another birthday approaches

As my birthday draws closer, I am fully embracing the blessing of growing another year older, another laugh line around my smile or my eyes. I am also doing some last minute cleaning and then packing, because zero-dark-thirty tomorrow morning, I fly out to actually spend my birthday on vacation.  While I am dreading boarding my dogs this trip, it is just not possible to take them with me.  I haven’t taken an actual vacation and gone anywhere in years… It’s time to change that.  It’s time to take more than just a long weekend.

I’ve been under a considerable amount of stress at work, which has just shy of driven me through the roof.  But yesterday, I joked with a coworker how one of the greatest feelings was turning on the email auto-respond that you are out of the office.  Before leaving for the day, I told both my supervisors I would be turn OFF my work phone and only checking it before flying home, maybe.  My immediate supervisor laughed and said, good you need to enjoy your time in Louisiana.  I plan to.

So today, I’m cleaning and packing and listening to my feel-good playlist on Spotify and Rod Stewart comes on….

May the good Lord be with you down every road you roam.
And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you’re far from home.
And my you grow to be proud, dignified and true.
And do unto others as you’d have done to you.
Be courageous and be brave.
And in my heart you’ll always stay

Forever young. (Forever young)
Forever young. (Forever young)

When I was a child, this song use to come on VH1 or the radio, my dad would turn the volume on the tv/radio up and sing along.  Most the time it would also involve him scooping me into his arms and dancing around our family room.  Just thinking about this dear and happy memory brings happy tears to my eyes.  I’m a daddy’s girl in every sense of the word.

When I called my dad from a deployment to tell I had gotten married (like a dumbass kid), he pretended to be happy for me.  I found out later he called one of my closest buddies and was at the bar drinking by 10am.

When I moved from North Carolina to Illinois, my dad flew down from Michigan to help pack up the moving truck.  When I moved from Illinois to Arkansas, my dad came.  From Arkansas to Connecticut, again my dad came to pack me up…

I could call my dad any time of the night or day and he’s never too busy.  He might initially say he is in the middle of something, I try not to be selfish unless I just need my dad; but he always sets aside what he is doing to talk to me.  I am daddy’s girl in every bit the definition of the saying.

May good fortune be with you, may your guiding light be strong,
Build a stairway to heaven with a prince or a vagabond.
And may you never love in vain.
And in my heart you will remain

Forever young. (Forever young)
Forever young. (Forever young)
Forever young. Forever young

Daddy, I love you.  You and momma did an amazing job, no we didn’t always have everything we wanted and no kid should; but we always had want we needed.  Most of all we had each other.  I know both you and momma worried that when we grew up, we’d grow apart -your four children.  I am so happy to say, your fears never came to pass.  My siblings and I are close as any friends, no matter the miles or in some years, the oceans that separate us.

And when you fin’lly fly away, I’ll be hoping that I served you well.
For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell.
But whatever road you choose, I’m right behind you win or lose,

Forever young. (Forever young)
Forever young. (Forever young)
Forever young. Forever young
For forever young

I know you brag about all your children.  Any time we talk, you have some new stories about who you were bragging to, about how your children grew up…how we were holy terrors, but ohhhh the adults we became.  You constantly tell me how proud you are of the path I have taken in life.  Daddy, I never would have made it as far as I have without the guidance and love you and momma showed.  I’m turning 38 in just a few short days, but I know you still see me as an 8 year old girl, running around the house on Mindanao, dancing with you or swimming in the pool you couldn’t keep me out of.  I hope you never loose that vision of me.

Daddy, so much has changed in the past few months.  I know it’s been a couple of rough years.  Thank you for always sticking by me, no matter what, no matter how far, no matter how mad or full of anger I was.  Daddy, I promise things are changing again.  Even Elya said it the other day or week, on the phone…I think it was two weeks ago.  The changes that she hears in me and in my heart, it’s a beautiful thing.

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forever your little girl

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Why am I still holding on?

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Why is sorting through the junk in my house so incredibly difficult.  What in the actual FUCK is still wrong with me?!
Why am I so frustrated trying to do this!!
Why do I have so many stupid cook books?  I hate cooking!

Some times, a lot of times, I have found that if I just start typing…verbal vomit, so to speak, sometimes I have those A-HA moments and realize what is holding me up.  Something just clicks.  So now, I’m trying to figure that out…

Late fall, early winter, I set the goal that I would have more control over this house.  I would do a mass de-cluttering.  Well, it’s April and I still feel closed in… there is too much shit and the further I dig into things, the more crammed into spaces I find things.

Let me back up.  I hate clutter.  I hate a messy house.  So in reality, this house is no where near a episode of hoarders, it just feels that way to me.  I have to much junk, too much junk that is not used.  It needs to go.  So why, when I am looking at a pile of cook books in my kitchen, that I pulled from their hiding spot last Sunday do I get anxious and want to put all of them back into their hiding spot on the rack?!  I hate cooking.  It’s not that I’m bad at it, I just don’t like it.  I managed to put half of the cook books into a box to go to Goodwill.  This morning, it dawned on me.  Pinterest.  I have Pinterest, if I need to find a recipe, I can just surf Pinterest and ditch 95% of these cook books.  Hell, one had so much dust on the top of it, that I’m sure I have not looked at it in four years.  I do not need this book, why have I been holding on?! When I sent that text message to my boyfriend, he responded with, “No baby, I know how to cook for us.”  This simple answer seemed to make it so much easier, so simple.

Hoodies… oh dear god I have a hoodie obsession.  I pulled all the ones hung on hooks behind my bedroom door, off yesterday and moved them to the chair in the front room.  I looked, picked up each one, put it back down at least four times.  I could not bring myself to put any of them into the pile for Goodwill.  FAK.

What the hell is wrong with me?  Abandonment issues?  Financial struggle?  Personal and or work stress?  All of the above??!

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Ok.  What am I holding on to, just in case… What if I need this dress for a special occasion?  What if I need… Or what if I want this later.  It’s time for it to go.  The trouble I have, is anxiety kicks up trying to place these things into the box to Goodwill.  Some how I need to force through it and just be done with it.

I’ve done a good job of cutting people out of my life that weighed me down, ones that made me feel bad about my life decisions or just in general made me feel bad about me.  Now it’s time to further disconnect from physical possessions. Physical possessions do not bring happiness, it brings a cluttered confined space, and this brings on more stress.  I feel it about mid week, when I feel my house has become a mess and I just become more frustrated by the way my house feels to me and I cannot get comfortable in my own space because it feels so confined.

Yesterday, going through one of the cook books, I found a handful of old pictures, yes actual pictures.  Pictures that were almost 20 years old to about 15.  One of the photographs was of my brother and my ex-husband, when my brother graduated crew chief school… The photograph stopped me in my tracks, a few heartbeats later I stuffed it somewhere and tried to re focus on something else to distract me.  This is not the first time this has happened.  There is an old ziplock bag full of pictures, stashed on a bookshelf semi out of sight.  These photos range from over 20, 25 years old to probably about 15 years.  I know there are pictures from my married life in there and I don’t want to look at them.  I’ve tried.  I start trembling and then I find myself shuffling the pile back together and stuffing them away again.  I know I need to do something with them, but what… just toss them?  Is this part of what I’m still clinging too??

I think one of the biggest bullshit lies as women we tell ourselves, is that retail therapy is good for the soul.  No, it’s not.  It’s clutter and trying to fix one problem with another problem.  A year or so ago, I made myself promise if I buy a bag (purse, gym bag, work bag) one goes out the door to Goodwill.  I have been rather successful at keeping to this.  Now, I need to apply this rule to everything else I buy.

  • Groceries -I have a horrible habit of not taking full inventory of my cupboards before going and buying things to cook with.
  • Clothes -aww hell.  I probably wear the same few articles of clothing over and over again.  I need to do another huge purge on my closet and dresser.  Yes I’ve done one or two since early winter and dragged out the obvious things I do not wear.  Now, it’s time to do it again. This applies to both gym clothes and everyday clothes.  I probably have way too many gym clothes too.  Hell my suits for work could probably use a purge too.  Am I holding on to extra stuff because what I wore use to be a huge fight?  Why are you wearing that?  Who are you trying to impress!
  • Books -holy fuckmonkeys.  This is probably one of the biggest.  I love books, I love being surrounded by books, real actual physical books.  Being in a bookstore or a library is probably one of my happiest places.  But how many books do I own, just because.  It’s time to purge those… That is the one thing I have yet to touch and their are piles of books in just about every room of my house.  Shut up.  It’s a tiny house.
  • Makeup.  I go through phases, I guess, what kind of makeup I wear and… No.  I just need to chuck most of it.  I’m not even sure how old some of it is.  Why am I holding on to it?  Because he (ex husband) said I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup to go to the grocery store?  Because he use to accuse me of cheating..

 

Text message with my boyfriend this morning, “Well, we can just set it on fire and I can come over to put it out.”
“Ya know.  Maybe that’s how I need to look at it.  If there was a fire, what would I want to replace.”
Maybe this is exactly how I need to look at it.  What would I truly be heartbroken loosing?

I need more coffee….

2017

I have a long standing friend, Matt, who I have random conversations with in text message.  His life is busy with a wife, two young kids and a very patience dog.  He once commented how he enjoys reading my blog.  How it’s like listening to me tell a story and he enjoys the preview into my life even though we now live a thousand miles apart.  Aaaaaand he apologized for being THAT guy who was first to text message me and wake me up on Christmas morning.  I couldn’t help but laugh reading that text.  I also had to explain, that not only did my iPhone ding, but the Bluetooth speaker it is hooked up to for music (which I usually sleep to music) and then my Garmin watch buzzed with the new message alert.  There was no escaping the one ding of the phone.  But I also smiled, hearing how he enjoys these random topics, rants and self conversations from inside my head.  To me, this blog is more an electronic diary…. maybe I should start a few entries, Dear Blog…. nahhhh, lol.

Dear Diary, 😉

We are two weeks into the new year….
I’ve seen the New Year, New Me posts on social media and I’ve seen the New Year, same asshole posts. I’ve also seen the taunting tabs at the New Year Resolutioners and the return of how we were all beginners at one point.  At some point or another, we have all posted these…if you’ve had a gym membership for more than a year, you know what January brings.  Crowded gyms and wait lines for just about any piece of equipment.  While the gym owners love the sudden flow of new members, the dedicated members tend to dread this time of year.  It starts to slow in February and usually by March it is over.  Deal with it.  It will happen again next year, and the year after, and the year following that…

Last year I posted a blog, New Year, New Me….bite me. Besides the weekly summary and rambling on strongman training, in the first paragraph I talk about how I’ve never made a New Years Resolution and I was planning on sticking with that.  I talked about how things in 2015 had worked out pretty well for me, so why change anything.  Then between March and May a change started, slow at first then slowly gaining momentum, until it felt like a hurricane inside me. In May, I posted a blog (time to start doing the things), trying to put my feelings into words, feelings I had not even realized yet.  I was two weeks out from what was my last strongman competition, before an unknown injury became so bad I couldn’t even get out of bed.

In the May blog, I talked about how I was tired of saying someday to all the things I want to do in life, I talked about how it was time to start crossing things off my bucket list.  While I didn’t do any further “tooling” on my Jeep myself, I did start venturing out hiking, camping, snowshoeing…heck even my first rock climbing experience…ok, so rock climbing was after the first of the year.  But looking at how far I’ve come since making the decision of even with some day and just do it.  I’m proud of 2016 and I don’t plan for things to go stagnate in 2017.

They say, if you talk about your goals constantly, you’ll never achieve them, it’s just talk.  To an extent I’ll agree with this.  But I’ve never been one to blast my goals all over social media or to anyone who will listen.  I have a few select close friends that I confide my feelings, dreams and wishes to.  But today, I think I’m going to put a few things down here.  Going back to the opening of this blog, I told my friend Matt, how I do enjoy writing.  He commented how it must be a liberating feeling.  I distinctively remember I was standing outside in the cold January Michigan air and I lifted my face to the cold and smiled.  Yes.  Yes it is rather liberating.  Posting several very scary feelings and confessions…leaving this out there for anyone who cares to see and read.  Baring my bruised and battered heart in some aspects.  Other times, sharing my joy or sudden conquered fear. It is liberating.  This is my public diary…and in one year I want to be able to look back on this entry and compare, like I am today, on how far I have come.  How many things I accomplished and what did I add to my list as the year progressed.

So here is to a new year, a new you if you want it, the same you if you want… To finding happiness in all that you do and a full and happy soul.

You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.
-C.S. Lewis

  • get my passport
  • travel outside the United States
  • get better at yoga
  • paint more
  • continue to work on MY happiness
  • rock climb, frequently
  • more camping
  • backpacking trips, yes TRIPS, multiple
  • cut back on the junk and clutter in my house …dare I say, go minimalist
  • read more

 


-Inked Amazon 💋

Happy Winter Solstices

I posted this to my facebook:

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🌜❄️Happy Winter Solstice ❄️🌛

Or hibernal solstice is an astronomical phenomenon marking the day with the shortest period of daylight hours and the longest night of the year. In the Northern Hemisphere this is the December Solstice and in the Southern Hemisphere this is the June Solstice.

The 2016 Winter Solstice officially arrives at 5:44am Eastern time on December 21st.
The winter solstice is when the Earth tilts to a position where the northern hemisphere is the furthest away from the sun, causing less light to reach that region. For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, Dec. 21st will be the shortest day and longest night of the year, with exactly 9 hours, 15 minutes and 6 seconds of daylight.

Each year, as the Daily Telegraph of London reminds us, the winter solstice is marked by cultural festivals and pagan celebrations, most famously at the historic Stonehenge monument in England.

But it’s so much more than just a Wikipedia like rehashed quote. Of course I have a several family members that are over the top christians, borderline bibile thumbing… I love them dearly and it’s not just worth the verbal arguments or responding posts to get into the religious debate on social media.

Instead I spent my evening, working on a painting, snuggling my boys, yoga in my front room with candles and then some meditation.  Saying thank you for everything I have learned and re discovered about myself this past year.  That I am open to the coming year and the continued growth and change.  I am open to receive.

I woke up December 22nd to a beautiful blue gray light. Driving to work, the feeling of happiness bubbling from deep with in. I have not been as excited about this holiday season, according to my brother I “get weird around the holidays.” It might not be the normal excited about the holidays as it is happiness and joy, not just in the holidays but in life itself.

At a traffic light, heading to work I sent a text message to a friend, “I’m genuinely going to try and make it out Saturday evening.  The weather is sounding decent.  Still the warm up coming.  5pm you said?”  I meant it, I wasn’t just saying I appreciate the invite but had all intentions of staying home.  She responded before I could drive a full block, how excited she was to having me coming out.  This warmed my heart even more.  It was a fabulous morning, a positive feeling I was able to carry the entire day at work, despite how absolutely insane things became.

lost and rediscovered

I’m closing on my twenty year high school reunion.

Where the hell did twenty years go?!?

One of the gals I went to high school with created a Facebook group, I’ve watched the threads posted, the comments and the pictures… Let’s face it, without the pictures I don’t remember more than a third of the people I went to high school with.

I don’t miss it, I don’t look back at high school and think, those were the best years.  High school sucked plain and simple, sucked more than any teen movie portrays.  The popular crowd ignored those not among them, bullied some, laughed openly at others… I wasn’t bullied in high school, but I was bullied in junior high (different school district); this set a hard life lesson that not everyone is going to like you and you can’t be everyone’s friend. At twelve and thirteen years old, that’s a rough lesson to learn.  It’s probably why, by the time I hit high school and a new school district I no longer cared about the popular crowd and I couldn’t understand why anyone on “the outs” wanted to be like them.

What I do miss about high school, besides not paying bills and not having to be an adult yet… oh and the idiotic dreaming about how amazing being an adult would be, ugh weren’t we all blind!  Do I actually miss anything?  Well, I still think the music was better in the 90s.  Fashion, well that depends on who you look at.  Some of it makes me laugh. I would say an accurate depiction of how my generation dressed in high school would be one of two teen movies: Can’t Hardly Wait or She’s All That.

Thinking back before high school, during the years of 7th and 8th grade when I was bullied; I read just about every book I could get my hands on.  My poor mother was making constant trips for me to the public library and I could spend hours lost in the isles.  Remember this was long before the digital e-readers (kindles and nooks), there was no social media and no internet…thank god.  I also discovered a love for drawing.  At that age I did not know what good art supplies were or the difference.  I just swiped my father’s pencils and any blank or even lined paper I could get my hands on.

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.

Recently I changed my facebook profile picture; my more militaristic guy friends have taken to enjoying calling me a hipster.  Which a slouchy beanie and flannel does not make you a hipster anymore than a law degree makes you President of the United States.  I’ve worn flannels since high school, this one in particular happens to be over five years old (and Under Armor brand) an the beanie, well I have a very extensive collection of knit beanies in constant search of the perfect one.

So my friend Bee and I had a brief conversation about this, laughing; I commented how if I as a hipster it started in high school, or just before, but I was just more or less one of the art kids.  Bee commented back how she would love to have seen some of my high school work.  Bee has seen a few pieces I recently started working on.  I feel very out of practice, but like anything, the more you sketch, the better things feel.  I still have my college portfolio…before I ran off and joined the Army out of a broken heart… and a few pieces, sketch books, from high school.  I know exactly where they are and without thinking I started pulling them out and sending her pictures of some of the different pieces that stirred old feelings.

 

Art washes away from the soul the dust of every day life.

Art is never finished.  Only abandoned. -Leonardo Da Vinci

Some of the pieces were just doodles, some were pieces that had been turned in as art assignments.  Pages upon pages loose in a folder or tucked into books.  I use to not go anywhere without a sketch book and a couple pencils.

 Every child is an artist.  The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up. -Pablo Picasso

Sometimes, I wonder, if by joining the Army my young self, felt that I had to put away my past and all things associated with it, like my art.  A year after joining the Army, I got married, suddenly and much shock to my parents.  Inside, I know that somewhere I felt I was expected to grow up more, to change…sadly I did just this.  There are very few sketches from the years I was married, almost none and even less from the few years post divorce.  Post divorce is probably when I should have been sketching more than anything… *sigh* …instead I turned into a workaholic. I spent years this way, too many years.  In fact, the past two years have felt like waking up from a coma…a walking breathing coma.

This past summer, after my lifting injury (slip disk in my neck) I started sketching again.  I bought two new sketch books, one large and one small one.  I need, want, to get back into the habit of carrying the smaller one with me again….like I use to do once upon a time.  I still have all my old pencils, smudge sticks, paint brushes and other random things one collects, a cheap large tool box holds most the randoms and then late summer I dropped some cash for a new desk.  Some days it seems to be a catch all for clothes during the week.  But last weekend it served the purpose as a make-shift sewing table.  The simple fact I am slowing bring back the artist inside me makes me feel more complete.

-Inked Amazon

🎶 bicycle, my bicycle 🎶

Thanksgiving weekend has come to a close, my sister flew out early Sunday morning.  It was a weekend well spent, with a lazy Thanksgiving Day in pjs, movies a rotisserie chicken, pumpkin pie and wine.  Friday was not spent trying to catch sales, instead it was spent hiking in off and on rain with a little off roading in my Jeep, aka Lady Jaye.  Afterwards we grabbed a hot sandwich and soup, a shower then a late night movie.  Saturday, we decided to enjoy one of the local Mediterranean cafes for lunch, play in World Market and walk around a few other shops, just browsing, no actual shopping.  Thai food for dinner, some old movies out of a three dollar bin and just relaxing before getting up at four-thirty to drive her to the airport this morning.

After more sleep, a bunch of coffee on Sunday I set back to the task of working on the plant stand tables I keep in my bedroom, that double as end tables.  Then I turned my attention to the pile of t-shirts I have and have been sitting in a pile just collecting dust.  These are ‘participation’ t-shirts as I have dobbed them.  Shirts from competitions, a few Army PT shirts and a job in between.  We all have these shirts, in the bottom of a drawer or the back of the closet…. Instead of just getting rid of them, I am going to turn them into totes, produce bags for shopping.  I’m trying to get away from the standard plastic bag that every store uses.  1. I have about a bazillion of them stuffed inside each other in my house already. 2. I want to get completely away from being dependent on these bags at the store.  So I started prepping them, cutting off the sleeves, cutting out the collar and later this week, I will be digging out my sewing machine and stitching them together to create the bags.

With all this, my mind has been wandering since Ellie left… We had briefly discussed mountain biking, it’s not the first time, nor will it be the last.  Sadly, my bike, which is almost ten years old now and in much need of upgrade…so much, I should just replace it.  it is a 26 hardtail and I have wanted a 29’er for a long time.  Ellie has made a few small comments here and there how I should take mine in for the maintenance it needs… But I know it needs a new cassette, new brakes, cogs look like they could be replaced too, I’m sure the chain as well… Well, hell, what doesn’t need replacing?  The petals? The saddle?  The handle bars?!?

Surfing facebook, I was looking at my old mountain biking pictures, there’s not a lot, and a few comments.  I guess to a lot of people the idea of a grown adult riding through trees on a single track (about double your shoulder width) as fast as possible, up and down hills, over roots and rocks and trying not to wipe out and land yourself in the emergency room (which I have, several times); well that doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense to some.
Anyway, the last of the comments was 2011… damn …I haven’t been on my bike in 5 years?!?  Has it really been five years?! This actually makes me kind of sad.  I loved riding.

A couple of weeks ago, when I was out of town on a work trip, Grimm (my pittie) some how or another found my mountain biking helmet, tucked away, got it out and chewed it to oblivion.  Ok, so one piece that would have to be replaced.  Along with the fact I doubt half my baggies fit anymore…(laughing)….I’m a tad more muscular than I was 5-10 years ago, but I still have all of my gear.  The clothing is kept safely tucked away along with my shoes and other protective gear, in the back of my closet. But. I’m gonna also need a new rack, too long in an old garage and my old bike rack is toast. It just might be time this winter to buy a new bike, dust off the gear and get back to the trails after this winter’s snow ends.  I’m not big on riding in subzero freezing temperatures, staying warm is one hell of a trick and the riding…well, I did a little snow riding a few years back, once it gets over a few inches deep it just SUCKS…like riding through sand and a lot of it.

It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a few months.  Hell any time I’m hiking a trail also shared by mountain bikers I think about it.  My friend Bee, comments about how I’m definitely nuts to ride through some of the areas we’ve hiked, but that’s half the fun of it.  Talking with Ellie this past weekend has the idea of riding again back at the front of my brain.

I never seem to keep cheap hobbies… I did try crocheting a few years ago; I got bored, lol.

 
-Inked Amazon
💋💀

life with dogs

Thorns may hurt you, men desert you, sunlight turn to fog;
but you’re never friendless ever, if you have a dog.

-Douglas Mallock

They call dogs, man’s best friend.  True, but the dog, is also woman’s best friend…and childs, and any hooman who actually deserves the love of our four legged furry companions.

It’s not dog ownership; I own my clothes.  My clothes don’t make me break down and cry (ok, maybe when I’m having a fat day they can be frustrating, lol), or kiss my face when I am crying.  My clothes don’t believe that their love can make everything better, heal me on a sick day, or mend my broken heart.  My clothes don’t greet me with love and adornment when I come home from work.  You don’t own a dog.  You love and cherish them, four-legged children that don’t really speak the same language you do.

With all that love and playfulness, comes the terrifying side too, injury and sickness.  This can down right rip your heart apart, terrify you and for some create such panic that the walls feel like they are closing in on you.
This happened to me, twice now.

The first time was New Year’s Eve 2012, Reese had some kind of extremely bad reaction to his food or something he got into, I still am not exactly sure what it was.  A solid night of puking and dry heaving.  I was up all night with him and an emergency visit to his vet, which thankfully was open on New Year’s Day.  A shot for the vomiting, and by evening he was better.  We went through the blan food diet for a couple of days, new dog food and he responded beautifully.

Well.  Like two kids, no two dogs go through the same experience.
But let me back up.

I have two dogs, I’ve spoke of them in past blogs, tons of social media posts, if you’re on my SnapChat you’ve received more snaps of my dogs than anything else.  I am in full title a “pawrent,” these are my children, my heart.  A year ago, I posted a blog talking about how puppies are assholes, at that time Grimm was only six months old and we were still breaking through house training and the struggles that go with having a bully breed child.  In all terms, Grimm is still a puppy, a toddler now so to speak.  We’ve passed through his asshole stage and life is great.  I think in total, clothing wise, I’ve lost one pair of sweat pants to his chewing, maybe a random shirt, but nothing that sticks out in memory.  Furniture seemed to be his thing… The corner of one of my dresser drawers, the soft sides of the ottoman footstool, countless dog blankets, a dog bed, a pillow, rope balls, endless tennis balls.  All of which I was ok with, well except for the ottoman and dresser drawer.  The nightmares of his puppy days were crate training and house breaking.  Now, he’s just my sweet, sweet pittie, full of love and energy.

Until this past Saturday night.

I was on duty last week, aka on call; and it had been a bit of a rough week.  The first four days started out with working 12 hours playing guard duty in the hospital.  Friday was a little better, until a work call came in late Friday evening, that myself and the back-up were going to have to work a couple hours Saturday morning -mind you, we get no OT for this.  This is all part of the gig.  It’s what I signed up for, while yes it can be annoying and frustrating, it is part of the job, so you take it in stride.  Ok, so a couple hours Saturday morning, get a workout in afterwards, hair appointment and run some errands.  I was gone from home six to seven hours.  I got home, and there was puke in Grimm’s crate.

Letting him out, he acted like his normal happy puppy self, playful and energetic.  He was extremely remorseful about his mess, constantly trying to cuddle while I was cleaning the mess up, he knew I wasn’t happy.  But honestly, who is happy cleaning up dog vomit?  He wasn’t interested in food at dinner time, which happened to be when I was cleaning up his mess.  I didn’t think anything of it, Grimm has become a grazer with food.  He eats what he wants, a couple bites here and there throughout the day.  No big deal.  Until about 9pm, when Grimm projectile vomited water and stomach bile all over my bedroom floor and in a pile of laundry.  I was less than happy. He drank water and seemed ok.  Then 1am I woke up to my bedding soaked in more stomach bile vomit.  I’m talking so much that it soaked through a comforter, a quilt, sheets and was pooled on the mattress.  Grimm looked so embarrassed and pitiful.  I cleaned up the blankets and cuddled him.  More vomit an hour or so later.

Sunday wasn’t any better.  Shortly after going outside to go potty, stomach bile vomit on the mudroom floor.  Another round a couple hours later.  This is when I started controlling how much water he was allowed to have.  If I let him tank up, he would vomit all of it, or most of it within 20-30 minutes.  Controlling the water slowed the amount of vomit down and how often.  However, it only made the smell of the bile that much stronger.  There was two more incidents, and the final one….dear god almighty it was WRETCHED.  I was close to vomiting myself at the horrendous smell.

Monday morning, I called into work.  I am blessed to have a supervisor so understanding… frankly, with as sick as Grimm was, I would have physically been at work, but mentally… I was an absolute mess.
Calling the vet first thing in the morning, of course they are crazy booked but they squeeze us in between other appointments.  Xrays, physical exam, colon exam (poor baby).  His temperature was low, he had lost almost 5 pounds, the xrays showed no signs of blockage… his stomach and intestines were irritated, the vet said there had defiently been something in there, but there was pockets of gas which was a good sign, everything was still functioning and the intestines, while moving slow were moving, so I should be prepared for a round of diarrhea in the next 24 hours. Grimm gets a shot for the vomiting, fluid under the skin for the dehydration, anti inflammatory meds with the directions of no food or water next hour to hour and a half to let the shot take effect. Small amounts of plain blan food when we start to not further upset his stomach.

Sunday I had posted on facebook, how Grimm wasn’t feeling well and my heart was breaking.  Many people responded asking how he was, what was going on and asked for updates.  This is where I hate social media.  I posted the update after leaving the vet’s office and some responses were well wishes, others were prayers -I thank you for these.  However others, had to post their horror stories of when something similar happened to their dog.  This was like being pregnant and everyone wanting to tell me their horror stories of labor and delivery, along with their advise of what to do, how to do it, what to tell the doc (vet in this case) and what to to demand…

Jesus it got overwhelming, and fast!!  It got to such a point that I just stopped responding to the posts.  I couldn’t.  I was already freaking out enough.  My anxiety was through the roof, my heart was breaking because I could snuggle my puppy back to his wonderful self.  It got to such a point I tried to call my mother, I was in tears and on the edge of a full blown break down crying fit, for the umpteenth time.  My mom got a tad religious on me and I hung up on her.

I just laid on my bed, with Grimm, snuggling him, stroking his fur and telling him how much I loved him. Yea.  I’m THAT pawrent.  If you are not, then you don’t understand the true bond between human and dog.

About this time my middle sister facetime calls.  She wanted to check in on me, try to distract me.  She has a crazy pup of her own, she gets it. Her thirty minute call helped re-energize me and the ability to answer a few text, fb messages, etc.  But Grimm and I are back to controlling how much water he gets -he puked after the vet’s office, they had me jump up the time he got his anti-inflammatory horse pill.  No food or water for three hours, hoping it stayed down.  The ease back into the attempts.  He still wasn’t interested in food, little bits of water…so we went back to the half gateraid, half water mixture.  He spends the rest of the evening and night, just laying on the bed looking all sad and pathetic and breaking my heart.  At this point I am literally praying for a miracle, a one-eighty turn around by morning.  I’m stressed, I’m exhausted, my own stomach is in knots and ill feeling (of course it doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten much and am pretty much surviving on coffee and small handfuls of animal crackers the past two days) and my head is pounding behind my right eyeball to the point I’m surprised my eyelid isn’t twitching.

Another night of broken sleep and leaving the bathroom light on, just in case he needed me or started throwing up again.  Grimm decided to suddenly switch positions about 3am and I bolted upright in bed…half dazed and trying to focus, there is my beautiful pittie looking at me like “what the fuck are you doing mom, I’m just switching spots on the bed.”  An hour later, or the last time I remember looking at the clock, he was snuggled up against me and I was stroking his soft coat.  Three hours later my alarm clock goes off, and so does my stomach.

I get both the boys outside, Grimm goes right to the grass to pee… At this point I’m not overly moved by the amount of pee, he did have the fluid shot.  However, right after he pees, he goes to a stick laying on the back deck and picks it up by his mouth…he wants to chew on it.  This makes my heart flutter, a sign of his normal self peeking through a rough couple of days.  No I didn’t let him chew the stick.  I ushered him inside, where he wants water.  Ok, good.  I give Reese his breakfast and Grimm is standing there looking at me, like “uhh, mom, you forgot mine.”  Ok, this is very good.  I pull the already made rice and chicken broth from the fridge, warm a little up.  Grimm isn’t too sure of the rice, but happily drinks all the chicken broth.  I get puppy kisses, and I could cry.  I haven’t had Grimm kisses since he got sick.  His ears are perked up a bit more, he has a little more energy and his eyes are not as glassed over looking.  Back outside, another pee trip… Now I know to wait on the bowels to release…nothing yet. Grimm comes back to the deck while his brother is still in the yard, and he poises himself…wait…what…I almost laugh, because Grimm does this when he wants to play and he plans on ambushing Reese on his way back to the house.  Before I can tell him no, Reese gets on the deck and Grimm springs on him. I immediately get both to stop, I don’t want to upset Grimm’s fragile state, but I could also cry with happiness.  Back inside, a little more chicken broth, a little more rice and then crashed out on my bed snoring…and now he has started farting.

A HUGE thank you to the friends who individually checked in on me during the past handful of days. ❤️❤️  We’re not out of the woods yet, but we can see the daylight.

(as I’ve been typing this, Grimm, who is currently passed out on my bed, has farted, several time…the awful smell of chicken broth and a digestive system that hasn’t seen food in 48 hours…I need a mask, I might puke myself, lol, but I am beyond ecstatic happy with this progress)

Now if only I could get my own stomach to settle and my head to stop pounding out of my right eye socket.

-Inked Amazon 💋💀