Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Nowhere To Run
People who read my blog also often read Julie's, so regular readers are probably caught up pretty well.
Aunt Ruth died. Dad died. Mama Marion, a beloved friend and wife of another beloved Friend, died.
Then, just to finish trashing my existence, the asshole garbagemen came barreling down the street in reverse and tore Basher up. He was stuck under the truck, the back half of him torn, bloody, bones shattered, and still he tried to crawl out. He couldn't, and I couldn't fit under there to get him out. I wanted him to just close his eyes and die, but he was just too strong for that. He was deep in shock, and probably not in much pain after the inital agony of getting run over.
Animal control came out, and between his efforts and theirs, they got him out on a blanket, loaded him into my pickup, and I hauled ass for the vet. They came out with a stretcher, we got him in, but the vet said he was too messed up to live.
He got the shot, which I've seen stop a dog's heart in about a second. It took him at least 10 seconds. He was just too damn strong for his own good.
I cried then, had BEEN crying, if I tried to talk right now I couldn't. My throat would feel thick, and my heart hurts every time I focus on who all I've lost.
The response from those I know, both people I'm close to and people I'm not, has been huge, and warm, and has helped more than I can say. Offers of perspective and puppies have flowed in.
I'm not going through anything others aren't, or haven't before, though happily, it's rare to hear from someone who's had 4 hits in less than two weeks. One would have been more than enough.
Annoying and trite as the saying is, life does indeed go on. A friend who was near death from liver problems is not only better, but her liver seems to be healing itself, which I didn't think was possible. I have found that some people I truly did not know well are, like my close friends, very fine, good people, and perhaps my circle of friends is growing.
I'm getting some exercise, taking a lot of herbal stuff, and overall I'm feeling better. It's very strange, feeling physically pumped up and good when you're mourning and hurting. What an odd contrast!
I went fishing with Brian, the same friend who cleaned up my house and cared for Basher while I was gone, and caught a Spanish Mackeral! I've fished salt water for 40 years and never caught one before! Brian's wife Patty cooked up our catch (Brian caught two Bluefish), and we had yet another fine meal due to her efforts.
For once, I'm not in the mood to rant about politics, war, liberals or much of anything else. I hope you'll forgive me and stay tuned. I'll try to be near-psychotic again soon.
Well...there's a fag cowboy movie coming out with that Aussie lifeguard, Heath Ledger, and Jake Gyllenhaal. Give it a miss, ok? You don't want to encourage this kind of crap. Julie has threatened in the past to submit my name and faults to "Queer Eye For The Straight Guy". I told her in a week I'd have them munching potato chips on the couch and watching football.
That's if I didn't beat hell out of them and throw them out of the house, of course.
Oddly enough, I have gay friends. Go figger.
Walp, little pards, I reckon I need to be a'moseyin'.
Sorry. Watched a REAL western with manly men recently.
Be good, in some sense of the word.
