Yeh, I Know Life Isn't Fair

I was watching the news tonight.  I am fuming.  Absolutely furious.  Heartbroken.  Devastated and disillusioned.

I am not even going to hold back.

There is this fucking piece of shit that had the privilege of having a baby and she killed her son.  Her 26 day old son.  I don't fucking care that she was only 18 years old.  I don't fucking care that she was "turning her life around".  I don't fucking care that it was hard.

I DON'T FUCKING CARE.

They released more details about the baby's injuries.  This poor, poor little baby had old injuries that were 1-2 weeks old.  This 26 day old baby had old injuries.  I am not a violent or hateful person but I hate this girl.  And would gladly kick the shit out of her.

I can't even imagine what the fuck this piece of shit bitch did to this defenceless baby.  AND don't even get me started that she wasn't on her own.  She was living in her parent's basement.  Where the fuck were they?  WHERE?  Who was looking out for this baby?

Why?  Why does this fucking piece of shit have the chance to have a baby but I can't have another?  I am so angry at the injustice.  I hate this.

And then I have my son asking me "why doesn't God give us a baby?"

FUCK FUCK FUCK.  I know that life isn't fair and you live the best life that you have but c'mon.  That bitch isn't the only one out there that is abusing her child. 

And then there's us.  We have so much love.  And sometimes it feels like we just get shit on.  It's difficult to remain optimistic and positive and not sink into depression again.

The Riley Dog

How do I write this?

How do you write about the death of your best friend?  Your baby?

He was part of our family for just over 13 years.  He was just over 15 years old.  He was amazing in every way.  I know everyone says that about their dog but really, Riley was amazing. 

To be honest, I started writing this post last year.  It's taken me over a year.  Riley has been gone for 1 year and almost 2 weeks.  This has been swirling around in my brain but I just haven't had the motivation to talk about him.  Well not motivation.  More like the desire to dwell on ...nope that's not it either.  Well suffice it to say, I haven't been able to talk about Riley this much without crying or making me so sad.  But tonight I felt that it was the right time.  I've teared up a bit but overall the memories have made me smile or laugh.  I can almost feel his fur under my palm, hear the click click of his nails on the tiles, see the wisps of Riley fur in the air and smell his horrible stinky breath.

 

Seriously, a dog on a ladder?  A DOG ON A LADDER!

 

 

When we bought our house, we decided that we would get a dog but we would wait for a year.  We moved into our house in August, 1999 and we got Riley in September 1999.   Yes, a month after we moved in.

 

I'm not exactly sure how it started but I remember receiving a phone call at work from Steven.  "You need to see this dog."

 

So Steven and I went to the Humane Society that night and met Riley.  He was so sad and skittish.  We took him to a room and tried to get to know him.  He spent alot of the time sniffing under the doors.  He was so skinny, you could see his ribs and it made his head look gigantic.

 

We talked and decided that we wanted this dog.  Riley.

 

But as we were talking, there was another couple that wanted to adopt Riley.  But thank goodness, the Humane Society was closing.  Why you ask?  Why was I happy that they were closing?  Because the Humane Society refused to do any further adoptions that evening and said that the first one back would get the chance to adopt Riley.

 

Luckily Steven worked shift work and had the next day off.  As he was finishing the paperwork, that other couple walked in.  HAHAHAHAHA.  Riley was ours!

 

We weren't able to bring him home right away.  We were the third owners.  The other two gave up on him.  He ran away they said.  He was horrible in the car they said.  And really, kind of true on both points.  But you don't give away a family member.

 

This is his first night home.  See that blanket?  That was my blanket from home when I was growing up. (well, by the time it was Riley's it was only a piece of the blanket but I wanted him to have something of mine.  Stupid, I know he is a dog)



 

Anyway, Riley's first night at home was ...well, less than pleasant.  He was still groggy from the anaesthetic and a bit reluctant in his new surroundings.  Steven and I had decided that the dog wouldn't sleep in the bedroom but rather in his kennel.  In the living room.  (hahaha, that lasted awhile)

 

Back to the first night.  We put Riley in his kennel, locked him up and went upstairs to bed.  As we were laying in bed, we heard him.  Softly at first but then full on crying.  It was so sad and pathetic.  Steven had to work in the morning and I still didn't want him out of the kennel yet (y'know the peeing and pooping in a strange house) so I went downstairs to talk to Riley.  He quieted down when he saw me.  And listened to me when I talked to him.  But started to cry again when I went to leave.  So do you know what I did?  I slept in front of the kennel that first night.  So Riley wouldn't be lonely.

 

For the longest time it was just Steven, me and Riley.  He was our baby.  Our first baby.  And he was so spoiled.  And so smart.  So very smart.

 

And it was true.  He could run away but he didn't.  Not from us.  When we first moved into the house, the original fence wasn't in the best condition.  Riley systematically went along each fence board and pushed it with his nose/head.  He finally found one that was loose and slipped into the neighbour's yard.  Did he run away?  Nope, he stood there and tried to figure out how to get back into his own yard.  (he didn't)  And then the neighbours noticed him.

 

Although he did have one great escape.  He jumped the fence (we're still amazed) and ran after two loose dogs.  Holy smokes.  I still remember my mom saying "there's two loose dogs running down the street." And then my mom yelling "Riley's out of the yard?!"  So there I was running down the street in my bathrobe to round up my dog.

 

Around the same time we determined that Riley was definitely NOT an off-leash kind of dog.  If he saw something that he wanted to chase (another dog) then he would take off running.

 

And no, he wasn't the best travelling dog.  He'd cry and howl.  The trainer told me to squirt him with lemon juice everytime he cried or howled.  But do you know what?  Pretty sure I had the only dog that LIKED the lemon juice.  That was a big fail.  So then we bought a bark collar.  It would emit a small shock every time that Riley cried or howled.  Do you know what?  Riley figured out that if he cried at a lower pitch then the bark collar wouldn't zap him.  Fucker.  That is how smart my dog was.

 

 

And then there was my mom and Riley.  God almighty.  She cooked a steak for him.  A STEAK.  Do you know what she said in her defence?  "This thing?  It's so grisly, no one else will eat it".  Do you know the only person worse than my mom?  Her brother, my uncle Y.  The man who told me that Riley ate a part of a cake that dropped on the floor but in actual fact, placed a plate with an entire PIECE of cake on the floor so my dog could eat it.

 

This is Riley on my baby bump.

We had Riley for almost 8 years before we had John.  And to be honest, I was kind of worried.  Riley was such a mama's dog, I was worried how he would react when a baby came into the house.  So I signed us up for a class at the Humane Society.  Something along the lines of New Baby Old Dog.  They suggested borrowing a child.  Tugging the dog like a baby.  Making loud noises.  Not letting your dog sleep in the bedroom.  We did everything they suggested except the not sleeping in the bedroom.  Yeah, that ship had sailed along time ago.

 

You know what?  We didn't have to worry about Riley at all.

 

 

 

 

It's like he knew that John was his.  His Baby.  That first night, well I suppose it was really the second night because Steven and my mom let me sleep through the first night home.  So that second night when I went to John to either feed, soothe or change him, Riley came with me.  The next morning, Riley was so tired he could barely open his eyes and he was puffy.  I'm not sure how but his fur was puffed out.

 

 

Oh my God, look at those photos.  Even his feet look tired.  Poor guy, that first week we were home from the hospital, I swear I thought Riley was going to have a doggy heart attack. So every time that I woke up for John, so did Riley.  Every hour.  Sometimes multiple times.  And every time I told Riley to go back to bed but he'd just slowly open his eyes and slowly get to his feet and pad behind me from our room to John's room.  I'd sit down in the rocking chair and Riley would cram himself as close to my feet as possible.  And try and catch some sleep while I fed John.

 

Don't get me wrong, he wasn't a perfect dog.

 

He ate things that he wasn't supposed to:

 

Like the butter.  He didn't eat the buns that were sitting beside the butter.  No my dog ate the butter.

 

And cake.

 

He was punished for it:

 

We called it "Dennis the Menace".  This is how smart he was.  We trained him to stand in the corner when we yelled DENNIS THE MENACE.  And if he turned and looked at us with sad eyes or slowly tried to drop into a lying position, we would just have to say Dennis the Menace.  And up he would sit and nose to the corner.

 

Funniest thing ever!

 

Although, one of the worst times was when he ate a bucket of my auntie's lemon cookies.  Almost all butter and sugar.  So let me paint you a picture.  My auntie gave me these cookies (my favourite) and I had forgotten the bucket in the living room.  It was an ice cream bucket.  You know one of those plastic 4 litre buckets?  I mean the lid was on the bucket but apparently Riley could smell the lemony buttery goodness.  And he ate them.  Then Steven and Darrin went to Costco...they took Riley along for the ride.  So I guess when they came out of the store, Steven saw Riley in the front seat and yelled at him to "Get in the Back!".  He could see that Riley was trying to jump over the seat but just couldn't.  He was still scolding Riley as he was opening the driver side door, and was taken aback by the smell.  And then the visual of shit.  Runny, stinky dog shit all over the back seat.  They tried to clean it up as best they could with what they had in the car.  They drove home with the windows down.  Steven got on the phone to find an auto detailing place to clean his car.  Booked an appointment without telling them what exactly was being cleaned.  So when he gets to the car place, they take a look at the car, come out and start telling Steven that it's going to cost more and be longer.  I think Steven told them to "do what you need to do".

 

Oh Riley.  I used to pin balloons on the bay window to stop him from jumping on the screen.  So I would come home to popped balloons and little piles of dog vomit.  He used to throw up because the sound of the balloon popping would scare him.  AND my curtains and screens were still ruined.

 

Steven trained him to wake me up not Steven.  And do you know how Riley would wake me up?  Not a gently nose bump or cuddle.  Nope.  He'd head butt me.  Awesome right?

 

 

Yeah, and he'd lay on the furniture.  Or laundry.  Or if you left a small piece of clothing on the floor, he curl into the tiniest little ball and lay on whatever was on the floor.  For such a big dog, he could make himself amazingly small.

 

 

 

And the things we..umm, I would make him do. 

For Christmas.  This isn't even the worst.  We all have something. (ears, hats)

But I can't find the photos. :(

 

People clothes.  I used to put socks on him too.


To celebrate birthdays.

Hallowe'en.  If he was good with crowds, I totally would have taken him trick or treating.

And just in general nonsense.  Riley was such a good sport.

 

I swear I didn't make him do this.  He decided that he needed to sit on the stairs.  Like the time Steven and I were sitting on the couch and Riley walked right up to Steven.  Didn't make eye contact at all.  Slowly climbed onto Steven's lap and turned himself around and sat there.  All +100 pounds of him.  Sitting nice and tall on Steven's lap with his back towards Steven.  Oh my god we were laughing so hard.  Steven didn't even have the heart to yell at him.  God that was funny.

He made a great pillow.


We had heard that other dogs ran on treadmills.  Not so much ours.

 

He was a freak about snow.  But really didn't like the cold or rain.  Kind of funny considering he's part sled dog.

Here he is showing me the cookie cupboard.  He soon learned to open it himself.  And I learned to put the cookies elsewhere.

 

 

He was such a good dog.  A great friend.  A great one to just hang out with.

 

He liked nothing better than having his people be home.

And beer.  He really liked beer. 

 

 

 

 

Steven used to exercise Riley while riding the bike.  Did I mention you should never ever do this?  Riley decided to stop and Steven kept going.  This is how Steven broke his collarbone.  Apparently it was one of the worst breaks that a person could have. 

 

He was such a comfort.  More than a dog.

 

I like to think that Riley is in heaven with my mom.  And he's running and playing.  But most likely he is doing his favourite thing:

 

I miss you.

 

Thanksgiving

What am I thankful for this year?

I am thankful for life.  For being alive and relatively healthy.  For my husband who loves me despite all my faults.  For my son who also loves me despite all my rules.  For my job which I have in a scary world.  For my health.

I have a loving family, money, food and a roof over my head.  It's pretty simple really. 

I am thankful.