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Pearl

This is going to be sad.

Pearl has been gone for two months, just before her thirteenth birthday.

I’ve been putting off writing about this because it hurts, and because it feels like it just happened. When I get up in the middle of the night, like I did an hour ago, I’m still taking care not to step on her in the dark, even though she’s not there. This house is unbelievably quiet, and I miss her terribly.

Pearl ran this place, even when her arthritis and hearing loss meant she stopped meeting us at the door. She pawed at the refrigerator and stared a hole in me as a reminder that I hadn’t given her an after-breakfast treat. Pearl loved her leather couch, and chest divot rubs, and licking chins. She had a switchblade back right leg.

She wanted to know where everyone was, including the little dogs whom she tolerated but secretly loved. When she couldn’t make it out to the yard, she watched us from the patio, or from a patch of cool grass. Pearl was 100% Momma Dog.

She snorted and snored and farted and panted all the time, and as the invisible tumor made it hard for her to breathe, she only got louder. This is why our house is so quiet now, and I remember that the quiet is actually a good thing.

Before her last trip to the vet, Simon gave her a hug and a kiss and said “Bye, Pearl!” And at the vet, I rubbed her ears and held her head for her last breath and said the same thing.

My mother told me that when I was going through a rough time, she knew that Pearl was taking care of me. This is absolutely true, and a wonderful tribute to a truly unique soul.

“Why do I call you Peach? Because you’re round and fuzzy on the outside and sweet on the inside!”

Maggie

This is going to be sad.

Maggie is gone.

She had been sick for the last several months with nearly every horrible thing that can happen to a Boxer dog, and finally it just became too much. We took her to the emergency vet on Sunday and she didn’t come home. She’s better off, the pain is gone, she has found peace, and so on. All the standard things people always say absolutely apply here, and as usual, none of them help very much.

Maggie knew how to press the top of her head right into my chest when I needed it. Maggie smelled like maple syrup. Maggie loved having her belly rubbed, and cheese, and her big pillow on the couch. Maggie hated thunderstorms and wanted to hide under my office desk until they were over. Maggie limped out on arthritic hips and a bum leg to hop around in the yard under the giant oak tree with me because no matter how old she got or how much it hurt, she was still a puppy on the inside and she wanted to play.

Maggie was the first dog to notice Simon in his crib as we brought him home, and I will never forget the amazing look on her face when she saw him.

For eleven years, this beautiful, soulful dog loved me and I loved her. I have a 77 pound hole in my chest, and it hurts. I hope it always does a little bit; in that way, she’s still here.

Simon

Our son was born three weeks ago.

Simon James McMurry was born Tuesday, December 22, 2010 at 8:11am. Eight pounds, three ounces, 20 inches.  Lots of hair, dark eyes, chubby cheeks, ten fingers, ten toes.

Simon gives a meaningful stare from his hospital bassinet (2010 Dec 22)

Simon is beautiful and funny and I love him more than I ever dreamed I could.

Since he’s been home, the three of us have gotten to know each other in a hundred different ways. Molly and I are doing great with him so far, but I think that’s mostly because he’s a really great baby. “Team Simon,” we remind each other when adult fussiness is about to flare up.

Simon sees the toy giraffes in his Pack 'n Play (2011 Jan 02)

I am Simon’s full time PR agent. Facebook, Flickr, Twitter, email, etc. There are lots of family and friends to keep in the loop. It’s been fun, but there’s a limit. I’m not interested in sharing minute details of his life to the public at large, but I suspect he’ll show up here quite a bit.

Simon enjoys a peaceful lunch (2011 Jan 11)

The Fish

We have a small fish pond built into the patio in the backyard, with four small koi therein, mandatorily adopted when we bought the house. I have named them:

  • Spot is orange with a single white spot on his back.
  • Whitey is solid white.
  • Big Man is solid orange and bigger than Shrimp.
  • Shrimp is solid orange and smaller than Big Man.

I have determined using all available evidence (specifically, my imagination) that they’re all boys.  Give me a break: I’m already outnumbered five to one.

As you may know, it’s cold in Memphis at the moment and getting colder.  Tonight’s forecast low: 11°.  I have therefore decided to freak out about the health and safety of these small slimy wriggly fellas, all of whom have zero interest in me other than Getting Away and Hiding.

The pump is frozen, and there’s a 1″ thick sheet of ice on the top, but the water underneath is fine.  I know this because I just did some reading and decided to pour a few saucepans of hot water onto the side of the pond to melt the ice, allowing a bit of oxygen in and toxic stuff out.

No sign of fish, but hopefully they’re smarter about what they need than I am. I’ll be out there this weekend when (if) it’s above freezing to see what the deal is.  I’ll pretend that under the rock structure in the middle, they have a little fish dude party pad with a bar, leather armchairs, and a big TV.  And a heater.

Meanwhile, there will be lots of snugglepuppy indoors to keep all the warm-blooded warm.

DSL Outage

I lost my DSL service for the weekend. I’ve performed a highly professional root cause analysis and present the following conclusion:

A big ass chunk of tree fell down and took my phone line with it.