I didn't think it would hurt this much

Gladys finally died yesterday.

We got Gladys when I was in 8th or 9th grade. And for those of you counting, that's 16 years ago. When we got her she was a puppy, and could fit in the palm of Dad's hand. We took pity on her because she was the runt of the litter, but seemed to be the one prancing around saying "I'm better than everyone else." So home she came, no crate, no box, hanging out on the back seat or in our laps until we got to the house. From the moment we brought her home, she was labeled "the best dog we ever had."

She was part black lab (we think), and part Rodesian Ridgeback. She was all black with a big cowlick up her spine. Once she got big enough, she was very happy to chase tennis balls and not bring them back. She liked chasing lots of things. One day she caught a squirrel as it tried to climb away up a tree. That wasn't pretty. She shook it like a rag doll by the tail until it slipped out of her mouth. The poor squirrel quickly ran to the nearest tree, and luckily made it up out of reach. She would run along behind me while Dad pulled me on the sled with the tractor. Sometimes she would grab my hat off my head and shake it around too.

In the beginning, she was strictly an outside dog. But the more we grew to love her, she eventually wound up inside on cold nights, then every night, and then she was coming in whenever she (or we) wanted her to.

I got Maia in 2000 and brought her home. At first, they didn't get along. At all. Drawing blood from each other on a weekly basis. It upset us all tremendously. I think Gladys was jealous. But eventually she learned that she was still number 1 in our books, and then they got along much better. Since then they romped around together, followed Dad when he went hunting, and even helped him track deer.

One day I saw a sign in the neighborhood saying "Lost peacock." The peacock ended up in our backyard, and Gladys helped us surround it and eventually catch it. She was great at herding things.

As she aged, she no longer wanted to be inside, and would bark frequently, which made us put her back out. So she went from being inside whenever, to being inside at night, to only on cold nights, and then not at all. Before she stopped going outside, she began having "selective hearing." She pretended she couldn't hear us when we tried to tell her anything. Sometimes she would pretend to be asleep while we were calling her name. At some point (5 or 6 years ago) we thought she was getting towards the end of her life. She wouldn't do much anymore, and she started to lose weight and go gray around the muzzle. Gladys would lay so still, we would think that she was already dead, and we'd have to yell for her (she would ignore us), and then we'd touch her. She would look up at us like "I'm not dead, leave me the hell alone." I'm convinced that sometimes she would hold her breath when she heard us coming.

The past few years, she lost a lot of weight, had difficulty walking, and getting up and down. Gladys never seemed to be in pain though - it just seemed like her body wouldn't work anymore. She lost control of her bladder, and we think she was pretty much blind and deaf. Each time I went home, I would make sure to find her (laying in the leaves, under the truck, etc) and pet her, because I knew she wouldn't know I was home, and if she did, she would have trouble getting to me.

I went home about two weeks ago and I couldn't find her. I got worried because it was dinnertime, and no matter what, she would know and would come to eat. I searched outside in the rain with a flashlight until I found her. She was huddled underneath A.C.'s old jeep. I petted her and told her it was time to eat. I went and got her food, but before I could bring it to her, she showed up at the front porch like usual to eat. I left the next morning after petting her and telling her to stay out of the driveway while I backed up.

Yesterday, I had multiple messages from family telling me that Gladys had finally died. Mom and Dad left to go to Charlottesville that morning and she was fine - wobbling around and barking as usual. When they came home, Dad went outside to do some type of "dad task" and found her underneath the trailer.

We had been making jokes for years...."she's still alive?" or "how old IS she?" We all knew she was probably pretty sick - having lost so much weight, but we couldn't bring ourselves to take her to the vet. We were afraid they would tell us she was dying, etc. and we would need to put her down. Mom and Dad repeatedly considered calling the vet and having her put to sleep, but no one could do it. I figured that it wouldn't hurt so much because we have been preparing ourselves for this for years. Boy was I wrong. I cried at work, I cried on the phone when I thought I would be leaving a message, I cried at home, I'm crying now, it's just awful. We had dogs before that died, but we had never had one as long as her.

I will be scanning pictures tonight, and will most likely post them over the holidays for you to see.

She was definitely the best dog we ever had.

Well it's about time

Yes, I can hear you saying it now.

I've been at my "new" job for 4 and a half months now. I like the work, and at first I wasn't sure about my coworkers, but I've decided they're not half bad. I'm glad I've gotten over my initial "crying-on-the-way-to-work-because-I-miss-my-old-coworkers" phase. I still miss them immensely, but I've adjusted. Until I went to visit Mandy and Nicolas last weekend, and then I cried on the way home. I'm such a mush-ball.

I do think my stories from work are much more entertaining now. Except for the guy who plucked his chest hair to send it to his wife while he was in jail. And she put it in her bra so it would be close to her heart. I don't think anything can top that story from my time at DSS. Ah...the memories....

Last week I got to work at my normal time, and then around 8:30, there was a horrendous banging/slamming noise and much screaming, coming from a unit that was luckily not my own. At any rate, I walked down the hall to see what was going on. There was a boy diagnosed with autism who was very upset with the morning's breakfast choice, and had thrown everyone's breakfast trays and there was food everywhere. They didn't have his normal Raisin Bran available, so he was very upset. And ripped his shirt off Hulk Hogan style. They called to all other units in an attempt to find Raisin Bran, but there wasn't any in the building. So in the meantime, this kid is going nuts. Over Raisin Bran. I mean, it's understandable, I get upset when I'm not regular too. So I offered to run to the store to get him some Raisin Bran, which was accepted gratefully. I hopped in Lucy Jetta, drove to Walmart and made it back in record time. Then I'm a hero because I got the guy some cereal. I still don't understand why no one else thought of going to the store, or even considered it as an option. Um...hello? Go buy the kid some cereal. It's not rocket science. "Uh...gee...he wants Raisin Bran, but we don't have any...what should we do?" He got his Raisin Bran, and then he was happy.

Now my days are filled with the sound of screaming psychotic children and the pitter patter of adult feet running down the hall.

I exaggerate. My day isn't "filled" with screaming children. Although I do hear screams probably once a day. Sometimes it's just a kid yelling because they're pissed off. Other times it is because they're psychotic, and then I feel like I'm in a movie.

Good times. Ya'll should come visit.