1st week lockdown COVID 19

Song of the day: "The end of the world" by REM. It's as good a song as any at this point in time, I guess.

Time for an update. Not the best of times, I fear, but strange times for sure, what with the Corona Virus outbreak that has been sweeping over the world for several weeks. The Netherlands has gone into a tentative shutdown (social distancing), after the virus has started raging through especially Italy and Spain, where it has been the worst in Europe, so far.

So how has the virus affected us...well, no zombies yet, so that is definitely a plus. The way I figure, as long as the zombie's don't come shambling through the streets, we'll do just fine. Other than that, work has shut down until at least the 6th of April, just like all non-essential businesses through-out the country.

Although I can manage just fine to keep busy, in fact, in regards to location, this house is more luxurious for a lockdown than most. Heck, I've stayed in worse places than this myself. It might not be fun, but I can survive a month or two with this quarantine without losing my mind. It won't be fun, it won't be nice, or anything, but I'll be fine in the end.
That doesn't take away that the atmosphere in general isn't completely whacky. I mean, there are hoarders, there are those who don't believe that the virus is as bad, some don't care one way or other, and there are those who are scared out of their minds. I can get my head around most of them, of course, but considering we, the people in general, are not in charge of how things are handled, it doesn't matter one way or other how I feel about the matter, I suppose. Most of us are just along for the ride for now.

Well, guess it is time to catch you up a little on how life has been progressing lately. Work and school had been going pretty well...well, a little bit more of the first and less of the latter, which had made me behind on my studies up until the latest disaster hit.

Before the outbreak we had started looking for a permanent place to live, rather than the anti-squatting gig, but that is now starting to look like we'll have to put that on hold for the time being...especially because we have no idea about how things are going to go. For now we're going to be paid one way or other, but that won't hold indefinitely, of course. The company is not made of money, and if this is going to continue on as long as everyone fears...well, then we have a problem.

School, regretfully has not been completely cancelled. Last Tuesday was supposed to be my first theory test, but this was cancelled, of course, because this was the third of fourth day after the lockdown  and everyone was scrambling. Now, it turns out lessons are going to continue digitally. On the one hand that is great, on the other I am trying to find the rest inside my head to pick up writing again. Bad enough the world at large is hammering at me to pay attention to reality, having to worry about school in the meantime is not exactly my idea of fun. But we'll see how it goes. Maybe I'll be grateful for the distraction.

Unlike me, big brother gets to work still, for now. Despite the sauna being closed for guests, behind the scenes folks are putting in a lot of effort to catch up on maintenance that has been postponed time and again due it being too busy. So in that regard big brother is happy, because he can finally get to stuff that he's been forced to put off over and over again.

Personally I will be spending a morning at work, too, because the kitchen staff have been asked to volunteer with the cleanup of the big filters and such above the cooking areas. The other half of the chefs are going to tackle the big fridges on a different day, so we won't exceed the numbers that are allowed to get together. Nice to be able to catch up with everyone, and since quite a few are going stir-crazy sitting at home, it's also a necessary measure. It will be nice to go out for something other than basic groceries.

But back to before the outbreak: It's been a sad period actually. A very good friend died...the one I mentioned with Acute Leukemia. Regretfully he passed away before I was able to see him again. He kept postponing the visit, saying he wanted to wait until he felt a little stronger, a little better. Alas it never came to that. About three weeks ago the doctors told him there was nothing left to do for him, and a few days later he passed away in his home. His death hit me harder than I expected. Especially because I got the news at work, and of course had to ask for time off so I could go to his memorial. Almost burst out in tears right before my chef, and that is just friggin' unprofessional and embarrassing.

Be that as it may, we did go to the memorial, which was a very bohemian affair, much like he would have loved. Spoke and hugged a long time with his girlfriend of thirty plus years, and listened to the performance of his band involving, (brace yourselves, he was a sound artist) vacuum cleaners. A special evening on the cusp of the Corona outbreak.

Another bit of bad news, it's in the air, I'm telling ya, is that Tenant has taken a turn for the worse. Back when she had her stroke in Spain, the swallowing mechanism in her throat started to have trouble. Over the years this has gotten worse, but lately it got so bad she got a pneumonia due to getting stuff in her lungs, like food and drink. This meaning that she'd have terrible coughing fits. This, in the end, has led to her no longer being able to drink or eat, and since she finds a probe tube straight into her stomach so very irritating that she keeps pulling it out, she is slowly dying. What a horrible way to go! So strange to imagine that with everything moderns science can do these days, there is no solution for something like this. It baffles me at times.
Now if all that isn't bad enough, due to the Corona virus senior homes and nursing homes are in a complete shutdown. Hers included, so rather than have many, many people coming over to visit her in these final stages of her life, there are only a handful that are only allowed to enter one at a time, wearing full protective gear like gloves and such. So horrible if you really thing about it. Luckily they have started her on morphine now, so that should make her less aware of it all...I hope.

On the nicer part, had a visit with my dad last week. He and my stepmom had a lot of leftover tree trunks and such lying about in their yard, which needed to be dragged out to the curb so they could be picked up. A nice afternoon in the sunshine, dragging some odd 3000 lbs of wood while big brother attacked the trunks with the rented chainsaw. Poor thing practically gave the spirit in the end. So much wiry wood. Was good to see dad, although his appearances worry me a little. He's looking tired, and grayish almost. Poor guy really works too hard. Just hope that he doesn't get the virus, because that just might be too much for him.

Studying: Well, I had gotten nicely up to date due to the fact that my chef was trying to bring my hours down a little so they could work in new people, but now with the virus in full swing I am feeling distracted and completely not in the mood to focus on those studies. Coming tuesday we were supposed to have had our first practical exam, which would have involved making a 3 course lunch at school, but I'm not sure if that is going to happen anytime soon if our troubles are going to follow the example of Italy even remotely. Today they had their highest death-tole of almost 800. This means that the Netherlands is bracing itself. So surreal.
It doesn't mean that I won't try, of course, I'm just complaining a little here.

Still working on two individual manuscripts. Commanding Morgan, the prequel to Girl in the Mist, and tentatively called Girl from the Past for now, has its proposal practically done. And Lost Soul is practically through its first edit, meaning that big brother and I can both start reading through it, working out the kinks and such. I am looking forward to this, and if the quarantine is going to happen, that is definitely going to help to get us to sit down and get it done.

The house, well, I got that pretty much in order now. haha Would be weird if it wouldn't be, after more than 8 days into self-isolating. Embarrassing too. Is nice to have it all sorted, though. Though I tend to keep things up, having been busy so much that past few months, I had gotten a little bit behind. Added to that, i have completely thrown around the living room, which led to a hilarious moment later in the evening, two hours after big brother arrived, walking around, eating his dinner, when he suddenly said, "hey you changed it." Seriously, I almost peed my pants, laughing so hard. I'd deliberately not said anything, wondering how long it would take, but no way did I expect it would take him that long. Gawd, I haven't laughed that hard in ages...felt good. As to why I changed it? Well, I figured with the present situation being this severe, a change would be a good thing for my state of mind, at least.

Well, that' it for now, I guess. I will try to keep you posted, and if I can't feel free to look me up on Facebook.

R.I.P. Grandpa Jack

Grandpa at his best

No song of the day, today, I fear. Just a post to let y’all know that as of this morning Grandpa passed away at the hospice just short of eighty years in life. His heart didn’t manage to hold out, and so the body had to concede defeat regardless of the willing spirit.

Visited him yesterday, sat with him for a few hours, and managed to talk with him a little, despite his overwhelming exhaustion. Weird to see him that way, withered, old…and very fragile. To see that picture in your mind of him vitally climbing fences and trees no less than two years ago, only to have him practically disappear in a white sheeted hospital-like bed…I severely dislike that. It will be a long time before that last image of him will disappear and only the good will remain.

Anyway, he didn’t see very well, partly because of the exhaustion, but he knew I was there. We had a few moments together where we managed to talk. I had to ask him if he was scared, because grandpa was often plagued by fears, and he said that he was—just a little. More because of the unknown, the “what will happen next” than anything else, and because he always had this nasty belief that his karma was bad due to his past lives, explaining much of his difficult life…this is one thing I dislike about the whole karma belief; it makes no sense to suffer for something that you can’t remember, does it? I don’t believe that it works that way, makes no sense.

So, anyway, we talked quietly about our thoughts and beliefs, and how I thought that he did well, and did exactly what he was supposed to in life…especially when he admitted that he was afraid that he hadn’t always done his best. That made me sad. Had to assure him he did it right, and that he was great friend and grandpa, and that he would have to take my word for it if he didn’t think so himself.

“I’ll try,” were his words, after which he assured me that he’d always loved us even when he couldn’t say it…not a man of many words, grandpa.

After that, and holding hands for a bit, we returned to more mundane subjects before he practically ordered us to piss off, and claimed he needed his sleep.

He went to sleep just a little while later and didn’t wake up anymore, which is good, because he was so very tired of all the suffering. Frequent reports during the evening and morning, indicated that he was departing rapidly, his breathing becoming choppy. He didn’t suffer in the end, the nurses say, he just…stopped, and I gotta say that for him that is the best thing that could have happened.

So, how to wrap this up…rest in peace, Grandpa? No. I’m going to end it on: It was good knowing you!

End of the trip

Song of the day: “Leaving on a jet plane” by John Denver. I’ve had this in my head every now and then during the course of the past couple of weeks, which isn’t all that strange, I’ll admit.

So I’m back home, naturally…although it was debatable for a while there. Turns out that my flight home was canceled due to the airport strikes in France. Didn’t see that one coming, that’s for sure. Here I was already mentally going over everything that had to be done before my flight the next day, and wham, there was the SMS, followed by an email, telling me that I had to cancel or reschedule a flight…which wasn’t all that easy considering I got the mail after seven PM and the offices closed at six. Then the next morning the lines were so busy that they advised to call later, which I did, multiple times, until I finally got through the next day and sorted everything out.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Last time I wrote while sitting on the grass in Kent, so let’s see if I can take it from there.
I had a wonderful walk through lush pastures and fields, climbed fences and hedges, soaked up the richly scented air, took pictures galore, and plucked a whole bunch of wildflowers just for the heck of it.

It was a good time to settle in the three dogs we brought there, and the cats. I think they will be fine, in time, seeing as they’re reunited with their mistress, and it was good for me to see them settled and say goodbye at my leisure.

Had times that I was seriously bored out of my mind with nothing to do but socializing in the evening (what can I say, I’m a workaholic and if I don’t put in at least a 10 hour work day, I get itchy), but still, it was a novel experience.
Did fill most of my days cooking, most of the meals worked out marvelously, which is never a bad thing. Also, I liked the challenge of cooking with hardly anything in store. It means applying creativity and frugality. Basically I recycled every single leftover, and used it in a new meal, meaning that except for some lettuce and some icky French cheeses, the fridges were empty the day before my departure. That’s when I made an actual list and had my host buy some stuff for a proper goodbye meal. All in all, it worked out fine…but boy did I drink way too much wine during my stay there. Those Brits sure can drink. Hah.

But anyway, my flight toward the Netherlands was incredibly early. Somewhere round seven, meaning I had to be at the airport at five, leave from the house at four, and thus get up a quarter to three so I’d be ready. Rushed through breakfast too much, of course, so when I had to fiddle with the navcom my stomach started to seriously complain, forcing my driver to stop by the side of the road so I could empty myself of the contents…better by the side of the road rather than my host’s new Land Rover with its cream leather seats, right? *snort*

This flight went without a hitch. Took about fifty-five minutes to reach the airport in Dusseldorf/Weeze, and I needed to wait there about twenty minutes for Cousin Ed and Tenant to come pick me up. Was a happy affair in total, especially tenant who got choked up, of course. There were long talks on the way to their new place, which was almost an hour’s ride.

First thing we did, (after food and unpacking a bit) was take a wonderful walk in a nearby park where dogs were allowed to run free. A good place there, in particular basically the whole park was accessible for tenant’s wheelchair. And everything was so wonderfully green again.

Was a tad late getting to bed again (I’ll sleep when I’m dead, we might as well say, right?) and the next day getting started was more than a little difficult. No helping it, though, a visit to Sally was in the plan, so we packed up tenant and the dogs, drove the distance, took a small walk near a big pond, and then went in the care home that is at this time Sally’s home.

It was startling to see her that way. They’d taken her out of her bed for a change, and she was sitting in the general area with her sister, who was feeding her lunch. So sad, not to mention shocking to see her now very frail body hang in this huge black chair, her head lolling to the side and her eyes swollen shut. There was little left of the boisterous woman I remember, that is to say, nothing was left, just a suffering shell. There seemed to be some recognition on her part, but communication was iffy at best. Neither Tenant nor I could hold back some sniffles as we sat there, watching her being fed. In the end, Tenant preferred to be rolled over to the window so she could look outside, and Sally’s sister and Cousin Ed had to leave to speak with the staff of the home, leaving me alone with her.
We talked a bit about the past, about her favorite food and grandpa and the dogs, and then she dozed off a bit. When she woke up again, she was a bit clearer and some more talk led to her laughing just a moment before pain in her chest hit her. She moaned pitifully then, which was hard. So I sat there, and held her hand and told her to squeeze if she wanted. She did.
It is a horrible thing to witness, I’ll admit, and watching her suffer I couldn’t do anything but whisper to her: “It’s okay. You can let go now. You did what you had to. You can just rest now. Just go to sleep and drift away,” which had her cry in relief, I thought. She calmed down soon thereafter, and with the promise of a painkiller she was soon driven away to her room so she could rest.

A difficult afternoon that, but we didn’t have long to linger on it, since we drove straight through to tenant’s daughter for a quick visit. Son in law was having an exposition, so after lemonade and cake (which we’d brought along) we spent some time in the gallery looking at portraits by him. Tenant really loved it, especially our visit to his art studio with smelled of oils and turpentine. It was fun.

Once home was when I got the news about my cancelled flight, so between everything, we planned a visit to the place where I lived several years of my childhood, way back when. It was really close to where Cousin Ed and Tenant live, so it seemed like a nice trip to make. It was.
First Cousin Ed and I took a really long nightly walk with the dogs, though. It was dark out already, but the night wasn’t too called, so we walked for about an hour and a half, talking of the things that had changed and the things that were still the same.
For a while now Cousin Ed has been wondering about maybe doing a visit to Spain, if only to see the last of her dogs, which grandpa is taking care of, but when I showed her some pictures, she changed her mind. It’s a sad sight for sure.

Anyways…the next day we had our outing.
For several hours we wandered through the dense beech forest that lay around the old estate that used to be home. The impressive lawns. The estate gardens and in the end even the massive villa that has at some point in the past few years been turned into an apartment complex.
We had a wonderful long walk through the woods, despite tenant’s wheelchair. There were moment where we feared we weren’t going to make it through the mulled forest earth, but I managed to lift and drag her through without incident. She did have a few scared moments where she moaned for big brother, but we got through it in one piece. Thankfully.

We met this really nice lady who lived there and we talked for a while before she offered for us to come with her into the main lobby.
It was rather wonderful, actually, to see the inside again. Where used to be the huge dining room with the endless white table-cloth tables used to stand, there was now a fancy lobby in which we got tea and a cookie as we talked and compared the changes to what I still had in my mind.
As I sat there, staring outside, I could still see the young people walking outside in their early eighties outfits, their long sleek hair, and the tents from when the workshops used to be, and all those memories that spun through my mind like some faded movie. Strange how you can recognize color schemes and shapes from so long a time ago, isn’t it. And the smell, despite all the changes, a hint of the old smell was still there. Amazing.
It was a wonderful afternoon.

The next day there were several activities planned for tenant, so Cousin Ed and I were on our own. We decided to go to another place where I used to live, to the heath fields close to the woods I used to call home. First we checked out the old village though. That is where I came upon my former stepfather, who works at townhall. There was some initial discomfort when we first recognized each other, and exchanged the usual pleasantries, then, as we went for a walk along the docks of the river, we both relaxed enough to show an interest in each other’s lives. It has been many years since I last saw him, and the resentments I used to feel have thankfully disappeared. Strange how time does that, isn’t it? Guess the distance of time does work miracles. Now there was just curiosity as to the man he has become, and enjoying the few discoveries I made during our talk.
We talked a bit about the younger sibs, who are his kids, and how there are genetics at play that remind me of him sometimes, which made him smile proudly, as it should.
Within a short time we said our goodbyes, though, that being his lunch time and all, and I was off to meet Cousin Ed for a drink before we headed up the mountain for our walk.

As for the remainder of the day, we visited Cousin Ed’s brother, who was happy to receive unexpected visitors (we picked up tenant first, seeing as she is rather fond of the man) and with whom I had a nice long talk about literature. Had crackers with cheese and tea, and plenty of talking in this cute little yard at the back of the house. His pride and joy, apparently.

Arrived back at the house before nightfall, big brother had sorted most of my new ticket out, all I had to do was reach the airplane company to sort out the remaining mess of a refund. Regretfully, due to the strikes, we didn’t manage to get a flight until Friday, and since the airport I arrived at only had a flight out on Sunday, my plane left from Köln, a good 161 km away from tenant’s and Ed’s place…that meant getting to bed on time and forfeiting the swim we had planned on, darn it. Really was looking forward to a swim at a big pool.

But okay, got everything packed, stocked the loads of licorice the family ordered into my backpack, had to leave behind some stuff to make room, and were up and about at five in the morning.

Arrived at the airport in time, made my flight and was back home just a couple of hours after noon. Yay. Big brother and grandpa were waiting for me and drove me home to the doggies in record time. The first moment I called them from my chair on the terrace they were a bit startled, but then they recognized me and came storming at me. Poor Knight slipped in his rush, and slammed into the table, but then he plunked his behind onto my lap and refused to budge for a solid fifteen minutes regardless of the heat. So that about sums it up, doesn’t it.
The whole strike thing made the adventure a lot more expensive than planned, of course. I had planned on spending maybe 100 bucks on food and treats, and ended up spending more than four-hundred due to car rental, mostly, and food and treats, of course. A week’s wages gone without a trace, but what the heck. It’s not like there will be a lot more opportunities to see both tenant and Sally.

First thing I did once the dogs calmed down was take a nap, and then we had to go out the grocery store because big brother and grandpa just used everything up and didn’t get anything new while I was gone, grrrr. Didn’t get to bed until after two in the morning, of course. Too many doggies to pet and correspondence to day, I guess.

So today was the first day back home for really, with the first day back at work, and it was okay. Nothing too strenuous, just the usual.

And that, sort of, concludes today’s blog. I gotta go.

He/She...

Song of the day: “Rapper’s delight” by the Sugar Hill Gang. Such an entertaining song.

So yeah, it is that time of the week again…well, two days late anyway, but it’s been busy and we got hit in the face by town hall once more. I don’t know what bug crept up those people’s behinds but seriously, they have issues. Now they aren’t satisfied that we broke everything down, nope. Added to that we have to remove the remnants of everything that we rushed to break down. Like some things, such as furniture we are trying to preserve under tarps and such are not allowed. Have you ever heard such nonsense? That you can’t have stuff stored under a tarp on your friggin’ own property. Those cabins we were forced to break down we have them stored as well so we can try to sell them. Need to be gone. Worse yet, they are also claiming that you can’t split up your fenced yard into different sections, which just boggles the mind. Whoever started this shaite on my family will have a lot of misery on his/her conscience if this goes a lot further. We have troubled dogs. Dogs that were mistreated when we first got them, and which do not go well with others without the protection of fences between them. If it is true (I’m meeting with someone who might know of a way to help us) and we are forced to take the fences away, we will have no other choice but to put several of our lovelies down for no other reason than that we would be unable to find other homes for them. I mean, we took them because they couldn’t be placed elsewhere, for crying out loud. If this comes to pass, it will be on that person, and his/her karma to carry, I tell you.
It is astonishing the lengths to which some town hall folk go.

I do admit that all this hassle, all this sadness and stress, make hard to maintain your cool and a positive attitude toward life, but I tell you this. I will do what I can, give it 110 percent for as long as I can to give these animals a good life and if I then fail I will look at it as something that was inevitable, like a disease. Out of my hands. That is the only way that I can live with it, I tell you.
And ones these wonderful animals are gone, and they have led the best life possible, with love and health and happiness, I will leave and start over some place far away from here. Nothing except those dogs keep me here now, not the wonderful people I met over the years, not this piece of land that holds nothing of me anymore. And I can have peace with that, I think. What remains is time, as much as I can give them.

Though Tenant is slowly getting used to her new place, and actually loves the new house where she can sit in front of the window, close to the radiator and with the TV at her feet, Sally isn’t doing well at all. Cousin Ed says that every week she is a little less Sally. Her entire body appears to be shrinking, while her head is still terribly swollen. She lies in bed all day now, staring at the ceiling with eyes that don’t see much of anything anymore. The only thing she still does is sing with her visitors when they come by. A sad thing that.

Which is all terribly depressing isn’t it? Well, that is not me, I refuse to accept depression, so let’s move on, and think of the positive things happening.

Writing. We have about 100 pages to go in the edit, and less than a week before we have to enter in the competition. We might not make it on the dot, but after we entered we are allowed to alter our submission for a few more days at least, so it should be manageable. Funny, isn’t it, that stuff always goes haywire while you are working with a deadline. Let’s just hope that we make this one.

Haven’t heard anything yet from “Chicago Hope” which is still at the publisher’s. I am not yet worried, seeing as they warn that it could take up to 8 weeks until you hear something. We’re about four weeks into it now. Keep those fingers crossed.

Cooking. Well, experimenting-wise there is very little to mention, seeing as there is even less time now than before, but I’ve been consistently eating healthy at least, if a tad rushed. Lots of cauliflower, broccoli, which is so wonderfully easy to prepare with a handful of dried herbs.

Dog food has been difficult this past week. The deal we have with some of the local rehab centers for their leftovers means that the amounts depend on what is left for them. At the moment it is very little, so we’ve been forced to substitute a few meals with dry food. Nothing wrong with that, but I rather have them eat fresh made food. Way more healthy. But one does what one can, right?

Had another dog at the vet. Little Sammie, Tenant's dog (both Sammie and Julia will be traveling toward their owner on the 22nd, which will be a relief)had an infection in the flap of his ear, making the darn swollen terribly and him absolutely miserable. Luckily it was not a "broken" ear, which would have been a costly venture, and just a matter of bursting the swelling which was all puss. Poor thing is on antibiotics now, but otherwise not doing badly. Phew. How he got it, is a mystery, but I suspect it has to do with his tendency to roam. There are these grasses and weeds that tend to get stunk in his fur. Both he and Julia definitely need a shaving before they leave.

The weather has been iffy at best. Beautifully warm and sunny one day. Sunny windy and icy the next. And then miserable, cold and rainy the other. There seems to be no thought nor rhyme to it. Right now it is rather splendid. I am outside on the terrace in front of what used to be my cabin, the sun is shining, there is very little wind and my dogs are lying around me. Better than that, it doesn’t get, does it?

Writing. Well, personally I’m looking forward to being done with this edit. It means that we won’t have a deadline anymore, and if we miss a session due to being unable to keep our eyes open, we won’t need to beat ourselves up about it. Instead, every spare minute that is found can be used to work on “Earth Drawn” (sci-fi) or “Gun!” which is totally an action flick, and for the first time in a long, long while 1st person narrative. There will be lots of humor in it (think Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang), which is definitely something I could use right now. Whichever I decide on, it will be fun to write again. To just like my mind wander, go with the flow, and practice a little escape-ism. As to which one…we’ll see.

Well, there still is a lot to do today. I’ve got a meeting in a few hours, let’s hope it will be helpful in some way. I would like to make a nice potroast for supper, which will take a minute to prepare, and which I will have to fit in at some point during the day. I’ve got to pick up little sister from work, then later tonight after my appointment I’ve got to pick up big brother, so all in all I will be lucky to have some energy left by the end of the day to do some edits. Hah.

Gotta go. I’ve got to admit that writing this blog did a good job of calming me down a little. Funny how writing does that, doesn’t it?

Sit down. Long update with pix.

So. Song of the day…well, let’s just skip that one for a change, eh. Kind of wrecked the ongoing list of songs of the day to find out if there was some sort of mysterious pattern to it by having stopped writing frequent blogs. But what the heck.

So much to tell, so little time to do it in. So strange to be writing this again, in particular after such a long time. I have to say that I missed it. And I will continue to keep missing it since there is no way in hell that I’ll be able to do this blog thing with any frequency in the near future. Life is just too chaotic, I fear. Samaya Young’s World, just isn’t what it used to be. In fact, there are times when it feels as if I am in some sort of alternate universe. But enough about that. By no means do I want to turn this blog into some whiny trip into how very traumatizing the past few month have been. They have, of course, but I’ll get over it. *snort* I’m determined. Life’s about change, and I’m going dive into this change head first, even if it kills me. Hah.

But okay. Where did I leave off, the last time?
Sally, right? The way she went back to her home country, and how it all was like some wonky Mission Impossible kind of thing. But we managed. Yay. You’ll be glad to know that cousin Ed managed to contact Sally’s family, which she hadn’t seen in years and years, and that they have stepped in and are helping her through these final months as best they can. Less pleasant is that while Sally is staying at a nursing home specifically for terminal patients, she is not doing well, and rapidly heading toward that final adventure into the unknown. She is in a lot pain these days, she’s almost blind, and her mind is degrading fast…the latter is a mixed blessing, really, since it allows her to be less aware of all that has happened and is still happening. Not long to go. Not long.

Things have been incredibly strange. I don’t remember if I already mentioned this the last time, but seriously, we had press vans at the gate, for crying out loud. Men and women with microphones and cameras telling the most outrageous lies about us on national TV. I kid you not. So strange, so surreal. Since we got the advice from the lawyer to just not “be home” for them, there were frantic games of cat and mouse to avoid them, until one morning big brother and I were on our way out, only to be waylaid halfway up the drive sweep by a news van and a very persistent camera crew. *sigh* Nothing to it. We had to try. So we spoke with them, told them that they were misinformed, and luckily one of their tech guys had lived in England for years and could translate for us. As it turns out rumor was that we were abusing these poor old folks who had been lured to our illegal senior home. When I heard it, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry (decided on the first, it was so insane) but here they were, wrecking the lives of two elderly women because of some sort of delusion of a paranoid social worker. Seriously, we heard that the woman cried on national TV while she explained of the horrible conditions in which tenant and Sally were forced to live. There were pictures in the newspaper showing the place where we made dog food, which was where we reportedly made dinner for the ladies. Aaaargh. The stuff that has been said, it was painful, humiliating and such…well, lies! that I was an emotional wreck for quite some time. I have to admit that the whole experience has made me look very differently at the news. Now every time they publish some sort of scandal, I wonder whether they are fabricating everything there, too. Probably. The truth is rarely sensational.

Be that as it may, not only have they wrecked our reputations locally, and forced our dear friends to leave the place they had wanted to spend the remainder of their lives, they also sicked city hall on us. Yep. We had everything from building permission, to sanitary and environmental services banging on our doors, and we were slapped with the proverbial rod with the order to take everything, the cabins, grandpa’s bungalow, the old autobus, the old RV and the derelict apartment by the old pool, away within one month, or else… Added to that was a bill of 60.000 bucks to the city workers that we could hire to clean it all up. *gulp* It was insane. Mom filed a complaint, but we all know how that works, right?
One month to break down 17 years of our lives. Everything except the main house. Big brother and grandpa were assigned to start on that ASAP while I had to divert my attention elsewhere.

Tenant. Lots of change there too. I asked her to decide what she wanted. Staying at the home in Puerto Banus (she hated it there, but she did recover wonderfully), where I would be able to visit her once or twice a week only, or going back to her home country where she could at least be in the vicinity of her daughter. She looked at me teary-eyed and then made a very decisive statement. Back to her home country. So then the planning started. For her and for me because there was just no way for her to travel on her own.

Over there everything would be arranged by cousin Ed who had found a temporary apartment where the two of them would be able to stay for the first three months. She took care of all the official stuff, the doctor’s appointments that would have to be done, a nurse to come check on Tenant the day after arrival, and all those little details that needed to be done to be able to take care of her.

As for my side, there was the packing. A carryon for myself, one for her, along with four big suitcases containing tenant’s clothes and some of cousin Ed’s. That was a lot of planning, in particular since Ryan air has so many restrictions. But let’s face it, I could hardly afford more than that particular company.

But anyway, lots to arrange, lots to plan. The trip was set on the fourteenth of September, and after work and a quick meal made by grandpa, we went to the home to pick Tenant up at four in the afternoon. Our flight was at seven, and she was lying in her bed, swearing at the staff for having put her there even though she hadn’t wanted it. So big brother and I got her ready. Well, I dressed her, and big Brother gathered the last of her wardrobe. We were out of there, like thieves, almost, despite the fact that I said my goodbyes to the kind women in charge who’d helped out so much.

So, the back of the car filled with luggage, big brother drove us to the airport, saw us off six times because we kept forgetting stuff in the car, hah. There was this very nice assistant who work at the airport to help invalids get to where they have to be, and we chatted with him until we were checked in and delivered at our gate. He wished us a good journey, kissed tenant’s hand (that sure made her day) and then left us to wait for our plane for two hours, because we had actually arrived at the right time. Hah.

It wasn’t too bad, we talked some, ate some of the lunch I’d taken along, and then the other passengers started arriving, filing in endlessly leaving us, and another lady in a wheelchair as last. So nice to have the poor old lady being dragged through the plane with everyone watching impatiently. No matter, got busy fast since the guys with the special stretcher had no idea how to get tenant from the stretcher to the chair. I had to do it instead. I grabbed the back of her pants with one hand, her shoulders with the other, and carefully pulled her onto the slippery seat. Since invalids are supposed to be seated by the window, we had to slide two more seats until she was finally settled and I could slide in beside her. What followed were a handful of SMS to everyone to let them know we were on board and about ready to depart, and then the phone had to be switched off and we actually got ready for liftoff.

First time in almost 25 years that I was in a plane again. Very strange experience. I wasn’t afraid, hardly even nervous, I just sat there and waited until we were in the air, trying to catch some glimpses of the outside through the tiny window beside tenant.
The flight was pretty uneventful. I did some reading, some writing, and then we arrived in Germany and were last to depart because they had to call for a special chair to get tenant out. Planes work with stairs, so that is pretty invalid unfriendly. Tenant was afraid first, when they started to wheel her out with the special seat designed to go of stairs, but then we were in a private bus and were transported to the arrivals hall. Everyone else was gone already and our four suitcases were the last one’s circulating. I was in a pickle there. Try navigating a wheelchair and a cart with a grand total of six suitcases. Practically impossible, but we managed. We came through the blinded doors and were watched by a silent group of fifteen or twenty people all watching me struggled with the wheelchair and the cart. Finally an nice old fella took pity on me and offered to help.

Again the waiting, and at a certain point, when I didn’t see her, I called to ask Cousin Ed where she was at. She was at the arrivals hall, alright, except she was, you won’t believe it, at the wrong airport. *sigh* Some odd 65 miles away from us. For her to get there would take more than an hour apparently, and from the sound of it, it was a common problem since both airports basically have the same name. So we waiting longer, wondered if we should take one of the ridiculously expensive coffees, and decided against it while we haunted the arrivals hall.
Finally cousin Ed did arrive and the whole waiting game to an exhausted end. There was the whole, “so sorry, good to see you, how was your trip” thing and then we were finally in the car and on our way to the apartment. It was dark, it was raining, and of course we got lost. Hah.

Though we arrived around ten thirty in the evening, we didn’t actually get to the apartment until after two. *sigh* I was seriously pooped. Did a bit of unpacking for tenant while cousin Ed helped her prepare for bed, and then, around three we were all finally in bed. It was very strange to lie there beside a wonderfully warm radiator. Slept like the dead, thankfully, waking to a cloudy day looking out over a dense forest at the top of the apartment building.
Here, have a look.

Now that’s a forest!

But anyway, managed to wake up enough to get showered, dressed and make breakfast, and then had a small mental melt down. Guess all the tension and stress of the weeks before got to me, and I really had to rush out onto the icy balcony to get myself under control, rather than worry Tenant who was a tad emotional herself already. Got myself under control within minutes, thankfully, and set to getting ourselves and tenant ready to go out. Made it as far as the car when the mental wonkiness started again, and it was all I could do to help put tenant in the car and leave them to it while I headed out down the road. This is what I walked through:

Gorgeous, right?
There is just something incredibly calming about all that green and moisture. Was nice and calm after a few minutes and got in the car so cousin Ed could drive us to town hall where she had to register tenant. I just stood out there, tenant still in the car beside me, taking in all the green and neat houses and friendly folk. Very strange to be there again after all these years. Very much a culture shock, I must say. After that we went to the car rental place where my drivers license had to be added to the contract. I had to be able to get around after all.
What followed was a day filled with bureaucracy, getting lost in the cities of which I remembered very little. The last time I was there, I was sixteen and took stuff for granted. Still there were some familiar spots while we went to town and had French fries for lunch.
Next it was on to the care home where Sally is staying. A desolate looking place, really, and old monastery, I believe with lots of nasty history over the centuries.
Here, have a look:

I love places like that. It breathes history, even if it is creepy.
The people were nice, though, and Sally in good spirits after those first few seconds where she didn’t recognize me. She was more bloated than before, but still Sally. Couldn’t stay too long, the day was rapidly passing, but I promised to come see her again soon, and then went out to do some sightseeing with tenant who had come with me, before we had to go grocery shopping.

Went to some places all three of us remembered from almost two decades ago, saw an old friend and even went to see my childhood house. It didn’t look at all like I remembered, in fact, in my memory it was huge, and now it looked downright tiny. It didn’t help that the new occupants changed a lot of it, leaving only the most basic shapes as familiar. Strangely enough it was the road there that I remembered best, that one curve around the beech tree, the cluster of birches and all that. Very strange all.
It was too late to see much, but I did get a few shots.

Not at all like the picture in my head, I fear. Upper left window used to be my room when I was little. The next two were of our two nephews. Big brother was on the other side. Hah.

Came home to the apartment late, with all three of us pretty exhausted as we rushed through unpacking the groceries and preparing some food. Didn’t get to bed until very late, partly because I had to send out a load of mails home, tenant’s daughter to set up an appointment for the next day, and because I couldn’t get my brain to shut down. Too much input, I think.

The next day the local nurse came to check up on tenant, followed by a visit of the local senior advisor who seemed like an extremely hard woman at first, who was looking at us with grave suspicion when tenant tried to explain what had happened. From what I heard, she hadn’t gotten most of it herself, and thus was telling the woman all sorts of things that only made her more suspicious, then, when it just became too confusing, I couldn’t help it, I started laughing and shaking my head and set the woman right. Once I explained the situation, and that these crazy social workers had put it in everyone’s head that we were some sort of illegal senior home, she relaxed a bit, and even turned out to be very kind, and helpful with all sorts of suggestions for tenant. I guess the fact that we all looked at the verge of tears from time to time helped with that too.l *snort*
I hate being a girl in that regard. Nothing is more wasteful than crying at the drop of a hat. I’m going to plead temporary insanity on that. Grrr.

Managed to do some work on my computer while waiting for tenant’s daughter and son-in-law, and went through a nice visit with pie which tenant’s daughter had been nice enough to bring along…along with some basic kitchen necessities for which we were incredibly grateful. The next step would be to go to 2nd hand stores to get the bare necessities for living, and some nice things to brighten the place up.
Were late getting to bed again, which had us rush through the next morning where tenant had an appointment with her new doctor.

They were late getting back, so I was late departing for the north of the country where I was going to visit an old family friend who would be able to help out with getting us some of those living necessities such as sheets, blankets and towels. Was a nice visit, really. Got to see all her cats, dug through the attic in search of everything we could use and then had to rush back because we hoped that I would be home in time for us to go view a possible permanent living place for tenant…was too late. I was actually making good time on the way back, and then got stuck in traffic before getting lost in the city. Grrr. Cost me a good half hour to get out of that. Hah.
Too late after that, so we gave up on the viewing, unloaded the car of all the handy stuff, and settled tenant in front of the TV. We left her to it and went for a bike ride, something I hadn’t done in more than seventeen years. I could still do it, but I did lose some of my confidence. Hah. It was nice though, despite the cold and the clouds. Nothing like biking through the woods…and a short walk afterward to cool down my thigh muscles. Boy, that was different.

The next day we went to visit Sally again, and this time I sat with her a bit longer, talking about home and anything that struck her fancy. Then it was time to say goodbye. I have to say that I am glad that her mind is rapidly deteriorating because she had very little understanding of my goodbye most likely being permanent. Difficult to say goodbye, isn’t it. In particular if you see a person you’ve known your whole life “disappearing” like that. Can’t be helped, though. Such is life and you can only do what you can. Spent some time in the city, getting some more necessities for tenant and Cousin Ed, and then met them at the appointed spot.

Next we went to visit tenant’s family where we had lunch and then left tenant with them so we could go to the local charity shop to look for furniture, kitchen appliances, lamps and china. A nice trip that, going through the old messes and finding little treasures for bargains. Nothing like haggling a bit either. The bigger stuff would be delivered by van the Monday after my departure, so in that regard both ladies were all set afterward.
Took all the small stuff with us to the apartment, showing it all off to tenant, who enjoyed the show at least.

Which was my last evening there. Went to bed late, which meant that getting up at five was a hardship. But my plane would leave at around eight, and it was at least a two hour drive crossing to Germany and then getting into a panic because we couldn’t find a gas station anywhere. Jeez. We had to get off the highway and find one, just barely in time too, which made us late already before we got stuck in rush hour near two big cities. Were barely on time at the airport, where customs left a row of more than four hundred people waiting before me. Since Cousin Ed had parked the car in front, she couldn’t afford waiting with me. So we said our goodbyes while she went back to pay the meter and hope that she could still catch me. She couldn’t, because by then more desks of customs had opened and the lines went faster. Arrived at my gate ten minutes before the plane arrived.

The trip was uneventful, except that it was stacked to full capacity with beside me a young German man who had forgotten to shower that morning. *sigh* I napped during the flight, and then watched the mountains of Spain slide under me once we got closer to home. Landing went smoothly and then I was out, looking for the airport exit dragging my suitcase. Did way too much walking that day, and my foot was about ready to fall off, but then I saw the Land Rover, and big Brother standing there in the sunshine with Knight II trembling at his side. At first the big lug was just scanning his surroundings and then, his head in my direction he suddenly stopped moving. I could see him think: “hey, that’s familiar” as he slowly lumbered around fully, his entire posture on full attention. I grinned, spread my arms, startling the taxi driver standing between us as I said, “Knightie boy” and saw him put at his leash in response. Fifteen yards to go and Big brother let go of his leash (scaring the taxi driver even more now that he realized why I was making kissy noises), leaving Knight to rush forward in a semi crouch before he launched himself at me. Silly boy. Did the whole hugging and petting thing, then reached the car and tossed my single carryon in the back beside Knight saying, “Let’s get the heck outta here!” Big brother complied and drove home.

Coming home was hard, though. Though big brother and grandpa had already started on my cabin, they had left it there so my dogs would sleep in familiar surroundings at least during my absence. For me that was difficult. Nothing like watching your home being taken apart bit by bit while you have to go through your things and throw away more than three quarters of it. I did a lot of crying in those days. Like I said, I HATE that, and felt pretty much horrible while still going to work every day, and then coming home to take apart more of our lives until there was nothing left. Luckily a glass or two (make that 3-4) at night helps. *snort*

But life has changed drastically, as I said. Most of it is unpleasant, seeing as in the months that passed we did little more than destroy everything that we’ve worked so hard for in the past five years.

Again our mechanics came to the rescue, supplying us with folks who could take out the old buses, but in order to do that, we first had to cut down a handful of trees and hire a bulldozer to create a road so the old 57 passenger bus could be removed. First estimate we got from a local company was 450 per day, 2 to 3 days of work, which was horrifying. Again the mechanics knew someone who’d do it for a hundred less and faster.
In order for the bulldozer to get there in time, we first had to take away the carport (aka our hobby room, fitness room, and living area), which we had to get done within 12 hours if we wanted to have the road done before the weekend. We worked into the late hours of night, but managed. Almost dislocated my shoulder there, since I had to hold onto one of the support beams while big brother cut through it with the chainsaw. It tipped and my shoulder went right with it. Hah. No harm done, though.

So the bulldozer came, dragged out the old RV first, and within six hours he had a path made, grandpa and big brother working right ahead of him to get the trees out of the way in time. He also took down the outside kitchen I never even had the pleasure of using. *sigh*
But, it was quite satisfying to be able to call the metal guys to let them know they could start on getting the buses that Monday.
Here are some shots of the whole thing.

With that done there was a week of keeping track of the dogs and seeing the vehicles with which we arrived in Spain disappear bit by bit.
Here:

And the truck that came to pick it all up:

Also, at the same time, we were taking apart the greenhouse. Such a pity.

Very depressing, and for grandpa it was even worse, because everything reminded him so much of the war when he and his family were cast out of their farm and sent up north with the rest of the refugees.

But anyway, that was done, and we were waiting for the ax to drop in regard to the old apartment by the pool. Three days before city hall’s deadline it became clear that it had to anyway, so we called the guy of the bulldozer only to hear that his machine was in the shop for repairs and that he wouldn’t be able to come until the next week. So frantically we started looking for another one. Finally got someone to come and look, but this guy said he’d need 5-7 days to take the apartment down, and that he’d charge us 450 per day. *gasp* Not doable, and a total hoax. We were in fact so out of sorts the next day Big brother took a sledgehammer just to see what kind of damage he could do with it on the apartment. Within three hours he had the darn apartment to smithereens, (I helped by standing safely on the side saying, “yeah, hit it there…and maybe there. It’s moving, a few more whacks and you’ve got it done! which had us both smirking at the end. 450 a day?! *snort*
Here’re the picks:

But anyway, the old stables are gone now too, along with our thousands of Euros worth of wood supplies which we either had to throw or cut up as firewood. There really is nothing left of…well anything. The house is there, where I now occupy a corner of the porch walled in by my closet with just enough space for my bed and a bit to walk around two parts of it. Very distressing, that. It’s like moving back home, robbing you of independence, privacy and pretty much anything that you value. For me, the Spanish adventure is pretty much over, really. Time here now I see as time to take care of final loose ends, giving my dogs some extra time at the only place they know as home, and cleaning up the mess. Then I am going to see what I am going to do with the rest of my life. It won’t be here in Spain, though.
I need change, and I need time away from here to get over what I can only describe as a tremendous trauma to my soul. It is not easy to lose everything, I assure you. But, whatever healing I need, I can’t do that here. Everything around me reminds me of what is gone, and I have come to hate most of what is left. Maybe at some point in the future I can look back at this with some fond memories, but for now, I want this era over and done with so that I may look to the future, start on it, rather than wait, linger and wait some more. I don’t feel I have the luxury to wait much longer regardless. Time is passing way too fast. *sigh*

I don’t know how I’m going to do this, you know, but I will. I have to, because I fear that if I stay I won’t be able to continue letting go of the hurt, which means that it would at some point break me.
Dramatic, isn’t it? Well, that’s me, right? Miss Drama. Can’t help that anymore than I can stop breathing. Ah well, I’ll let you know how that works out. Hah.
For now, it is continuing cleaning up the messes all the destruction left. Hell, we even had to break down grandpa and tenant’s old place, which didn’t do him well. The past two months aged him incredibly, and like me, I think he needs change too, a chance to breathe, to look to the future rather than the past. Same goes for big brother for that matter. You shrug it off out of necessity, put your foot in front of the other time and again and go on, but it eats at you, doesn’t it. In that regard I am a bit jealous of tenant who is over there starting her new life. Nothing is quite as depressing as cleaning up the old messes.

The fact that the Land Rover is getting more trouble too, and needs repairs doesn't help either, since that really would be the last straw...losing that last stable thing...yuck. It doesn't bear thinking about.

And you think, that everything that has been going on, with tenant and Sally being back where they came from, all the trouble would be over, but no. Just a couple of weeks ago social services were back at the door with a court order to come pick up the two old ladies we’ve been “holding against their will”, or some such nonsense. Where, for crying out loud? In the bathroom? There’s not enough room in the friggin’ main house to turn without bumping into someone, let alone two more people. Jeez. Not only are they cruel, hardheaded and stupid, they are also inept. What, they can’t check the airlines, but they can sic the cops and city hall on us? People like that should be locked up for the damage they do. Right now Sally is dying on her own 3000 km away from here, tenant and cousin Ed are on their own, needing to start from scratch, and there is no way that we can even go and visit them because we’re not done cleaning up yet. The deadline is approaching way too fast.

What else? Well, we lost two more dogs. Old age, mostly, but we did have to decide helping them along when the actual dying took too long. That would be too cruel. Carla and Chiuma. For them...and partly also for us...I'm glad it's over. Their world changed a lot, too.

But such is Samaya Young’s world at the moment. I am still trying to get that book revision done, but time is sparse because every day still involves cleaning up and hauling away the debris of our lives. By the time I sit down for edits after being on my feet for some odd 16 hours, I’m so darn tired I’m cross-eyed from it. Can’t be helped, though. The beginnings of a cold winter don’t help much either. Nor does working every day to pay the bills, too little sleep, and not taking the time for proper food. Hah. There is only so much a body can do, right, and I think that I have reached my limit for the time being. Running on empty and all that. The thing is, you can’t get further without letting go first, is my way of thinking.

Ah well, how wonderfully fatalistic all that sounds, eh? No worries. I’ll get through this. Like that song “When the going gets tough”, and “Bruises” that make life interesting, I too shall persevere…somehow. *wink*
And with that cheery note I’m going to leave it at this…8!!! friggin’ pages again! Oh gawd. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up with my maudlin. Gotta go. Lots to do still. Hopefully until soon.

A horrid eve at the Vet's.

No quiet rundown of today’s events, I fear. Not enough normal relatively positive things to report, just a horrid day that started out like any other and then suddenly turned…well: Horrid with a capital H.

I wake feeling weird (in hindsight anyways) finding it hard to get out of bed, and knowing up front that I won’t be able to get myself to do the workout I’m supposed to do this day. The dogs are restless, the weather dark and ominous and time seems to be pressing in everything that needs to be done before big brother and I need to leave for our bi-weekly lessons.

Yadzia needs to be fed, laundry should be hung–but can’t, due to the fact that the batches from the previous days haven’t dried properly yet–and breakfast seems to go down like a brick before I settle behind the computer to get some work done at least.

I manage about four pages before time’s up and we need to get moving, fast, in order to make it to town before the telephone shop closes. Luckily acquiring a new phone, to replace one that’s broken, takes only little time due to the large amount of points we have and allow us to get the mobile for free.

Afterwards, we hurry on over to school and get down to business with stupid tests that have to be done on paper once more, because the darn computers still weren’t fixed.
We spend about an hour and a half with only three tests under our belt, but with the satisfactory result that had we been doing exams, we would have passed.

By the time it is closing time for the school we head on over to the home improvement store to get some more wood for the last supply closet that still needs to be build. I am actually looking forward to starting on it by the time we get home.

We are just barely home, having just finished the pasta and fresh tomato sauce dinner little sister has made, when big brother appears with the disturbing news that Bala isn’t doing well at all.

Bala’s one of our old Golden Retriever, who’s been with us for more than ten years. He was supposed to have been a troublesome dog when we first got him from the animal shelter. We never noticed as much, however. He’s always been a cheerful dog, who loved to swim, play, fetch, and jump into a fray like it was the proverbial bar fight. A true alpha male, who, up until his lost his sight a few years ago was exactly that in our pack of ninety…something dogs.

But I get sidetracked, I tend to do as much on practically every occasion and today seems to be no exception.
As I was saying, big brother came with the news that the Retriever wasn’t feeling well, so I call the vet’s emergency number and inform him that we’ll be at the hospital in twenty minutes and if he can be there by the time we arrive.

Five minutes later we are on our way, Bala, whose entire chest looks swollen, and whose gums are rapidly turning blue when breathing obviously is a problem for him. The poor fellow’s overweight, what with getting very little movement over the past years since his eyes went, but he’s bravely keeping himself up straight as he stands there on the back seat, wagging his tail sluggishly.

He actually manages to walk on his own as we head to the vet hospital and are greeted by a young vet, who apparently is today’s on-caller. We know her as the vet’s girlfriend, and though she is competent enough in emergencies, we are a little annoyed about the fact that our regular vet isn’t there.
He is the expert nonetheless, and his competence always manages to reassure us.
Alas, no such luck today.

The young woman goes through the motions of checking all the things we’ve already summed up. It is a nasty thing about vets that don’t know us well, I fear. They need to check everything before they decide to believe that which you’ve already been trying to tell them since the moment you walk in.

I’m pretty sure, from the moment we depart that this is Bala’s last day with us, and this slowly gets confirmed while the vet tries to biopsy his bloated stomach and chest, confirming that it is filled with liquid, rather than air. That his heart can barely keep pace, that his lungs are working over time without effect and that he has a bad fever.

The X-Ray, she insists on taking, is useless, due to the amount of liquid gathered in his chest, and by the time she starts pocking the poor Retriever with a needle, big brother and I make the dreaded decision of euthanizing him…even though the vet will not give us an educated guess about whether or not treatment, surgery and whatnot, will improve the quality of his life enough to make the trauma of such measures worthwhile.

It is a horrid choice and it is ours to make, whether we like it or not.
It was horrid the first time we had to make it, the second time, third and all the others that followed. And I am sure that it will remain thus with all those that are bound to come in the future.

So we make it, declaring that we don’t want to put Bala through a battery of tests, which are likely to lead to this conclusion anyway, and hug him tight as the vet nods and starts preparing.
She takes so very long. I hate it when they do that while we’re standing there, petting our old friend over and over, telling him it’s fine and that everything will be okay. I know that the vets do this to give us time to say our goodbyes, but in all honesty, in most cases I wish they’d hurry through it.

If I didn’t find it so cruel to leave the dog alone with the vet, knowing full well that the poor animal would never understand, I would not stay there during that final injection. But I feel that this is something any animal deserves: Them not being alone in that final moment is much more important than any emotional discomfort I experience every time we are forced to go through this process.

I admit that I always expected that having a dog put down would get easier as time passed and experience prepared me, but it doesn’t. It hurts every time, in a variety of degrees that wobble with every different dog.

With my hands on his chest, big brother’s over his neck and head, the vet injects the pink anesthetic. The moment the syringe is empty, I can feel–and see–Bala release his final breath, announcing that things were pretty bad, for him to go that fast.

Usually there is a slow decline in respiration; the head drooping steadily before it comes to rest on whatever surface the dog is lying on, until the overdose takes them gently away. For all the ways to die, this one definitely has a lot of pros.

Two seconds and he is gone. He doesn’t even need that final shot designed to stop his heart, or so the vet explains, even as she plays it save and inserts the needle once more.
Bala is gone, just like that, after just three hours of real illness. I still can’t encompass it entirely, but there it is, reality in all its brutal glory, I suppose.

Though big brother sheds a tear or two–it surprised him too–I don’t cry while we leave the hospital carrying Bala with us for burial at home. I’m more angry than I am sad at that point, frustrated too, since I find it so grossly unfair that animals such as dogs have such a terribly short lifespan.

I have had the thought a millions times before, but it keeps returning like a pesky ache, much like that of a loose tooth that one keeps prodding at.

Heading home the atmosphere is morose and quiet, the younger sibs meeting us at the carport and then the kitchen for a full report. They give sad nods, understanding full well how such things go, since they too have lost dogs this way.

Not much talk is exchanged for the rest of the evening, which I bleakly sit out in front of the pilot of “the Mentalist” which was recorded yesterday. Though it is good, I can’t really muster up any enthusiasm about it. Probably not the best idea to watch it tonight, but we’ve got to do something to get through the remainder of the night.

I feel nauseous and tired when I finally head on up to my cabin, the dogs around me strangely quiet when I feel something inside my chest pop all of a sudden.
“This sucks,” is the first thing that comes out of my mouth when tears suddenly start streaming down my cheeks, followed by, “what a horrid, horrid day,” which keeps spinning through my mind, over and over as Bala’s death reminds me once more that for the next few years this is going to be a very familiar feeling.

Most of our pack were gathered during the time Bala came to us, and they too are rapidly advancing in age, making their demise an inevitability that looms in a quite near future, I fear.
This thought, of course, sets me into a genuine sob fest that has the dogs look at me with a mixture of alarm and confusion, as they gather around me, jump on the bed and try to lick my face.

Deciding that I might as well get it all out, I don’t bother fighting the crying jag, and just let it all out until I finally calm down enough and find myself writing today’s Blog.

I want this day to be over, and I want it over fast, preferably.