“MMM it’s good.” I say. “What’s good?” says Alan. (He stayed home from work today because of the rain.) “My Green tea”. I say, it’s really good. I put the honey I usually put in my coffee on my toast with Banana and almond butter. Jack and Fiona are still sleeping, it’s 7:19 AM, this scares me. Whenever they sleep unusually late they have been sick. I can hear little noises on the monitor, Alan has decided to go down to get them. This is very nice of him. I’m missing Jack and Fiona right now though, I’m missing going in and saying, “Good morning” Giving them big hugs and cuddles. I don’t miss changing their diaper. Alan just brought up Fiona, I grabbed her gave her a hug, put her in the high chair, but all she really wanted was her bottle. I have everything ready. When Alan got home from work last night he wanted to cuddle the babies but they kept coming to me. They wanted to go to bed. Ah Jack, he gave me the sweetest smile and cuddle. I wonder if it’s OK to have a second cup of green tea. “Wait let me finish this really fast.” I say to Alan. (Several Times) A lot of talking, questions, conversations are happening right now that are breaking my concentration. I had some time in the studio yesterday. I have an idea, prep the paper, lay down some paint. I like what first comes out, I’m doing self-portraits, need to let them dry. Multi task, work on the laundry and clean my closet. I go back to my studio. I HATE them, I start working, nothing’s happening. I start to panic. I want to smoke some pot. But I don’t because I’m cutting back in preparation for my cleanse next week. I leave again, work on more chores. Come back, mix some new paint, new colors, the creativity is finally starting to flow. I’m excited. I am liking how these are turning out. I lean towards dark colors when I’m PMS’ing and self –loathing. I usually cover everything up with black paint and throw it in the trash. This is a definite improvement. That is the other thing the Zoloft did, it removed my self-loathing component. How does it do that? I did it by myself yesterday though which is great news for me. I am changing. Naturally.
Tag: love
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The catheter was in, Zappa lying down, I was by her side petting her ears, her face, avoiding the vertebra protruding, her ribs, her sunken in sides, her massive fatty cyst. Three drugs were injected, the first to numb her veins, the second to relax her, the third phenobarbital. After the second drug was injected her whole body relaxed, the shaking and panting stopped, I started to cry, then the final beat of her heart, I cried harder. The questions ran through my mind, is it too soon, am I doing the right thing? But I knew it was and that I was. I told Billy to say goodbye to Zappa before we left. Alan said “Come on Jen, let’s go, she doesn’t understand you.” But just at that moment Zappa and Billy started licking each other’s faces. This morning when I went to feed Billy her breakfast I felt an emptiness in the back yard. Zappa is gone. It’s been an emotional several months, since Zappa has gotten weak and incontinent. The feelings have wavered between annoyance, guilt, sadness, and avoidance. Zappa started following me one morning on 23rd and Downer. I was walking Wiggly. Zappa was just a little tiny puppy. I took her home. My roommate Meg said “No Way!” We already had two dogs and a cat. I called my mom and she said “YES”. I took Zappa and Wiggly on a road trip that weekend to Death Valley. We camped out under the stars. The next day we went exploring Devil’s Hole. It was at least 100 degrees. Sunday night I dropped Zappa off at my Mom’s house. She lived there until December 20th, 2008. After my Mom died I took Zappa back. I’ve never had a dog live for so long, 14 years. I got home from the Vet and needed to take a shower. I cried more in the shower, I thought of when Zappa and Billy first came to me, I took them on walks every morning, they kept my Mom close to me. I could smell her house on their collars and bedding. We mourned her loss together. I thought of how Zappa would run so fast to catch her ball. I haven’t been able to take her for a walk in months because of the weakness in her legs. She hasn’t had a good quality of life lately but she still seemed so happy all the time, until yesterday. I think saying goodbye to Zappa was saying goodbye to my Mom again. All the pain from that loss is at the surface again. I had to make the decision to turn off the machines at the hospital when my Mom had the heart attack. It brought back those memories. The final decision. The certainty that time can’t be turned back. The reminder of years gone by. The knowing that the end will come for me too.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 