The joys of cohabitation

The other night, Luke was whining in the dark--probably voicing his unhappiness with our decision to not let him sleep in our bed anymore. (That boy is big!) His incessant whining provoked a groan of annoyance from me--apparently startling Andrew's slumber.

Andrew: Hahaha! That's so weird over there!

Me: What? What where?!

Andrew: (Pointing towards my closet in the dark room--lit only by moonlight) Over there!

Me: (Not understanding what he's talking about) What is so weird?!

Andrew: Just look at it! It's a BIRD and a PIG! IT'S WEIRD!

And that's about the exact moment I realized that he was talking in his sleep.

Early onset, anyone?

A few weeks ago, I realized I don't know if I'm 25 or 26-years-old. I'm not sure how one loses track of her own age, but I finally took some time this afternoon to get to the bottom of this mystery.

And I am not above telling you that I had to use an online age calculator to determine that I am 25. I don't trust my own math skills when it comes to important things such as figuring out if I'm going to be 27 in a few months... or in a lot of months.

A lot of months it is!

Feeling young and spry. Woot.

Rainbow Bridge

The past two weeks with Luke has been an emotional roller coaster for all of us. From the bliss of our cuddle time to the surge of panic Andrew and I felt when we came home to find him missing... there has not been a boring moment.

Finally having a dog to call my own feels as satisfying and rewarding as I thought it would be. I love my "little" boy.

There is one side effect to having a dog that I was not anticipating, however. I find myself morphing into a giant sap who cries easily when I read a heart-warming pet reunion story... or stumble upon two poems about a greyhound who wanted a family for Christmas. (I'm not kidding.)

Yesterday, while researching something or other about greyhounds online, I stumbled across this on a memorial page for the greys no longer with us:

Just this side of Heaven, is a place called Rainbow Bridge...
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to The Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they miss someone very special to them; who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. The bright eyes are intent; the eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to break away from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. YOU have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

THEN YOU CROSS RAINBOW BRIDGE TOGETHER...

Okay, so I will admit that after reading that I threw myself on Luke, who was laying comfortably in his bed at my feet, and asked him to please wait for me at the rainbow bridge. I really did. Is that okay?

Anyhow, already clearly emotional, I pulled myself together when my friend from the greyhound adoption group returned my call from earlier that afternoon. She told me some things that brought those tears back to my eyes.

Doc, the greyhound we first considered for adoption, has been having more seizures--poor pup. He won't be able to be adopted until they can stabilize him with meds.

Ensoul, the greyhound we were supposed to meet following our play date with Isaiah (now known as LUKE!) ended up almost killing her foster family's pet dog. The poor pup survived, but only after $1,600 worth of vet bills. I'd say we did pretty well adopting our Lukey.

It was after discussing the turn of unfortunate events for these other hounds that the woman from the adoption group told me something very hard to swallow. Luke was next on the list at the race track to be euthanized. The adoption group rescued him just in time. I can't imagine taking the life of the bundle of love that is this dog. For the second time that night, I threw myself on Luke--telling him how happy I am to be his "mommy" and ...maybe... shedding a few tears into his soft fur.

The Knot: Friend or Foe?

You probably know theknot.com is a web site with tools for brides-to-be to get a handle on the wedding planning process. What you might not know is that The Knot masquerades itself as a helpful friend--when it is really pure evil. Do you really have to remind me that there are only 93 days until the wedding and 100 things still to do on my checklist? This just seems plain mean, you bully.

I really have no desire to "experiment with my beauty routine, self-tanners, and facials." Nor do I need you to remind me to "take a moment to thank your parents and tell them you love them"--thanks.

Fellow brides-to-be tell me, "you don't need to worry about everything on the checklist. Everyone is different. You don't have to do it all."

Oh yeah? Well if I'm not the one who is going to finalize the menu with the caterer, confirm reservations for out-of-town guests, write the ceremony program, write thank you notes, attend bridal gown fittings, wrap the bridesmaids' gifts, and confirm deliveries with vendors--who exactly is going to make sure all that crap gets done? Are you volunteering? How bout you, over there, The Knot? Huh? I don't hear you offering to have my dress preserved after the wedding. You bitch.

Awkward.

Just accidentally visited a porn site on my coworker's computer.

Does anyone else feel extremely shady when clearing the history on a computer at work?

Oops.