Post Script from Yesterday

It seems that I neglected to mention yesterday that I did not move after all.  I am still in the same place.  The apartment fell through, and I felt so relieved that I realized how attached I am to the house I live in now.  When that happened, the happiness and relief I felt was almost overwhelming. Living in this three bedroom house is a little difficult (and painful) right now, but I realized how much I love it here, with the ocean outside my windows.  Once I made the decision, I celebrated by getting seven baby chicks.  Those girls grew up and can fly like eagles. By that time I had become pretty incapacitated, so they became Neighborhood chickens.......I couldn't keep them in the yard.  Many days I didn't see them at all until suppertime.  Luckily everyone loved them and enjoyed seeing them wandering around.  As cold weather approached, though, and my own mobility became a bigger problem, I had to think of a way to confine them near the house.  I bought a chicken house on line that you put together yourself, assembled it with great difficulty, and parked it near the back door.  Once I had it ready, though, I couldn't see confining them to such a small space 24/7.

Well, necessity is the mother of invention.  I cleaned all the junk out of the shed that is attached to the house and turned it into a chicken house.  It worked out great for me as I got more incapacitated.  All I had to do was open the kitchen door to feed and water them.  A baby gate kept them confined when the door to the kitchen was open.  Still as they grew accustomed to the place, they decided it would be fun to take a look at the rest of the house.  Now when I feed them, they are constantly flying up to my shoulders or my head, hoping to then make a run for it into the kitchen.  Feeding and watering them is quite a circus.  Luckily, Leah and Elliot find them interesting, but don't see them as potential playthings or food.  They just watch them with mild interest.  I think now the story of my hiatus from blogging is pretty much up to date.

PS:  I sit a lot, and read a lot.  Guess what.............I'm in love with Barbara Kingsolver.  I'm glad she's written so many fat books.

I'm still here......

Oh, how the world goes on.  I didn't mean to lose my enthusiasm for blogging, but it happened anyway.  I so enjoy it, though, and reading the comments.  My extended absence , or my excuse perhaps, is that I have become an invalid, at least temporarily.  I need a hip replacement, which wouldn't be a huge deal if not for the consequences.  It was as if my body realized I had not been subjected  to the usual aches and pains, accidents, and illnesses that humans can ordinarily
expect throughout their lifetime.  I have been the healthiest person I've ever known...........not so much as a cold for many, many years.  Then I began to experience pain in my hip.  That pain increased and expanded until I finally mentioned it to my doctor during my usual yearly exam. 

The chain of events that followed that diagnosis have taken over my life.  I still have not had the necessary surgery, though it is finally looming in the relatively near future.  First, I got pneumonia, then mysterious things started showing up on my x-rays of my lungs.  Blood tests then showed that I was anemic.  Then other mysterious things showed up on x-rays that doctors couldn't identify.  I've had so many scans and tests without anyone being able to identify the problem that it's a wonder I haven't  died from exposure to radiation.

Finally, just last week, a lung specialist theorized that my two parakeets are to blame.  Their grooming habits have resulted in contaminating my lungs.  He said I could go ahead with the surgery on my hip, but he would like me to get rid of the birds.  (Of course that would be impossible for me.  I can not abandon my animals.)  I did get over the pneumonia and anemia after months of half heartedly taking vitamin pills.  I tried to introduce various additions, somewhat successfully, to my diet.  I, a former cook who served and consumed a very complicated and international diet, had lost interest in preparing and eating all those delicious meals.  For years I have eaten almost nothing but dry cereal with milk , along with candy and potato chips.

So, the ordeal is almost over.  The surgery that will get me back on my feet should make me as good as new.  I can throw away my canes and my walker.  I may even clean the house, which is filthy and cluttered in the extreme.  I can not walk now without those aids, and my pain level is very high.  My personality forbids my accepting help from any of my very few friends.  I stay in the house with the door locked, not bothering to get dressed.

So, this is my life.  Am I depressed?  No, not a all.  I have Elliot, light of my life, my constant companion,  He is always in sight, playing or resting in my lap.  He is devoted, having had my full, adoring attention throughout his whole lifetime.  The chickens are in the shed (attached to the house by the kitchen door.)  Leah, the cat, plays with Elliot when she feels like it, or sits on my newspaper as I read.  She sneaks out the door from time to time, but immediately regrets it and howls at the window to be let in.  My life is full of books and animals and painting.  I am going to post pictures in my next post, once I track down my camera.  I am fine.

Elliot

Here is my new baby, Elliot.  After Patrick had been gone a few days I started looking for a new dog.  My first choice was to find a rescue, but the process was too complicated.  I needed immediate action, and rescue places demand too much red tape and money.  I understand and applaud their thoroughness, but I always want, and need, immediate gratification.  After filling out four or five long applications and spending hours on the phone I looked in the newspaper and saw this ad for Shitzu puppies. A few phone calls and six hundred and fifty dollars later I made arrangements to meet the breeder in Ellsworth and pick up my 8 week old puppy.  The same day two of the rescue places I had talked with sent me emails that I was approved.  Of course it was too late, and I was "stuck" with this little bundle of energy.

One of my problems with getting a puppy was the fear of dying before he did.  I am old enough that chances are good Elliot will outlive me.  I had to put that out of my mind, promising to live well into my eighties.   Meanwhile I am dealing with a dog and a cat who are far less appreciative of the new arrival.  Willy would kill him if he could get at him, I think.  I have introduced them, and Willy stares at Elliot with murder on his mind.  His body is rigid, and eventually he starts to shake.  As soon as any movement happens, he lunges at Elliot, whereupon I snatch him away. Elliot is completely unaware of the situation and wants to play.  All I can do is hope that the situation resolves itself.  Willy was okay with Patrick, but part of that, I think, was that Patrick was here first.  Right now Willy's habit of spending his days upstairs is an advantage.  Elliot is confined to the dining room where I spend most of my time when I'm downstairs, so for now things are running fairly well.  Leah was a no-show for a couple of days, but now she understands that Elliot is no threat and simply ignores him.

So this is my life as I wait for the upheaval of moving.  I don't know how soon that will be, but an opening is coming up soon....a one-bedroom place in the senior citizen building.  When a two bedroom becomes available, I'll move into that.  Timing is important in that the house I live in now failed to pass the requirements for rental assistance this year, as I knew would happen.  I have to move somewhere within a few months.  My life is often in a state of uncertainty and these  things do not cause me any anxiety.  Something will happen.  One is either alive or dead, and I am alive.  I will be somewhere.

Good-bye, Baby Boy

Jim painted this portrait of Patrick just a few days ago.  Now it turns out to be his memorial. For the last several days he seemed to be winding down.  He was increasingly lethargic, stopped eating.  Though I knew he was dying, I couldn't totally accept it.  For days I watched him deteriorate.  He didn't seem to be suffering, and it was my vague intent to let him die on his own.  At the same time I didn't rule out a miracle until yesterday.  I finally decided it was unfair to us both to let him go on.  I took him to the vet and had him euthanized.

I wonder how many more times I can endure the loss of a beloved animal....how many times I can tell myself that the joy of having them is worth the pain.  I'm probably not done yet.  For one thing, I still have Willy.  He's still reasonably young.  Though I love him, he won't fill the void left by Patrick.  I will have to decide if I will go through the rest of my life without the intense love I felt for Lytton and Patrick in order to avoid the pain of losing them.  Probably I won't.