The following is a copy and paste from Rob's facebook site written by one of his friends about when he met Jamie. I was laughing so hard when I read it so I though I would share.
"Sorry about your doggy! She was such a fierce lover! Remember when you
and Dave scared the sh!* out of me that time by letting her out while I
was in the kitchen? Sheesh! that was close... I remember you guys
yelling:"Don't look her in the eyes! Don't look her in the eyes!" Then
she made me pet her, because when I stopped, she chomped my sleeve. I
still have that shirt & it still has a big hole in it where she bit
through! She was cool."
Ha ha ha this also reminds me of a time Rob's friend came to our old house. I came walking into the living room just in time to see him jump onto our pool table as Jamie was nipping at his legs. Ha ha ha.
All this aggression but not a single snarl towards our son Jamison. She never so much as raised her little furry lips at him...unless it was for the many kisses she gave him. She loved kissing him because he was the only family member that would allow her to lick him right on the lips for an endless amount of time.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
My Life With Ping
This is actually a copy and paste from an old blog I wrote on myspace, dated: 02/08/09.
I miss Jamie, I miss her so damn much, I miss her with every cell in my body. I cannot even pour out her water dish; in fact I was mad when Rob emptied her food dish. Mostly I feel fine, but suddenly a feeling of loneliness will consume me. Tomorrow Rob goes back to work for the first time and I am afraid to be home alone without Jamie. I am almost 30 and I am afraid to be home without my doggie. As I walk down my dark hallway, into my dark bedroom and know that her bed will be empty I struggle to keep walking. I struggle to realize that her bed is empty no matter if I turn around and avoid seeing it or not, the bed is empty.
It has been less than 72 hours since I had to put Jamie to sleep and I must have looked at her bed a thousand times expecting to see her. Each time it gets easier but each moment something new comes along reminding me of her. A squeak in the floor and I’m convinced it is her whining, I cracking of the wall and I just know it’s her nails on the hardwood floor or even a shadow and I’m convinced she’s just around the corner. Soon memories will fade and remnants of her will be put away, thrown away or tucked away and that is when it will get easier. In the mean time I am fearful of it “getting easier,” I am afraid to forget what she smells like or what her snoring sounded like. I am afraid that I’ll forget how her front paws lifted off the ground when she barked for joy over a walk or a treat. I am afraid I will forget that her tail wagged in a circle when she was extremely happy or excited. I know it will happen; it has to in order for me to get over this loss. That is why I am writing this, so that even if my memories fade this ink will not.
She died peacefully and dignified in her bed, at our house, in mine and Rob’s arms just like she deserved. Feeling her take her last breath was hard. I sat wondering "is this it?" I waited for another breath, but there were no more breaths to come. It was even harder to have her body in my arms; it didn’t feel like her anymore, she was gone. As soon as the veterinarian said it was over I moved my hands and gently placed Jamie’s head on her blanket she so liked to nibble. I watched them pick her lifeless body up. I got up too. I was in such a daze I didn't know what to do. I stood there and stared at the lady holding Jamie’s body covered in a purple blanket. As they started to carry Jamie out of the house I struggled with my emotions and walked out of the room to grab a towel, when I came back Jamie was gone. The house suddenly felt emptier then it had ever felt, in fact the whole world felt a little bit emptier.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back 13 years and two
months. Pay close attention, the following is a series of events that leads to meeting my husband and consequently the birth of our son. If memory serves me right it would be in December of 1995. I was just barely 16. I woke up to my brother saying,
“Hey Meghan, you know that Pit Bull that one guy has?” Without even giving me a chance to answer he continued, “Well he’s bringing her here, mom said we could have her!”
Do I remember her? Of course I remembered her! It wasn’t more than a couple weeks ago I saw her at the local coffee shop and said to my friends “I would love a pit just like that”!!!! She was brown with a black snout, black around her eyes, black toenails and the very tip of her tail was black. She had a white patch on her chest and her chin. She was not a solid brown but a brown of various shades. Her fur was a slightly lighter brown near her shoulder blades, towards her belly and under her tail but darker on her ears and down her spine. All the hues blended flawlessly to complete the composition that was Jamie.
I jumped out of bed and prepared to meet my future dog…but wait.
“Meghan can’t handle a Pit Bull, she should be mine” my brother said to my mom.
“But Jake already has a dog, I should get her, I wanted her from the first time I saw her. Please mom pl…” I was cut off.
“The dog will be Meghan’s” My mom said matter of fact like.
Jager, as she was then called came to my house a 4 month old puppy. Her owner had purchased her against his mom’s will and was forced to give her up. I don’t know what would have become of her had I not taken her but I do know she was full of anxiety, liked to nip at people and was scared of everything. Looking back I feel it was imperative to her happiness that I got her. I was able to give her the special care required for a Pit Bull that had the ability to scare the hell out of people but run (I mean that in every literal sense of the word) from her own farts.
Once it was confirmed that she was mine I changed her name to Jamie, scooped her up in my arms, ran out to my red VW beetle and drove off with her sitting happily in my lap. I was on my way to every friend’s house that was home. I had to show her off! It wasn’t more than a few months later Jamie and I as well as three other friends got in a roll over car accident in that V dub. We were on the freeway going a nice 70 mph when I lost control and rolled the vehicle. There were many injuries, one requiring a life flight but Jamie and I had little more than a few scratches. When the car stopped Jamie climbed up onto my lap and sat there shaking while everyone was unloaded from the car by ambulance personnel. Everyone ended up ok and despite the fact that Jamie and I were not injured they still put me in an ambulance, Jamie in toe, and we went to the hospital.
Jamie and I had many adventures together; we went through many of life’s experience in the company of each other. We grew up together. When camping was fun she camped with me, when road tripping was fun she road tripped with me, when river rafting fun she did that too and when hanging out with the family was fun she, well, hung out with the family.
She caught many tears of mine for many reasons on her furry neck and loved every minute of all my drama. She sat by for many laughs, many tears, many friends, and just a few boyfriends. She slept in my bed with me most of the time and when anyone came into my bedroom, my dad included, she jumped up and barked ferociously. Whenever my dad was the target he would commend her with a, “Good girl Jamie.” Once she recognized it was him the barking stopped and the tail wagging began. She was always very protective of me, in fact she had been known to bite, growl and snarl at strangers but if I wasn’t in the room she would actually allow a pat or two on the head. I still find this hard to believe but that is what I have been told.
I always felt safe with her by my side. We went on a countless amount of hikes alone and I never worried a bit. I knew my Pit Bull with an attitude was enough to intimidate anyone and if someone had the courage to take her on I would like to have seen them try! Because of her I felt safe taking almost weekly road trips to Green River Utah to see my parents. During my road trips to Southern Utah if I had to stop for a bathroom break I took her into the bathroom with me. I got some funny looks from other women as I had her in the stall with me but Jamie and I never cared. We were two peas in a pod!
My parents had recently moved down to Green River and Jamie and I had recently moved downtown. Prior to this move taking place my parents were fully ready to take Jamie after months of searching for a home that allowed dogs, had a yard and was affordable. I was not ready to give Jamie to my parents so I continued what seemed to be a fruitless search for the perfect place for me and Jamie. We found that house on 342 Douglas Street. And the best part about it is my future husband lived upstairs! If it wasn’t for Jamie I would have never found this house and never met Rob, it is her presence in my life that is the reason I met him thus leading to our marriage and birth of our son. Thank you Jamie!!
Jamie’s protective attitude continued throughout her entire life. She continued to snap at strangers but never did any damage under my watch. She did one time cost us a $50 bottle of wine for biting our neighbor but that was under Rob’s watch. Another time one neighbor (an old one) taught Jamie a lesson. Rob and I came home to find our couch soaking wet as well as all the newspapers around it. As we cleaned up the mess we just couldn’t figure out what it could be. The window was open but it hadn’t rained, we were baffled. After a quick sniff we knew it wasn’t urine but what else could have caused all that wetness. We knew Jamie somehow must have been involved but there were no clues. She was happily wagging her tail to greet our arrival home with absolutely no indication of being naughty. As we cleaned up the mess we saw the little old lady who lived next door to us come walking around the corner of her house, hose in hand watering her lawn. Right then we both realized Jamie got a good shot of water right in the face from our neighbor. I love Jamie and truth be told I wasn’t too fond of that neighbor but there was no doubt in my mind Jamie got was she deserved. I can only imagine Jamie was barking relentlessly at our neighbor as she tried to enjoy her Sunday afternoon watering her lawn.
Oh how that dog of mine thought she was so tough. Rob and I took her to a little pond once to stretch her legs after driving around all day. As we were there someone else arrived with 5 black labs. All five dogs were let out of the car and started running right for Jamie. It was obvious they were attempting a friendship but she wasn’t much interested in being friends as the first two dogs that arrived were quick to find out. Her angry spikes shot up all down her spine and she barked viciously at them as they happily approached her, tails wagging. Jamie lunged at one and got hold of its neck. It looked worse than it was, in fact I would be more accurate in saying she gently took hold of its neck. It was however enough to scare the dogs off and they all left us alone running in the other direction. For someone who hardly knew Jamie it might be hard to believe but she hated fighting. It scared her. In the few occasions that she did get caught up in a fight it would usually end with her in my lap shaking. In fact my mom’s Jack Russell had more fighting prowess then my Pit Bull.
Jackie was her name and she just so happened to be Jamie’s best friend as well as an occasional nuisance to Jamie. You see Jamie loved playing with rocks especially if they were in water, whether it was a river, stream, lake or pond rocks in water were something of a joyous experience for Jamie. Jackie hated it, she hated that Jamie ignored her to play with a rock. As I would throw rocks into the water and watch Jamie blissfully run in after them Jackie would chase behind all the while barking and nipping at Jamie. Jamie took it and took it and took it until one time Jamie had had ENOUGH! She snapped and grabbed Jackie by the neck. I panicked; I thought my Pit Bull was going to kill my mom’s little 25lb dog right there in front of everyone. I grabbed Jamie with all my strength and pulled her off. It was easier than I anticipated. Jackie on the other hand continued to lunge at Jamie. I had to let go of Jamie and grab Jackie in order to stop the fight. None the less I was fearful to see what damage Jamie did to Jackie’s neck. She had after all had all of that little dog’s neck grasped tightly between her locking jaws. I inspected Jackie’s neck expecting to see blood, but there was none. How about a scratch? Nope. A bump? Nothing but a lot of slobber all over Jackie’s neck. Jamie could have killed Jackie in less than a couple seconds but she chose not to because Jamie had nothing but love for her best friend Jackie.
Jamie was a great dog! She got herself into trouble now and again, but every shoe she chewed up was worth it. Every couch she gnawed on, garbage she got in and bathroom accident she had it was all worth it. As she aged she ruined less shoes, less couches and had less bathroom accidents but one thing remained, that dog loved getting into garbage. One time I came home to garbage all over the house. Jamie of course was sleeping peacefully in her bed like nothing was wrong. What she didn’t know was that a piece of tissue was stuck to her paw with a piece of chewed up gum, I guess you could say she got caught red pawed.
This is just a little bit about the life of an amazing dog. I could never put into writing all the emotions I felt as her friend, or all the remarkable things she did for me as a companion. I can only attempt to sum up some of my favorites in hopes to never forget them. I know without a doubt I will never have the bond with another dog like I had with Jamie. We essentially grew up together. We got old together. She unfortunately just got older faster. She survived through two knee surgeries and walked with a limp for the last couple years of her life. Not a problem for her, she could care less, she was just happy being part of the family and in our eyes she sure was too. We called her ‘Jamison’s big sister’ and let me emphasize that the similarity in names between our dog and our son was no accident.
Something that stings the most is knowing that Jamison will never laugh at/with her again. She was the one family member that really cracked him up. She never growled at him, never snapped at him, she never even acted irritated with him despite the tormenting he often did. My heart breaks that her life is over and mine continues. Rob said maybe her heart is sad that her life continues while we are stuck without her. I like to think of it that way.
She was so loyal to me. A mama’s girl as Rob called her. Even when it was hard for her to get up she would follow me from one room to the next. More often than not I would come out of the bathroom to find her laying by the bathroom door in the pitch black hallway while Rob would be in our bedroom with the lights on and her bed available for her. She was totally a mama's girl. Even up until her last day she followed me despite her paralysis. I moved her from room to room with me during her last couple days because I knew that was important to her. On one occasion where I left the room just briefly I chose not to go through the process required to move her paralyzed body. I was going to my room only for a moment. Rob was downstairs and Jamie was in her bed in the living room. Rob heard a thumping noise so he ran upstairs to see what was going on. Jamie was dragging herself towards my room where I was. Rob picked her up and carried her to me. She was happiest to be where I was and I was happiest to have her there.
The day Jamie died we spent all day cuddling her and taking pictures. Early that morning around 530 AM I got on the floor with Jamie and laid in her bed with her, I rubbed her neck and cheek muscles. She relaxed despite her apparent discomfort and began rolling around in her bed as best she could given the situation. She also did her fair share of nibbling and then got some sleep. I cried some of my last tears on her that morning and she took that like she had taken the many other tears I had cried on her in my lifetime…with pride to be by my side.
I can go on and on but for now I just want to say all the sadness I feel is a very very very small price to pay for the immeasurable amount of happiness I got from her. I know I was a good mom but I also know she was a better dog then I was mom. I am sure given the amazing ability that dogs have to be incredibly loyal, innocent and non judgmental the same could be true for all human/dog relationships.
The rain has washed away her paw prints in the snow, and although I looked out my window hoping to see just one paw print one last time, there were none. The remnants of her are already fading. I have packed up or thrown away everything that reminds me of her being sick and left out everything else. Her toys, her food and water dishes, her beds, everything remains as it was. In time I will pack those up too or decide to share them with another dog but for now they stay out and they belong solely to her.
I miss Jamie, I miss her so damn much, I miss her with every cell in my body. I cannot even pour out her water dish; in fact I was mad when Rob emptied her food dish. Mostly I feel fine, but suddenly a feeling of loneliness will consume me. Tomorrow Rob goes back to work for the first time and I am afraid to be home alone without Jamie. I am almost 30 and I am afraid to be home without my doggie. As I walk down my dark hallway, into my dark bedroom and know that her bed will be empty I struggle to keep walking. I struggle to realize that her bed is empty no matter if I turn around and avoid seeing it or not, the bed is empty.
It has been less than 72 hours since I had to put Jamie to sleep and I must have looked at her bed a thousand times expecting to see her. Each time it gets easier but each moment something new comes along reminding me of her. A squeak in the floor and I’m convinced it is her whining, I cracking of the wall and I just know it’s her nails on the hardwood floor or even a shadow and I’m convinced she’s just around the corner. Soon memories will fade and remnants of her will be put away, thrown away or tucked away and that is when it will get easier. In the mean time I am fearful of it “getting easier,” I am afraid to forget what she smells like or what her snoring sounded like. I am afraid that I’ll forget how her front paws lifted off the ground when she barked for joy over a walk or a treat. I am afraid I will forget that her tail wagged in a circle when she was extremely happy or excited. I know it will happen; it has to in order for me to get over this loss. That is why I am writing this, so that even if my memories fade this ink will not.
She died peacefully and dignified in her bed, at our house, in mine and Rob’s arms just like she deserved. Feeling her take her last breath was hard. I sat wondering "is this it?" I waited for another breath, but there were no more breaths to come. It was even harder to have her body in my arms; it didn’t feel like her anymore, she was gone. As soon as the veterinarian said it was over I moved my hands and gently placed Jamie’s head on her blanket she so liked to nibble. I watched them pick her lifeless body up. I got up too. I was in such a daze I didn't know what to do. I stood there and stared at the lady holding Jamie’s body covered in a purple blanket. As they started to carry Jamie out of the house I struggled with my emotions and walked out of the room to grab a towel, when I came back Jamie was gone. The house suddenly felt emptier then it had ever felt, in fact the whole world felt a little bit emptier.
I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back 13 years and two
months. Pay close attention, the following is a series of events that leads to meeting my husband and consequently the birth of our son. If memory serves me right it would be in December of 1995. I was just barely 16. I woke up to my brother saying,
“Hey Meghan, you know that Pit Bull that one guy has?” Without even giving me a chance to answer he continued, “Well he’s bringing her here, mom said we could have her!”
Do I remember her? Of course I remembered her! It wasn’t more than a couple weeks ago I saw her at the local coffee shop and said to my friends “I would love a pit just like that”!!!! She was brown with a black snout, black around her eyes, black toenails and the very tip of her tail was black. She had a white patch on her chest and her chin. She was not a solid brown but a brown of various shades. Her fur was a slightly lighter brown near her shoulder blades, towards her belly and under her tail but darker on her ears and down her spine. All the hues blended flawlessly to complete the composition that was Jamie.
I jumped out of bed and prepared to meet my future dog…but wait.
“Meghan can’t handle a Pit Bull, she should be mine” my brother said to my mom.
“But Jake already has a dog, I should get her, I wanted her from the first time I saw her. Please mom pl…” I was cut off.
“The dog will be Meghan’s” My mom said matter of fact like.
Jager, as she was then called came to my house a 4 month old puppy. Her owner had purchased her against his mom’s will and was forced to give her up. I don’t know what would have become of her had I not taken her but I do know she was full of anxiety, liked to nip at people and was scared of everything. Looking back I feel it was imperative to her happiness that I got her. I was able to give her the special care required for a Pit Bull that had the ability to scare the hell out of people but run (I mean that in every literal sense of the word) from her own farts.
Once it was confirmed that she was mine I changed her name to Jamie, scooped her up in my arms, ran out to my red VW beetle and drove off with her sitting happily in my lap. I was on my way to every friend’s house that was home. I had to show her off! It wasn’t more than a few months later Jamie and I as well as three other friends got in a roll over car accident in that V dub. We were on the freeway going a nice 70 mph when I lost control and rolled the vehicle. There were many injuries, one requiring a life flight but Jamie and I had little more than a few scratches. When the car stopped Jamie climbed up onto my lap and sat there shaking while everyone was unloaded from the car by ambulance personnel. Everyone ended up ok and despite the fact that Jamie and I were not injured they still put me in an ambulance, Jamie in toe, and we went to the hospital.
Jamie and I had many adventures together; we went through many of life’s experience in the company of each other. We grew up together. When camping was fun she camped with me, when road tripping was fun she road tripped with me, when river rafting fun she did that too and when hanging out with the family was fun she, well, hung out with the family.
She caught many tears of mine for many reasons on her furry neck and loved every minute of all my drama. She sat by for many laughs, many tears, many friends, and just a few boyfriends. She slept in my bed with me most of the time and when anyone came into my bedroom, my dad included, she jumped up and barked ferociously. Whenever my dad was the target he would commend her with a, “Good girl Jamie.” Once she recognized it was him the barking stopped and the tail wagging began. She was always very protective of me, in fact she had been known to bite, growl and snarl at strangers but if I wasn’t in the room she would actually allow a pat or two on the head. I still find this hard to believe but that is what I have been told.
I always felt safe with her by my side. We went on a countless amount of hikes alone and I never worried a bit. I knew my Pit Bull with an attitude was enough to intimidate anyone and if someone had the courage to take her on I would like to have seen them try! Because of her I felt safe taking almost weekly road trips to Green River Utah to see my parents. During my road trips to Southern Utah if I had to stop for a bathroom break I took her into the bathroom with me. I got some funny looks from other women as I had her in the stall with me but Jamie and I never cared. We were two peas in a pod!
My parents had recently moved down to Green River and Jamie and I had recently moved downtown. Prior to this move taking place my parents were fully ready to take Jamie after months of searching for a home that allowed dogs, had a yard and was affordable. I was not ready to give Jamie to my parents so I continued what seemed to be a fruitless search for the perfect place for me and Jamie. We found that house on 342 Douglas Street. And the best part about it is my future husband lived upstairs! If it wasn’t for Jamie I would have never found this house and never met Rob, it is her presence in my life that is the reason I met him thus leading to our marriage and birth of our son. Thank you Jamie!!
Jamie’s protective attitude continued throughout her entire life. She continued to snap at strangers but never did any damage under my watch. She did one time cost us a $50 bottle of wine for biting our neighbor but that was under Rob’s watch. Another time one neighbor (an old one) taught Jamie a lesson. Rob and I came home to find our couch soaking wet as well as all the newspapers around it. As we cleaned up the mess we just couldn’t figure out what it could be. The window was open but it hadn’t rained, we were baffled. After a quick sniff we knew it wasn’t urine but what else could have caused all that wetness. We knew Jamie somehow must have been involved but there were no clues. She was happily wagging her tail to greet our arrival home with absolutely no indication of being naughty. As we cleaned up the mess we saw the little old lady who lived next door to us come walking around the corner of her house, hose in hand watering her lawn. Right then we both realized Jamie got a good shot of water right in the face from our neighbor. I love Jamie and truth be told I wasn’t too fond of that neighbor but there was no doubt in my mind Jamie got was she deserved. I can only imagine Jamie was barking relentlessly at our neighbor as she tried to enjoy her Sunday afternoon watering her lawn.
Oh how that dog of mine thought she was so tough. Rob and I took her to a little pond once to stretch her legs after driving around all day. As we were there someone else arrived with 5 black labs. All five dogs were let out of the car and started running right for Jamie. It was obvious they were attempting a friendship but she wasn’t much interested in being friends as the first two dogs that arrived were quick to find out. Her angry spikes shot up all down her spine and she barked viciously at them as they happily approached her, tails wagging. Jamie lunged at one and got hold of its neck. It looked worse than it was, in fact I would be more accurate in saying she gently took hold of its neck. It was however enough to scare the dogs off and they all left us alone running in the other direction. For someone who hardly knew Jamie it might be hard to believe but she hated fighting. It scared her. In the few occasions that she did get caught up in a fight it would usually end with her in my lap shaking. In fact my mom’s Jack Russell had more fighting prowess then my Pit Bull.
Jackie was her name and she just so happened to be Jamie’s best friend as well as an occasional nuisance to Jamie. You see Jamie loved playing with rocks especially if they were in water, whether it was a river, stream, lake or pond rocks in water were something of a joyous experience for Jamie. Jackie hated it, she hated that Jamie ignored her to play with a rock. As I would throw rocks into the water and watch Jamie blissfully run in after them Jackie would chase behind all the while barking and nipping at Jamie. Jamie took it and took it and took it until one time Jamie had had ENOUGH! She snapped and grabbed Jackie by the neck. I panicked; I thought my Pit Bull was going to kill my mom’s little 25lb dog right there in front of everyone. I grabbed Jamie with all my strength and pulled her off. It was easier than I anticipated. Jackie on the other hand continued to lunge at Jamie. I had to let go of Jamie and grab Jackie in order to stop the fight. None the less I was fearful to see what damage Jamie did to Jackie’s neck. She had after all had all of that little dog’s neck grasped tightly between her locking jaws. I inspected Jackie’s neck expecting to see blood, but there was none. How about a scratch? Nope. A bump? Nothing but a lot of slobber all over Jackie’s neck. Jamie could have killed Jackie in less than a couple seconds but she chose not to because Jamie had nothing but love for her best friend Jackie.
Jamie was a great dog! She got herself into trouble now and again, but every shoe she chewed up was worth it. Every couch she gnawed on, garbage she got in and bathroom accident she had it was all worth it. As she aged she ruined less shoes, less couches and had less bathroom accidents but one thing remained, that dog loved getting into garbage. One time I came home to garbage all over the house. Jamie of course was sleeping peacefully in her bed like nothing was wrong. What she didn’t know was that a piece of tissue was stuck to her paw with a piece of chewed up gum, I guess you could say she got caught red pawed.
This is just a little bit about the life of an amazing dog. I could never put into writing all the emotions I felt as her friend, or all the remarkable things she did for me as a companion. I can only attempt to sum up some of my favorites in hopes to never forget them. I know without a doubt I will never have the bond with another dog like I had with Jamie. We essentially grew up together. We got old together. She unfortunately just got older faster. She survived through two knee surgeries and walked with a limp for the last couple years of her life. Not a problem for her, she could care less, she was just happy being part of the family and in our eyes she sure was too. We called her ‘Jamison’s big sister’ and let me emphasize that the similarity in names between our dog and our son was no accident.
Something that stings the most is knowing that Jamison will never laugh at/with her again. She was the one family member that really cracked him up. She never growled at him, never snapped at him, she never even acted irritated with him despite the tormenting he often did. My heart breaks that her life is over and mine continues. Rob said maybe her heart is sad that her life continues while we are stuck without her. I like to think of it that way.
She was so loyal to me. A mama’s girl as Rob called her. Even when it was hard for her to get up she would follow me from one room to the next. More often than not I would come out of the bathroom to find her laying by the bathroom door in the pitch black hallway while Rob would be in our bedroom with the lights on and her bed available for her. She was totally a mama's girl. Even up until her last day she followed me despite her paralysis. I moved her from room to room with me during her last couple days because I knew that was important to her. On one occasion where I left the room just briefly I chose not to go through the process required to move her paralyzed body. I was going to my room only for a moment. Rob was downstairs and Jamie was in her bed in the living room. Rob heard a thumping noise so he ran upstairs to see what was going on. Jamie was dragging herself towards my room where I was. Rob picked her up and carried her to me. She was happiest to be where I was and I was happiest to have her there.
The day Jamie died we spent all day cuddling her and taking pictures. Early that morning around 530 AM I got on the floor with Jamie and laid in her bed with her, I rubbed her neck and cheek muscles. She relaxed despite her apparent discomfort and began rolling around in her bed as best she could given the situation. She also did her fair share of nibbling and then got some sleep. I cried some of my last tears on her that morning and she took that like she had taken the many other tears I had cried on her in my lifetime…with pride to be by my side.
I can go on and on but for now I just want to say all the sadness I feel is a very very very small price to pay for the immeasurable amount of happiness I got from her. I know I was a good mom but I also know she was a better dog then I was mom. I am sure given the amazing ability that dogs have to be incredibly loyal, innocent and non judgmental the same could be true for all human/dog relationships.
The rain has washed away her paw prints in the snow, and although I looked out my window hoping to see just one paw print one last time, there were none. The remnants of her are already fading. I have packed up or thrown away everything that reminds me of her being sick and left out everything else. Her toys, her food and water dishes, her beds, everything remains as it was. In time I will pack those up too or decide to share them with another dog but for now they stay out and they belong solely to her.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Does it get any better than eating strawberry ice cream with your toddler while admiring an overflow of pride covering their happy little face? Nope.
For the last two weeks at gymnastics Jamison has clung to me like I was the loop side and he was the hook side of an industrial strength velcro. Interestingly enough he had spent two prior gymnastics lessons fully enjoying the experience only for the third week to be filled with fear and insecurities. I'm not sure exactly what caused the change but I have some theories. Maybe it was that his best friend Madeleine had also become fearful on that third day and ran to her mommy, Jamison was quick to follow suit. Maybe the lady who dropped her daughter off and then left made Jamison fearful I might do the same. Maybe it is the realization that in 5 months he will no longer be my only baby. Whatever the reason I knew the potential for him to enjoy gymnastics was there I just had to find out where it went.
Today, as usual, he clung to me but I could see it in his wiggly little body that he so badly wanted to be out there with the other kids, especially with his best pal Madeleine who kept looking at him with longing eyes and even offered to hold his hand. I was the only mom sitting out there with the kids. I was the only mom whose kid refused to participate. I felt, like the previous days in gymnastics class, like I wore a scarlet letter across me chest. No, a scarlet sentence that said, 'this is the mom who has raised a clingy, needy, dependent toddler'. Even so, despite the writing across my chest, I would gently remind him that he had two choices at gymnastics; he could watch Madeleine do it or he could do it too. He seemed to be choosing to watch Madeleine every time.
This morning I dressed him in a shirt I designated his "daddy power shirt". He wore it with pride as I told him daddy infused it with power so that this very special shirt would make sure he had fun in gymnastics. You can imagine my disappointment when he accidentally peed on it while going potty before we headed out for class. To my surprise he was quite devastated when I told him we would have to change his shirt. He really wanted to wear his "daddy power shirt" which meant he believed in it! Fortunately the mind of a my two year is flexible and he quickly calmed when I informed him that it just so happens I had one other "daddy power shirt". So with a quick change of shirts off we went to gymnastics ready to give it a try...again. This time armed with a daddy power shirt and the okay by the gymnastics teacher (teacher Krista) to sit out there with him(a privilege no other parent got or needed for that matter) I was feeling hopeful.
So here I am the only adult, being watched by other adults, with my son in my lap next to a crew of kids and a teenage teacher watching them all participate in gymnastics. All of them, except Jamison. His body wiggle as he wanted to run with the other kids, he squirmed as he desired to touch his head to his toes, he bounced as he wanted to pretend to fly across the room with everyone else but his little body never wiggled, squirmed or bounced out of my lap. Finally, I gave up. I told Jamison I was going back to where the other mommies where and that he was welcome to come with me or stay and play with the other kids. He chose to come with me.
I walked back, with my head hanging low, I couldn't make eye contact with any of the other parents, after all their kids were doing just fine. To make matters worse this is not like Jamison. He has always been fine venturing away from me and exploring his world without me right by his side. I am not quite sure how to handle this new change in him. I reached my friend, Madeleine's mom, and as usual she gave me a look of "I so know how you are feeling" as she had been walking in my shoes just a few weeks before me. It was reassuring no doubt. So for the third week in a row, I held Jamison tight and chatted with Laurel while the three of us watched Madeleine do her jumps, tumbles and hops with complete enjoyment.
After Gymnastics was about two thirds of the way done Jamison said "Mommy, I want to do mastics over there" as he pointed at all the kids. Yeah right I thought. I had been here before, walking him back and forth between the waiting area and the area where the kids are, all the while being watched by each parent quietly wondering will this poor lady's kid do it this time. I hesitated, I just didn't think I could handle that walk again. Jamison said it again "mommy, I want to do mastics". I asked J if he wanted me to walk him over. He said yes. Despite my doubt I started walking him over. I stopped short of the kids as I was not comfortable sitting out by the kids for no reason all over again. He held tight to my hand, a death grip, as if his life depended on it. I walked him farther, He held tighter. His little fingers wrapped tightly around my pointer finger as he tugged me towards the other kids. I wiggled my finger trying to escape. I was not comfortable going any farther, I already felt like there was a spot light on me. He pulled me harder as he squeezed my finger with all his 2 1/2 year old might. I gave in and continued to walk with him. Screw the spotlight, I thought. We got to the edge of the mat, I quietly told him this is as far as I could go, as I was only 2 feet away from the kids, a familiar position as I had only been there just 10 minutes ago and what felt like miles away from any of the other parents.
I noticed Madeleine had begun beating at Teacher Krista's leg, pulling at her pants and yelling at her with joy, excitement and urgency. "Jamison's coming, Jamison's coming, Jamison's coming" she yelled over and over again. I thought to myself sorry Madeleine but probably not today, probably not ever I was curious if the other parents wondered how many times I would try this without success. As I stood there feeling a tad sorry for M that she didn't have her best friend with her Jamison let go of my hand for what I thought would be the freedom to simply turn around and grab desperately at my waist. To my surprise and perhaps everyone else who had been watching this all unfold for the last three weeks, he took a seat with the other kids. I too sat down right there on the floor just a couple feet away from him in my very uncomfortable spot light. Jamison participated for the last 10 minutes of a 45 minute class and I could not have been more ecstatic and thankful for that 10 minutes of participation!!!!
When Jamison was done I grabbed him and told him how proud of him I was and that he too should be proud of himself. It did take courage to do what he did. He had a fear and he pushed himself out of his comfort zone to experience gymnastics. His eyes gleamed as mine filled with tears, maybe it was pregnancy hormones maybe it was simply being a proud mommy, but for the rest of the afternoon he jumped around with happiness pretending to "stick it," the stance gymnasts take after doing a move. Once buckled in the car Jamison said "mommy, I want ars cream". Funny. I had completely forgotten that earlier today Jamison had gotten in his toy car and said he was going to the store to get "strawberry ars cream". In my desperation I told him I would get him some ice cream if he tried gymnastics today. Now, I'm not for bribing as a parenting tool but I was desperate, desperate enough to offer a bribe I knew he wouldn't take as he muttered "I don't want arc cream"; I know ice cream was not on his mind when he bravely took a seat with the other kids and I'm happy for that none the less I got the kid some ice cream and we had a celebration!
For the last two weeks at gymnastics Jamison has clung to me like I was the loop side and he was the hook side of an industrial strength velcro. Interestingly enough he had spent two prior gymnastics lessons fully enjoying the experience only for the third week to be filled with fear and insecurities. I'm not sure exactly what caused the change but I have some theories. Maybe it was that his best friend Madeleine had also become fearful on that third day and ran to her mommy, Jamison was quick to follow suit. Maybe the lady who dropped her daughter off and then left made Jamison fearful I might do the same. Maybe it is the realization that in 5 months he will no longer be my only baby. Whatever the reason I knew the potential for him to enjoy gymnastics was there I just had to find out where it went.
Today, as usual, he clung to me but I could see it in his wiggly little body that he so badly wanted to be out there with the other kids, especially with his best pal Madeleine who kept looking at him with longing eyes and even offered to hold his hand. I was the only mom sitting out there with the kids. I was the only mom whose kid refused to participate. I felt, like the previous days in gymnastics class, like I wore a scarlet letter across me chest. No, a scarlet sentence that said, 'this is the mom who has raised a clingy, needy, dependent toddler'. Even so, despite the writing across my chest, I would gently remind him that he had two choices at gymnastics; he could watch Madeleine do it or he could do it too. He seemed to be choosing to watch Madeleine every time.
This morning I dressed him in a shirt I designated his "daddy power shirt". He wore it with pride as I told him daddy infused it with power so that this very special shirt would make sure he had fun in gymnastics. You can imagine my disappointment when he accidentally peed on it while going potty before we headed out for class. To my surprise he was quite devastated when I told him we would have to change his shirt. He really wanted to wear his "daddy power shirt" which meant he believed in it! Fortunately the mind of a my two year is flexible and he quickly calmed when I informed him that it just so happens I had one other "daddy power shirt". So with a quick change of shirts off we went to gymnastics ready to give it a try...again. This time armed with a daddy power shirt and the okay by the gymnastics teacher (teacher Krista) to sit out there with him(a privilege no other parent got or needed for that matter) I was feeling hopeful.
So here I am the only adult, being watched by other adults, with my son in my lap next to a crew of kids and a teenage teacher watching them all participate in gymnastics. All of them, except Jamison. His body wiggle as he wanted to run with the other kids, he squirmed as he desired to touch his head to his toes, he bounced as he wanted to pretend to fly across the room with everyone else but his little body never wiggled, squirmed or bounced out of my lap. Finally, I gave up. I told Jamison I was going back to where the other mommies where and that he was welcome to come with me or stay and play with the other kids. He chose to come with me.
I walked back, with my head hanging low, I couldn't make eye contact with any of the other parents, after all their kids were doing just fine. To make matters worse this is not like Jamison. He has always been fine venturing away from me and exploring his world without me right by his side. I am not quite sure how to handle this new change in him. I reached my friend, Madeleine's mom, and as usual she gave me a look of "I so know how you are feeling" as she had been walking in my shoes just a few weeks before me. It was reassuring no doubt. So for the third week in a row, I held Jamison tight and chatted with Laurel while the three of us watched Madeleine do her jumps, tumbles and hops with complete enjoyment.
After Gymnastics was about two thirds of the way done Jamison said "Mommy, I want to do mastics over there" as he pointed at all the kids. Yeah right I thought. I had been here before, walking him back and forth between the waiting area and the area where the kids are, all the while being watched by each parent quietly wondering will this poor lady's kid do it this time. I hesitated, I just didn't think I could handle that walk again. Jamison said it again "mommy, I want to do mastics". I asked J if he wanted me to walk him over. He said yes. Despite my doubt I started walking him over. I stopped short of the kids as I was not comfortable sitting out by the kids for no reason all over again. He held tight to my hand, a death grip, as if his life depended on it. I walked him farther, He held tighter. His little fingers wrapped tightly around my pointer finger as he tugged me towards the other kids. I wiggled my finger trying to escape. I was not comfortable going any farther, I already felt like there was a spot light on me. He pulled me harder as he squeezed my finger with all his 2 1/2 year old might. I gave in and continued to walk with him. Screw the spotlight, I thought. We got to the edge of the mat, I quietly told him this is as far as I could go, as I was only 2 feet away from the kids, a familiar position as I had only been there just 10 minutes ago and what felt like miles away from any of the other parents.
I noticed Madeleine had begun beating at Teacher Krista's leg, pulling at her pants and yelling at her with joy, excitement and urgency. "Jamison's coming, Jamison's coming, Jamison's coming" she yelled over and over again. I thought to myself sorry Madeleine but probably not today, probably not ever I was curious if the other parents wondered how many times I would try this without success. As I stood there feeling a tad sorry for M that she didn't have her best friend with her Jamison let go of my hand for what I thought would be the freedom to simply turn around and grab desperately at my waist. To my surprise and perhaps everyone else who had been watching this all unfold for the last three weeks, he took a seat with the other kids. I too sat down right there on the floor just a couple feet away from him in my very uncomfortable spot light. Jamison participated for the last 10 minutes of a 45 minute class and I could not have been more ecstatic and thankful for that 10 minutes of participation!!!!
When Jamison was done I grabbed him and told him how proud of him I was and that he too should be proud of himself. It did take courage to do what he did. He had a fear and he pushed himself out of his comfort zone to experience gymnastics. His eyes gleamed as mine filled with tears, maybe it was pregnancy hormones maybe it was simply being a proud mommy, but for the rest of the afternoon he jumped around with happiness pretending to "stick it," the stance gymnasts take after doing a move. Once buckled in the car Jamison said "mommy, I want ars cream". Funny. I had completely forgotten that earlier today Jamison had gotten in his toy car and said he was going to the store to get "strawberry ars cream". In my desperation I told him I would get him some ice cream if he tried gymnastics today. Now, I'm not for bribing as a parenting tool but I was desperate, desperate enough to offer a bribe I knew he wouldn't take as he muttered "I don't want arc cream"; I know ice cream was not on his mind when he bravely took a seat with the other kids and I'm happy for that none the less I got the kid some ice cream and we had a celebration!
While standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, I lifted my shirt just above my growing pregnant belly to admire my newly formed baby bump. The fact that my body was creating a life, a human, to eventually be a unique and separate being of its own is nothing short of a miracle. I gazed in the mirror with a glow only a pregnant woman carries while daydreaming about the future of my family when Jamison, while using the potty, began to laugh. I looked at him to see what the commotion was about. He looked at my pregnant stomach, then back at me, "that's freak'n huge" he exclaimed. I'm only 14 weeks; he ain't seen nothing yet!
Monday, January 10, 2011
The other day I decided to pull out the few gray hairs I had acquired. I began pulling them out one by one only to realize there was a lot more than just a few. My co worker said in her culture you receive one gray hair for every good deed you do. I guess that explains why they all came after having my first child. I have done a few "good deeds" in my life prior to raising a kid but nothing as good as totally and utterly, selflessly giving myself to the development and well being of Jamison. So my gray hairs might be because I'm getting old, or because having a child is stressful, but maybe they are due to the fact that being a mom is certainly at the top of the selfless job list and all those good deeds are really starting show up on my head. That being said, I realized as I gave up the fruitless task of removing each gray hair, I have not posted a blog in a long time. The connection between gray hair and not blogging: time. I honestly intended this to be a type of journal but just like every other journal I have attempted to maintain this has become forgotten. So what better way to get back onto the blogging horse by documenting my aging self. Joking.
Seriously, that is not what I would like to wright about. I want to wright this blog specifically so that I can say "Rob, go read the blog I wrote today" I know, off subject but I have been thinking lately how I want to spend my Christmas money and all the things that come to mind are not specifically for me but rather for the greater good of the family; new (deep pocketed) sheets for our bed, a bread mixer, a juicer, etc. Rob, on the other hand, already has his Christmas money spoken for on items to serve himself; biking gear etc. I hate the idea of the wife getting a vacuum while the husband gets a bowling ball and I have refused to let that fate become me. I insisted I would spend MY money on something for ME. So I thought, "what do I want?". Nothing came to mind. NOTHING. I really could not think of one thing I wanted just for me! Then it occurred. The reason the wife gets the vacuum and the husband gets the bowling ball is not because the wife is suppressed and controlled by her asshole husband but because women are more selfless than men. Men think of things they want for themselves and women think of things they want for the family. I realize I am generalizing, there is a reason why we sometimes speak in generalization. I'm aware, like any other time we generalize, this is not going to hold true for everyone but bare with me here. Yep, that is right women are selfless and men are, well a little less selfless (dare I say selfish?). Ladies, are you gleaming with joy yet? Rob, are you pissed yet?
Shortly after I had this thought it occurred to me. Yeah, no doubt moms (and women in general) tend to be pretty selfless but what about dads? Rob goes to work everyday so that I can stay home and take Jamison to gymnastics, play groups and the aquarium. Rob gives up precious time watching his son grow so that I can spend my time doing just that: watching Jamison grow. Rob lets me spend my time volunteering with LLL making no money instead of requesting I spend my time in such a way that offers more monetary gains for the family. I know we all want stuff: cars, toys, clothes etc but Rob is willing to give that up as well as HIS time with HIS son so that I can enjoy being "selfless" by taking Jamison to the zoo, the farm and enjoy a sunny day at the park, while he sits in a building working hard for the family. Taking all the financial pressure and responsibility for the family is a pretty selfless act too. So when I said above that being a "mom is selfless" yeah that is true but so is being a dad and a husband. Rob deserves to gets something just for him, that is what will make him happy. I will be happy with my bread mixer, after all I really do enjoy making good, healthy bread for the family.
I know many stay at home moms have given up their career (and that is a lot to give up) to partake in a stressful, thankless job but obviously the alternative must be worth it or we wouldn't do it.
With that being said, I understand there are many, many family dynamics that include both parents working (or even stay at home dads) and that doesn't mean the mom or dad is any more or less selfless or selfish. We all make sacrifices for our family's, moms and dads, no matter the dynamics of our situation. I respect all parents who are genuinely loving, nurturing and respectful to their children.
Seriously, that is not what I would like to wright about. I want to wright this blog specifically so that I can say "Rob, go read the blog I wrote today" I know, off subject but I have been thinking lately how I want to spend my Christmas money and all the things that come to mind are not specifically for me but rather for the greater good of the family; new (deep pocketed) sheets for our bed, a bread mixer, a juicer, etc. Rob, on the other hand, already has his Christmas money spoken for on items to serve himself; biking gear etc. I hate the idea of the wife getting a vacuum while the husband gets a bowling ball and I have refused to let that fate become me. I insisted I would spend MY money on something for ME. So I thought, "what do I want?". Nothing came to mind. NOTHING. I really could not think of one thing I wanted just for me! Then it occurred. The reason the wife gets the vacuum and the husband gets the bowling ball is not because the wife is suppressed and controlled by her asshole husband but because women are more selfless than men. Men think of things they want for themselves and women think of things they want for the family. I realize I am generalizing, there is a reason why we sometimes speak in generalization. I'm aware, like any other time we generalize, this is not going to hold true for everyone but bare with me here. Yep, that is right women are selfless and men are, well a little less selfless (dare I say selfish?). Ladies, are you gleaming with joy yet? Rob, are you pissed yet?
Shortly after I had this thought it occurred to me. Yeah, no doubt moms (and women in general) tend to be pretty selfless but what about dads? Rob goes to work everyday so that I can stay home and take Jamison to gymnastics, play groups and the aquarium. Rob gives up precious time watching his son grow so that I can spend my time doing just that: watching Jamison grow. Rob lets me spend my time volunteering with LLL making no money instead of requesting I spend my time in such a way that offers more monetary gains for the family. I know we all want stuff: cars, toys, clothes etc but Rob is willing to give that up as well as HIS time with HIS son so that I can enjoy being "selfless" by taking Jamison to the zoo, the farm and enjoy a sunny day at the park, while he sits in a building working hard for the family. Taking all the financial pressure and responsibility for the family is a pretty selfless act too. So when I said above that being a "mom is selfless" yeah that is true but so is being a dad and a husband. Rob deserves to gets something just for him, that is what will make him happy. I will be happy with my bread mixer, after all I really do enjoy making good, healthy bread for the family.
I know many stay at home moms have given up their career (and that is a lot to give up) to partake in a stressful, thankless job but obviously the alternative must be worth it or we wouldn't do it.
With that being said, I understand there are many, many family dynamics that include both parents working (or even stay at home dads) and that doesn't mean the mom or dad is any more or less selfless or selfish. We all make sacrifices for our family's, moms and dads, no matter the dynamics of our situation. I respect all parents who are genuinely loving, nurturing and respectful to their children.
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