The Inseparables

Dogs have a way of lifting you up when you feel down.

It was at my husband’s lowest when we adopted Bella. It was at Pepper’s lowest when we adopted her.

Bella was not our first choice. Yes, she had short hair and was about the right size, but she wasn’t Rascal, our beloved Australian Shepherd mix of eight years. He loved us both, but he was definitely my husband’s dog. Sadly, we had to lay him to rest.

I didn’t want another dog. I was over it. Period. My heart can’t take kissing another pet goodbye. It hurts. It really, really hurts.

However, Buck didn’t share my feelings. Not at all. He cried and moped around making our house feel like a morgue. Day, after day. Night, after night till I couldn’t take it anymore.

Okay! Okay! We’ll get another dog!

But it wasn’t as easy as it was with Rascal that suddenly showed up at our neighbor’s house one day. Well, it didn’t happen exactly like that. Their little girl found a whole litter of abandoned pups and brought the most handsome one home with her. Soon, the novelty of owning a puppy wore off, and the little guy kept wandering over to our house.

With a little help, from us, that is, and four-year-old Jacob, our youngest grandchild. We all fell in love with Rascal, and to my surprise, he began sleeping on the front porch.

I felt sorry for him sleeping in the cold, so we bought him a bed and blanket. We didn’t want him to starve to death, so we bought him a food and water bowl, too. And of course, we didn’t want him to get bored, so we bought him some doggie toys.

Long story short, we asked the neighbors if we could keep him. We didn’t even have to beg and plead.

He’s family now and family members don’t live outside. We’re people. All of us. Two-legged, four-legged, fur or no fur; we all live together like one big happy family in the house.

For eight, short years, we loved him, and he loved us. Then, one heart-breaking day, he said goodbye.

Now, several weeks later, we’re looking in a cold, dingy cage, at a strange-looking dog, with long, skinny legs, shivering on top of a flimsy, raggedy blanket.

Nope! Not that one!

We keep on looking.

The noise and the smell of all those animals were overwhelming. But, we took our time looking in one cage after another, till we came right back to the first cage. The one with the strange little dog with long, skinny legs.

Hound mix, the sign said.

I don’t want a hound.

So, we made another trip around the dog pound. And another. We were about to leave but decided to take one more look at that strange-looking dog.

Taking a closer look at her slender body and long legs, it dawned on me. She’s a Greyhound mix!

We signed the adoption papers, had her spayed, and within a few days, she was living in our house.

Pepper was dying of starvation. She had been abandoned with fifteen other dogs. I didn’t want two dogs. Never had two dogs at one time and never wanted two dogs at one time.

But, when she put her tiny paws on my leg and jumped on my lap. Well, The rest is history.

Using Paint ShopPro ultimate 2019, I took the following pictures and turned them into art. Our dogs hate having their pictures taken, so we have to sneak up on them. Funny, funny girls.

Oh, No! It’s That Time Again!

When I had my first colonoscopy more than eight years ago, I wasn’t surprised when the doctor came to my room and said he couldn’t even begin the procedure because of  a blockage.

I had been sick off and on for months; doubled over with pain and waking up in the middle of the night sick and throwing up and shaking like an earthquake. But, it wasn’t until I saw the blood that I was convinced something was really wrong and finally went to the doctor.

I am a cancer survivor of eight years, now. Thankfully, I didn’t have to do radiation or chemo of any kind. After seeing what that poison did to my sister, I wasn’t sure I would even consent to it. I’m just happy I didn’t have to decide one way or the other.

However, it was a totally different story for my husband, Buck. He was 68 and had never had a colonoscopy. He wasn’t having any problems, but since he was long over due, I convinced him to talk to the doctor and have him set up an appointment for one.

After the procedure, the doctor’s news couldn’t have been more alarming if he had delivered it wearing a black hooded cape and holding a scythe.

I couldn’t believe it! You’re supposed to have symptoms of colon cancer, right? You’re supposed to be sick and throwing up and hemorrhaging, right? This was just a routine check up. He wasn’t supposed to have cancer!

There were polyps. Lots and lots of polyps and several cancerous tumors. The worse the news got the more I wanted to cover my ears and run out the door screaming, “NO! I don’t want to hear it! He’s not gonna die! God, please don’t let him die!”

The doctor removed four feet of his colon, leaving him with only a foot, which was great news considering that the plan was to remove all of it and insert a colostomy bag. But, we were willing to live with whatever it took for him to survive.

Amazingly, twenty pounds of his infected colon was removed and he didn’t have to take one drop of chemo or radiation.

Last week, Buck was put on the survivor’s list at the VA hospital. YAY!

We are both 73. We are both colon cancer survivors. We are both grateful to God and colonoscopies for saving our lives.

Looking at the bright side of colonoscopies, I’ve posted a few humorous memes. But, all jokes aside, get that colonoscopy. It could save your life!

By the way, I have an appointment this week. March 11th, 2020 at 2:30 pm. That means, tomorrow I get to break in my brand new toilet.