a catering business, which he has been successful with in the past. He definitely knows how to cook up the meat, chicken, or turkey!

But meanwhile, I would like to contribute to making this video go viral. I would love to see that happen, not in order to change the Peterson Farm Bros' lives, but to bring some recognition back to part of the backbone of this country. 

Frankly, the price of wheat or anything else that the family farmer makes is not much more, if any more at all, than when I was a kid. Yet, the consumer pays way more for the food items in the store. As a result, this has almost made the American family farms extinct and overruled by commercial farmers. 

I'm here to tell you that commercial farmers are, for the most part, out to make the money, regardless of the cost of our health. There are a few commercial farmers that are conscientious about how they produce food, but they're few and far between. On the other hand, the American family farmers are much more conscientious because the same food they send to market they're also putting on their own dinner tables. (I wonder how many commercial farmers don't eat their own products because they know the health consequences.)

Anyhow, thank you Peterson family for allowing those boys of yours to bring the American family farm back in front of the public's eye. 

"Start a Blog!"

So my friend, Amy, has repeatedly said, "You need to start a blog." 

And I have said, "Why do I need to start a blog? I don't have time to do a blog." 

My dog, Valee (short for Valentina Abigail), would agree. After all, I should spend more time with her!

But this morning, I got this urge to start this blog. I will tell you right now, don't expect this to be a regular news feed or something. School is about to start and "free time" will disappear.

I do like to write, so from time to time I'm sure I will have some things to share. I have often wanted to write books, so maybe this will be the beginning of a new thing. 

You will probably find that my blog might be a bit eclectic. I enjoy many different things. For example, I do like to cook and am notorious for taking recipes and blending them into something a bit different. Most of the time, the results are wonderful. I should thank Mrs. Wright for all that I learned from her in Home Economics class in high school, as well as my mom and grandma. Nothing like a home cooked meal! I do hope to someday publish a recipe book. I've already started compiling my recipes.

Speaking of high school, something recently started on Facebook. Those "Remember When" posts. Yep, one started for my hometown, Helena, OK. Oh my goodness! I have laughed to the point of tears at times. But that is one of the things that got me inspired to start writing again. All those memories that everybody was sharing just made me think, "Somebody needs to write a book!"  Well, I can write. I have a friend who knows how to publish. So let the creative writing juices start flowing. After all, I did take Creative Writing in college, also.

There are so many stories that get lost because they never get written down. Even on the news last night, there was some story about making sure the family stories never get lost. On one hand, my heart grieves for the lost stories in my own family. On the other hand, maybe I can salvage a few and even prevent further loss.