With my apologies...

[Rench]

For some reason, the Grinder, and those who bother to read it, has become my emotional toilet bowl over the years. I've hardly contributed anything else useful to the disOrganization in months, and yet, when I'm about to have a full on freak out, I come here and puke for you all. So sorry. You deserve better of me. On with the show.

My New Year has started as such: My dog went from jump off the sofa when I got home from work to completely immobile on day one. He's 11, which for a dane is fucking old, I have no right to complain. Took him to vet on day 2, who concurred, it's about time. Made appointment for Monday. After vet, daughter starts getting sick. I Love my kid, and I Love my dog, but fuck, I WANTED to go to work to get a break. Now home with her sick, which is just pathetic to see.

Spent the morning looking into the definition of Strategic Default in Illinois. It's stickier than I was hoping (old house is a rental now, I don't like being a landlord, it's 40% underwater). Whatever. Got a call from bank (refinincing current house before I nuke my credit record over old one). Closing has been moved up a month. Sweet! "You need to make $9000 appear out of nowhere for final approval in your bank."



Oh, and any deposits other than payroll need to be documented and justified, so I can't even borrow the money (not that I even know anyone or have the intestinal fortitude for it).



So I'm having a complete meltdown about my grand financial plan crumbling to the ground, my kid's sick, my dog is dying, and then I get an email from my musical supplier. Bagpipes (which are right the fuck out of my budget now anyway) are prettymuch custom made, 3-8 weeks delivery. My set were delivered just before christmas to my dealer, but were mising one back ordered part. Apparently we miscommunicated over that, so he sold them to someone else. I'm back on the waiting list.

The underlying problem here is the dog, so if you will, a story:

10 years ago, I worked at a summer camp in Wisconsin. I had my 8 month old, lanky-ass great dane there with me, under much protest form the management, but they needed me enough to allow it. He was a hit with the staff, and mostly hidden from the campers.

It was a long summer, at the end of a long and failed college career. I would be unemployed at the end of the summer, and only my dad's house to go back to, which was not a happy prospect at the time for various reasons. There was a girl at the camp (sexy voice, can't accentuate that one enough), not my girlfriend at the time, who just finished college much more successfully than me, and had an apartment in California waiting for a new career and life all set up, just waiting for her. We had flirted all summer, as stupid kids do on summer nights. And even, to my shame, more than flirted at the end of the summer.

The night before she was going to leave on this new adventure called her life, and I was going to drag myself back to Chicago with nothing but a place to live I didn't want to be in, she invited me to come with. No strings attached, her bed or sofa, whichever seemed right, start something new in California.

It was a long pause. Man I really had to think that one through. And I kept coming back to my dog. He couldn't live in a studio in downtown San Diego, and I couldn't possibly leave him behind.

For the first time in my life, I made a decision based on responsibility, not just on what would be easy. And while sometimes I wonder where my life would be in Cali now, I know that making a responsible decision was the right thing, and my life is so wonderful now because of it. I credit him. And I'm putting him down Monday.

FML.

-Rench

[goose]

That's some difficult stuff to deal with there Rench. At 11, your Dane has lived a bit past the average life span. I always wanted a Dane but just couldn't pull the trigger given how short a time they live (and the size of my apartment). I'm really sorry about your dog.

Bagpipes? Oh man, I think your neighbors simply conspired to have the part missing and likely bought the damn things from the dealer just to prevent you from playing them.

I'm hoping things start turning around for ya!

[DerGolgo]

I took my dog to be put down six years ago, he was 13, I was 25. It fucking sucks. That is all there is to describe that experience, and I wish I could offer you some more support.
But you're his master, he looks to you to take care of his entire existence. Releasing him from his suffering is the final act in that. It's an act of love. So don't beat yourself up over it or get question the decision. If even the vet says he's not gonna get better, and he's had a long life, that's it.
Maybe the other stuff you've got to deal with will be helpful as a distraction. I wish you good luck that you won't have to spend a lot of time dwelling on it.

[xtian]

You've got to do what you've got to do. sorry for your loss. thanks for sharing, it makes this place special.

[Sisyphus]

My dog stayed with my 'rents when I was at sea, which was most of my adult life. I knew he wasn't too healthy after only nine years, but I got a sense he wasn't especially well when checking in w/ my folks from down island. I was due to rotate home in like a week. I almost--ALMOST--told them, "do whatever it takes," but I figured I had enough time to get home and sort things out, maybe take him under my care once again.
I flew home a week later, and my wife told me at the airport that Floyd had died three days earlier.
Lost my shit in baggage claim, I didn't give care in the world.
YOU, however, at least have the opportunity to deal with it firsthand, properly, responsibly. Something I totally fucked up and regret to this day. I was not a responsible pet owner. Did my dog suffer for that? I don't think so; my parents loved him, loved having him around. I could have done better.
Good luck.

[Mk3]

You had Napowanitis dude....we all did. She was ugly. We're talking 2-10-2. If this were Minot....well ok she'd be a 1 up there but thats not saying much since its fuckin binary!

It'll be allright. we'll drink it off and ride out hungover.

The big guy has had a hell of a run. He got back in years what he never had in looks (ref nurple, cherry eye, raging uncontrollable dog boner)

If anything, blame my mess....time frame fits, just sayin, blame her, she deserves it.

Also, the bank will be fine. You'll get it fixed, and probably wind up with a better deal than that misspelling miscalculating numbskull fucktard could have fathomed.

The only bad part...when you wake up, you'll still have to look like you; and smell bad. you usually smell bad.

[calamari kid]

Sorry to hear about your troubles. We lost the old man in our collection of cats a couple months back, a regal old tom who'd ruled the roost from the first day he joined us. In the middle of his quick decline my workplace blew up in a way that left me wondering if I'd have a workplace to go to from day to day. With the Mrs not working, this was an unsettling prospect to say the least. I was running projects above my pay grade and experience level while supporting my wife through the process of putting Stan down and trying to figure out what the hell we were going to do when the money stopped coming in, never mind finding the time to grieve myself. I just focused on keeping my feet moving and eventually made it out the other side. It was a particularly nasty bit of darkness which I hope to never revisit again.

Keep your feet moving brother. All of my available positive juju is headed your way.

[Jaeger]

Aw, man. Yeah, that is the ultimate problem with critters.

Sorry, man.

Goddamn, Chicago's getting it's ass kicked this week.

--Jaeger

[Rabbit_Fighter]

Whoa . . . . I just wrote a ridiculous diatribe about Nietzche's "Eternal Recurrence."

I'm really sorry about your dog.

[absent_carlo]

That really sucks man...hang in there. I'm not home enough to have a dog, but I know I'm definitely missing something. Love DerGolgo's advice. One of my old coworkers and his wife got a dog instead of having a family. I remember him telling me when they had to bring it to the vet, they picked up some cheeseburgers for it along the way. Anyways, shit will get better and hopefully we'll get a ride in this summer...that is, if you have your sporty electrical issues sorted out. j/k

[Mk3]

I love that any mention of christina is accompanied by some sort of malfunction.

Shes good now though; really; she's all good.