Invasion Notes, Week 2

Big doings today - first off, we had a lovely family walk in the rain.  (I know... but it's Portland.  If we wait for a sunny day, it's going to be July.)  Well, the girls had a lovely walk.  Moose had a scooter ride, from which he surveyed his kingdom and kept an eye on the girls.  The girls are surprisingly strong - when they start out, they go for the gusto, digging into the track and pulling in tandem.  Which would be a lot more impressive if they didn't have those cute little dachshund butts trailing, wiggling side to side like Can-Can girls. 

Afterwards, we had a good toweling off session, and then...  Lili actually consented to sit in my lap and snuggle!  For a good thirty minutes, and even better, Moose didn't object - they curled up together and allowed me to worship them until Daniel showed up.  This is big - it's the first time either of the girls have acknowledged me without food being involved, so we may be starting to build a pack (as for my worries about Moose, he's been accepted into their pack since the first day - he's in love with Daisy.  I think it's the coloring.)

To top it all off, both of the girls have figured out how to use the doggie door, so it's been a red letter day! 

Some Days, It Just Doesn't Pay to Chew Through the Restraints

He has a need... a need for speed!

Mom and I had a deal going while she was here - we were going to do a little exercising every day. Just a little walk through the neighborhood, nothing big - well, I say walk, but what I mean is her walking, wrangling Daisy and Lili, while Moose and I did a dignified scooter walk beside the hooligans. 

Yesterday was a down day due to various infirmities popping up, but today...  today, I showered *and* put on a bra (red letter day), as did Mom (not a big deal for her, but still...)  We performed various feats of puppy wrangling, finding Moose's harness, clipping on leashes, finding my shoes  (ok, it's been a while since I left the house).  Anyway... finally got out to the garage, opened the door... and the skies opened up. We're not talking a little Oregon sprinkle, we're talking "has anyone talked to Noah lately?" The girls still wanted to brave it, but frankly, I was worried they might float off. 

Unfortunately, I'd expended my energy getting out to the garage, so I needed to rest up before attempting the stairs, and the only convenient seat was the scooter.  Moose immediately hopped on the floorboard, shouting the canine equivalent of "floor it".  He was mightily disappointed when I explained we were heading back into the house - in fact, I had to drag him off the scooter to get him to realize it wasn't happening,  so he's definitely getting a scooter ride tomorrow, no matter what. 

We finally made it safely back inside, gave puppies treats, etc... and realized - my living room has not one, but two massive glass sliding doors.  And yet, neither Mom nor I bothered to check to see if it was raining before we started this expedition...  Yep.  On this one, title says it all.

Observations from the Invasion

I've got to get pictures, but for now - it's odd.  There are definitely separations between the three.  I'm used to Moose's baritone (he's got a big boy bark - if you can't see him, you would assume it's a doberman.  He has the UPS and Fed-Ex guys cowed - the food delivery guys, however, have seen him and are no longer as impressed.)  Daisy, on the other hand, is a soprano, and Lili is an alto, somewhere between the two.  It does make for an impressive chorus when they're all in the backyard giving Roady (the dog next door) what-for.  I'm thankful that we live in a house that's situated in a dog-friendly/dog-intensive cul-de-sac - no one can complain because we all have noisemakers...

Invasion Report, Day 2 1/2

Mom made it safely here this time (despite Oregon choosing to throw up cyclones in Bend and earthquakes off the coast), along with Lili and Daisy (Lili's sister.)  It's becoming increasingly obvious to me that Moose has spoiled me rotten, though. 

Moose has always been my pup.  Well, from the moment I found him shivering in the garage after a night outside (he ran away the second he got out of the car - we searched everywhere in the neighborhood without luck, but I left the garage door open for him, and the next morning, when I woke up, he was resting in a pile of laundry, looking up at me like "what took you so long?")  After that, he was a mama's boy, through and through.  Especially after my diagnosis, he became my familiar, always on my lap or by my side, a comforting, loving shadow.

Lili, on the other hand, is going to be work.  Right now, she's still bonded with Mom, and she's ok with occasional lap time, but both Lili and Daisy are active dogs - always moving, always running, their jewelry jingling everywhere.  I figure she and I will become friends eventually - I have patience and I have treats, and with those two things, you can rule a dog's world.  But it's not going to be easy, the way it was with Moose.  I'm also going to have to be more wary than I have been.  I made the mistake of taking my eyes off breakfast this morning, and Daisy almost made off with an entire piece of ham.  Moose has always been polite about food - he might whine, but he won't take off with it unless it hits the floor.  Of course, once it hit the floor, all bets are off.  Daisy, however, does not seem to have Moose's compunctions.  It's going to be an adjustment...

Warning: Indelicate aspects of cancer being discussed

Ok, so...  as we all know, cancer sucks.  It's painful, it's dangerous, it's deadly... but what people don't talk about (because, frankly, we know you all are sick of us whining) is that it's uncomfortable.  Seriously - go to any good cancer group, and people aren't going to be talking about the pain - we all know about the pain.  We're going to be talking about the itchy skin, or the way differences in air temperature can cause your body to go nuts, or how nothing tastes the same after chemo, or...

In my particular case, it's bladder issues.  Because Hank the Tumor is sitting there, right on my bladder, like a malevolent little goblin, I've got the bladder of a permanently 8 1/2 month pregnant woman.  Which means that I'm back to wearing diapers - when I was hoping for a second childhood, this is not what I had in mind.  Which also means a diaper pail... or at least a trash can devoted to Poise.  I had a small can - something like what you would use at a desk, but frankly, it was not doing the job.

So... my birthday was coming up.  Once you hit 50, frankly, birthday wishes can be kind of a pain - if I need something, chances are I already have it - but I thought "Ah!  A trash can!  I'll ask for a slightly larger trash can!"  Now... I've mentioned my friend/alternative backup husband Daniel before, but have I mentioned that he's a terrific gift-giver?  He's the kind of guy who is always thinking beyond the box, and he's out for all that he can give - he's wonderful, but he can be overwhelming at times.  He ended up giving me two different trash cans (because they came as a set), and the one for the bathroom is a 13 gallon stainless steel battery operated masterpiece. 

That's right.  Battery operated.  Which is lovely, and it's great that it opens when I wave at it.  But it also opens when my tits wave at it, or someone's butt, or... did I mention that my bathroom is kind of a tight fit?  And since it's filling up with used (essentially) diapers, whenever it opens up, there's a distinct eau de truckstop.  So, I had to find an odor eliminator - but I think I found the exact one I need.  It's from a company called Natural Magic, and the product name is "What Died In There?"  Somehow, I think that's just what I needed. 

Rough Moon Rising

Difficult day today.  We had to do a little home repair yesterday (the toilet that was giving me lip the other week developed a leak), and of course, this being Oregon, it involved mold issues - and my lungs are delicate enough without the addition of mold spores, so there was a lot of coughing all night, and not much sleeping. 

By the time I finally managed to catch some sleep, my brain decided it was time to remind me this week is my Cancerversary (as if I was going to forget... ever), and run a series of dreams in which Roger and I kept getting turned down as foster parents because of medical unsuitability. (At one point, we got turned down as dog fosters because "well, you might teach them bad health habits."  My brain can be a bit of a bitch, frankly.)

I'm hoping that this gets the mourning out of the way for the year, but I'm making no promises.  I can see the next week being a bit of a bugger, frankly.  Fortunately, Mom (and Lili and Daisy) are due on Sunday, so there's something positive in my future. 

The one lurking in the corner?  That's the culprit.  

Memory Well: Heading for Cheyenne Again

Back around the time that I was born, my grandmother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  Not a deal-breaker - she was with us for another 49 years, but it meant that (since she lived in the southern end of the state, and all the good hospitals at the time were in Salt Lake), we had annual trips up to "the city" for the first part of my life. There's an intersection on the freeway in Salt Lake where if you take the correct cloverleaf, you head back towards Washington (that's Washington, UT) and home, and if you don't take the correct cloverleaf, you're bound for Cheyenne.  Guess which cloverleaf Grandpa took 75% of the time?  Would it be too big of a hint for me to mention that Grandpa was also notorious for knowing about "little shortcuts?"  But he always got us home, eventually.

Anyway, I told you that to tell you this...  Grandpa and Grandma were together essentially forever.  You didn't think of one without the other one popping into mind, like Mickey and Minnie... well, more like Ralph and Alice, but you get my point.  Once Grandpa left us, Grandma was still there, but it was obvious that she was missing part of her soul.  And when her time was finally winding to an end, she felt that Grandpa was coming for her, to take her back home, but the days stretched out to weeks, just waiting.  Existing, but ready for that next phase - eventually impatiently waiting for that next phase.  On the day she did finally complete her journey, it seemed for two or three hours that she was looking past the living, reaching for someone only she could see, but it seemed to take forever.  Finally, we realized what had happened... she was waiting for Grandpa, and he'd gotten lost on that blasted off-ramp to Cheyenne.  But nonetheless, he did get her home, eventually.

The start of the wait....that's Grandma, second from the left