Fooled Ya!

Thought this beautiful picture of the steam rising over our pasture and pond yesterday would draw you in and have you believe that this might be an uplifting and positive post. PSYCH! My life is still a mess! Well, let me clarify that. I still have plenty to eat (if you've seen me lately, you know this is true), I have a roof over my head (albeit a leaky one), Obama is kicking ass and I haven't run out of box wine recently. I do realize that my life is incredibly privileged and my problems are minuscule compared to most of the world. With that said, I will now complain. You will now hear the music they play on Saturday Night Live during the Debbie Downer skit - wha, wha, WHAAAAA.............

Still no Chamois. I am truly devastated. I drive around the country side, slowly stalking yards with dogs that look remotely like her. I imagine her tied up or in a kennel or, worse, being abused. I long to find her dead on the side of the road so I can have closure and know she is at peace. She is very special to all of us - one of the sweetest and most loyal dogs ever. This all sounds very dramatic - but it is how I feel. Animals are important to me and she is the first one we've ever had that disappeared. I got a call today from the nearest convenience store to our house. We have a Lost Dog sign there and they said that they had a yellow lab hanging around. I SPED there only to find out that it wasn't her. It was a very nice yellow lab - but it wasn't Chamois. I cried (a lot). We have already decided to get another dog. We have a sweetheart coming for a trial run on Saturday. You can see her here. Her name is Elmo :)

The Geet is not well. You may be saying "No shit Sherlock, she is 94 years old". But, this is a woman who was incredibly healthy all of her life, right up until last month. She never took any meds or had any health issues, other than macular degeneration. Unfortunately, her heart attack has led to fatigue, loss of appetite and trouble breathing. She no longer walks at the mall and she is quite depressed. We spent 6 hours in the ER one day last week and 4 hours in the ER last night (got home at 3:00 a.m. :). The ER doc - Dr. Jolley, whom we refer to as Dr. Not-so-Jolley because she has the bedside manner of a turd - told us that The Geet has Congestive Heart Failure and will have trouble breathing from here on out. The Geet is quite disgusted with her quality of life right now and frequently talks about wanting to die. I can't blame her - I can't even imagine life at 94 with poor eyesight, hearing, mobility and everything else. She claims the only thing she has to live for is a Brandy Manhattan. Replace that statement with "Box Wine" and I would have to agree.

I promise - next week will be better. Maybe The Geet will feel better, Chamois will come home, Elmo will work out and I'll win an endless supply of box wine. Maybe Sarah Palin will keep talking and stumbling (sure to happen). Maybe I'll win the lottery without even buying a ticket. Maybe I'll lose 20 pounds without trying. Maybe I'll remember that I am still one of the most privileged people in the world.