Archive | January, 2012

Now we’re friends…

17 Jan

January 15 was the seven month mark. It’s been seven months since I ran away from home. I haven’t seen or talked to the hubby in person since then.

So we agreed to meet, have a drink, figure out what’s going on. I call this the “temperature check”. Kind of like sticking a dry thermometer up your butt. Painful but will prove how you’re really feeling.

So last night, we met half-way at a restaurant and while initially awkward, we both quickly warmed up to sharing funny stories and laughing. We even toasted “to being friends.” Hell, he even shared some funny stories about his dating experiences.

Leaving our home, our dogs, our life, our friends was hard enough for me. Losing my best friend in the process was downright painful.

I’ve often fantasized that one day, I’ll pick up the dogs and the hubby and I will sit at the kitchen counter, drink a glass of wine, and catch up with the other. I honestly can say that I think this actually may come true.

As we hugged goodbye and he repeated how glad he is that we can be friends, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. As he put it in an email today, it’s like a huge burden has been lifted.

I never meant to hurt him. And now that he’s moving on and yet wants to be friends makes me feel that while we are no longer us (the couple), we can still be us (the friends) – and that’s incredibly special.


I can’t sleep…

10 Jan

Well not enough at any rate. Either I’m too busy mind-fucking myself or the dogs are restless, or I’m drenched in night sweats. Whatevs, the end result is: I can’t sleep.

The other night Sparky seemed mad at me, which is ridonkulous because I bought all sorts of delish doggy treats for our week up the cabin, spoiling this doggly with tasty bits of bacon-y, cheese-y, meat-y morsels and tons of mommy-lap-time.

So I was a bit miffed that he slept at the end of the bed. All night. No midnight cuddle with me and the next morning, he seemed mad and sad again. I took him out for his morning ablutions (read: pee and poo outside please) and he was walking sideways, like a crab. Sorta. Back hunched upward, his head angled to the right.

I figured puppy probably swallowed a snausage whole and it was blocking his happiness. If you catch his my drift…

So no more treats today little fella until it passes.

Except by nighttime, he was still in a bad way. He started whimpering every time one of us attempted to pick him up or once when we tried to kiss his head. My inner dialogue was at war.

Rational me: He’s fine, it’ll pass. Pun intended.

Freaked-out me: OMG, did he eat a chicken bone, or what if it really WAS a full snausage and it won’t digest? Could he die from being constipated?

Rational me: You didn’t have chicken for dinner plus he drank water, he’ll be fine.

Freaked-out me: This is serious. He could DIE! And in DEAD SPARKY.

Sparky kept getting up, whimpering, trying to find a more comfy position and by 2:30am, I convinced Rational Me that he WAS gonna die if I didn’t do something.

I called the local vet – who was Rational, but because she can’t see him, she doesn’t know what’s going on. She agreed to meet us at the hospital.

We bundled up both puppies in a blanket and got there at about 3:30am. Her big concern was his bladder, which would be seriously bad news. She needed to check to see if he was blocked. Guess how? Yerp, a catheter. Which freaked me the eff out and apparently was inserted 8″ into his “you know whatsee”. I didn’t even know he had 8″ available…

Dribble dribble, good news, his bladder is just fine. Rolling my eyes, I knew this – I have pictures to prove said prowess.

Anyhoohaw, turns out Sparky hurt his back, maybe from all that sitting up and begging or who knows, from all the belly scratches resulting in rapid hind leg movement. Either way, it was worth the emergency trip to the vet to find out a couple muscle relaxers would restore my puppy’s vitality.

As we climbed back into bed at 4am, all of us exhausted, I kept thinking (yes, thinking): I love my dogs: flaws, paws, pee and all. And I really need to get more sleep. And I need to clean the fridge. And the bathroom cabinet. Oh, and I need to re-do my nails. Maybe I should try counting sheep?