Tag Archives: aging

Boobs

15 Jan

I just had the realization that my friends are no longer getting boob jobs to enlarge them, now they are having boob jobs because of cancer.

I feel old.

And powerless. And scared.

I’ll just watch a fish tank for a few hours.

Take 1

12 Feb

I’ve lately been avoiding writing anything of substance. I’ve been avoiding everything in general I think. But a lot has happened, and it should be addressed. And it all will be addressed in good time. Here’s a summary of the nothingness that no one missed:

First of all, the holidays got me pretty down this year, for one reason or another. Who cares why. But so after New Years I decided to take care of some things.

For example: I have lived in New Mexico for eight years and it has always been a goal of mine to see Carlsbad Caverns National Park. It is the 2nd largest cave in the US, it used to be a coral reef, now it’s like a 30 million year old Flintstones world. So I saw that. It was awesome. (more on the caves to come later)

Then one of my childhood best friends got married. Couldn’t, wouldn’t miss it for the world. She decided her wedding would be in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Fuck yea. So then that happened. Puerto Rico is fabulous. It has since crossed my mind to simply move there. I think I am still happy with that decision. They have bioluminescense down there. (more on the Puerto Rico wedding to come later)

My birthday happened again. This year I am *ahem* 25. That was an ordeal. But then, my birthdays rarely ever go smoothly. I’ll tell y’all all about my 25th birthday someday.

Decided Floyd and me need a puppy in our lives. Well, I decided. We both miss Kiki. We’re both kind of aging these days. We could use with some youth. So we’re in the market for a baby hound :).

I need to stop avoiding my blog updates. I just gotta own it. Plus, a great friend of mine is starting his WordPress at Aarongonzales.net. Everyone should check it out.

And again, as I said, more to come. Just gotta find my words.

Phoebe

23 Dec

My mom has this old ass dog. Like old. 16 or 17. It was never a bright or fun or happy dog, and now it’s mostly blind, can barely hear, has some form of doggy-dementia or something, and has extremely thin long hair. It isn’t excited about anything- ever- but it does really hate everything. Always has. It’s a truly wretched creature.

Phoebe.

I rescued Phoebe when I was a child, when I was too young to really understand that line between life and death. Phoebe should have died. Phoebe wanted to die. She had horrible mange, a crooked jaw, mouth infections, skin infections, ear infections, she was all busted and beat up, infection in her eyes and her eyelids inside out; I mean, Phoebe was as fucked as you could get. And it was not done to her by any person, she was part of a litter of mishaps. Born from a dog that looked only slightly healthier than her and twice as angry. Phoebe was barely hanging on and my childlike heart said: save her.

So I did. I begged and begged and finally my mom let me bring her home, clean her up, have her doctored, cut her hair…

And Phoebe hated me for it. She’s hated me since the beginning. She never really wanted to be my friend anyhow, and she certainly didn’t want to be alive, and after all my efforts to keep her living she thought I was the biggest piece of shit she had ever met.

So I naturally thought she was the cutest thing in the world. Because that’s how I am. And I went about my life and grew up (sort of) and moved away and went to college and Phoebe just shriveled up and continued to have weird skin diseases and eye infections and her teeth fell out and there was always something horribly wrong with her. Miserable little creature, she is. She’s always been a Job- plagued by boils and disasters and whatnot.

Now that we’re getting older, Phoebe and I have entered a new phase in our relationship where whenever she’s aware of my presence the disdain is absolutely profound. The good thing for me is she’s asleep at my feet right this moment and she hasn’t the slightest idea because practically all of her senses are gone. She’s hardly ever aware of anything. Her motor functions are failing as well- as her bladder would like to remind us all.

And while old age and ineptitude is heartbreaking, and her entire existence is kind of a shame, I still think she’s just awesome. And she still retains that hatred. She’s pretty ready to die, as she has been all along, and is still angry at the world each day she wakes up healthy. And I get that, I really do. Been all bummed out and cynical lately so I feel like I have a pretty solid grasp on sadness, but DAMN that dog is sad. And it’s all my fault.

🙂

Earlier I took her for a walk. You have to carry her up and down the stairs to the yard, which is terribly uncomfortable to her, and then she only makes it three or four feet. And then she stares. So today she stared at a particular bush- or a low hedge- or whatever, I don’t know it was dark. She stared at it for long enough to piss me off, and just as I was about to call an end to the walk, she took two awkward, stumbly steps and stood in the bush for another little bit. Poor little thing. I’m not even sure she has thoughts anymore. It’s hard to tell since her eyes glassed over years ago. When I brought her in after the walk she promptly bumped into a corner of the room and gave up finding her way out before even trying. Kind of awesome and pathetic all at once.

We kind of have a lot in common that way.

 

 

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