A love letter for TS
When I'm near you I swim in a sea of clear blue, basking in your smile; a place I know, somehow, from a half-forgotten memory or a dream. I read the words on the tip of your tongue and sometimes they frighten me--all the things I long to say fall away. I have to remind myself not to break this spell. Somewhere we're weaving the same dream. We'll meet there, someday.
Je t'embrasse,
The crazy red-haired girl who writes all the things
A love letter for Roman
From fancy flaming drinks to dating tips, your wry smile, ironically
raised brow, and vaguely puckered lips, such deft affect to procure patrons' tips--I think I like you best when
you're brandishing whiskey sours and making sarcastic quips.
Affectionately,
Your favorite patron
A love letter for Carie
Dancing is the best medicine. Leaping in midair, laughing, flying girl on a trapeze, conceal, reveal, appease. She mocks you, you're pleased.
With much affection,
A kindred spirit
A love letter for Jane
Darkly smiling, bright eyes hide, searching soul, poetic retrace, behind a mane of black hair, you'll never truly see her face.
Love forever and always!
Your soul sister
Sunday, December 14, 2014
Saturday, December 13, 2014
This was also important... for some reason
Flame
by Frederick Seidel
The honey, the humming of a million bees,
In the middle of Florence pining for Paris;
The whining trembling the cars and trucks hum
Crossing the metal matting of Brooklyn Bridge
When you stand below it on the Brooklyn side—
High above you, the harp, the cathedral, the hive—
In the middle of Florence. Florence in flames.
Like waking from a fever ... it is evening.
Fireflies breathe in the gardens on Bellosguardo.
And then the moon steps from the cypresses and
A wave of feeling breaks, phosphorescent—
Moonlight, a wave hushing on a beach.
In the dark, a flame goes out. And then
The afterimage of a flame goes out.
by Frederick Seidel
The honey, the humming of a million bees,
In the middle of Florence pining for Paris;
The whining trembling the cars and trucks hum
Crossing the metal matting of Brooklyn Bridge
When you stand below it on the Brooklyn side—
High above you, the harp, the cathedral, the hive—
In the middle of Florence. Florence in flames.
Like waking from a fever ... it is evening.
Fireflies breathe in the gardens on Bellosguardo.
And then the moon steps from the cypresses and
A wave of feeling breaks, phosphorescent—
Moonlight, a wave hushing on a beach.
In the dark, a flame goes out. And then
The afterimage of a flame goes out.
Word of the Day
sidereal, adj.
Pronunciation: /saɪˈdɪərɪəl/
Forms: Also 16–18 siderial (16 syd-); 16–17 sydereal (16 sydereall), 17 sydireal.
Etymology: < Latin sīdereus, < sīder- , sīdus constellation, star + -al suffix1.
1. Of or relating to the stars.
1642 H. More Ψυχωδια Platonica sig. M7v, Upon which pure bright sydereall phantasms unprejudiced reason may safely work.
1651 H. More Enthusiasmus Triumphatus (1712) 32 That a Man has a sydereal body besides this terrestrial which is joined with the Stars.
1692 J. Salter Triumphs Jesus 24 Display your Glories ye Syderial States.
1739 H. Coventry Lett. Philemon to Hydaspes iii. 76 [A] most expressive, as well as permanent Symbol of the Sidereal Splendors.
1792 Philos. Trans. (Royal Soc.) 82 26 Among the changes that happen in the sidereal heavens we enumerate the loss of stars.
1834 T. Carlyle Sartor Resartus i. iii. 7/2 What thinks Bootes of them, as he leads his Hunting Dogs over the Zenith in their leash of sidereal fire?
1870 H. Spencer Princ. Psychol. (ed. 2) I. i. vii. 137 That general Astronomy which includes our whole Sidereal System.
1874 F. W. Farrar Life Christ I. iii. 29 That any strange sidereal phenomenon should be interpreted as the signal of a coming king, was in strict accordance with the belief of their age.
2. Star-like, lustrous, bright. rare.
1634 Bp. J. Hall Contempl. Hist. New Test. (STC 12640.5) 201 With what a blushing astonishment doth she behold his sydereall countenance cast upon her?
1649 Bp. J. Hall Humble Motion to Parl. 30 Provoking some sydereall and flaming soules to display themselves in their full..lustre.
3. a. Of periods of time: determined or measured by means of the stars. sidereal day: the time between the successive meridional transits of a star, or specifically of the first point of Aries; about four minutes shorter than the solar day. Also sidereal month, sidereal year, sidereal time (see quots.).
1681 G. Wharton Disc. Years in Wks. (1683) 71 The Sydereal year is the space of time, in which the Sun returns to the same star from whence he departed.
1715 tr. D. Gregory Elements Astron. I. ii. §11. 242 The Astronomic [year] is also twofold,..namely, the Sydereal and Tropical. The Sydireal Year..is 365 Days, 6 Hours, and 10 Minutes nearly.
1794 G. Adams Lect. Nat. & Exper. Philos. IV. xlii. 156 There must be one more siderial day in a year than there are solar days.
1812 R. Woodhouse Elem. Treat. Astron. viii. 50 A clock regulated by the transit of fixed stars, or adapted to sidereal time.
1846 A. Young Naut. Dict. 95 The interval between the departure and return of a meridian to the sun is called a solar day; in the case..of a star, a sidereal day.
1868 J. N. Lockyer Elem. Lessons Astron. §434 The sidereal month is the interval between two successive conjunctions of the moon with the same fixed star.
b. Of a clock: showing sidereal time.
1812 R. Woodhouse Elem. Treat. Astron. Pref., An observation expressed by..the seconds of a sidereal clock.
4. Of planetary or lunar motion: relative to the stars.
1815 J. Smith Panorama Sci. & Art I. 554 Its annual sidereal revolution is calculated by Laplace, to be performed in 1681 days, 17 hours, 57 seconds.
1833 J. F. W. Herschel Astronomy viii. 252 The sidereal periods of the planets may be obtained..by observing their passages through the nodes of their orbits.
1868 W. Lockyer tr. A. Guillemin Heavens (ed. 3) 66 (note) , This revolution is called a sidereal revolution in contradistinction to the ‘synodic revolution’, because, relatively to the Sun, the planet again occupies the same portion of the heavens.
5. Concerned with the stars.
1833 J. F. W. Herschel Astronomy 372 Chap. xii. Of Sidereal Astronomy.
1853 J. F. W. Herschel Pop. Lect. Sci. (1873) v. §28. 204 Thus opening another chapter in the history of sidereal mensuration.
1870 tr. Pouchet's Universe (1871) 519 The nebulæ mark the limits of sidereal investigation.
Friday, November 28, 2014
A Lesson Learned and a Painful Goodbye
A karmic debt will always be repaid 100 fold.
It was a terse, painful, goodbye, your words stung more than I can ever express, but the affair will always be as I remember it, though the memory is half blurred as if by dream and happenstance.
Lips wet with whisky and wild desire, your heart drumming me toward an ocean of oblivion, your mouth on my mouth until the outside world dissolves in mist and my body knows nothing but the rush of blood in our veins.
Drunken mad, delirious, bliss; in your cup I yield to you my soul and drink your kiss.
I suck your tongue and listen as your heart calls out to me in iambic syllables. I compose sonnets to the rhythmic meter of its beating.
It was a terse, painful, goodbye, your words stung more than I can ever express, but the affair will always be as I remember it, though the memory is half blurred as if by dream and happenstance.
Lips wet with whisky and wild desire, your heart drumming me toward an ocean of oblivion, your mouth on my mouth until the outside world dissolves in mist and my body knows nothing but the rush of blood in our veins.
Drunken mad, delirious, bliss; in your cup I yield to you my soul and drink your kiss.
I suck your tongue and listen as your heart calls out to me in iambic syllables. I compose sonnets to the rhythmic meter of its beating.
Friday, November 21, 2014
The Warrior Woman's Surrender
Like Hippolyta to Theseus in A Midsummer Night's Dream, I have surrendered to the path of soul consciousness chosen for me by fate. I'd evaded so long, denied its existence, refused and refused and refused all who attempted entry. Until fate delivered him to my doorstep and Cupid set his arrows afire.
He was the most beautiful, wild, thing I'd ever encountered. He will be difficult to forget.
He was the most beautiful, wild, thing I'd ever encountered. He will be difficult to forget.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
"Wild Nights--Wild Nights!"
Wild nights - Wild nights! (269)
Wild nights - Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile - the winds -
To a Heart in port -
Done with the Compass -
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden -
Ah - the Sea!
Might I but moor - tonight -
In thee!
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Our Two Hands Applaud, and This Is No Sin
Two Hands
By Anne Sexton
From the sea came a hand,
ignorant as a penny,
troubled with the salt of its mother,
mute with the silence of the fishes,
quick with the altars of the tides,
and God reached out of His mouth
and called it man.
Up came the other hand
and God called it woman.
The hands applauded
And this was no sin.
It was as it was meant to be.
I see them roaming the streets:
Levi complaining about his mattress,
Sarah studying a beetle,
Mandrake holding his coffee mug,
Sally playing the drum at a football game,
John closing the eyes of the dying woman,
and some who are in prison,
even the prison of their bodies,
as Christ was prisoned in His body
until the triumph came.
Unwind hands,
you angel webs,
unwind like the coil of a jumping jack,
cup together and let yourselves fill up with sun
and applaud, world,
applaud.
By Anne Sexton
From the sea came a hand,
ignorant as a penny,
troubled with the salt of its mother,
mute with the silence of the fishes,
quick with the altars of the tides,
and God reached out of His mouth
and called it man.
Up came the other hand
and God called it woman.
The hands applauded
And this was no sin.
It was as it was meant to be.
I see them roaming the streets:
Levi complaining about his mattress,
Sarah studying a beetle,
Mandrake holding his coffee mug,
Sally playing the drum at a football game,
John closing the eyes of the dying woman,
and some who are in prison,
even the prison of their bodies,
as Christ was prisoned in His body
until the triumph came.
Unwind hands,
you angel webs,
unwind like the coil of a jumping jack,
cup together and let yourselves fill up with sun
and applaud, world,
applaud.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Our Poetic Moment
And the day would come
When I would be your poem
You write your words
upon my body
flame sun tongue
drive these syllables into me
And you penetrate me
with the force of
the word
the force of
nouns and verbs
When I would be your poem
You write your words
upon my body
flame sun tongue
drive these syllables into me
And you penetrate me
with the force of
the word
the force of
nouns and verbs
Bajo tu clara sombra
by Octavio Paz
Un cuerpo, un cuerpo solo, un sólo cuerpo
un cuerpo como día derramado
y noche devorada;
la luz de unos cabellos
que no apaciguan nunca
la sombra de mi tacto;
una garganta, un vientre que amanece
como el mar que se enciende
cuando toca la frente de la aurora;
unos tobillos, puentes del verano;
unos muslos nocturnos que se hunden
en la música verde de la tarde;
un pecho que se alza
y arrasa las espumas;
un cuello, sólo un cuello,
unas manos tan sólo,
unas palabras lentas que descienden
como arena caída en otra arena....
Esto que se me escapa,
agua y delicia obscura,
mar naciendo o muriendo;
estos labios y dientes,
estos ojos hambrientos,
me desnudan de mí
y su furiosa gracia me levanta
hasta los quietos cielos
donde vibra el instante;
la cima de los besos,
la plenitud del mundo y de sus formas.
Un cuerpo, un cuerpo solo, un sólo cuerpo
un cuerpo como día derramado
y noche devorada;
la luz de unos cabellos
que no apaciguan nunca
la sombra de mi tacto;
una garganta, un vientre que amanece
como el mar que se enciende
cuando toca la frente de la aurora;
unos tobillos, puentes del verano;
unos muslos nocturnos que se hunden
en la música verde de la tarde;
un pecho que se alza
y arrasa las espumas;
un cuello, sólo un cuello,
unas manos tan sólo,
unas palabras lentas que descienden
como arena caída en otra arena....
Esto que se me escapa,
agua y delicia obscura,
mar naciendo o muriendo;
estos labios y dientes,
estos ojos hambrientos,
me desnudan de mí
y su furiosa gracia me levanta
hasta los quietos cielos
donde vibra el instante;
la cima de los besos,
la plenitud del mundo y de sus formas.
Monday, November 3, 2014
What of hearts and minds?
Never give all the Heart
Never give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that’s lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.
O come be my tiger
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
"10 Things I Hate About You"
1. Your eyes that draw me in like two magnets and leave me utterly lost in a sea of blue
2. Your boyish smile that beguiles me into believing anything and everything you say to me, no matter how outlandish or cliché
3. Your teeth that gleam with fearful symmetry, like a tiger stalking prey
4. Your voice that sings my name in unspoken syllables.
5. Your arms that hold me weightless against the grain of the universe
6. Your ambivalence that leaves an icy rime around my heart
7. Your distancing rhetoric; a confusing amalgam of fear and uncertainty
8. My desire to give you anything and everything you want no matter that my heart says, "hold on, hold on."
9. My inability to say "no."
10. Your kisses that scorch my flesh with a promise of possibility and a vision of what could be/might have been
2. Your boyish smile that beguiles me into believing anything and everything you say to me, no matter how outlandish or cliché
3. Your teeth that gleam with fearful symmetry, like a tiger stalking prey
4. Your voice that sings my name in unspoken syllables.
5. Your arms that hold me weightless against the grain of the universe
6. Your ambivalence that leaves an icy rime around my heart
7. Your distancing rhetoric; a confusing amalgam of fear and uncertainty
8. My desire to give you anything and everything you want no matter that my heart says, "hold on, hold on."
9. My inability to say "no."
10. Your kisses that scorch my flesh with a promise of possibility and a vision of what could be/might have been
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
There were no more Troys to burn
W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). Responsibilities and Other Poems. 1916.
36. No Second Troy
36. No Second Troy
| WHY should I blame her that she filled my days | |
| With misery, or that she would of late | |
| Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, | |
| Or hurled the little streets upon the great, | |
| Had they but courage equal to desire? | 5 |
| What could have made her peaceful with a mind | |
| That nobleness made simple as a fire, | |
| With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind | |
| That is not natural in an age like this, | |
| Being high and solitary and most stern? | 10 |
| Why, what could she have done being what she is? | |
| Was there another Troy for her to burn? |
Dorothy Parker on Love
“I require three things in a man: he must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid.”
“And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer, I, for all I learned.”
“Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both.”
“I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you.”
“Drink and dance and laugh and lie,
Love, the reeling midnight through,
For tomorrow we shall die!
(But, alas, we never do.)”
“Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;
Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.
Show yourself, by word and look,
Swift and shallow as a brook.
Be as cool and quick to go
As a drop of April snow;
Be as delicate and gay
As a cherry flower in May.
Lady, lady, never speak
Of the tears that burn your cheek-
She will never win him, whose
Words had shown she feared to lose.
Be you wise and never sad,
You will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
And your wish will come to you-
And if that makes you happy, kid,
You'll be the first it ever did.”
― Dorothy Parker
“And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer, I, for all I learned.”
“Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both.”
“I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you.”
“Drink and dance and laugh and lie,
Love, the reeling midnight through,
For tomorrow we shall die!
(But, alas, we never do.)”
“Lady, lady, never start
Conversation toward your heart;
Keep your pretty words serene;
Never murmur what you mean.
Show yourself, by word and look,
Swift and shallow as a brook.
Be as cool and quick to go
As a drop of April snow;
Be as delicate and gay
As a cherry flower in May.
Lady, lady, never speak
Of the tears that burn your cheek-
She will never win him, whose
Words had shown she feared to lose.
Be you wise and never sad,
You will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
And your wish will come to you-
And if that makes you happy, kid,
You'll be the first it ever did.”
― Dorothy Parker
Monday, October 27, 2014
The Ballad of Tony the Tiger: A work in progress
I saw your eyes that tried to hide
behind façades of boyish charm
I knew you'd do me
some inchoate harm. But we played the game;
minor distraction from banal tragedy
You were like Achilles or Heracles
an epic hero battling a waterline
but the wrench was in the gears
even then
I pretended not
to see.
You came to me like a ball of fire;
I tried to run away, but couldn't.
Startled stock still
Mesmerized by the possibilities
in your eyes.
I exploded in your arms--
like a new sun--
Reborn.
Your fingers burned at the touch;
Scorched
you ran and ran and ran
from the heat
of that intensity.
Laughing, mocked by a cruel universe;
I dance alone in smoke and flame.
behind façades of boyish charm
I knew you'd do me
some inchoate harm. But we played the game;
minor distraction from banal tragedy
You were like Achilles or Heracles
an epic hero battling a waterline
but the wrench was in the gears
even then
I pretended not
to see.
You came to me like a ball of fire;
I tried to run away, but couldn't.
Startled stock still
Mesmerized by the possibilities
in your eyes.
I exploded in your arms--
like a new sun--
Reborn.
Your fingers burned at the touch;
Scorched
you ran and ran and ran
from the heat
of that intensity.
Laughing, mocked by a cruel universe;
I dance alone in smoke and flame.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
William Carlos Williams on Writing Poetry
William Carlos Williams
On poems as machines made out of words
To make two bold statements: There's nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there's nothing sentimental about a poem, I mean that there can be no part that is redundant. Prose may carry a load of ill-defined matter like a ship. But poetry is a machine which drives it, pruned to a perfect economy. As in all machines, its movement is intrinsic, undulant, a physical more than a literary character.
From: Williams's introduction to The Wedge, in Selected Essays of William Carlos Williams (NY: New Directions, 1969), p. 256.
Read the full article here.
Monday, September 29, 2014
I'm fairly certain my dog is dying
What more is there to say? Death doesn't mess around, and it's messy. Physically messy. Abject. Emotionally messy.
Difficult to express.
Muddled.
I feel like I run the gamut of the Seven Stages of Grief every single day.
I adopted Ursula in 2003 from the German Shepherd Rescue and Adoptions foundation in NC. She was at least a year old at the time and was a voluntary surrender at an animal shelter near a military base. Due to her age and her general condition she was deemed unfit for adoption and put on the list to be euthanized.
Luckily, someone from the shelter called the GSD rescue and they picked her up two hours later. A few months earlier I'd applied to adopt the so-called worst-case scenario rescues as I've worked with GSDs my entire life and feel that I understand the issues that these dogs often face. So I was sent an email with the above photo and it was basically love at first sight. My second dog, Gabby, is also from the same rescue but with different circumstances. Both dogs exhibited signs of abuse and were deemed unfit for adoption by shelters.
My dogs are now geriatric and the older of the two, Ursula, is approaching 13-years and isn't in the best of health. We moved to the desert in July 2011 and she blew out her CCL sometime in the late fall--she'd already blown the other and had one TPLO surgery in May 2011 and now it looked like she needed another on the other side in Dec and of course I'm kicking myself for not having the doctor just go ahead and do both sides in May. This surgery was difficult and expensive the first time around and so I went to the vet knowing--or at least assuming I knew--what to expect.
Well, according to my regular vet, there's exactly ONE vet here in this godforsaken desert who does this surgery. Unfortunately, he is an absolutely despicable human being. He also knows he can get away with it as he has no competition. He charged twice what the previous surgeon charged and when I questioned this (in fact whenever I questioned anything) he acted like I was somehow a terrible parent for being unwilling to just blindly spend whatever it cost. The man had zero bedside manner and was almost intolerable to deal with. In retrospect, I should have sought out another doctor but my dog was in pain and we'd already started the process of X-rays and examinations, plus since this vet came highly recommended by my regular vet it was (or should have been) easy to share records and consultations. However, my regular vet took some very expensive (and uncomfortable for my dog) X-rays and when I expressed concern about this as I had a feeling the surgeon was just going to retake the images, she assured me that she'd put the films on a disc that I could take to him. Why couldn't she just email the images to him? I will probably never know.
Anyway, the long and short of that snafu is that despite driving across town twice and calling receptionists and vet techs at both hospitals to confirm that I would hand-deliver the disc, the surgeon said he never received the disc and had to retake the X-rays. Basically, I could have just thrown $345 out of my car window. The reality is that I just don't have very much money at all and I should have gone elsewhere. But as I said, it seemed easier to just proceed and hope that this doctor, despite being difficult to deal with, at least knew what he was doing with regard to the TPLO procedure. He was highly recommended by my regular vet. So by the end of it I'd spent around $4500 that I didn't really have to begin with (on top of the $2300 for the earlier surgery) and she's now only at about 80% of her former mobility. But she can walk and she's not in pain.
Then, last year, Ursula contracted Valley Fever, which is an extremely expensive and devastating illness. She's been treated for the Valley Fever for just over a year now and I'm not even sure how much I've spent on that--the test is $105 every 6 months. The medication is roughly $130 for a two month supply. So that's roughly $990 a year. The most recent titer suggests improvement, but she is still VF positive.
Now, she's developed another strange and expensive illness. Part of the problem is that we don't know what she has. What's presenting is an enlarged esophagus and respiratory infection. The fancy name is "megaesophagus" and there are a variety of underlying causes.I don't even want to think about how much money I've spent on vet bills over the past few months.
So yeah, life doesn't seem be giving me a break any time soon. Already stressed and overwhelmed at the beginning of the summer, my AC went out. Kaput. Costing $9300 to replace the system. Luckily, I had some money saved but I'd wanted to use that to repair my bathroom which is in desperate need of repairs. But, nope. That fund was completely eaten up by the new AC installation. I desperately need to repair my bathroom as there's a mold issue and that's bad for my health.
I've spent a great deal of money on vet bills and home repairs and now I'm facing even more of both. I know she's old, but it's difficult not to feel that I'm giving up on her. Coming to terms with this hasn't been easy at all.
Ursula is the best dog I've ever had in my life and I've had GSDs since I was a newborn in the cradle. She was so full of life and joie de vivre when we first moved here, it's completely heartbreaking to watch her health deteriorate since we've been here. A lot of that is the valley fever (which is a direct result of moving here). But now she has this other crazy mystery illness and, combined with my current financial woes, it is really taking its toll on my state of mind. I'm exhausted, stressed, and trying very hard to put things into perspective and find a way to muddle my way through the spontaneous crying fits and bouts of depression.
Difficult to express.
Muddled.
I feel like I run the gamut of the Seven Stages of Grief every single day.
I adopted Ursula in 2003 from the German Shepherd Rescue and Adoptions foundation in NC. She was at least a year old at the time and was a voluntary surrender at an animal shelter near a military base. Due to her age and her general condition she was deemed unfit for adoption and put on the list to be euthanized.
Luckily, someone from the shelter called the GSD rescue and they picked her up two hours later. A few months earlier I'd applied to adopt the so-called worst-case scenario rescues as I've worked with GSDs my entire life and feel that I understand the issues that these dogs often face. So I was sent an email with the above photo and it was basically love at first sight. My second dog, Gabby, is also from the same rescue but with different circumstances. Both dogs exhibited signs of abuse and were deemed unfit for adoption by shelters.
My dogs are now geriatric and the older of the two, Ursula, is approaching 13-years and isn't in the best of health. We moved to the desert in July 2011 and she blew out her CCL sometime in the late fall--she'd already blown the other and had one TPLO surgery in May 2011 and now it looked like she needed another on the other side in Dec and of course I'm kicking myself for not having the doctor just go ahead and do both sides in May. This surgery was difficult and expensive the first time around and so I went to the vet knowing--or at least assuming I knew--what to expect.
Well, according to my regular vet, there's exactly ONE vet here in this godforsaken desert who does this surgery. Unfortunately, he is an absolutely despicable human being. He also knows he can get away with it as he has no competition. He charged twice what the previous surgeon charged and when I questioned this (in fact whenever I questioned anything) he acted like I was somehow a terrible parent for being unwilling to just blindly spend whatever it cost. The man had zero bedside manner and was almost intolerable to deal with. In retrospect, I should have sought out another doctor but my dog was in pain and we'd already started the process of X-rays and examinations, plus since this vet came highly recommended by my regular vet it was (or should have been) easy to share records and consultations. However, my regular vet took some very expensive (and uncomfortable for my dog) X-rays and when I expressed concern about this as I had a feeling the surgeon was just going to retake the images, she assured me that she'd put the films on a disc that I could take to him. Why couldn't she just email the images to him? I will probably never know.
Anyway, the long and short of that snafu is that despite driving across town twice and calling receptionists and vet techs at both hospitals to confirm that I would hand-deliver the disc, the surgeon said he never received the disc and had to retake the X-rays. Basically, I could have just thrown $345 out of my car window. The reality is that I just don't have very much money at all and I should have gone elsewhere. But as I said, it seemed easier to just proceed and hope that this doctor, despite being difficult to deal with, at least knew what he was doing with regard to the TPLO procedure. He was highly recommended by my regular vet. So by the end of it I'd spent around $4500 that I didn't really have to begin with (on top of the $2300 for the earlier surgery) and she's now only at about 80% of her former mobility. But she can walk and she's not in pain.
Then, last year, Ursula contracted Valley Fever, which is an extremely expensive and devastating illness. She's been treated for the Valley Fever for just over a year now and I'm not even sure how much I've spent on that--the test is $105 every 6 months. The medication is roughly $130 for a two month supply. So that's roughly $990 a year. The most recent titer suggests improvement, but she is still VF positive.
Now, she's developed another strange and expensive illness. Part of the problem is that we don't know what she has. What's presenting is an enlarged esophagus and respiratory infection. The fancy name is "megaesophagus" and there are a variety of underlying causes.I don't even want to think about how much money I've spent on vet bills over the past few months.
So yeah, life doesn't seem be giving me a break any time soon. Already stressed and overwhelmed at the beginning of the summer, my AC went out. Kaput. Costing $9300 to replace the system. Luckily, I had some money saved but I'd wanted to use that to repair my bathroom which is in desperate need of repairs. But, nope. That fund was completely eaten up by the new AC installation. I desperately need to repair my bathroom as there's a mold issue and that's bad for my health.
I've spent a great deal of money on vet bills and home repairs and now I'm facing even more of both. I know she's old, but it's difficult not to feel that I'm giving up on her. Coming to terms with this hasn't been easy at all.
Ursula is the best dog I've ever had in my life and I've had GSDs since I was a newborn in the cradle. She was so full of life and joie de vivre when we first moved here, it's completely heartbreaking to watch her health deteriorate since we've been here. A lot of that is the valley fever (which is a direct result of moving here). But now she has this other crazy mystery illness and, combined with my current financial woes, it is really taking its toll on my state of mind. I'm exhausted, stressed, and trying very hard to put things into perspective and find a way to muddle my way through the spontaneous crying fits and bouts of depression.
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