Yet hope remains while the company is true

By straight accounting, this weekend has pretty well sucked. My zucchini plant, the plant in the garden I was most hoping would last until Fall, died. Our air conditioner went out. Again. The night before a 93-degree day. The fans we set up to move the air around so we wouldn't cook to death have sucked the smell of cat pee out of the office (where the litterbox is) and spread it all over the first floor of the house. And, just over a year since the last time, one of my family's dogs had to get put to sleep.

Tasia was sort of my dog, since when we got her Dad could claim Wolf as his, and Mom could claim Kojak as hers, and my sister had Shadow the Pom. I didn't have a dog, so when my parents took Tasia in, they said she could be my dog. To be honest, though, I think she always preferred my dad most. She was the sweetest dog I've ever known, and would do anything to earn a human's love. Her previous owners had not been good to her, and I never truly understood how anyone could hit a dog so loyal she would've literally laid down her life for a human if she was asked.

She was thirteen years old, and Mom didn't really expect her to make it through last summer, but she'd pulled through. Lately, though, her age was starting to catch up with her. Even before the summer heat really set in, she had given up on climbing the stairs by herself. If she wanted to go out or come in, one of my parents had to carry her out. I dreaded this, always worrying that my mom -- who has no business toting a 65 pound dog up and down basement stairs -- would get hurt.

As the weather got worse, so did Tasia. I called Mom from work on Friday afternoon to see if she'd be home the next morning, and she told me that she'd made an appointment to take Tasia to the vet and have her put to sleep. Tasia's four cups of daily kibble had dwindled to one cup a day, and she didn't always eat that. She was pitifully thin under her thick coat of fur. Her stomach was almost constantly upset, and she'd even stopped taking her favorite treat, rawhide chewsticks. Mom couldn't bear to see Tasia suffer any longer, when it was clear she was sick and so very tired. I told Mom I'd come by in the morning and go along to the appointment.

An hour later, Mom called me back. She'd gone down to check on Tasia and found her barely breathing. She had called the vets' office, and one of the doctors was coming to the house as soon as the office closed to end things. I went straight to the house after I got done at work, and arrived just ahead of the vet. Mom and I sat with Tasia, even though it was clear she was barely there any more. The end was quick and easy and gave her back some of the dignity that old age had stolen from her. We had our chance to say goodbye and tell her what a pretty dog she was and that we loved her. The old pack is back together again, somewhere.



Despite all this, despite all the pain-in-the-ass-ness and the pain in the heart, the weekend was really not so bad. Straight accounting aside, it was actually one of the better weekends I've had in a while. On Friday night, the bibliophile had the gang over to celebrate her birthday (Happy birthday! <3). I was able to let go of most of the day's sorrow in games and laughter and way too much sugar. Saturday night I went out to the country to kidsit. You're going to have to excuse the crappy photo quality here as I show off the best Lego ship I have EVER built:

wings in

wings extended

engines added
We had a fabulous Star Wars Lego ship battle, watched a DVD about natural disasters, chased fireflies (which are much faster than I remember, incidentally), collected the eggs from the chicken coop, and headed upstairs for story time, followed by sleep (him) and quiet time to read (me).

Then tonight, the bibliophile was kind enough to host the domino game I was supposed to have at our house, and so I got to hang out with her and rabidmonkey and the apathetic one and my closest friend from back during my craft store days. More sugar, more laughter, and more reminders that my life? It's pretty damn awesome, even when sucky things conspire to bring me down.

Thanks, sincerely, to all of my friends. Thank you for being who you are, and for sticking with me. I don't know what I'd do without you.