Happy Wife Update

Things in the Happy Wife house are going okay. No dating. We still haven't left the house together except to take Mav on some of her beloved car rides. Does that count as a date? We don't even get out of the car. We just drive.

The day after my last post, Mav was peeing blood. This (in addition to having some other problems) led us to A. she has Cushing's Disease or B. she has Chronic Renal Failure. Both bad but one worse than the other. Kidney failure is 100% fatal and essentially untreatable.

Happy wife's husband's reaction was, "Do they have dog dialysis?"

I love that man. Doggie dialysis. Lord.

So, I was ready to throw a party if it was Cushing's disease. I may be the only person ever to say that since Cushing's sucks.

Long story short, there was about a week where we went to bed thinking maybe the next night, Mav would be gone. There was a lot of practicing my mantra of "I care about her comfort and her quality of life" in case the news was going to make me hysterical. I needed to be able to access those words in the middle of a complete meltdown.

Thankfully, we have been given some good news for the time being. We have been trying to appreciate every moment, before and after the call that finally came.

Mav probably does not have kidney failure!

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! (*Kermit flail*)

We need to retest for Cushing's because all we know for sure is that she has a hell of an antibiotic-resistant urinary infection and her Cushing's test came back, wait for it, "suspicious" (which is probably my favorite test result ever). 4 weeks of giving her the one drug I have a life-threatening allergy to in order to try and beat the infection and then we'll retest for Cushing's.

I'll take it! I WILL TAKE IT. And some Benadryl. So I don't die even though I'm handling her medication fully gloved and practically sterile.

I should still be upset, I guess, but I was so stressed thinking that maybe we'd be putting her to sleep at, oh, like any moment, that I am totally fine. A lot of it may just be me un-bracing myself. I braced the sh*t out of myself. I kept my mind occupied. The hubby couldn't even channel surf because then my brain had time to wander. He was all, "Do you want to talk about it?" and I was all, "WHAT PART OF 'I AM BARELY HOLDING IT TOGETHER' IS CONFUSING? NO. NO I DO NOT. PICK A FRICKIN' SHOW AND IF YOU MAKE ME WATCH TURTLE-MAN FOR ONE MORE MINUTE, I WILL BURN DOWN THIS HOUSE."

We started a new-to-us show we both agreed on and that's been our together entertainment ever since.

Thank you, Rescue Me. *Very animated claps for Dennis Leary*

Also, sort of sad eyes for Dennis Leary as we watch more and more. Such a funny and dramatic show that is also dark. So dark. Really, really dark. Someone needs to give Dennis Leary some cake or something. Stat!

When we haven't been watching Rescue Me, the hubby's been working and I've been busying myself in all sorts of ways.

Watched Breaking Bad. All of it. Am now caught up with Breaking Bad.

Organized all the papers on my husband's desk. For fun. He has not gone through anything since January. I also found 2 receipts from 2008 and one from 2006. ON HIS DESK. RANDOMLY.

I made him elaborate binders of all his receipts and other papers. Elaborate, elaborate binders.

I made massive quantities of food for the husband for Ramadan. Never have I enjoyed chopping like I have enjoyed chopping. Why use canned tomatoes and tomato sauce when I can chop a thousand tomatoes? I'm helping. I'm using fresh ingredients! Healthy, healthy.

Ramadan starts either tomorrow or Saturday.

I was all *gasps*, "Do you mean to tell me, Honey, that my whitey-white Weimaraner Puppies Wegman calendar is wrong? Crackers be crazy!

(Our Weim calendar says Ramadan starts TODAY!)

And then we laughed for a long time because I can't say "crackers" all racist-y without being sort of flattered because I happen to love crackers. I mean, have you seen the all new Ritz/Triscuit/Wheat Thin varieties? The cracker aisle in your local supermarket is now filled with crackers flavored with all these herbs and (hoity-toity voice inserted here) artisanal cheeses. I'll be a cracker. Vermont White Cheddar Wheat Thins? Um, yes please. Nom nom nom. Yummy.

Then, I went all Lent-y on Ramadan by saying I am going to give up shopping... Since I can't fast like a normal person anymore. I'll end up in the hospital. Which is not the point of Ramadan. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me as well as incredibly beneficial to our finances and our marriage. IT'S ON!

When does that start again?

Literally, someone just delivered a box to the front door. Like right now. Mav is barking like crazy.

Well, that's it from here for now. Obviously, the sooner Ramadan starts, the better.

Oh No You Didn't!

Son of a...

Mav got so excited for the vet that she forgot she was in pain.

Because there is a car ride involved!

And people!

And the tech she loves!

And the vet she likes pretty well!

Except when he's trying to do stuff to her like take blood or perform range of motion on her limbs! Then she gets all offended!

But not offended enough to stop wagging!

Car! Other vet customers! Tech! Vet! OMG! I have no injuries, Mama!

Sigh.

Double lovely.

After a lot of trial and tribulation (and a treat, begged for very obnoxiously), Mav seemed much better. I mean, of course she did. She was using all her legs. Which was an improvement from an hour earlier.

I am pretty sure the vet and his 2 techs have diagnosed me as insane. Probably a couple years ago.

Anyway, the vet said Mav's lame on one back leg and that she responded to both front legs equally. "Responded" is the word of the day in case you were wondering. If she was younger, he said he would worry about a certain bone disease and do some films. If her injury appeared to be limited very specifically to one leg (as it had in the hours before going to the damn vet), then he'd want to do films then, too.

Since she was her normal hobbly self and not an extra-special hobbly self, I get to watch her for the next 24-48 hours and see what happens. If one leg persists, then we get to sedate the crap out of her and x-ray her. Fun. For everyone.

Truth be told, there was also a point today where I thought little Hermes the cat had hurt herself. She seemed to be limping in the kitchen.

She wasn't. She had gotten a claw stuck in the new kitchen rug.

I unattached her from the rug, gave her a quick pet.

She immediately kneaded and got her paw stuck on the same rug again.

Mmmmmm-hmmmmm. Today I am just on fire, I am on such a hot streak.

New Month, New Problems

Dastardly May has come and gone. Termites have been treated and should be suffering (if they aren't dead by now). Had a doctor's appointment with a less then stellar test result, but since it came with a "I'm sure it's fine! Let's talk again in a year!" response from the doctor, I'm pretending it's all cool. She didn't even call with the results. She wrote me a very ridiculous letter, which was essentially like you have these abnormal cells you've never had before, but they're probably cool. Or they're cancer. Or they might become cancer. Tomorrow. Or next month. Or next year. Or ten years from now. OR NEVER.

It was so dumb that it was kind of great. I told the hubby that it is going to be fun to explain in every future doctor's appointment that I had these weird results when they go over my history. I'm not looking forward to that. The letter was so long and convoluted that I'm just going to carry it with my insurance card. The hubby, ever helpful, just said, "It's going to be really fun when you get to explain it every year to the doctor who wrote the letter."

We both had a good laugh at that because it's so damn true.

The A/C is working. Cars are starting. Washing machine is still washing. The oven is another matter but let's not talk about that. I'll repeat: I'm glad to have May in the rear view.

June, though, not really living up to its possibilities. There haven't been any outings on our part. No big dates. We can't even make it to the movies where we have a list of stuff we'd like to see. I need to know if they say "You sunk my battleship!" in Battleship.

The hubby had a couple days off for Memorial Day, which made us all hopeful and stupid. We're going to Cold Stones! We're going to The Dog Museum! We're going to be the last people in America to see The Avengers! Woooooo! Happy Wife is going to shower and put on "outside of the house" clothes every day! WOOOOOOO!

Of course, Mav decided to spoil all those plans in her usual spectacular fashion. During my vet's one week off for vacation. For no known reason, she got what 3 substitute vets think was colitis, and it's been a literal sh*tstorm. Heh.

Sorry.

Anywho, she's had a tough go of it since then. When our normal vet got back, he called about 6 minutes after his day started to check on us. I cannot imagine how high my stress level would be without our vet. Mav's been getting better and starts back on her regular food today. She has only very recently started eating her normal amount of food. This is since Memorial Day, and she's almost 100 lbs now, so she's no delicate flower when it comes to how much food she should be eating. At one point, over a 5 day period, she'd only eaten like one and a half cups of food total. In comparison, she should have 6-8 cups of food per day. Yeah.

We can tell she still feels pretty crappy. It's been a long couple weeks. At one point, I slept on the floor of the office next to her in her dog bed because that was the only place she found any comfort.

Fun side note: sleeping on the floor now is a lot different than it was in high school and college, when I was all "It's good for my back!" during the Academic Decathlon state finals in some semi-nice hotel room or at friends' houses back when I had friends that weren't my husband. Back then, a night on the floor was nothing. Now? I need 3 Aleve just to get up and down the stairs the next morning. Next time, I'm going to grab a second dog bed and sleep on that and try not to think about the level of white trash that might make me.

Never one to miss a beat, Mav did gather up some knowledge during her troubles. What my dog learned was how to spit out pills and that pill pockets have been a trick all along. Which is not good for a dog who is on 2 arthritis pills, a thyroid pill and an allergy pill twice a day, all when she's feeling good. Add a bunch of additional pills to those when she's feeling bad.

This is my dog, who once ate an entire bunch of bananas, peels and all. Happily and as if she'd never eaten before. One time while we were at a movie, she managed to eat an entire UNOPENED SAM'S CLUB box of these granola bars with ZERO effects on her digestive system. We came home to a house full of wrappers. It was amazing.

Mav says, "Mmmmm, crunchy!"

Once my parents left out Decon (rat poison) when we visited, and she got into that, and the emergency vet there said that they'd never seen a dog actually chow down activated charcoal. You used to be able to point at really anything and say a couple magic words and Mav would go ahead and eat it just in case. She hasn't been one to eat non-edible stuff on her own, not that we leave much to chance in our house anyway, but unless it's unwatched people food (a Happy Wife household no-no), she's pretty good. She's an eater. She gets that from me, for sure. It used to be if she ever got into her own bag of food, no doubt she would just eat until it was gone. Now, she's totally the opposite. Anyone who has had a dog that is food motivated who suddenly has no interest in food knows that it is a horrible thing to witness. You just get this bowling ball of dread in your stomach.

And we saw no signs she got into a damn thing. We hadn't gone anywhere or done anything exciting. We'll probably never know why or how she got so sick this time. Lord.

So, when the hubby and I have had time together, we've just spent it with her. Lots of soccer on the television and before that, we finished Friday Night Lights and started MI-5 on the Instant Netflix. The rest of the time, the hubby is working. Then I'm just sort of sitting over her like some kind of high school stalker. As long as I'm in a position to see her in the room we're in, we're okay. I have to be able to see her. Because there is no warning if she's gonna puke or have a seizure, not even to her. Which is really sad. I can't imagine not knowing something like that is coming and then boom. It comes on so quickly that she doesn't even have time to get up if she's sleeping or curled up resting. Her seizures are literally seconds long now and are completely different than they used to be. We never know when she starts acting off whether she's just having a senior moment, a seizure, or just crazy dog time. We can redirect her back to us pretty quickly, but it's still scary to watch.

At one point I went from praying "Help Mav, stop her hurting, bring her comfort, make her feel better" to "Just get me through this" and I knew when that happened that we were in for it. I'll never be ready for her to go, but the possibility is always there. Hopefully we're turning a corner and are on the road to recovery for a while longer. Either way, we're still just going to be focused on taking care of her and little else.

I try to appreciate spending all the time with her that I can, and it's more of a blessing than a curse. So the hubby and I didn't get to go out. We still are spending the evenings together and most of the weekend when he doesn't have to work. We can still do little things. The times this past week when I've got no sleep with Mav, the hubby went out and picked up supper. Lately, since sleep hasn't been such a stranger, I've been making nicer-than-sandwiches dinners for us. Last night, I made him lamb chops, filling the house up with smoke (they aren't good unless the smoke alarm goes off!), and fresh salad. It was really nice. Tonight, fresh corn on the cob and steaks marinated in a tasty A1, Italian dressing, honey, and red pepper concoction.

I'm oddly grateful for everything right now. Sure, Mav doesn't feel great, but she's better and she's still here. I have the time and ability to be with her. We have a home, so many life things that we're fortunate to have that make everything easier (hi again, washing machine). The hubby's still working away at a job he likes. The people we care about are happy and healthy and even though some are many miles away, they're still with us. The people we've lost have been gone so long the wounds aren't fresh and we're able to live with it more easily. Things other people are dealing with right now in their lives, the economy, family problems, sickness, death, all kinds of shattering things are happening out there. I know enough to know that we're not immune to that. It'll come and it'll be awful, but right now, we're okay. We're incredibly lucky. I don't have a damn thing to complain about.

I guess the trick is to, no matter how crappy things get or how complicated or how busy, we fit in some little things to make it better. Just about anything can overwhelm me if I let it. I think we're in the bones of the marriage part of our marriage right now, and it's still a great place to be. We have a good foundation, which makes everything so much easier when life from the outside is shaky. When I'm focused on Mav and not on much else. We'll get back to all the extra stuff like dating later. I still have goals. Like to not have a pair of shoes in my closet that I haven't worn. And to make it through the day without eating a fruit roll-up (damn you, Sam's Club!). All in good time, Happy Wife. All in good time.

Bonus Post - Hubby's Christmas Present Reaction Photos

Since I recently posted about the hubby's birthday, and all the photos of him opening presents are pretty similar, I figured it would be fun for me to post the Christmas-in-February-at-his-in-laws photos. Because they made me very happy. I didn't post about our February trip because I figured the family wouldn't want to be uploaded all over The Internets no matter how tempted I was to do it. Also, the one decent picture of me from our Xmas trip was the one where I was flicking the husband off but smiling very beautifully, which was both awesome and creepy but somehow R rated.

Ahem. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Let's do this.

My father is a Coca-cola guy. Husband, Pepsi. I know, I know, we're talking practically the Capulets and Montagues here. Somehow, my family has embraced this little nugget of war.

That might be because we are the same family that has given my mother every single item available anywhere ever that has a lighthouse on it, is in the shape of a lighthouse, or resembles a lighthouse in any way because once, she said she liked lighthouses. And then her husband, son, daughter, father, sister... Basically, we all took that and have run with it for, oh, thirty years or so.

Think of all the times you've been out and seen something with a lighthouse on it. Rug. Quilt. Candle. Painting. Sweatshirt. Toothbrush caddy. We have not only seen these things; we bought each and every one of them for my mother. Who now is sort of anti-lighthouse, shockingly.

Once, we even bought her a VERY LARGE carved statue of a lighthouse.

What was it carved out of, you ask?

Trust me, you asked.

Because it was CARVED ENTIRELY OUT OF PECANS.

Mmmm hmmmm. Bam! Nailed it! Gift perfection!

So, [new son-in-law that is hard to buy for] + [likes Pepsi] = [guess what you're getting for every holiday and birthday until we're all dead]. Who said I was bad at math! Heh!

It is also always a bonus gift because we're a Coke family. It's like we've double accepted him. Embracing the enemy that is Pepsi in a Coke household. That's love, People. Love that has started a Happy Wife household Pepsi collection. Current decorative and/or glass bottle total: 12. Tee shirt count: too many to bother actually counting. Boxers in commemorative Pepsi can: 1. That last one was me. We use the can on the desk in the office to hold pens and pencils. Boo-yah! 

The most recent addition was at February Christmas.

(February Christmas soon to be trademarked by Happy Wife.

Sure it will catch on. It's like Christmas

only without the festive holiday spirit!)

My husband is a sweetheart and listens to the

"where we found these old fashioned glass Pepsi bottles"

story with rapt attention and appropriate head nods.

Think I'm kidding? My Dad got up from his comfy chair

across the room to come over and share that story.

"Tell me again about this Rural King you speak of, Sir," said my

husband in his mind because my father has an impressive gun collection.

Mav's all, "Things!"

Then, it got fun.

"Thanks for the Pepsi bottle," said my husband.

"Keep looking in the box!" My father was adamant.

Heh heh.

"Oh, there is another bottle in here!"

My husband executed the perfect level of excitement.

Possible captions:

Check out the pair on that guy!

or

I wish my wife would stop taking my picture!

or

I'm doing the best I can here, Honey, and you're pushing it.

Family fun time is twice as fun when it is with your in-laws!

Right, Honey? Right!

Now you're just making fun of me, he said at this photo.

I'm making MEMORIES, HUSBAND!

And your mother tried to marry you to someone else,

SO DON'T EVEN START WITH ME BECAUSE

WE'RE GONNA TAKE MY FAMILY'S

OWN BRAND OF CRAZY AND RUN WITH IT.

Moving on...

In case the lighthouse story didn't clue you in, let me tell another tale. Last year, my parents got us 2 little flashlights. No batteries, fits in the palm of your hand, little button on an end. We ended up using them all the time. Weird little gift that ended up being great. So, when they asked if there was anything we could think of that we wanted for the holidays, I reminded them of the flashlights.

Which was fun since they did not remember giving them to us. Not. At. all. The conversation went like this:

"Are you sure we got those for you?"

"Yes, Mom."

"I don't think so, Honey."

"No, Mom, it was you. For sure."

"Are you sure?"

*Bangs head on desk*

"It wasn't us."

After a lengthy description and still no memory of it, I let it go and didn't mention it again.

But, remember, say "lighthouse" once in my family...

Fast forward to February Christmas. Did my family get us another flashlight like the ones from the year before? Of course not.

No! Ha! HA HA!

Don't be silly.

They got us 12.

6 red, 6 blue.

All individually wrapped.

All individually wrapped.

I repeated that on purpose because it bears repeating.

Individually.

Wrapped.

The hubby was in heaven.

"Look what I can do when I hold a bunch of them at once!"

Commence very, very bright light.

Also, look behind him at how bored Mav is of the flashlights. The husband kept playing with them until we worried for our sight.

And yes, I got my mother that lighthouse candle holder in the background of that photo last year for Christmas. Heh. I didn't even notice that until just now. Sometimes when we visit, I accuse them of putting out all the stuff we've got them about an hour before we arrive. They deny it.

We had a great aunt or something who, when I was little, gave us this stuffed toy circus monkey that was old, crusty, and horrifying. And huge. I mean, he was human baby size. And, bonus, he looked like his diet consisted of human babies. After he murdered them. My mother put him out as our dining room table centerpiece about five minutes before my aunt's every visit and put him away out of eyesight before she even got out of the driveway on her way home. It wasn't like she put him on a low shelf or secondary room end table. Dining room table centerpiece. Man, that thing was some kind of awful. If there was ever an object that was evil, it was that monkey.

*Shudders* 

Anyway, a young kid sees that and it doesn't take much to put 2 and 2 together as an adult that when I walk around a house where all my gifts are prettily displayed and nothing else is out, well...

I am actually cool with it, if it happens or not. Either way, my crap is out because of love.

Speaking of love, other than my hubby, one of my favorite guys is my little bro. Who got my hubby a daily military fact calendar. Which, in this photo, looks like it is receiving a soulful, possibly sexy serenade from the hubby.

*Belting*

When a man loves a woman-

Can't keep his mind on nothing else-

Except for military history and

historical facts no one else remembers and

possibly his latest game of pew pew pew

Battlefield Soldiers Wearing Halos In A Portal

or whatever it's called. 

Save the princess!

I mean, it's all so fascinating-

*Thud*

Sorry, my narcolepsy is acting up again.

I also asked for a group photo but never managed to get a decent one. This is my husband's face in the one photo I managed to take with more than one person in it. Do you think he really nailed my "Smile!" cue?

This photo proves it.

It being that nothing's more painful than love. Yes?

Well, except maybe exhaustion.

Although, Hulk Husband did come out for a second.

Take that, flimsy plastic!

Mav is obviously some kind of sidekick to Hulk Husband.

If a sidekick can simply be 100% annoying and unhelpful

with zero super powers.

Actually, Mav attempted to help a lot.

Here she is helping my mom.

"I smell your leg. It smells leggy. You're welcome."

Here she is helping my mom. Again.

Yum, tissue paper. Nom, nom, nom.

She was helping her so much that at one point, the hubby intervened.

In Mav's defense, it is difficult to keep a Weim in line

when anything is happening anywhere ever.

That box did at one time have Boy Scout popcorn in it,

so you can't blame her. Can't blame genius.

Or me, for, you know, helping the children.

Only if they sell food, though.

I only help through snacks.

It takes a village.

Come on, I'm no hero, though!

*Takes a bow*

Most of the photos of me from February Christmas are just like this.

Pretties.

Wait, do I have a bald spot?

My part sure seems to go way down the back of my head.

Ho ho ho, Merry February Christmas, World!

In April!

Please excuse me while I go call 800 numbers

that belong to companies that help you regrow your hair.

Narcotics, Gamer Widows, and Expired Orange Juice

And insomnia. Which may have to do with the expired orange juice.

It's been a long week and weekend. Beautiful out, temperatures in the 70s. The hubby worked long hours and saw little of it from his desk.

I walked Mav the dog all around the neighborhood, her always-been-strange gait even more pronounced. Wednesday, she stopped jumping up in the sink to drink water out of a bowl (don't even ask) and started drinking from the elaborate kitty fountain on the kitchen floor.

In other words, who is this dog?

Something was off, and although she didn't seem to be in any pain, I took her in to see the vet on Thursday just to calm my mind.

Our vet did a thorough exam and Mav did not pass. He said it might be osteoarthritis. Although fully booked Friday, he had me call through the morning to see how his surgeries were going, fitting me in around 10 am. Although she wasn' put under general anesthesia, she was knocked out with sedatives so that he could take X-rays and perform some other tests. I walked the Target across the street for an hour, waiting for the call to come back and get her. 

I sat in my car after I could stand Target no more. I wish I liked Target more. Ours seems to have little selection and ridiculous prices.

I finally talked to the vet on the phone, where he informed me that a number of tests were completed and the meds had been given to Mav to wake her up. The X-ray results were neither the worst possible scenario or the best (that would be nothing). Turns out he had been worried yesterday about a list of horrible other lumbar and bone diseases that he had decided not to tell me about at the time.

Sometimes I want to hug him but always stop myself. Thank God we were on the phone.

He told me that she did in fact have severe osteoarthritis in her left hip. I was incredibly grateful. Anything that wins over "we're putting her down" disease is a victory.

I went to the office to get her and go over the X-rays. They had let her free in the back like she was Penny, the vet's Pug. She was behind the check out desk with the 2 techs. Seeing her broke my heart.

She could barely stand and was so out of it from the narcotics. They stuck us in a room pretty fast since she could hear me but not see me over the counter. She just came over and stood by me, staring at me like "What did I do to you to deserve this?" I petted her and kissed her forehead as if dogs find that comforting.

The vet came in to talk to me. At one point, in the middle of his explaining things to me, she walked into the corner and stuck her head as far as she could where wall met wall. Then she sort of swayed and looked like she might die any second. I sort of patted her with increasing force (lovingly?) and let out a worried "Mav? Hey? Mav? HEY? MAV? HEY MAV!" and she barely even responded.

The vet just laughed like my reaction was weird and said, "She's just watching the pretty pictures on her eye lids from the medication."

He jumped right back into talking about the X-rays, which were jarring to say the least. Her left hip looked nothing like her right, which was what a hip should look like. 75% of it was out of the socket and it was extremely misshapen. I listened for about half an hour as he explained in depth about what exactly was messed up in her left hip, what the future would hold (right hip will probably end up matching the left in time), and what treatments we would be trying (basically it will be the same sort of situation as with a human with severe osteoarthritis). Just one of the medications costs $3 a day. Add to that all the tests and vet costs and I probably don't have to say that I emptied a giant chunk of our bank account at the desk. I then took Mav to the car, where she couldn't even get in on her own.

I spent Friday sitting next to a dog who I had to help on and off the couch and who looked like she was going to A) pass out B) vomit or C) have a seizure any minute. It was a long day.

Just adding another diagnosis to the list - she already has epilepsy, hypothyroidism, a plethora of cysts and tumors... Now, osteoarthritis.

My husband came home after his own long day and she perked up, so he really couldn't understand the hours of stress I had been through. A friend at work gave him some games to try on his new PS3 (hooray for his work's gift card program! Free PS3!), so I lost him for the weekend to that. He was playing something where he was either shooting a deer or roping a horse or herding some cattle whenever I walked through the room.

Being from South Dakota, I found this to be the weirdest game ever. He was happy with it, so that's all that matters. I was happy being a gamer widow for a weekend. I felt unable to summon any energy to do anything. Getting out of bed was a major accomplishment. At one point this weekend, I knocked, with no help from the kitties or any other outside source, a full glass of steaming hot tea all over my computer desk and lap. And then instead of springing into action, I just sort of sat there and looked at it like maybe if I waited long enough, it wouldn't have happened.

I attempted to cook. Not good.

Wanted to clean. Didn't happen.

Kept a close eye on Mav. As in barely let her out of my sight.

Thought I should try to drink the orange juice we'd had from Sam's Club and had opened what I thought was a week or so ago. Drank like a gallon of that in a 36 hour period when my husband noticed and informed me that the expiration date was also over a week ago. As in 2 weeks ago. Which may or may not explain why I felt unlike myself.

Add to all this that the most energized and awake I felt was from around 11 pm - 5 am. I just could not sleep. I kept thinking about things I wanted to organize in the house and how I wanted to organize them. At one point, I think I got up and reorganized my coupons and arranged them in some particular order by date and type and store.

I don't know if we're ever dating again at this point. Since I think I'm good staying in the house for... The rest of my life.

The 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Post #2

I have something to admit. As difficult as it is, I have to face up to it. I have a great love other than my husband! *gasp*

She came into my life long before he did. *fans face all lady-like with hand*

I've slept with her for so many years -

*faints*

Okay, okay. You got me. She literally sleeps with me. Not sexy sexy "sleeps" with me. It's about as risque as an old lady knitting, rockin' in her chair on a porch.

Maverick says, "Hi, Mama! Time for eating?"

Mav has been my baby since she was 8 weeks old. Which was a long time ago. She'll be 9 this year.

No matter how many ailments or health problems she gets, she just patiently puts up with me until my vet and I figure it out. The diagnosis list continues to grow as she ages. Epilepsy, hypothyroidism, ear infection after ear infection.

She still gets excited every single time she goes to the vet, all wags and licks, ears up and eyes wide, even though the past 2 years have been a steady stream of painful biopsies on a plethora of cysts and tumors that magically appear all over her body.

*Singing like The Black Eyed Peas*

"My bumps, my bumps, my lovely lady bumps"

Instead of being scared of what she knows is going to happen, she's thrilled to see our vet and his two techs. Every inch of her body says, "I LOVE YOU!" the second they enter the room.

I have to see her through everything because she's been at my side for every up and every down. She's seen me through losing people I love and she's loved, through my life threatening reaction to an antibiotic and the 3 months I then spent on super steroids and bedrest, through recurrent MRSA infections, through finding my husband and then moving us across several states to be with him.

She's tolerated every change, every twist, every turn in the road. Whether a walk in the park or day on the couch, she has spent her life at my side, always happy, always sure.

As the years passed, my not-so-keen-on-dogs parents and brother have realized that Mav is more than just some random pet. Still, I don't think they know what to say or what to think. It's not the life they'd pick for me, I'm sure. I think sometimes they think that without Mav, I'd be all footloose and fancy free, traveling the world or something. They've done their best not to dwell on her, neither discouraging nor encouraging her presence in my life. Letting it be was the best they could do.

Which is why when my birthday came around 2 years ago and they gave me this, I was really touched. And kind of shocked.  

A Weim Shirt! From my family!

This shirt was the first time I really felt like they were accepting and acknowledging what Mav means to me. I wear it all the time. At home. Because, as I remember my grandma saying when she picked a female Mav out of the litter of puppies, "The boys' stuff is all out for the world to see and it always bothered me" with all her lifetime of male Weimaraners. This shirt kind of demonstrates that a little too much for my tastes.

I didn't understand when we brought Mav home why my grams had stopped having dogs. She'd had them for so many years. All Weims. She simply told me it hurt too much. Once, about 20 years after her last Weim and a few years before I moved in with her, she said she saw someone driving around with a Weim in the backseat while she was driving out to get her hair done.

She skipped her set in stone weekly appointment and followed them around in her car for over an hour.

She was probably 70 something at the time. You have to picture it. A crazy little old lady, barely visible above the steering wheel of a giant, 4 door, green Chrysler, tailing some family all over South Bend, Indiana, because they happened to have a dog in the car. Because it was a Weim.

I, the girl who had never had a dog, thought that was insane.

Didn't take long for me after we got Mav for me to understand. She was my dog immediately.

Really, how did I ever have a chance? Look at that face.

I know whenever it is Mav's time, no matter how ready she is or I should be, I won't be ready. At the same time, I know that every day I have had with her will be worth what I go through when the day comes and she is gone. My husband and I had another Weim join our family a year after we got married. We had 2 years with her, and when she passed away suddenly and unexpectedly, it was devastating to me. I understood why my grams had stopped having Weims.

Because of Mav's health, the loss of our other dog, and my state of mind, my family started letting me bring Mav when the hubby and I would come and visit. There are not words for how this makes me feel.

I know they would prefer a no-Mav policy, but for me, they bought a slipcover for the couch and started saving plastic bags for dog clean up by the back door. They talk to her in a sing-song voice when she's in the room, smile at her, and pat her little (giant) head. They don't do this for her. They do this for me.

My folks have really showed me over the years what it means to be a part of a loving family. They've shown me what it is to be married and what it is to support and stand by the people you love.

Maybe they didn't plan on having a daughter like me.

One who has a Weim calendar.

In every room.

One who drinks out of a Weim mug while looking

at framed art prints of Weims.

One who's best days have come simply and without much fanfare.

At home, with my hubby, my kitties, my girls.

Maybe it was always only a matter of time

before I built my own family

with the human love of my life

and a menagerie of 4-legged children.

I know it's crazy for me to ache for the one that is gone and to spoil and dote on the one who is still here in the way that I do.

For whatever reason, my husband and my family continue to stand by me, even when I'm difficult, or lost, or sad. They hold me up and believe in me even when I don't believe in myself. And they accept that this girl will always come with a Weim. 

My family even reads this blog once in a while, and they are definitely not blog people. They read about my husband and I having our puzzle date. Then, they gave me this present for Christmas.

Oh God, it's a Weim puzzle!

I know, the Weim girl getting a Weim-related gift? What's so amazing about that? Just trust me on this one. Besides, it packs a double punch...

Oh, blasted puzzles! Always trying to challenge me! I will be a puzzle person! I will!

And the level of happy, warm, HOLY SH*TMAS feelings that ran through me when I opened this?

Nothing could have reminded me more that I am exactly who and exactly where I'm supposed to be, surrounded by the family I was meant to have by blood and by choice, in the place where home is more much more than a simple word. If that doesn't make one one cheerful to the point of using colorful language to describe a high holy day, then I don't know what ever could.