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Have you seen this dog?

If the answer is yes, quit peepin’ in my windows, dude!

So this is Lily, my father-in-law’s new dog.  If you think she looks a lot like Abby, it’s because they are the same kind of dog.  Lily came from a shelter in a nearby town.  From what we can piece together, she was definitely bred, kept outside most of the time (she has such rough paws), and was never taught a damn thing.  She’s six years old and not in the least bit housebroken (we’re working on it) and I had to teach her how to sit.  She kept peeing on the bricks, which is something a dog has to be taught to do (gross, then your patio/whatever smells like dog pee!).  Despite all of that, she is incredibly cheerful and likes everyone and everything, even the cats, which is all that really matters.  She is supposedly six years old but she acts like a puppy.  She doesn’t know what toys are but thinks your hand is there to slobber all over.

She REALLY likes to lay on my bed and stare out of all of the windows (which is what she’s doing in the photo above), and since this is a sun room she has a pretty good view of squirrels, birds, and the people in the parking lot behind us.

Most of the time she actually looks like this:


posted: June 30, 2011
under: animals, family, life, pictures

Warning: this post includes unhappiness and morbid talk.

I’m closing the comments on this entry because while I appreciate everyone who took the time to comment, at this point I would rather not have the comments pop up in my inbox.  I’m starting to heal a little bit and the reminder is like a tiny jab in the heart.  If you were going to leave a comment, know that the thought is enough.

Hey guys, i’m sorry to make such a downer post on the start of the holiday weekend, but I want to get this out and over with.  I also wanted to make this as a post on my website so I can link to it and not have to repost it all over the internet.

There’s no funny way for me to say this, so:

Tonight while my father-in-law was out walking my dogs, a big dog ran up and attacked Bonny.  She was killed pretty much instantly.  I wasn’t up to grilling my father-in-law for every last detail, but the dog was being chased by its owners, and my father-in-law turned around as he heard them yelling, right as the dog got to Bonny.  I don’t blame the owners of the dog per se, but animal control will still be called in the morning because any dog that kills another dog needs to be investigated.  I couldn’t live with the idea that this dog might harm another dog in the future.  Chester has a problem with children and some males, and my greatest fear is that we will enter a situation where I can’t control him, he will bite somebody, and then I will lose him (an example would be when people let their children run up to him in the park, I start backing away with him pulled behind me and chant ‘he bites’ until they run after their kids).  I’m rambling already.

I don’t think I need to express in words how much Bonny was loved.  The real pain is that her death was unfair and sudden and utter bullshit.  Chester is almost 11ish, Fatty is 15.  I have elderly animals and I expect to come home one day and find them dead.  Even though Bonny is a small dog and we’ve had to snatch her up a few times because of bigger dogs, we weren’t ready for this.  Not that anyone is, but you know what I mean.

Still, I am one of those people who really does believe that it’s better to have loved and lost.  Some people immediately declare that they will never get another dog/cat again because it hurts too much to let go.  Not me.  I loved Bonny, I am glad that we got 3 1/2 years with her, and someday we will meet another dog who belongs with us like Bonny did.  Not anytime soon, but someday.

If you haven’t followed my site for long and haven’t heard me talk about her, let me tell you a little bit about Bonny.  She was born with an eye that didn’t produce tears, initially we medicated it three times a day, but after a year and a half, the eye was removed surgically.  We’re pretty sure that she had no vision in it originally, so having one eye was no big thing for Bonny.  She had no depth perception which meant she would sometimes jump off of the dining room table, but other than that, she was fine.  When people would ask me how much I paid for her since she was a yorkie, I would usually say that I got her for free because she was defective.  She had huge ears that stood up and the longest tongue, and she licked without prejudice.  The only people who didn’t like her are the ones who don’t appreciate dog spit.  I often got compliments/stares when we went to the park, and most people didn’t know she only had one eye until I said something.  She heard me say ‘bad kitty’ to the cats so often that she would run up and bark at them if they scratched at the furniture.  She wasn’t as smart as Chester, but she was still very clever.  She was obsessed with toys, and even if you buried her toy in the couch, she would go apeshit until she had it in her mouth again so she could hit you with it.  She had such a big mouth that she could fit a whole tennis ball in it.  I could go on forever.

Thanks to everyone who loved Bonny, if only virtually.

I’m going to get morbid after these cute pictures.  If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand, and you’re free to stop reading here.

This is actually the first pet death i’ve dealt with that involves me actually seeing them.  Like I said, Fatty is 15, she was my first cat.  All of my parents dogs got hit by cars or ran away, I never saw them.  I had a cat named Wonder Mutt who got (most likely) eaten by a coyote, I just never saw him again. When my father-in-law first brought her to me, I just…looked at her.  He was apologizing because he felt at fault since he was walking her, and I just kept telling him it was okay.  I kept touching her ears and her face and hoping she would wake up.  She didn’t have any visible blood (I didn’t realize at the time that she had a little, but it was on the side touching me) so she just looked asleep.  I took me a good five minutes before I started to really cry.  Brian was out at a movie so his phone was off, so we put her on a towel in a box and waited for him to come home.  It was the longest 30 minutes of my life.  I went between staring out of the front door and going back to the dining room to pet her.  I couldn’t stop touching her.  She felt too warm to me, which wasn’t helping my irrational thought that she would wake up.

Brian had a similar initial reaction that I did, but if he wants to go into details of his thoughts and feelings that’s up to him.

We buried her next to a bush in the garden in the snow.  Bonny hates the snow and cold and I kind of lost it when Brian was digging the hole.  I tried really hard to fight it so I wouldn’t have a panic attack.  Even though I know that Bonny is gone and we were just burying her body, I felt like an asshole for putting her in the cold.  I feel like an asshole for letting my dog down.  I feel like an asshole for letting Brian down.  I feel like an asshole for unloading all of this on the internet and burdening my readers with my emotions.  Some people spill their feelings at the drop of a hat, I don’t, so this is weird for me to do.  I use humor to deal, so i’ve already made jokes about how much will save on dog food (Bonny obviously didn’t eat much), how no one better get me a puppy for Christmas, how there is now no one to keep the cats in line when I yell ‘bad kitty’.

posted: December 24, 2010
under: animals, family, life, pictures

Carbondale, I want to be inside of you.

A few weeks ago, I took a bus down to Carbondale to spend the weekend with my husband.  Carbondale is a small town in southern Illinois, but it’s a college town so there are actually a few things for vegans to get excited about!  My hometown (which I am grudgingly living in for now) is five times as big and has not even half the options.  The health food store here is small, and has the driest, saddest vegan baked good ever.  The eating out options are fine, but there isn’t any place specifically for vegetarians.

I was only in Carbondale for 38 hours, but I managed to stuff myself pretty hardcore.

The first place we went to was Longbranch Coffee House, a vegetarian cafe.  Unfortunately they don’t have a website or menu online (and our table was too small for me to get pictures with my portrait lens), but I do remember that the number of options that were already vegan or could be made vegan were a little slim.  But i’m a creature of habit anyway, so even if they have one thing that I like that I can eat, i’m happy.  I had a veggie calzone (no vegan cheese, just cheeseless), and the dough was to die for.  So, so good.  I checked out the bakery case at the front and if any of the items were vegan, they weren’t marked as such.

The health food store was just down the block, so we went in there.  A quick glance over the bulk section revealed no nooch or gluten – the two things that I can’t get from regular grocery stores that I consider absolute musts.  The only vegan cheese was Veganrella, which I didn’t even know still existed because most stores stick to Follow Your Heart or have moved onto Teese and other newer products.  Then I looked at the deli case to see if they had any vegan items.  They had tofu salad made with Vegenaise…and HONEY.  I have this habit about loudly bitching about fucking hippies and their need to put honey in fucking everything, and Brian saw the label before I did and started giggling.  I didn’t see much else in the way of vegan items.  On the way out, the woman behind the counter offered me some local cheese.

I don’t anticipate going there very much.

Then we got to go to the Co-Op.  The clouds parted and the angels sang.  It was amazing.  Not only did they have everything I expected, but they had more!  Chocolate covered ginger, vegan sandwiches and wraps, a daily vegan pizza special (that day was olive, and I hate olives so I passed), and more importantly CAKE.  Often times when i’m feeling down, or bleeding and murderous, I often complain that I can’t just get a single piece of cake.  I have to make a whole cake or batch of cupcakes (which I can halfsies, but still) myself.

Since I wasn’t staying long I only got the essentials.  You know, chocolate and sugar.  And a sandwich (called John Lennon) for the bus trip home.  Chocolate cake, a mini-carrot cake, chocolate covered ginger, carob energy bites, and my sandwich (baked tofu, peanut butter, and roasted peppers).  The chocolate cake was a smallish portion, but it was a little over $1 so that’s okay.  I went back before my bus ride to get another piece and they were all sold out (b00).  So I got two pre-packaged cake donuts instead.

After the sugar coma that ensued, I was happy when I found out Lent was coming up, and I decided to do the low-sugar, gluten free thing I did last year.  But come Easter, I am all over that place again.

The only bad experience was the indian buffet.  Brian was all excited to take me, and it turned out to be a total bust.  They only had eight or nine trays, and like an idiot I plopped rice down on my plate without looking at the other food first.  I’m naive and have had good luck with indian food so I just assumed it would be safe, if only for one or two dishes.  They had one bean dish that had meat in it, more meaty things, and then things that clearly had dairy in them.  I ended up with plain rice, spicy cabbage that was too hot for me to even eat, and plain salad.  I ate as much as I could while trying not to cry, and it was $9!  And seriously, what kind of indian place has meat in the chickpea dish?

But overall, it was a pleasant experience and I would really like to sell our house so I can move there already!  Mostly so I can see this handsome dude all the time:

posted: March 1, 2010
under: family, food, life, pictures, vegan in illinois

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