Ok, some of you reading this might already know most of what I’m going to say then again I can’t remember if I’ve written about some of it before. Off subject- I really need to brush up on my grammatical skills. Dangling participles, where to put commas, and run on sentences. Although I received an A in English Literature at a college level the other stuff I was never good at.
My day starts at around 10:15 or 10:30 a.m. I get up have a bowl of Rice Chex and take my meds. I will then watch TV for a little while or go on the computer. There is probably crying in between there somewhere. When my Chihuahua was alive he would meet me at the bottom of the stairs first thing every morning wagging his tail. If I was having a really bad day I curl into a ball on my side, on the couch. Pookie would curl into my stomach and try to lick my tears but I would start laughing because his breath was so bad from eating poop. We did get him to stop eating his own but then he moved on to the Pomeranian’s. This is a learned behavior sometimes when they are born. It wasn’t a lack of nutrition or anything medical. The mother does it when they are first born and some pups pick up on it and it stays with them. Anyway he would do anything to make me happy.
Sometimes I leave the house for a few hours to go to the store or my sister’s house. It isn’t often. Most of the time I’m sitting at home in my pajamas. My father would cook for all 3 of the dogs and feed them. All 3 slept with him. My bedroom is too cluttered to have them sleep with me. I go upstairs to my room around 4 p.m. or 5 p.m. because around this time of day I start to get low and tired. I sit in my bathroom and smoke cigarettes, drink water, Ginger Ale mixed with Orange soda over crushed ice, and watch TV or Movies on my computer. Sometimes I Blog. I take my night meds and around 12:30 or 1:00 I go to bed. This is my life. I usually do not speak to any people all day.
On October 15th I go to another Specialist to find out why I went into Kidney Failure. They want me to have a 5th biopsy. This time it will be riskier and there is a good chance it will destroy my ureter. The ureter is one of 2 tubes that goes from your bladder to your kidneys. I would have to have a fake one made and put in if they damage the one they want to biopsy. I’m told this is the only way to find out what is wrong with me and that it wasn’t a fluke thing. What happened to me mostly only happens to elderly men with prostate cancer. So I am one big mystery. I have stents in now keeping my kidneys functioning. They hurt like hell.
My father finally agreed this morning to let me try to adopt 2 Chihuahua brothers I met at a Rescue. It was love at first sight. They had Pookie’s soul. But now I’m thinking is it fair? Will I change my habits? Will I be healthy enough to take care of them? Will I let it fall to my father who has enough to deal with? Or will this be what makes me finally take that step to change my ways? I did start to clean out my room when I first saw them and thought my dad wouldn’t have a problem with it. I gave up and went deeper into depression when he said no. The 2 of them together do not even equal my 1 Papillon. One is short haired and the other is long haired. Their names are Ham and Eggs. For the hour I was with them I thought everything could be ok. Sometimes I look into the eyes of an animal and I just know. They were both like that. I don’t know what to do.
About my other 2 dogs. I love them but they are not mine. Neither one has ever really paid attention to me. They are my dad’s. Even though Pookie slept in my dad’s room it was me he came to and me he bonded with. I want to do the right thing for the animals. I don’t want to be selfish. They have been at the rescue for a long time because the rescue won’t separate them. They are trained to go on a leash and to go outside they are also crate trained but I’m not fond of keeping dogs in crates. We’ve never done it. I know some dogs feel safe in their crate. Who knows? I’ll wait and see.