The House

Posted Sat Aug 27, 2011 in

HouseAfter living here in western Nevada for more than four years, we finally bought a house. It’s neither a big house, nor a fancy house — it’s a relatively small house in comparison to what we lived in before with only about 1,430 square feet. In fact, it’s the rental house we lived in for the last four years.

We don’t have to move. In fact, one of our primary motivators is that we don’t have to move. A couple of months ago we were contacted by the management company. The agent there indicated the owners decided to sell and wanted to know if we were interested in buying the house.

The timing could not have been worse, in many respects. Wife was dealing with her lymphoma. I was trying to figure out how to cope with the changes in our family’s life.

Initially, Wife said, flatly, “no.” I thought about it a lot. We looked around a little bit for an alternative rental. The only house we found in about the right size looked like it was in a lot worse condition. We prayed for wisdom. We ran various cost scenarios.

In the end of the analysis, we decided to negotiate a slightly lower price than originally offered. I did my due diligence and reviewed the selling price of other properties in our general area. We offered, they asked for time to review, and accepted our counter-offer. We decided to live more permanently in a smaller space and took on the responsibility to continue sorting through our accumulation and reducing those things we no longer use and putting them into the hands of folks who can and will use them.

In the end of the analysis, I believe we did the best we can. We will not have to move. Wife doesn’t have a move in her now. She won’t have the energy to supervise a move for months. We saved what I would have paid movers to pack and move our stuff. We saved the heartache and hassle of actually making a move, including finding an appropriate alternative. Then there would be no guarantee that new place wouldn’t have sold from under us. It was the best decision we could make.

We need to reduce our material load to those things that we either use or have substantial meaning to us. We need to plan what we want the house to be to make it feel less “white.” We need new floor coverings. The builder put the cheapast-ass stuff that could be purchased on the floors. I don’t relish that part because everything will have to be moved.

But, at least we know the place won’t be sold from under us. I hope we’re near the bottom of the market. I have no way of knowing. But, the deed is done.

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Lymphoma

Posted Sun Jul 17, 2011 in

Smell Me!Yeah… something’s stinky alright!

I admit I haven’t really known how to write about Wife’s cancer. At first it didn’t seem like it was anybody’s business. But, as time moved on, all of our friends found out or were told. I marshaled the prayer-troops as quickly as I could, because I believe prayer is a powerful thing. Anyway, I think I’m ahead of my story.

During the first quarter of this year, Wife wasn’t feeling so good. She lacked energy and complained about a general malaise. I hoped her doctor would find something, but nothing was forthcoming. That is, until some routine blood chemistry came back “odd.” After a couple more checks, she was sent to the hospital to get it (serum calcium) under control and determine the cause.

Basically, there is about a 90-percent probability that high serum calcium is attributable to either hyperparathyroid disease or cancer. A simple hormone test confirmed that it was not hyperparathyroid disease. My first thought was “shit!” Getting a diagnosis required another test and then a long wait. Finally, about the first of May we learned that Wife has a form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma.

She began chemotherapy in May and has now had four infusions of the high-power drugs. The cost for this treatment is astronomical. I kid you not… it’s incredible how much this costs. I thank God everyday for insurance, because without insurance her treatment couldn’t happen.

What we’ve learned is that chemotherapy is rough. The first couple of infusions were not too bad. Wife has an incredible constitution. The third and fourth, however, robbed her of her energy. Chemo might save lives, but it is very hard on the patient and their loved ones.

Personally I’ve been all over the place. I’m holding right now, waiting for the mid-course prognosis. Wife had a PET/CT scan a week and change ago, so we’re expecting results from that soon. I’m hopeful that we’ll get a prognosis as well. My fear is that the probabilities will be worse than I want. My prayer is that Wife beats the odds.

In the middle of all this we received a call from the owners of our rental. They want to sell the property, having changed their minds about retiring to western Nevada. After weighing all the options, I decided to make them an offer, which they accepted. So now, on top of Wife’s cancer, we’re buying a house.

I never, ever, expected this. Marketwise, it’s a decent decision. The housing market here is depressed almost 50 percent. We can afford the place. It’s good enough for us to live in as long as we choose and is imminently rentable. Nonetheless, I sometimes wake with cold feet, wondering what I’m doing.

Work is slow. Whatever anyone says, it’s looking more like a double-dip recession to me. I pray it’s not a full-out depression. We lost four more people over the last couple of weeks. We were stable for about a year; now things are slowing again. Growth here is dead; there is not much work. Nevada is in awful condition and I’m not seeing a lot of upward potential for the moment. Mining is the bright light for the time being.

Did I write I’m buying a house? Am I insane?

I’m still reasonably busy. I need to farm up some additional work to stay that way, but I’m always watching. Things look thin a quarter out, but it’s been that way for a couple of years so who am I to complain?!?

I’m not sure exactly what I think and feel. Life is uncertain. That is quite clear to me now, even if I acknowledged it intellectually, this is gut-level understanding. Life is uncertain.

The image? I came across this stinkbug one afternoon on my way home. He was at my front door. I had my camera and, with a little prodding, he posed. I think the image should be entitled “Smell Me?”.

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Welcome Home, Ki

Posted Sat May 14, 2011 in

KiI’ll start this and see how it goes. I suspect there are several entries here that should be written, but I want to get the story started so I can capture it for family and friends.

For several months I’ve been thinking about my dog, Dakota. After six years, I still miss the girl. She was a great dog and could have been better had I invested the time to work with her more. She wanted to please and wanted to work.

Alas, I wasn’t so smart back then. I didn’t realize how much more rewarding our relationship would have been had I invested more of myself into it. Is that the nature of life — learning things too late to make a difference? I wish it wasn’t so.

When Jack died, the main reason to not bring another animal into the house resolved itself. I had given up on the idea of having a dog, and was mostly OK with that given my commitment to Jack, that silly bastard. I loved him and he was a good cat. I still miss seeing him round the corner into my workroom, tail up in the question mark that said “happy cat!”

So, I read a book about selecting a breed that would match me and my house. Then I read about dogs online. I looked at the rescues for some of the breeds I was interested in and found a few animals. Eventually, I contacted Loomisgal at A New Hope Foundation and asked for a recommendation. That’s how I found Ki.

After doing all the paperwork necessary, I nearly backed out. Everything just seemed wrong to me — Wife is sick, Young Son was a little reluctant, I don’t know. But, with some encouragement from Wife, I decided to drive over the hill to Auburn, California to visit her before making a final decision. Young Son was persuaded to go with me, so we grabbed him a bit a week ago Friday and headed over the hill.

I ran pretty hot on the way because I had run myself out of time. I wanted at least a half-hour with Ki before making up my mind. But, on the way over, Young Son and I talked and I was convinced that I would know in a few minutes if she was a good match for us or not. Dog’s generally show their personality pretty quickly. At least, that’s been my experience.

When we arrived, we walked to the door. I started to open the door and heard “Ki, wait!” I opened the door and saw a blonde woman holding a white pit mix on-lead. “You must be Wendy,” I said.

“You must be Dave… when I didn’t get another email from you I had a feeling you were on your way.”

“Yep, I decided to come see for myself.”

Wendy was just taking Ki out to walk her. She’d been in her crate most of the day and needed to burn off some energy before our visit. Well, Ki didn’t get that chance. I headed for the head while Young Son and Wendy walked Ki a little. Then Young Son and I switched while Wendy and I walked Ki back to the play yard. After closing the gate, Wendy released Ki to run a bit. She patrolled the yard, sniffing at all the things there. Wendy tempted her with treats. Ki sat, went down, and watch-me’d pretty well. Young Son found us and I watched them interact.

I wanted to walk Ki a little, but needed to get the adoption papers done before the shelter closed. So, Young Son and Wendy walked her while I did the paper work.

Interacting with the shelter staff was interesting. I learned that Ki had been picked up as a stray with another dog. The two were entirely different in their response. Ki was responsive, alert, and confident. The other dog was very shy. Even after a month at the shelter, Ki retained her confidence even if she was shelter-stressed. Bob, the man who signed-off on the adoption, said “She’s scary-smart.” I paid my fee and headed out to catch up with Young Son, Wendy, and Ki.

“It’s done,” I told Wendy.

“Would you send me some pictures?”

“Of course. Why don’t you go ahead and take some now.” We headed across the street. Another master and dog were walking toward us from the rear. Ki turned to stare, alert. “Let’s go!” I commanded, pulling her head toward our direction of travel. Reluctantly, she turned to follow, but she kept looking over her shoulder.

She pulled on the lead a bit, but not as badly as either Diego or Dakota.

“Ki, don’t you mess this up!” Wendy said, “This is your chance…”

“She’s not too bad, nothing like my other experience.” We found a grassy spot, Ki sniffed and peed, and we arrayed ourselves for a couple of images.

Photographs made, we headed for the car. Ki was a little warm, panting, with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. That makes her look so goofy! I opened the door on the side with her pallet and she hopped right in. She knew how to ride. I started the engine to cool the car while saying goodbye to Wendy. The we were off for home.

Ki sat on her pallet looking around for about ten minutes, then settled down to ride. As rough as IH-80 is, she stayed settled most of the time until I stopped for fuel. She wanted to get out with me, but Young Son kept her in the car while I refueled. She watched me carefully the entire time.

She was quiet the remainder of the trip home. When we got home, she got of the car politely (needs work there) and was introduced to Wife. She was ready to go into the house and I took her to the back yard to play a little. I got her too wound up and she bounced off me a couple of times — 50-pounds of running dog. She twirled and danced and we ran off some energy, then drank some water after the long trip. I fed her a little and we walked a little and then settled in for the night.

I was tired, as I usually am in the evening. At my normal bedtime, I took her outside one last time to pee, then went to the bedroom to put on my comfies. I used her pallet from the car on the floor. She went right to it, turned round a couple of times, then laid on her bed and looked at me. As I climbed into bed, she grabbed a mouthful of her bed, held it, and pawed with a kneading action to settle herself. Wife and I was amazed and amused that she had learned to settle herself using that method.

I think we were both tired. Welcome home, Ki.

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A Dog

Posted Sun May 1, 2011 in

I didn’t get a picture of Diego. That was a mistake.

I’ve been missing Dakota a lot the last few months. Things happen that remind me of her and the way she was with me. (There are stories — search the archives. :) One of my office-mates, Keith, sometimes brings Bear to the office. He (Bear) is a big happy lug of a dog. His interaction and play remind me of Dakota.

I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog, but was holding off because I really believed Jack would have gone totally insane if a dog came into the house. I stumbled on a Pembroke Corgi a month or so ago and nearly fostered him. But Jack’s phobia about change held me back. I backed out of the foster.

With Jack’s untimely demise, I could adopt a dog. In fact, I asked for permission (unlikely for me as that might seem) to keep a dog here at the rental. There is no good reason why the property owners should deny my request, but you never know. I don’t know the timing is best, given Wife’s illness, but I could use a partner to encourage my daily walks and to force me outside part of the day to throw the ball and play tug-of-war.

This is pet-adoption weekend here in western Nevada. I’ve been reading about breeds and breed-temperments for a couple of weeks. My list of requirements is not too long, but some elements are critical. They are:

Ever since Older Son and DiL brought Tisha the Pit into the house, the Pit breed fascinated me. AKC doesn’t recognize the Pit Bull as a breed, but the American Staffordshire Terrier is as close as they come. Related breeds are the Bull Terrier (whom Wife thinks is “odd” looking) and the Staffordshire Terrier. All were used as fighting dogs at one time. All are now considered companion pets.

I’ve been watching the rescues here locally. Hell, I’d drive a couple hundred miles to retrieve a good animal. I want to adopt a rescue or take a re-home into my home. I don’t need a perfect animal, but one that will work with me to provide the things I’m looking for and to have here as an alarm when I have to be away.

Yesterday ASPCA was at the local PetSmart for adoption weekend. I decided to drive over to see what they had. Wife felt good enough to accompany, so we did a round of errands (Saturday is errand day) and then walked into the store. Of the four dogs there, one was a bit too old (although I would have taken her on as a second, just so she had a home to live in the rest of her life), two were not cat-compatible, and the fourth was an interesting mixed breed.

When Diego was a puppy he fell out of the back of a pick-up truck and broke his left-rear leg. His owners didn’t want to pay for the repairs. I’m not sure how his story played out, but he found himself in a shelter. His leg mended, but one leg is shorter than the other and he sits with his legs stretched behind him. It’s odd-looking, but it works for him. He’s now about 1-1/2 years old and has been at the shelter for about a year.

I played with him in his cage for a bit. He’s reddish-brown and looks like he has some terrier in him. His weight is about 50-pounds or so, I would guess. He has a broad head and medium snout with bright, curious brown eyes. The volunteer asked if I’d like to walk him and so I did.

What a pully-dog! He needs a lot of leash training. We walked (stopping a lot) to the grassy area near the highway. There were way too many distractions for Diego to focus on me. He’d need work with his “watch-me’s,” “sit-stay’s,” and “heels.” It would be interesting to release him from the leash to see how he’d “come.”

So, we start-stopped all the way to the grass, puttered around there for a bit, then start-stopped all the way back. When we passed the shelter van, he was ready to get in and go! He sat at the door, patiently waiting for me to open it. I laughed and patted his broad, muscular chest. We worked our way back into the store and I returned Diego to his handler.

I knew I’d be sore today. He’s a stout boy and will make somebody a good pet. He will need some consistent, patient training. He might be the one. I have contact information and we’ll see what happens. I’m tempted to drive up to Reno to the big event and walk the line. I’d like to see what else is out there before I make up my mind.

Yes, I’m sore today. My lats got a real working and so did my rear deltoids. However, it’s the good kind of sore and totally worth it. Diego would be a good workout for me and I think a good buddy to boot.

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Backyard Dogs

Posted Sat Apr 30, 2011 in

PlayBrooke’s comment reminded me of another Jack story. One very windy Lubbock Saturday morning we were preparing to go out for errands and a bite. As we headed for the car, a couple of stray dogs wandered into the driveway, wagging and looking friendly. Young Son hopped to and they were collared and looked well cared for. They obviously belonged to someone, so we put them in the backyard for safety, called the number on one of the tags, left a message, and thought for a minute.

While we were deciding whether to go on, leave Young Son, or wait Jack wandered into the kitchen in his usual fashion. One of the dogs, a big chocolate Lab, ran up to the slider, looking for someone to pay attention to him. Jack looked, did a double take, and went into a full-blown, Halloween-cat, arched back, tail-puffed, panic. His face and body language screamed “Oh My God!! What The Hell Is That Doing At The Door!!! MAKE IT GO AWAY NOW!!!!!!”

I laid on the floor and laughed so hard I hurt. He didn’t seem too offended by my laughter and settled down once he figured out the dog was outside and he was inside. This incident still makes me laugh when I think about it.

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Thinking About Jack

Posted Sat Apr 23, 2011 in

Sleeping JackAfter a couple of rough days, I’m OK. Losing Jack so suddenly was pretty hard on me. Young Son suffered some too, but he recovered more quickly than I did.

Some good friends had good words on my Facebook page. John said:

They bring everything to the table, all that they are, and they ask for little. Very few relationships can compare. Understanding what has been lost becomes the definition of ‘hard.’

Of all the words that came, those were the words that best expressed the loss I felt when Jack died. I had not felt that badly since the departure of Daughter and Grandsons in 2005. It was that kind of loss.

Another quote I thought I’d share is from one of the handlers at Jack’s boarding kennel. She said, “He draws you in with that sweet little meow of his… then he gets-ya!”

She was right — Jack had a sweet little meow in his tenor voice. He was always pissed at us for leaving him at the kennel. He didn’t want to be at the kennel. He didn’t like change or anything different. He didn’t like being around all those… STRANGERS!

One of my funny-Jack stories goes like this:

One evening Wife and I were changing the sheets on our King-size bed. Because we had it stripped, I went ahead and turned the mattress over. The mattress pad and covers where laying on the floor. Jack noticed something different and crept up to the corner of the covers, stretching out to see them and inspecting.

I waited until he was close, then tugged at the corner, causing them to shift. BOING!!! — Jack bounced backward in startled cat mode.

He approached again, slowly, carefully… only for me to repeat the process.

BOING!!! — Jack bounced back again.

He repeated this process three or four times before giving up in frustration and darting from the room, followed by my belly-laughing.

Another of my funny-Jack stories is about a laser pointer. We (both of us) had more fun with that for a long time. He would go after it — pat-pat-pat… pat-pat — on the floor. Then, tail crooked in frustrated-cat mode, he’d dash off into the other room — only to return after a few minutes, searching for the red bug.

I believe he knew I was the driver all along. But, he loved the game and never gave up easily.

The image is one Wife made of Jack and me early one morning. We were still living in Texas. Jack would come into my workroom early (I rose about 0500 then), crawl up into my arms, and sleep on his back cradled like a baby — except for the purring; babies don’t purr.

Sometimes I slept too. Between the purring and his heat, I sometimes got sleep too.

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Goodbye, Jack

Posted Wed Apr 20, 2011 in

Jack's FaceIn early February 2006, Jack came into our lives. He was a great cat, with a lot of personality and a strong social sense. I wrote about my interaction with him many times over the years.

When he first came to live with us, he was my cat. He was not so big at first, but he grew into a big tom, even if neutered. When we lived in Lubbock, he would wander into my workroom early in the morning, looking for interaction. I can’t count the number of times he jumped into my lap and then crawled up on my chest to lay in my arms for a long cuddle. He would squint his green eyes nearly closed and purr, gently kneading my upper arm.

He struggled with change. When we brought Angel home, thinking he needed company, it didn’t work so well. After time, they grew to tolerate one another, but there was never any affection between them. He really wanted to be the only cat in the house. But that story’s been told.

Since we moved here and settled in, he’s done pretty well. With the exception of his fake-plant-eating episode, he’s been healthy and happy. He adopted Young Son and spent a lot of his time with him. He loved sleeping with Young Son.

In the evenings he would come to me. If I was watching TV, he would dart between my legs and the ottoman, teasing me to play with him. If I didn’t pay attention, he would pull on the carpet to get my attention. He loved me to rough him up a little, playing with his haunches and pulling his tail. He’d pretend he was going to attack me, only to start the game over again.

In fact, we played that game last night. I distinctly remember playing with him and scratching his back before I shut down and went to bed.

Wife called me at work about 1700 this afternoon. Jack was sick. He was crying. So, I sent them to the vet and told them I’d meet them there. When we went in, while Wife signed in one of the techs came to get Jack. A few minutes later the vet came to us and told us Jack had a thrombosis and that the blood supply to the entire lower part of his body was shut down. He was in terrible pain. We could hear him crying.

They gave him a narcotic to relieve his suffering. We talked for a few minutes, knowing that he needed to be euthanized. They brought him to us to say goodbye before giving him that final injection. He was so badly damaged the vet had trouble administering that last drug. He died quickly and no longer in pain.

He lived with us just over five years. They were good years for him and for us.

Goodbye, Jack. I miss you.

Edit: Jack’s photo gallery is here.

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