Beth's blog

Sandy, The Best Girl Dog Ever

A little over seven years ago, Tony and Sandy came to live with us after 6 months in foster care. They were a little nervous at first we could tell, but they enjoyed the treats and the toys we had in the hosue to welcome them and on the very first night, sitting in the basement on the floor Sandy rolled over and let me pet her belly. "Yes," she seemed to say, "this is home!"

For six years we laughed at her antics, her oral fixation - she really would lick anything, including the air - her bad breath, the way she'd box Tony and leap over him to get through a door first. During walks, she insisted on smelling every blade of grass and peeing on every tree and sometimes I just wanted to choke her but she usually ended up choking her self pulling on the leash so hard. I'd just roll my eyes and mutter, "Slow down!" She loved chasing squirrels and running on walks and she and Tony never seemed to realize that they were getting old and couldn't really climb trees.

Ophelia - May she rest in peace in reptile heaven

So, for three months now we've been pretty consumed with Sandy's health. It's been like a mini-roller coaster: will she eat? will she keep the food down if she does? will she be able to go for a walk? how much fluid do we need to give? what meds does she need? Some days are good; some aren't.

Part of the stress of Sandy being sick, of course, is wondering how Tony will react when she does finally die. The Monhollen/Pugliese household has had our fair share of worrying about pets.

Time Flies

Eight sounds like such a small number in the grand scheme of things. It's not a very long time, really. But holy crap can a lot happen in eight years! Like a person can go through 4 jobs and numerous theater productions, cement friendships while losing others. Get married, buy a house, get a couple of dogs. Blink and eight years and a plethora of experiences have gone by. It's enough to make you say, "Holy crap! Where's my life going?"

A few of my gratefullest things

So, I've never written a blog before but Dan keeps bugging me about it, especially since I also still haven't written a bio. It's a slow day at work, or rather, I'm caught up at the moment, so I thought I'd try this.

It's kind of like talking to yourself, which I do a lot of, or maybe like talking to god. I know about the latter because I used to be married to god and would pray on a regular basis, but after the divorce, the only times I really talked to god were in extreme moments of distress; you know, those times when you're kissing porcelain and puking beer from the night before swearing, "Oh, god, I will never do that again!" or when you're late and all you can think is "Oh god, please don't let me be pregnant!" Not really meaty conversations, those, but they kept the lines of communication between me and the almighty open.

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