heading to michigan

Grief ambushes. I’m starting to do okay, just going about my day-to-day business, and something triggers thinking about Ginger and I start bawling like a baby. Stanley too. I keep thinking I hear her huffing to go out, or feel her standing next to me as I wash dishes or make a sandwich. The “Jeopardy” theme song is painful to listen to as this was Ginger’s cue to demand her nightly Greenie.

We know we have to find another dog or two to love—we want to. We thought about getting another goldie, especially a red one, but realized that this would be trying to replace Ginger. And would involve getting a goldie from a breeder when what we really want to do is adopt a pound puppy or two—there are so many dogs that need homes and we were really lucky to find Ginger at the Westport branch of the Connecticut Humane Society. We’d thought about getting another dog while we had Ginger, but she was so attached to me she got very upset if I paid attention to any other dog, so we didn’t. We would like to adopt a dog or two younger than eight months if possible, the younger the better (up to a point), so the cats aren’t threatened.

We are going to go to the humane society in Tawas, Michigan next week, to see if they have any puppies that grab our hearts. I know they all will, but I mean a puppy that chooses us.

It’s going to be very hard to go to Michigan without Ginger. I don’t yet know if I can handle Three Mile Beach without her—but maybe that will be the best place to really say goodbye. God how she loved to run on that beach and swim in Lake Huron.

I am so looking forward to getting to Oscoda, seeing my parents, slowing down, and just breathing. I have work to do, websites and stores to finish up, but I’m not going to push it. I’m looking forward to seeing the Milky Way and maybe even an aurora, wading in Lake Huron, going to bingo, and just listening to the quiet.

We’re going to try to get out of here by 10 a.m. or 11 a.m. Saturday morning so we get to the hotel in Boston Heights, Ohio by 6 p.m or 7 p.m. But if we don’t, oh well. Mostly I’m looking forward to spending the time with Stanley during the drive.

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 08/22/08 at 08:59 PM
  1. I came across your blog because our vet up in Watertown (Dr. Stone of Stone Veterinary, who are wonderful should you ever need a vet while up in our neck of the woods) just referred us to Dr. Elpiner, after delivering the bad news that the mass removed from our Tara was indeed a metastatized mammary tumor. It’s one of the wonders of the modern age that it’s so easy to find out what other people’s experiences with a particular doctor (or contractor or restaurant or what have you) have been like, and let that information help you decide whether or not you want to do business with them.

    I’ve read through all your entries about Ginger’s cancer treatments now, and I wanted to express my condolences—for whatever the sympathy of a stranger is worth, nearly two years on. My fiancĂ©e and I have lost pets before, cats and dogs both, so of course this entry in particular resonated: not just the raw, immediate grief, but the thousand little ways we expect our companion animal to interact with us on a daily basis, each one a fresh reminder that they’ll never scold us or steal our chair (or whatever the mannerism) again.

    Some of your entries about your cats and your garden (two things of which I’m fond) drew me in as well. I’m glad you had feline as well as human family to help you through what must have been a terrible time.

    (If you feel your blog’s privacy has been intruded upon, I apologize.)

    CAPTCHA is days92—I hope that doesn’t turn out to be how little time Tara has left.

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  06/25  at  02:09 PM
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