Ernest Hemingway:

As Ernest Hemingway once said...
'All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'

Thursday, January 28, 2010

top ten art accidents

This is a great article. Here's an excerpt:

On Jan. 22, 2010, a New York Metropolitan Museum of Art visitor accidentally fell into The Actor, a 105-year-old painting by Pablo Picasso, ripping the canvas.

Wow. I've done a lot of stupid stuff, for sure, but this is incredible. Although had I done this I would have probably peed myself out of sheer horror and embarrassment, only magnifying the horribleness of the situation. I've dropped a thing or two in my time, no big deal. But wow. The thought of this happening to me boggles the mind.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

why didn't I know about this earlier???

I just became aware of Wow. You can get gift certificates for restaurants at way discounted prices. And there are a ton of restaurants on the list.

We really like a local brewpub, Mattingly's, and go there as often as possible. Good, cheap food, and great beer. On this site I can get a $25 gift certificate for $10, and if I enter the code BONUS on the checkout page, I can get it for $2. That's $25 worth of food for $2. Crazy.

So now I can stuff my face and drink a boatload of awesome, freshly-brewed beer for the low price of $2. Does life get any better? I think not.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

life without Chay

So far life without Chay has been just that…life – without Chay. It’s weird. I feel quite a bit of relief, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t really even know it was there until it was gone. No more worrying about her leg breaking, about getting her meds, about whether or not we were keeping her alive too long. That’s a lot to have on your plate.

I keep seeing things that remind me of her. Last night I washed her towels, the one we put under her bowls and the one we used to wipe her feet. Those were her towels. They looked so wrong sitting in the closet. She’ll never use those towels again, we’ll never again wipe her feet. I put her kong in the dishwasher this morning. Her pills are still in the cabinet, because we don’t really know what to do with them, and throwing them away doesn’t seem right. This morning I began to turn my head towards her room to say good-bye to her, but stopped myself. She’s not there.

I got my new checks in the mail yesterday. I’d been ordering greyhound rescue checks for a while now, but decided to go with the standard issue bank checks this time, thinking I’d save a little money. I should have gotten the greyhound ones. I ordered them before she died. They weren’t even that much cheaper. That sucks.

The other day after we came home from grocery shopping Bee went into Chay’s room (well her room now), stood by the bed, and said ‘Chay-chay?’ She’d moved on to something else before we could even respond, but that hurt. Bee won’t even remember her.

I sat down at the computer to put together a little tribute for her on Facebook, and was overwhelmed when looking through all the pictures we have of her. I’d forgotten how she was, what the cancer took away. She was so fun-loving and silly, always lying in funny ways, always ready to run or pounce. She lived for walks, and her ears would perk up at even the slightest sound resembling her collar/leash. We couldn’t even take plastic bags out without her wanting a walk. She used to come in for pets at least once an hour, and loved snuggling on the couch or our bed. She hadn’t done those things in so long. She wasn’t herself, and it happened so slowly that we didn’t even realize it.

I’m eternally thankful that we decided to be with her until she died. We held her as she took her last breath. We watched her head jerk around at every sound because the sedatives have a hallucinatory effect. We were there as she went from a nervous, panicky dog (how she always was at the vet) to being calm and pain-free. I knew the exact moment that she died. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I guess eventually I’ll stop thinking about her as much. It’s okay now. I like the constant reminders. They’re not a wet nose poking me for pets, but it’s something.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Chayla, AKA ‘SV Mamas Fool’ – September 15, 1998 – January 17, 2010

We said good-bye to our first baby girl, Chayla, on Sunday. It was incredibly hard, but also somewhat of a relief – she was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a very aggressive cancer, just before Thanksgiving. The tumor on her shoulder had grown to about the size of a tennis ball. She was in pain, but Sunday was the first time we looked into her eyes and they were sad. It was time.

We took her for a short walk, her favorite thing, but also something she hadn’t done in a month at least. Then she went on a car ride, which was probably her second favorite thing. She got a great dinner the night before and a great breakfast, and plenty of treats. She was so excited to go for her walk, more excited than she’d been in a while. It was a good last day.

We were able to sit with her and hold her the entire time. I wouldn’t have it any other way. She slipped away peacefully, and I am grateful for that. Life won’t be the same without her and already our small house seems very empty.

It was only after looking at pictures we’d taken over time that I realized how much the cancer had changed her in only a few short months. She was so happy, so full of life. Nothing got her down. Stubborn as the day is long, but sweet and loving too. It seems like forever ago that we saw her do this:

This was her playful pounce. This is the picture posted on the rescue group’s site, the picture that made us fall in love with her.

She went with us to the cabin every year at least once. I’ve never been to the cabin without her; it won’t be the same. We’re going to bury her two collars – one at home, one at the cabin. We’ll be burying her Mizzou collar there – a little humor, as the cabin is in Arkansas. This is Chay on the boat. She loved the boat, loved having the wind in her face.

Chay was such a comfort to me during my time on bedrest. She would snuggle with me on the couch. We would share a blanket. Occasionally she’d get very comfortable:

I loved that she was there with me, making me laugh. She was so good at that.

This is a picture of Chay and her best friend, Hank. Hank belongs to our best friends who live in Columbia (though he might argue that they belong to him). They tolerated one another for a while, until the night we left them alone and they managed to tear through a whole bag of pigs ears. From that night on they were best friends. Chay was getting on in years, and though she was robbed of a lot of good life, she was a lazy girl. But Hank brought out the puppy in her. They were so darn cute together.

I could go on and on forever about Chay. She was our first baby, our best girl, for 6 ½ years. We knew she was ours the minute we visited her at her foster home. We just clicked. Chay had been in and out of homes for a few years, never fitting in. But the three of us were perfect together. Everyone loved Chay, she was so special. She had a way of digging into your heart and staying there.

It will be a while before we get another dog, though I know someday we will. I don’t know that I can face the thought of losing another to this horrible cancer, which is very common in greyhounds (and I would only ever get another hound). Maybe when Bee is a little older. Maybe when we’ve got a bit more disposable income.

Good-bye, sweet girl. I know now you’re running freely, eating all the cheese that you want, living it up. We will meet again.