Monday, July 13, 2009

Beastie Boy.

We've lost our Heiko.

We've known this day was coming for a while. He came to us two years ago already broken, without his tail, having been dropped by a handler prior to being retired. The drop shattered his hip and the army vets had to take out the head of his femur, and then his tail when it became infected too. He had degenerative joint disease. He suffered from degenerative myelopathy, a disease that was slowly making him lose control of his back legs. He had little muscle in his hindquarters. He had a lot of problems. But I would fight anyone who says they love their dog more than we loved Heiko. And he loved us, especially Chad. Dogs remember people that are important to them, of this I am convinced. It had been over ten years since Chad was his original army K9 handler. Ten years since they had worked together daily, catching bad guys and drugs hidden in cars. A decade since Chad spent the night in the kennel, worried, after Heiko sliced open his paw while on duty. Yet from the moment Chad drove for days straight to Texas to get his "boy" when he received word of Heiko's retirement two years ago, Heiko refused to let anyone separate them again. He cried if Chad left for work or even the room. He got up every morning with Chad. He would walk into the bathroom EVERY day and peek his furry head around the corner, to see Chad showering, just to make sure he was still there. He wouldn't leave his side and was beyond ecstatic when Chad came home from work. Chad was the center of his whole world. So it was entirely appropriate that the last thing he knew was Chad holding his head, telling him it was ok to go and that he loved him more than he had ever loved any dog. It didn't make it any easier for us to know that, as a friend put it, he would have done the same for Chad. The last few months and most especially the last few days have been torture for all of us. He'd struggle to stand. The last few weeks he had become incontinent. He couldn't make it up the stairs anymore and would cry at the bottom if Chad went upstairs for anything. He would try to take a few steps but it always ended in a fall. The last two days his front legs started giving out and we knew it was time.

The worst part about losing a dog in this condition is that he was still all there mentally. He WANTED to be here with us. I can't speak for Chad, but I feel like a traitor for ending his life only because his body betrayed him. I know his quality of life was pretty much crap the day we decided to stop his pain. But it's still the worst decision a pet owner might have to face. I'm not sure I'll be able to put down a dog again if I'm asked. I don't know how we'll go through it with our other three. This is the second time I've been present for euthanasia, and it was worse this time because I watched Chad suffer along with Heiko. I was the only one present for my first dog, Otis. Words don't express the heartache I felt watching the two of them say their final goodbye.

Heiko, I'm so sorry. I love you. You really were the best German Shepherd on the planet. You served your country. You let us love you. You let me sneak you people food and you never told on me. You let me call you silly nicknames like "Beastie" and "Beeko". You even allowed me to put humiliating Halloween costumes on you so we could parade you around while we trick-or-treated.


Please know that you did nothing wrong. We were trying to help you. I hope you forgive us. I don't know how long it will take until we can go a day without crying. How long it will be until I finally wipe off the nose streaks on the cabinets where your dog food bowl used to be.

We will miss you forever.













Tuesday, July 7, 2009

We're baaaaa-ack.

So we've returned from our week-long hiatus to California. (A note about California freeway drivers. Those guys are INSANE. I fit right in there.) Spent the first three days at the Disneyland Grand Hotel and park-hopped for those three days (thank you discounted tickets from the army, THE one and only perk to having your husband shot at in foreign lands) and then we made our way to Hollywood. I blogged about that previously, so no need to revisit that subject except to say this: L.A. is a hole. Hollywood? HOLE. I don't care how awesome your celebrity memorials are. I HATE YOU L.A./HOLLYWOOD.

There. That's done. Cheerily moving on!

The last three days were spent lounging around in San Diego. I adore Disneyland, but I gotta say this was the highlight of the trip for me. There's something about the constant ocean breeze, large blobs of seagull poop flying through the air and *juuuust* missing your husband's head, the smell of salt on your skin at the end of the day, and the lack of 100+ degree temps that turns my mind to a lovely and welcome mush. San Deigo melted my brain so much, in fact, that I completely forgot to put on sunblock the day we went to Sea World and I ended up with a second-degree sunburn on my CHEST of all places. Complete with tiny blisters. Frickin' yeowch. (I was also talking to an awesome group of Canadians in the hotel spa one night and may have accidentally and stupidly asked if we could trade a Canadian quarter, which we somehow ended up with at Disneyland, for "real" money. Spoken like a true American with pudding for brains!) We've been home for three days and the skin on my upper chest is now coming off in charred chunks. Attractive. Chad's cousin, who lives around the corner, stayed over at our house with the dogs while we were gone. She's coolio and we love her for doing that for us. Thanks Aubrey!

You can go
here (click!) to visit the rest of our pictures from the trip, but here are a few. (I recently discovered the awesomeness that is Flickr. :D)







Emma baits the seagulls with dried banana treats just so she can run at them (RAWR!) and scare them away.


We now enter the next stage of our lives: The Deployment. We had a mandatory family meeting the day we left for our vacation that was supposed to be informative but in true army fashion it was more of a "here, stand in this line for two hours and then when you're done with that go stand in THAT line for another two hours and oh yeah army wives are also expected to take orders" meeting. (Let me just tell you how well the "army wives will take orders" thing went over with me. It didn't.) I'm also trying to decide whether working part-time in the NICU would be an option for us financially. Let's be honest: the thought of Emma spending all of that extra time with her dad and That Stepmother makes me a little nauseated. Since I work 12-hour night shifts it'll be really hard for me to work full-time anyway, since I'll need to be sleeping most of the week when Emma is awake. What to do what to do? I'm sure we'll figure it out.

Tomorrow? Emma's ninth birthday. Every mom says this and I can't believe I'm saying it but here it is. How did my baby grow up so fast? And why has she taken to calling me "dude" lately?

As a final P.S. - CONGRATULATIONS to all of you pregnant people! I love you guys and I can't wait for all of the new family members. (Including those of you I consider family even though we don't have a speck of shared DNA. You know who you are.) Some of my friends/family worried that I would be all weird with pregnancy announcements since Chad and I can't have kids, but I'm not that type of in-vitro woman. Maybe it's because I get paid to work with infants. I love newborns (except for the ones that shoot projectile poop at me and the ones that yank out their ET/breathing tubes. Those little people go on The List. Eh, who am I kidding. I love the naughty ones too!) and I get excited when people make announcements. You can even whine about your morning sickness. I don't mind in the slightest, as long as you will excuse my inadvertently doing a full assessment on your baby the first moment I get my hands on them. Don't be alarmed if you observe me feeling your new little junior's fontanelles and cranial sutures. I'll try to restrain myself from checking femoral pulses or pulling out my stethoscope, but no promises.
Over and out.