One Year Today

It was a year ago today, November 5th, that I had to take my old friend to the vet to be put down.

He was a 14 1/2 year old Shepherd/Rottweiler cross with the unlikely name of Chism (this is what happens when you let your kid name your dog...).

I had known him since the day he was born. I came home from work and saw my neighbour sitting on her lawn; in her lap were two newborn puppies. They didn't even know her dog was pregnant, until she gave birth!

I pleaded with my neighbour to let me have the male one, and after some convincing, she agreed.

Chism was a dog only a mother could love. Strong, willful, bullheaded, destructive, vicious.... He never sat still. He would walk around and around and around and around the coffee table, trot down the hallway, trot back and walk around and around and around and around the coffee table. He would shred the garbage. He would tear the fence down trying to attack the little old lady meandering past. He wouldn't shut up. He was virtually untrainable.

Note: Never get a Rottweiler/Shepherd cross as your first dog.

Over the years he proved himself to be the most protective dog a person could ask for. No one could come into the house until the dog was satisfied. While this was a hassle, I will say it was a great comfort. I was a single mom for several years, and even when I was with my husband he worked nights a lot. Chism was the best protector I could have had.

Around age 12 he started to limp quite a bit. He was slowing down a lot, his fur was dulling, his eyes were unfocused, he wasn't eating much and he had lost his zest. I went to my local independent pet store to ask for an end-of-life painkiller; they recommended a super strength joint compound with glucosamine, MSM and other natural things for joint health. I thought this was like changing the oil in a car just to drive it to the junkyard, but alright.

Within a day Chism was walking up the stairs, running in the yard and bounding around again. This compound took 7 years off his life! He was like a 5 year old again. His eyes were clear, his fur was glossy, and he was his old perky self.

This stuff kept him young and fit for two years, when gradually I could see him decline. He started limping again. His eyes were dulling again. His appetite was weak.

As we went for his walks he became slower and slower. He could go only short distances. Then he started to stumble. His hips would give out and he would be stuck on the ground; he would scream in pain as I tried to pick him up.

On Halloween 2007 his hips gave out entirely. He couldn't get up. He barely made it home.

Oh well, the internet is full of good information. I searched for options for him. Medicines, surgery, you name it.

I realized, at the ripe old age of 14 1/2 human years, that he would not likely survive surgery. Or if he did, he would not recover well.

I had to make the decision.

I had to end his life.

The day I realized that this time had come, my heart broke in a million pieces. How can you decide to have your best friend, your protector, your old fluff, killed?

I phoned the vet on Friday. The soonest they could get us in was Monday, Nov. 5th.

Those days were more agonizing than I can possibly describe. It was helpful, in fact, to talk to a number of other people who had been through this. I was committed to attend a birthday party on Nov. 3, so I went. I talked to everybody there about it; everyone there had owned dogs. They all told their stories. Some people had waited too long with their dogs, and the dogs' suffering was immeasurable. One dog's eye imploded and his kidneys failed. Another dog was in so much agony he couldn't sit, stand, lie, anything -- he would just stand there and shriek.

With a heavy heart I knew I had to follow through with this appointment. Chism's quality of life was down the tubes. It would take him almost an hour to get outside to pee. He couldn't eat.

I sat and talked to him. I told him how much I loved him, how much I appreciated what he had brought to my life. I told him I never liked dogs much before I met him, but now I love dogs because of him. As I stroked him and talked to him, he struggled to get some balance, then he put his paw on my shoulder. It fell to the floor with a thump a few seconds later. It was all he could give. It was enough.

The evening before was agony. He had his last banana, his last sleep, his last night. The morning saw his last walk. He ate his last cookies on the way to the vet. He knew something was up.

As the sleeping medicine took effect Chism slid down into my arms, and I got to cradle my old friend as his life slipped away.

Leaving him behind at the vet was so hard. (Having the ditz yell after me, "Have a nice day!" was even harder. Schmuck.)

Although his body is gone, I know his soul lives on. But, that's for another post.

Rest in peace, my old friend. Thank you for being my doggie.

Love,

Mommy

A Simple Request

*Pooffffff*

I need to blow the dust off the blog.

I have lots in my mind to write about; the problem is, when I go to do so (hey! Four two-letter words in a row!), I cannot separate and condense any one thought. It's all a mash.

So I'll leave today with a request.

I have been nagging my husband for a dog. Our old friend died last year at the ripe old age of 14 1/2 years. His name was Chism and he was a Rottweiler/Shepherd cross whose joints had been failing miserably. Glucosamine was helpful for over two years, but one day, at this time of year in fact, he suddenly collapsed and could hardly walk. After a few days of searching the internet for cures and ideas, I finally realized the only humane solution was to have him put down. I have never been in greater agony. He had been my friend since he was born and now he was gone.



It took me quite a long time, but I am thinking I am ready for another dog. I have accepted that Chism is gone in body but not in spirit, and I think he would like if I gave another dog a home.

I am madly in love with this dog. I have been crazy about him since the beginning of October. My husband? He doesn't like the dog. No good reason, he just doesn't like the way he looks.

Seriously. Look at that dog! Isn't he a doll?

So my request is this: Help me find a way to talk my husband into letting me get this dog. I've tried.

Ready? Set... GO!

A Funeral Story

Today I attended a funeral for Caiden Peters, a little boy who died 2 months before his 6th birthday.

He had battled AML, Acute Myelogenous Leukemia, for 26 months before he became one of the rare people to die from the disease itself; apparently most people die from the treatments. Either way, this brand of leukemia is pernicious and horrid.

His mother, Lisa Peters, had kept up an online journal detailing his progress.

We all read along, rooting for his progress. We cheered when he had good days, where he could run over the nurses' toes with his tricycle. We held our breath when he had bad days, when his pain was so bad he required morphine.

We cried when his friends in the hospital died. We hoped his outcome would be different.

We agonized when the journal told us that he was terminal. Over 91% of his white blood cells were cancerous. He would not survive the preparations for a bone marrow transplant. All there was to do was to make him comfortable.

He died 8 days later. 2 months before he turned 6. He never even had a visit from the Tooth Fairy. He never got to blow out six candles. He won't get to see Santa.

So many people were crushed. The poor little boy. The poor family.




Today was his funeral. So many people were expected, that they had attendants in the parking lot.

His urn was at the front of the room, with his blankie wrapped around his stuffed kitty, and both of them leaning on the urn. His little suit was hanging near his favourite toys.

The service proceeded as they do, with people speaking, the minister offering words of comfort, pictures of Caiden on the screen while lullabies played. Noses were being blown throughout.

Caiden's mom's best friend, a lovely sweet little young lady named Pam, came up to speak about him. She could barely speak for the tears. Her voice shook with strain as she tried to offer a tidbit about him. She had nothing prepared; she just spoke.

Then she told this story:

"Caiden was a poltergeist alright. He always was a crazy little man. Even when he was in palliative care, he still had spunk. He said to me," ...here her voice really trembled... "'Auntie, sniff my butt!'" We all roared with laughter! Then she finished with, "So I did. But I made him sniff mine first!"

What a perfect tribute to a 6 year old boy! This was a fine illustration of his personality, and to hear it delivered by a sweet young lady who couldn't hold back the tears just made it even more perfect.

When I talked to her at the reception I told her how excellent her story was. She said she was shocked that she'd even told it; she'd had nothing in mind when she went up to the microphone, and was surprised to hear that story coming out.

I don't doubt that Caiden was behind her, whispering in her ear to "Tell that story, Auntie Pam!".

Godspeed, Caiden.



images courtesy of Caiden's blog at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/Caiden. See link above

Toronto Part *gasp* 7!!! *faints*

The trip was amazing, but truly gruelling.

On the very last day we had planned to go to the Zoo. Everyone who had been to the Toronto Zoo told us it's an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE! It's OUTSTANDING! You HAVE to SEE IT!!!!

Okay, okay. To me one zoo is like the next; wild animals imprisoned in a tiny cage without enough stimulation. Yes, they're safe from predators and poachers and disease. But they're in jail.

ANYWAY! I shouldn't go off on a tangent.

To get to the zoo would involve: a subway ride on one line; transfer to another subway line and ride it to the end; then wait God-knows-how-long for a bus; ride the bus for about 1/2 an hour. Then walk and walk and walk and walk around what is supposedly an ENORMOUS zoo all day. Then wait for the bus; take the bus for... well, you get the point.

At this stage of the game we were nearly dead. I have no idea how many miles we walked. We could have gone to the moon and back, I'm sure. Plus, our last day had high temperatures and the first smoggy haze I'd seen since I got there.

As amazing as the zoo sounded, frankly, we couldn't bear the thought of it. We wanted to stay close to the hotel, so we wandered around the waterfront for awhile.

Toronto sits on the shore of Lake Ontario, one of the Great Lakes. But for the absence of the salt-water smell, you would swear you were on the ocean. This lake is utterly enormous.

The waterfront is developed all along the way; much of it is just pathways, but there are harbours and such as well. We stopped at one area that had shopping, showers, a ballet theatre (!), restaurants, chartered boat rides, the whole bit. I was absorbed in a very cool jewelry store that actually had stuff I'd never seen before. I ended up buying a cracked zircon pendant (the cracks were supposed to be there!) with a silver chain.

After this short trip we had crapped out completely. By noon our son and I were back in the hotel room. The smog may have been aggravating our asthma too -- my son and I both have it, lucky us.

I had forgotten to mention a musical I had seen earlier in the week.

When we first arrived at our hotel, which was situated in the Entertainment District, we unpacked our stuff then decided to wander around the corner for pizza. Well. I turned the corner, and what do I see? A marquee for:

Evil Dead: The Musical

EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

I had watched Evil Dead so many times when it first came out, I probably wore out the tape! It was this campy horror movie that came out in 1981 or so, about five college kids breaking into a cabin in the woods and spending the night. They decided to explore the cellar (of course) and they found a chainsaw, an axe, a ceremonial dagger, and the Necronomicon. Of course, someone reads passages from the Necronomicon out loud. Of course, this raises evil spirits that possess the kids. Of course, the bridge leading to that part of the woods is suddenly broken into bits. Of course, the chainsaw and axe and dagger all come in handy. And of course, there is one survivor who went on to make Evil Dead 2: Still Dead and Army of Darkness, aka Evil Dead 3.

It's a gorefest that takes every stupid aspect of a horror movie and puts it all into one really stupid cult smash hit.

So, I see they've made it into a musical! Woo hooooo!!

At first I just looked at the marquee. A couple of days later I returned to take photos of it. Then I thought, you know, I'm staying right around the corner. Why the heck don't I go?

So I called the box office and bought a seat in The Woods. Seating was named according to how it might correspond with the show. The Woods is the farthest, crappiest seating. The Cabin had slightly better seating. The Cellar better yet. And the Splatter Zone and Splatter Zone Deluxe were exactly what you would imagine. They handed ponchos out to the people in the Splatter Zones. And boy, did they need them.

This show was like everything else in Toronto, utterly outstanding. The talent was fantastic -- these were real singers and dancers and actors. This was not like the community theatre we have here, where just anybody gets a part. These were professionals, and it showed.

The show played on the campiness of the original movie. For example, when the kids were trying to escape and they came to the bridge only to find the bridge was out, some stage hand shoved the bridge onto the stage (it was about 4 feet long and 2 feet wide) with yellow "Danger" tape wrapped around it. The cast all shrieked, "THE BRIDGE IS OUUUUT!!" You had to be there.

When the technical stuff mattered, they made it happen. There was one scene where the guy whacks the girl's head off with a chainsaw; they pulled a screen down on the scene, and you could see their shadows, and I swear, the chainsaw swinging and the head flying and the blood splattering was incredibly done. Click on the link earlier, to see that scene. There is a video running on the home page of the site that has that scene in it.

Near the end when almost all of the cast has been turned into Candarian demons and they are all being slaughtered, the blood was hysterical. There were literally FOUNTAINS of it spraying all over creation. If this show ever returns I will HAVE to sit in the Splatter Zone. :D

And that, my friends, is that.

What a fabulous trip.

Toronto Part 6

Three words: Back-to-school cold.

Is that three words? Meh. Whatever.

Whatever it is, I have it and have been trying to go to bed at a decent hour to try to get rid of it.

Anywhine, I promised an entry about the Hockey Hall of Fame -- unless you're Canadian you're probably not waiting with baited breath, but here it is nonetheless.

(As usual, thanks to Google Images for all the pics on here. Other people take way better pics than I do.)

By now we're reaching near the end of the trip, and to say we're exhausted is an understatement. We can hardly haul ourselves out of bed anymore. The miles we've walked could have taken us to the moon and back.



We had passes to the Hockey Hall of Fame, and since that was within *gasp* walking distance, we decided to check it out. My husband and I, avid hockey fans, could have really passed on it at this point, but our 7-year-old really wanted to go, so off we went.

If you like hockey, it's actually pretty cool. It's mainly several rooms of well-laid-out displays of memorabilia and milestone-hitting moments. There were jerseys and equipment from the 1920's up to current day, as well as hockey toys and such. My husband and I (this shows you how fuzzy my brain is; I just typed that, "My husband and eye,") were pointing at the toys and such from our childhoods, wishing we still had it all. Little did we know that crap would be worth collecting one day. :)

Have you ever watched hockey, or any team sport for that matter, and wondered whether you could keep up with a running commentary on the action? Well, at the Hall of Fame there was a booth where you could try just that; there was a clip of a hockey game with no sound, and you had to voice-over a colour commentary. Good luck. Mine turned out like, "And that guy shot the puck and it, um, hit the thingy, and uh, now whatziz has the puck... oh now number 23 has it and, uh..." Certainly not as easy as it looks.



Our favourite part was the room where the STANLEY CUP was not only on display, but you could go up to it and TOUCH IT and have your picture taken with it!! The Stanley Cup is the Holy Grail of hockey prizes. This is the big one folks; this is what the players sustain lifelong injuries for. The Stanley Cup.

If I EVER get around to uploading our pics I'll include one of us standing around the Cup. Ahhhhh.

After the Hall of Fame we were starving, so we went to a place that looked like a restaurant, but holy cow it was huge! It was absolutely enormous, and at first it looked like a bunch of different restaurants. We stepped in after passing numerous entrances, and found the most amazing eating experience. It was called the Richtree.

A lady handed us each a card, like a bank card or gift certificate card, and explained the set-up to us. There were dozens upon dozens of stations where you could get any kind of food and drink; you found the things you wanted, gave the card to the people behind the counter of that station, and they entered your purchase into it. You could do this all day. At the end you gave the card to the cashier and paid for everything you ate. Awesome, huh?

They had EVERYTHING there: Sushi, other fish, chicken, beef, burgers and hot dogs, crepes, Italian, antipasti, salads, tea bar, coffee bar, wine and beer, ice cream, cake, squares, pies, chocolates, fresh juices, deli meats, you name it.

After stuffing ourselves royally we carried on to my husband's favourite music store, Sonic Boom.

Now, I'm very good with directions. I'm not so hot with distances.

For over an hour I kept saying, "Oh, it should be over on the next block! Er, maybe the one after that. Uhhh, maybe it's the one at the light up there." We walked up Yonge Street for almost 2 hours before we got within sight of the store. Gad.

The effort wasn't wasted; at one point we actually stumbled upon the church of Scientology! Cults aren't prevalent in my part of the woods so I always get a kick out of seeing them in person somewhere else. Then, right across the street, who should we see but Anonymous! Yay! Anonymous is a grassroots international group determined to bring down Scientology. This has nothing to do with religious intolerance; Scientology is bogged down with all sorts of controversy. You can read about the controversies here and here. I'm not providing links to the sites of the cult itself because I'm sure they have ways of figuring out where the links are coming from. I'd rather not have them sniffing around here.

Finally we were within a block of the music store! Then, out of nowhere, a very large bird deposited a large, runny, black poo all over my husband's head and shirt. Augh. He took a cab back to the hotel then went back to the music store later. He did say that it's supposed to be good luck, and judging by the size of the poop, he's due to win the lottery.

Coming up: My final post about Toronto! We sure got our money's worth.

Toronto *gasp* Part 5

(I don't think I got a pic of the subway, so here's someone else's.)

It *is* taking longer to write about it than it did to live it.

I know I keep going on and on and on about the cleanliness and efficiency of Toronto's transit system, and specifically the subway. Really, it blows me away. The train stations downtown in my city have crack addicts and drug deals going on at every one, the trains smell like urine and you always have someone harassing you for money or drugs or whatever. Toronto is 5 times the size of here, and they have none of that. The trains ran about every 2 minutes on Sundays, and no less than every 30 seconds on the weekday rush hour. Seriously, move there.

The subways and many of the major attractions are connected to the PATH, an acronym for I-don't-know-what. The PATH is an underground pathway covering 27 km of area; in the PATH there are grocery stores, clothing stores, offices, services, pharmacies, you name it. We didn't see much of it on our trip, as the stores it contained are mainly franchise shops which I can see here, but I thought it was neat.



Of course, no trip to Toronto is complete without visiting the CN Tower.

Now, I am not a heights person. I don't like being more than 2 stories in the air. High buildings scare me. The men of my family reeeeeally wanted me to come up to the CN Tower with them, so *sigh* I did.

Let me tell you, this is not a place for people with height phobias.

After you've paid to get in, you go through a door and immediately notice the large amount of security guards wandering around. These aren't your nine-buck-an-hour rent-a-cops either. (Oh shush, my son used to be one. I can call them that.) These were serious professionals who looked very fit and alert. Frankly I saw less security at the airports.

The next step before getting near an elevator, was passing through a new, super high-tech security device. It looks like one of those scanners you walk through at the airport, but instead of x-raying you, it puffs air all over you in short puffs from head to toe. My son later told me that it's new technology that can sniff nanotraces of gunpowder and other explosives on you.

Now that my nerves are totally shot, let's head to the elevators!



See the part along the side that looks like a ladder? It's really a series of windows, stacked one on top of the other, so you can look out while the GLASS ELEVATOR takes you up! Ohhhhh goody!

Here is a short video where you can see the elevators and the GLASS FLOORS to boot!

Don't ask me what it was like on the elevator. I stood with my face pressed to the back of the elevator, my eyes squeezed shut and reciting the Lord's Prayer all the way.



Over 1100 feet in the air, here is the first stop the elevator makes. You can go higher, to the SkyPod, which is over 1400 feet in the air, but it cost extra and I had absolutely no interest. The rest of the family went up while I looked around myself.

There were two floors to the observation area, as well as an OUTDOOR observatory. That's right, you could go OUTSIDE over 1100 feet in the air. Yeeeeesh. I actually did it! I didn't *like* it, but I did it. Good for me!

There is also a glass-bottomed floor, over 1100 feet in the air, that you could stand on and look aaaaaaall the way down. I stepped on it, turned my camera downward without looking down myself, took a picture of my feet on the glass floor and stepped off. Boy, was my family surprised when they got off the elevator and I showed them my pics!

There is also a nice restaurant up there and I had considered buying dinner for everyone, but the entrees started at $ 30.00 each and went up from there. Ummmm, no.

Down the elevator again (THANK GOD) and into the most enormous gift shop I've ever seen.

Tomorrow: The Hockey Hall of Fame!

Toronto Part 4!

It is taking longer to keep up on these posts than it did to actually have the vacation!

Of course, one cannot go to Ontario without checking out Niagara Falls.



(I need to add again that the pics on these Toronto posts are sourced from various websites. My own pictures are still sitting in my camera.)

We had intended to take the Greyhound bus, since we were not keen on driving in a strange province on busy highways, so we woke up at 4:00 AM so we could be ready and waiting at the bus depot by 6:00. As we were slogging through the morning mist, my husband slowed down and said, "So, I'm wondering if we should rent a car after all." "Sounds good," I said, "Let's go."

In hindsight, I'm glad we did. Not long after this trip there was a terrible murder on a Greyhound bus; click the link if you're curious and make sure you don't have a full stomach.

So, in keeping with our usual experience of Torontonians being helpful, we managed to rent a car, on a Friday, with no notice whatsoever. AND we got a carseat with it! Way to go, Hertz.

The drive was simpler than we had expected. It would be difficult to get lost, in fact.

Once we got into town and found an amazing parking spot, we got out to look at:

THE FALLS.

Wow!

There is nothing that I could say that would adequately describe the Falls themselves. The noise, the mist, the sheer immensity of it all is just mind-blowing.

We took a tour where we could walk in tunnels that are behind the Falls, and we got completely soaked.

After awhile we decided to see the rest of the town. The town itself is hilarious! It's like a big carnival with all sorts of cheesy attractions. On Clifton Hill, the main drag, you can find the Guinness World's Records Museum, a mini-Legoland, a number of fright features like "haunted" houses, the Motorbike Museum, The Criminals Hall of Fame -- where I bought some replica pistols for my son and daughter-in-law-elect, then wondered how the hell I was going to get them on the plane -- and finally, my must-see feature:

The Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum!



I read Ripley's books obsessively when I was young, so I HAD to see this feature. It was better than I thought it would be! Very fun, very interesting, full of cool stuff and funny interactive features.

My youngest son, who is 7, insists that he loves haunted houses and doesn't scare easily. We went into one, paid the fifteen bucks or so of admission, and lasted about 90 seconds in there before we had to take the chicken's exit. We were wandering the hallways, which were dim and full of creepy pictures and sculptures, when we came to a tunnel that was utterly pitch black. I leaned forward, put my hand through the mouth of the tunnel, and *SNAP*, something made a sharp noise. I jerked back, leaned forward again, and "Mmmuuuhhhwwwaaahahahahaha". Eee! I stepped back again, and all was silent, so I crept forward again, and a voice said, "Don't be afraid little one. Come to me." Uhhhhh... someone saw my young son. These are real people. Is this part of the feature????

We hightailed it out of there -- it turns out that yes, it was part of the feature. Thank God.

An uneventful drive back and we were back at our wonderful hotel for the evening.



Only a few days to go! I'll write more tomorrow.

Toodle!