Mourning Oscar

**Be warned-this is a very sad post.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love my dogs. All dogs, but even more so my dogs. They are pampered and spoiled and human to me. Ridiculous maybe, but I don't care. There are more dogs than humans in this house. Well, there was. My precious fur baby, Oscar went peacefully at the vet's office on October 3, 2014. He has been my beloved companion since Christmas 2001 (born 11-14-01.) I picked him out of his litter when he was a week old. I chose him because he had a darker tail than his siblings. His mother was my sister's dog and at the time, the kids were calling him Chex. His official name became Oscar Mayer the Wiener Dog. He was my cuddle buddy, my leg warmer (he liked to sleep under the blanket in the crook of my knees), and my solace when I was sad. He was there through some bad breakups, the death of his canine brother, Buffy, a marriage (and was a bit of a traitor when Eric came along, I might add), and a couple of moves. He would bark at me when I walked in the door until I came and opened the bedroom door.

I know he was old at just shy of 13. I know that he wouldn't live forever no matter how much I wanted him too. I just didn't expect him to go so fast. He had been snubbing his food for a couple of weeks, but we had changed him to a softer food and we thought he just didn't like it. He always ended up eating it when he thought one of the other dogs might. He started eating less and less though. I was starting to worry a bit, but he was still trying to take our food and peanut butter. I did notice that his ears weren't as pink as they had been, but chalked it up to age. Then, he turned his nose up at peanut butter - his favorite thing in the world. Then, I was worried. Wednesday night I noticed he was breathing hard (not panting), even though he was just laying there.  I called the vet Thursday morning and we took him in to see her. Dr. Darrow (amazing vet and wonderful person) called me Thursday afternoon and said that I had a very sick little guy. His red blood count was 11 and should have been in the 55 range. He needed a transfusion and would need to be transferred to a critical care vet to a tune of $700-$1000. I wish I had all the money in the world for my dogs, but I just don't. She went on to say that sometimes they just developed this form of anemia where the body attacks the red blood cells, but it is usually from cancer. I asked her if he would make it through the night so Eric and I could be with him to put him to sleep. She didn't know. I went to the vet after work and just held him for 45 minutes. He was so cold. His body was cold, his breath was cold, and when I finally got him to give me a kiss, his tongue was cold. I talked to the vet some more and she said he was cold because he "had no blood." He wasn't in pain, which I am so thankful for, but he was definitely suffering. I asked him to try and make it until morning so we could be with him and called the vet as soon as they opened. "He's just looking at us, but he's still here." We made an appointment for later that morning. We went about an hour early so we could spend some time with him. We stopped to get some breakfast because I was getting a headache. As our food was being delivered, the vet called. Oscar just passed, she said. I think I asked her if she was kidding and she said no. She said they had given him a blanket last night and that he had wrapped himself up with it. He was watching them do their work and then went to sleep and passed peacefully. I told her we would be there to get him soon. We got there with his sleeping towel and they went to get him for me. In the process, we made the poor lady in the waiting room cry because we were bawling like babies. They handed him to me all wrapped up and we headed to my parent's house. Eric and my dad dug a hold near the dog we had when I was growing up (Buffy was 15 when Oscar came to live with us and they were buddies) and we buried him there. I ordered a memorial stone for him just today.

My heart is broken, but the other dogs seem to sense this and are sticking close. Dora and Cookie do not seem too affected, but Katie seems a little down. She is definitely careful on the bed because when she used to accidentally step on him he would bite her. On the other hand, she has had no problem taking his place on the bed between Eric and I.

I cherish the time I had with my sweet Oscar. It was a fantastic 12 years and his memory will live on with me. RIP. 11/14/01-10/3/14

What I'm Thinking

As usual, I have neglected my blog. I really need to think of more to say to cyberspace. It's not so much not having anything to say, it's more like me being cautious of saying what I really want to say. I have plenty to say. I doubt most of it is appropriate for the Internet. It would be kind of like the spouses who fight on Facebook, except it probably wouldn't be directed at my spouse. Well, maybe sometimes, but that is why I don't do it at all. I guess the problem is that I lead a boring life. This suits me. I don't like a lot of chaos and I don't like change. Therefore, the previously mentioned boring life. I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. As per my norm, I am rambling. I had intended this to be an infertility blog. Let's get to it.

Infertility is not only costly, but it is downright exhausting. Even though Eric and I have taken a break from treatments that doesn't mean I have given up hope for a miracle baby that happens without the help of any medical personnel. At the moment, I am just exhausted. I don't want to think about it, but at the same time it is always there. Every time I see the pictures of precious babies (they are all so sweet!), or every time I see a baby announcement, all I can think about is 1.) I'm so happy for them and 2.) I am jealous of them. I try so hard to keep the little green monster at bay. I try to think positively, remember that it is in God's time, and to think about something else. This is where I am struggling. I'll do good for a few minutes and it is right back to "Why us?" Not to sound egotistical, but I think I would make a pretty good mother. Eric is going to be a fantastic dad. So, why are we facing this difficult struggle? One of my sweet work friends told me that I always have such a great attitude about everything. It is a good thing she cannot actually see inside my mind. In my head, I am so hard on myself. It is all my fault and I must have done something wrong. I know this is illogical and impractical. I think it anyway. Eric gets his fair share of the blame too. Things come out of my mouth before I can think. Thank goodness he is the forgiving and forgetting type. And some might find this to be an excuse, but I can actually blame my PCOS for my mouth. Apparently, one of the many emotional symptoms is rage. So, there, poor neighbors who might have heard us fighting. At least we don't fight at 4 in the morning, but I digress. I cringe at admitting that this Sunday School teacher has dismal thoughts and rage. It kind of makes me feel like a hypocrite. That doesn't mean I can deny it. I work really hard to control it. I am trying.

Speaking of trying to control my crazy emotions, a dear friend brought Young Living Progessence Plus Essential Oil to my attention. I have noticed since starting to use it, that my emotional well-being has improved. I am not a complete sane person yet, but even Eric has noticed my improvement...or he is scared of me and just agreed for the sake of safety. Kidding. He noticed.

I am not sure where to go next. We will probably go back to the fertility doctor in a few more months. I have been looking into the possibility of adoption. The house we are in currently is a huge concern for me. It is tiny. While that wouldn't be a problem for 2 married adults trying to adopt, we do have to remember Eric's uncle. We really need one more bedroom and another bathroom. Yes, I realize that adopting a child wouldn't be any different in terms of space than having a baby. The difference is passing the home visits. We have so much that needs to be attended to that I am not ready to start any kind of adoption process until we can actually start. Honestly, to even start some of the necessary work, we would have to actually throw things away. This is very hard for a certain pack rat that I am married to at the moment, not that I am naming names. This was quite evident tonight when I was throwing away some old coupons tonight and he went through the trash to be sure that I hadn't thrown away something important. We have an ongoing learning curve on what is important. Back to the subject at hand, I do not want some caseworker coming into this house in its current state. It really isn't about stuff being dangerous, but an ugly outdated kitchen, a bathroom that could use a makeover, and woodwork with dog marks all over it from the beagle who lived here prior to Eric's grandma passing. Plus the mismatched carpet and peeling floor tiles. I really need to be on one of those TV shows that feel sorry for you and come and redo your entire house. Anyone need a project? No. Okay, moving on.

So, I hope this post hasn't come across as a whining diatribe. That wasn't my intention. With that said, all of this has been in my head. Bits and pieces get said to certain people at different times, but it all seems to just sit in the center of my thoughts, almost like the proverbial squirrel. Me: I need to take the dogs out, start laundry...Brain: I want a baby!!!!...Me: Shut-up brain I am trying to be productive. Yes, I am being funny. No, it doesn't quite happen like that. Close enough.

Last, but certainly not least. I have some of the greatest friends. I have a whole church family who are always supportive. From that same church, I have an amazing small group who would drop everything in a moment's notice if I needed them too (and I would do the same for them,) friends at work who don't mind my whining, and, of course, some of those special friends who only come once in a lifetime. I am lucky enough to have several of those. I consider them my friend soul-mates. You know who you are!