Christmas Wrappings

This is another one of those that may not see (I should try and figure out how many I've canned before posting) the light of day, I'm going to kind of wing it and see what I think.

So, if you spent any amount of time in a grocery store in the days leading up to Christmas, you may well have done a little bit of self-loathing for-

A.) Not stocking up well in advance of the madness
B.) Not shopping at 3:00 AM or some other ungodly hour when the store would be semi-vacant or
C.) Not conning a loved one into doing the shopping for you.  The crowds were insane, as usual.

And, I knew this going in when I pulled into the lot on the day before the day before.  I actually sat in the car for a couple minutes and texted the Oldest One to see if she needed anything since I was there.  And, I admitted I had no clue why I was there, since I had no urgent purchases looming over my head.

I again questioned my own sanity and entered the Jewels.

I wandered semi-aimlessly around the store for ten or fifteen minutes, hoping I'd see something that would trigger why I decided to stop.  I grabbed a couple not really essential items so I didn't feel like a complete boob and put them in my cart.  I called the Boy Child to see if they needed me to bring something over, again admitting I must have lost my mind for being there.  But when he said they didn't need anything, I wandered the store one more time and headed to the checkout.

I placed my dozen or so things on the belt and realizing someone had entered the line behind me, grabbed one of the dividers and placed it after my order.

All he had placed on the belt was a six pack of Stella Artois.

Feeling the need to make small talk, I complimented him on his selection.  In addition to being, imho, a lovely brew, it's also a union-made adult beverage.

The man looked to be about my age and was very soft-spoken, with, I think, a bit of a southern accent.  My hearing, not being what it used to be (25 years of sirens and air horns will do that to you) I couldn't really understand what he'd said.  But I thought I caught something and as I looked at the necklace he was wearing I saw a ring on it.

I said "Excuse me, but did you say your wife just passed away last month?"

He replied "Yes, she died suddenly November 30th.  From a massive heart attack."

He went on to tell me they had three kids at home.  He also told me she wasn't very old and had been in otherwise excellent health.

I told him how sorry I was for his loss and explained I'd lost my wife suddenly in 2006.  And, as I always do, I told him to be aware of "the seconds".  I guess it's become what I do.  We stood in line talking about grief and what lay ahead for him and his kids and I tried as best I could to let him know what he might expect.

As we left the Jewels and headed for our cars I wished him the best and tried to remind him he had a lot of people sending him strength, whether he knew it or not.

As I approached my car I heard a chuckle behind me and it was him, just realizing he'd parked right next to me.

He said his name was Frank and I told him mine.  And then I told him that I'd had no idea why I went to the grocery store and was questioning my sanity.

Right up until the time he'd told me his story.

We gave each other a hug and parted ways.

I'm not sure what I think.

You know, I mean about a higher power.  And the whole "why are we here" thing has me baffled.  My beliefs have migrated, and will probably continue to migrate, about things like that.  I think I'd probably describe myself as more spiritual than religious.  I don't have the wisdom to differentiate between random acts and Divine intervention.  In all honesty I don't know that it makes a difference, ultimately, which of those two occurrences takes place.  The end result is the end result.  And I get that there are those that will see something here and assign their beliefs to it.  To me, the definition of faith is believing in something that makes no logical sense.  I'm ok with that too btw.  If your faith leads you to believe things happen for a reason, so be it.  I'm not doing this to debate theology with anyone or anything like that.

I think I'm just going to leave this right here, I can feel myself heading in a direction I'd rather avoid.

I think I'll close this by just asking that what ever the thing is that gets you through the night, ask for a little strength and kindness for Frank and his family.

They're going to need it.

Peace

Good Girl

I took Sophie for a walk this morning, in the rain.

Actually "walk" is not the most accurate way to describe what we do.  When asked by one of the many neighbors she's caused me to meet, I usually describe it as "going for a sniff".  She's 10 years old, has arthritis in both hips and has synthetic ligaments in both knees, so she doesn't really tolerate long distances.  Instead, we go for four to six blocks, pausing often in favorite yards for a break and sniffing, what seems like, every possible smell she can find.  These short distances take us, typically, thirty minutes or more to complete.

She's always off leash when we do this, to be honest, I'm not convinced I know where the leash is at this point.  She does a pretty good job of staying by me but I really don't care too much if she wanders a little further from me than she should.  She's social with both people and other dogs, but I usually call her close because you never know how others might react to her.

I stood on the sidewalk, watching her blissfully roll in something (probably something disgusting) in somebody's yard, getting rained on.

And it didn't bother me in the least.

I told you that to tell you this.

Good news, bad news.

The good news is, I started my day by hanging out with the Beatle baby (Beatle toddler?) and the little Diamond.

The bad news is, I did it so my son and daughter-in-law could take their beloved boxer, Maggie (aka Good Girl) to the vet.

Her final trip to the vet.

Yes, THAT final trip to the vet.

Maggie was the first boxer I ever met.  She was a sweet, sweet dog.  She doted on her human babies.  And she filled huge portions of R and D's hearts.  And will for quite some time.

She would almost always greet me with a toy in her mouth, eager to play tug of war and she loved flashing "puppy eyes" to guilt someone into giving her a treat.

She was 11 years old and for most of that time she was pretty healthy.  Knee surgery slowed her down for a bit, but she recovered pretty well from it.  Recently, she was diagnosed with kidney failure and while the vet took great care of her and it looked like she was on the mend, it took it's toll on her, leaving her unable to stand without falling and only hobbling around the house.

Maggie had a huge heart and hid her pain well, I think.  But it ultimately became obvious there was no choice but to ease her suffering.

Now, before you say something stupid like "it's only a dog" let me just say something...

I've got the grief bona fides down pat, thank you very much, and if you doubt that read here, here, here or here and if you're still of the opinion I'm spending too much time talking about "a dog" save yourself some time and stop reading.  Grief is grief and none of us have the right to tell someone else they're doing it wrong.

Lose my web address too.  Thanks.

I also wanted to say something to the Boy Child and my favorite daughter-in-law, even though I think they both know it.  There may come a time when you decide to get another dog.  That's ok.

That time may never come.  That's ok too.

You'll know the time if it comes.

So I guess I'll wrap this up by saying-

If you've got a pet of some sort in your life, good for you.  Personally, I think they add so much more to our lives than they may be an inconvenience to us.  My life has been enriched beyond measure by the animals that I have been around.  I still, on occasion, think about some of the ones I've lost.

Even Tobi, the Jack Russell terrorist.

And always, I smile at their memories.

Take good care of your pets, they do so much for us, and all they ask in return is a little love.

It seems to me they're getting the bad end of the deal.

Peace.