That's What She Said

I've been dreading this post because it is mostly depressing. But since I have absolutely nothing else to do at the moment and this has been staring me in the face for a week, here it goes.

My sister's puppy, Biggie Smalls, passed away last Friday. Before they even got to meet him.

They bought Biggie from a well-reputed-among-Marines breeder in Missouri, whose son is also a Marine and is stationed in 29 Palms, which is near where Meredith & Tony live. The breeder and her husband were driving across the country with all the puppies, dropping them off at their new homes, when in New Mexico they let them out at a park to play. Biggie, being adventurous, got into something and began to choke; they were able to clear his airway and thought everything was fine. The next morning, however, he was vomiting and clearly very ill, so they took him to an emergency vet. About three miles from the vet their car broke down (can you believe that?). Biggie was in such distress by this time that the breeder's husband started running with him, but they just couldn't make it in time. Biggie died.

*****

Naturally, Meredith and Tony were pretty distraught after losing the puppy they'd never met but had come to love through photos and updates since he was a week old. They'd already prepared for this independent, outgoing little guy.

Another couple in Hawaii who'd put a deposit down on a female puppy, Biggie's sister, learned what had happened to Meredith and Tony's pup. They already have a bulldog from this breeder and offered to give up their puppy and wait for another litter to get a second dog.

Meredith and Tony thought long and hard about whether they would be able to accept this new dog who was so different in every way from the dog they had been ready to adopt. First, she was female, which would mean they would HAVE to get her fixed pretty much right away, something they'd planned to put off with Biggie until they decided whether to stud him out. This was a financial burden they hadn't planned on. Then there was the personality differences; the breeder told them that this girl was shy and cuddly, whereas Biggie had been, well, the complete opposite. But after sleeping on it, they decided that this must be the puppy they were meant to have, even if they were sad about losing Biggie.

They got her on Monday. Her name is Jan Levinson-Gould (Jan for short) and they are already in love.

Readers, bloggers, friends, brethren. It's a shit day. It's drizzly. It's dark. It's putting everyone in a foul/somber/utterly depressing mood. For reasons related to my inadequate computer skills, the most I can do for you is provide a link. A golden link. A link that will lead you to the greatest 2 minutes in cinematic history. Minutes so frought with sexual tension and dirty southern excellence you will immediately pack your bags and head off for New Orleans in search of the great American lust fulfillment. Go forth and watch.

On Monday morning my childhood friend passed away.

We went to a small Catholic school through 8th grade and then to the same high school, although by 9th grade we ran in different circles. Even though shit happened between us that caused our friendship to end when we were kids, we were friendly in high school. After she heard that I'd gotten married in January she sent me a really nice message and we caught up a little. She seemed happy with her life and excited about her future. Her name was Niki.

Niki's death has sort of rocked my world. It's strange and uncomfortable to think that while I go about making my plans, hers have been cut short. She was six months younger than me.

Every time I think of her family I get choked up. I cannot imagine how I would feel if my brother or sister died. I don't even know how to fathom losing a child. I've never lost anyone close to me.

I am not sure if I'll attend her services. People are wearing pink, Niki's favorite color, to honor her memory. I don't know if I want my last memory of her to be her wake, her funeral, all the sadness and loss. I'd sort of rather remember our childhood sleepovers, the note-passing during class, and her big, bright smile.