pesky pets

Pah!

It’s not been a good day.

The grumpy old chap who had such a large part of all our hearts died  today. All of a sudden. He wasn’t in form- he had no oomph- and we were going to phone the vet for an appointment, when he just keeled over.

Spurs Fan demonstrated heretofore hidden agressive driving techniques, but it was too late. Jake didn’t make it to the vet. He was gone by the time we got there; he was undoubtedly gone before his head hit the floor, but we didn’t want to believe that.

We came home empty handed.

As with all things, it could have been worse. He could have been home alone. I could have been the only person here. Our friends who looked after him on Monday night and Tuesday morning could have found him. Instead, because it’s half term, we were all at home. We were able to satisfy the urge to do something, however pointless. We were able to pet him and hold him and talk to him.

He’s never been in great health, but when he was checked out last week, all he needed was an antibiotic, which cleared up his tum issues. We expected him to keep on pottering about for a good while yet.

My days at home will be longer and lonely.

I just made a toasted cheese sandwich and had no gentle nudge on my leg. No shake, stretch, or pitter patter when the fridge door was opened. When I leave the house in a little while I’ll not say “Bye, Jake. You’re in charge.”  I’ll not need to check on him first thing, or wonder where the poo is, or forget to let him in. He won’t knock over the footballer gnome (doesn’t everybody have one?) or stand in exactly the wrong place in the teeny kitchen. He won’t choose the bits of newspaper for the fire, or complain about the  television. He won’t or sniff every leaf, or grumble at each passing dog.

He came to us when he was about 8, a lifetime behind him. He needed a quiet house, with somebody about most of the time. He didn’t like fuss or noise or contact he didn’t initiate.

He was our wee old man, who got the blame for all the random smells.

He was one of us.

The wee pet.

people and problem solving

Jake and I are home alone most of the time, resting, making cunning plans, and doing what doggies do. Crowds and chaos overwhelm us and we retreat.

But, beneath it all, one of us is quite sociable. I have loved the celebrating. Making a point of gathering friends and family together (not in my house- neither of us could cope with that) spending time just being, chatting about music and nothing, enjoying a little silliness.

There have been events on all the volunteering areas of interest- PSP support groups, a human rights report launch, an ME event, rare disease scheming and a neurology patient/ carer group. Spurs Fan has lost track. I do try to balance things out, largely by resting for days, but when I do too much my brain turns to mega mush, and I’m no use to anyone.

I think I’m coming back to the world, but I’ll be spending large amounts of today and tomorrow at an Irish dancing festival (of course I am, pesky wonderful enthusiastic cheerful kids) so this may just be a blip. This is the competition run by our dancing school, so I’ll not get away with simply being  encouraging and clapping at the right time. I’ll have a job, involving money or hot water.

In other news, I’ve spent ages trying to find the pics to add to this post. They are on my phone, but have failed to make the journey to any of the folders on the laptop, or to the mysterious cloud. I may need to email them and then download, but that seems remarkably convoluted. This hasn’t been a problem before. I wonder did I do something?

It’s good to be heading out with a clear head, ready to be useful and problem solve. If you’re coming along, check your change. You may pour your own hot drinks.

use what you need

My head is busy. Full of half thoughts and unstarted business. They flit and dance and spin. They cause me to lose hours. I have plans, sometimes. Plans which involve phoning or texting or visiting or commenting. Somehow, the plans rarely make it past “I must…”.

These aren’t deep thoughts; I’m not going to turn into a philosopher, a guru, or a general know it all. In truth, that’s maybe part of the problem. Flitting and floating about like I am, I’m skimming the surface. Avoiding the depths.

Time for action, asserts the control freak.

I’m going to use NaNoWriMo NanuNanu November. I’m not going to write a novel. (Hold back those tears.) I’m going to take time to process some of the mess in my head. I’m going to write. I don’t know how many words I’ll write. I don’t know how much will make it here. I don’t know much about it yet.

I haven’t thought about it too much …