Halloween and me…

I am hypervigilant! Whether my wary and watchful ways are the result of being the child of a child abuser or some other creepy influence, I keep an eye or an ear ever alert for danger whether real or dreamt. I feel that I can keep my family and home safe if I am always ready for whatever uncertainty is occupying my consciousness during the day or my dreams at night. The internet is a perfect companion to my terrors. Google any subject and there will pop up a blog, survey, medical report, or some video that illustrates any of my scariest ideas in ways I haven’t yet imagined. Nothing so far has been helpful or hopeful to allay my sense of imminent peril probably because human nature trends toward the dark side and the bizarre and preys on my psychological vulnerabilities. I wonder how many others are out there like me? How do they bring sanity and reality back into their lives to combat those depressing scenarios they have created? I try to compartmentalize and clean. I dust, scrub, and scrape until I am exhausted. Nothing I do can wash out these fears. If I could harness all this and write a book like “Pet Sematery” by Stephen King, or “Cloverfield” by Drew Goddard or “1984” by George Orwell, I might make enough money to build a fortress to keep me and mine safe. But then the nightmares would come back. This time it would be about losing everything. Halloween is fun for kids but it is a breeding ground of anxiety and panic for me. I will open my door to ghosts, goblins, princesses, pharaohs, spidermen, and more and ooh and aah for the delight of the children. Secretly I will be glad when 9 PM arrives and I can turn out the light and take down the fake tarantula and ghostly sheet. My home will be besieged no longer. I will have to convince myself that there are no serial killers taking advantage of this holiday. Halloween and me, not the best of friends…

My Best Friend…Part 2

My husband and I have had many sleepless nights, stressing, worrying and crying about the surgery and recovery of my best friend Pica our 16-year old Chihuahua. She had a herniated disk at the C3-C4 area in her neck. That’s really high up and in a scary place. (Didn’t Christopher Reeve break his neck in about that same area?) The surgery sounds tricky. They drill a hole in the bone and remove the damaged disk alleviating pressure on the spine. We are supposed to keep her drugged with painkillers and muscle relaxants for about 10 days. She hates the taste of the meds. It’s a battle to get them down her throat. For 4-6 weeks we have to keep her in a small confined area (so she won’t bounce around and mess up the neck repairs), letting her out only to poop and pee. We have constructed a luxurious pen complete with a quilt inside her crate, an alternate pallet for lounging, a dining and drinking area and puppy pads for those emergencies at night. The little fence surrounding this oasis is tall enough to keep her inside and short enough that we can step over it to replace puppy pads or serve her dinner. I have stitched up a homemade sling out of soft denim and purse handles so we can support her when she goes out to do her business. This makes it a little easier on our backs. I call it my Pica Purse. She has trouble squatting to pee and bending her hind legs into the poop position because of the drugs and because she still has the remnants of some nerve damage on her left side. Like a leaky old ship, she lists to the left side a bit. But she manages to complete her elimination and looks forward to the doggie cookie as her reward. Usually she is so tired that she crawls back into her bed and sleeps some more. At times she shakes and pants and I have to assume these are signs that she is in pain. That means administering more pain meds and dealing with an almost comatose Chihuahua, which is not a natural sight. I guess the next few weeks will give us an idea of how much healing is going on. If she can have a good quality of life for whatever time she has left, we will be happy. We are hoping we will have her with us for a few more years.

My Best Friend...

My best friend is very sick. We have been together for over 16 years. I don’t know what is wrong with her but she is going for an evaluation and tests at the Mississippi State University Medical Hospital in Starkville, MS next Monday. She could be there the whole week before we know more about her condition. My best friend’s name is Pica. She came to live with us in 1994. Her personality is always sweet even when I have been cross with her. If you haven’t guessed by now, my best friend is my 10-pound Chihuahua. She hasn’t always been a big girl. When we brought her home to Lawrenceville, GA in November 1994, she probably weighed less than 2 pounds. But the biggest thing about her is her heart. Her tail always wags whenever she sees us even when she is ill. She is distraught when we leave her for more than 3 days. She used to sleep with us and each night at about 9pm she would come into the living room and bark when she thought it was time for all of us to go to bed. After she fell off the set of stairs I made for her (which she had been using for about 6 years to climb up onto our bed), we stopped letting her get up too high on anything. So now I sleep next to her doggie bed in my sleeping bag and sometimes she crawls in with me, her back next to my tummy. Crawling is easier for her since her hind legs and one of her front legs have become weak and occasionally unresponsive causing her to stumble and collapse in a heap. The other night she lost her balance and fell into her water bowl. We have to help her stay upright when she pees and poops. Age catches up with all of us. I am hoping we can make her better so she can live the rest of her days in comfort. I am selfish. I don’t want to lose her. I am not prepared for her to go. I don’t think I will ever be ready. I will never have a best friend like her again.