Friday, November 24, 2006
As some of you may know, we live in a seriously animal filled house.Well, recently, Tess, probably the sweetest poochy you could ever hope to meet, had become ill, being sick quite frequently. The vet said it was largely down to her age, and that her kidneys were starting to fail, but that she probably had a reasonable ammount of time left.
Unfortunatly, in her weakened condition, her hind legs gave out on her, after which she declined rapidly.
I sat up with her for most of monday night, as she was having a rough time and getting quite distressed, and by tuesday evening, the family decided unanimously that as she wasn't going to get any better, it would be wrong to let her try and struggle on.
So around 6 o'clock we took her to the local vet, who's known her for years, and he helped her to slip away peacefully.
We miss you hugely Tess. A pooch in a million.
Needless to say, we've all been very upset, and Andrea, who's had her for 15 years is absolutely heart broken.
So, knowing full well that it's impossible to replace Tess, but also that something was needed to fill the huge dog shaped hole in the house, Andrea and I went to the local dog sanctuary this afternoon.
The idea was that we'd just look at adult dogs of around a year or so old, without actually intending to bring one home. Once there, we looked along the line of kennels, and though there were a couple that were nice, they didn't really shout out to us "I'm your dog!"
Now when we arrived, the guy who was taking us around had asked if we wanted a puppy, as they had one left from a litter, but we'd said no, we wanted something older. However, for the sake of completeness, just before we left, we decided to take a look at said puppy anyway.
You know... as we wakled up to the cage/hennel he was in, he came running up to the bars, and the instant we saw him, we knew, this was our dog.
So, welcome Max (aka Max Poopy, as he produces maximum poopage), the cutest little Staffy cross.
Labels: animals, bereavement, dogs, photos
Steve 12:50 AM [+] (0) comments
Saturday, December 18, 2004
This may be the hardest entry I've ever written, so bear with me.When I was around 15, my mum left my dad, and went to live with her 'boyfriend'.
This in itself was difficult to deal with. My dad was/is an absolute bastard, treated us all very badly, with both mental, and physical bullying... bad enough to give my mum a nervous breakdown, and push her right over the edge into insanity.
After years in and out of a lunatic asylum (yes, seriously), by the time my mum left to shack up with this guy, she was so full of pills to stop her from raving, that if you shook her, she'd rattle.
So, the 'boyfriend' was this guy she'd met at a drop-in centre for people with mental problems. He was an alcoholic, drug misusing, smelly, disgusting, compulsive gambler. All in all, a very unsavoury creature.
Over the years, his behaviour, addictions, and mistreatment of my mum got worse, to the point where he made my dad look like a saint... and after my grandfather died, my sister and I managed to convince her to leave him and go to live with my gran.
Excellent, we thought, as my gran couldn't stand the guy either, and wouldn't allow him in her house.
Then my gran died.
Now, there is a clause in my gran's will that states that my mum may live in her house for as long as she likes, and that if/when she decides to move elsewhere, it is to be sold and the proceeds split between my mum and aunt. *However*, if my mum should allow any man (and this is written specifically to stop this drunken disgusting waster from moving in) to move in with her... the house is to be sold, regardless of whether my mum wishes it or not. I don't know who would have enforced this clause, but it's in writing, and legally binding.
So.. from the moment my gran died, the 'boyfriend' began worming his way back into my mum's life, dropping round for visits, totally uninvited, drunk as a skunk, and often at completely unreasonable hours... and then refusing to leave. Don't ask me why my mum allowed him in... it's completely beyond me.
It was obvious to everyone but my mum that this guy was on a serious downward spiral, and seemed absolutely determined to take my mum down with him.
So now we get to the bit that's really troubling me.
Last night I was woken by my cellphone. I keep it in my bedroom for emergencies, as when I'm in bed, I can't hear the landline.
It was my sister, phoning to tell me that the 'boyfriend' was dead. He'd had a heart attack while he was with my mum, and died before the ambulance arrived.
Now you'd expect this to be a traumatic experience for my mum, but I know from past experience that my mum simply can't be traumatised anymore. All of the pills she has to take completely insulate her from reality. When my gran died, my mum's reaction was.. well... she was numb. I asked her how she felt, and she didn't feel a thing. It's not that she didn't care... she just couldn't feel anything.... and that appears to be her reaction now too.
So... is this what's troubling me? No.
What troubles me is my own reaction.
I'm entirely horrified by the first two things that crossed my mind when my sister told me what had happened.
1: "Thank god for that."
Relief that this fucking arsehole can't fuck my mum's life up any more.... but still.... it disgusts me that I could actually be glad that another human being has died.
2: "Okay... that's gonna fuck up my christmas, coz now she's gonna have to come and spend the day with me."
Yeah... really... I actually thought that, and I feel nothing but shame.
The *only* good thing I could ever say about that drunken fucker was that he'd spend christmas day with my mum, saving me from the obligation. I doubt many people will understand that... but it's like I'm the parent and she's the child... a complete role reversal... not just with christmas, but life in general.. and over the years, this has really begun to bug me. So being spared from being the 'christmas host' was quite a relief.
None of this can make me feel good about thinking such a thing though. The depths of my own selfishness make me feel sick.
Labels: annoyed, bereavement
Steve 5:20 AM [+] (0) comments
Friday, April 09, 2004
An update on last night's post.Further confirmation has been obtained, enough to convince even a cynic like myself.
It's a strange thing... you wouldn't think you could get so attached to someone who lives thousands of miles away who you never knew beyond text conversations, but Impy was such a charmer, I find I'm quite gutted.
Labels: bereavement, chatrooms
Steve 6:17 AM [+] (0) comments
Thursday, April 08, 2004
A troubling evening.A very popular op, someone I've considered a friend, who's been missing for two weeks, has been reported and confirmed (as confirmed as is possible without actually going there to check) as having died over the weekend.
I'm torubled because I have doubts. There seem to be discrepancies. But then if it's true, to voice such doubts would be grossly disrespectful.... so I certainly won't do that in the channel, or even go into detail here.
Such is the way with irc, or any other form of online chat... you never *really* know what's real.
Whatever the truth behind it all, I know this much... Impetuous will be sorely missed.
Labels: bereavement, chatrooms
Steve 9:19 PM [+] (0) comments
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