Mother's Day weekend was not such a grand thing. Plagued by miserable weather, indifferent children and a case of "poor old me" - I should have thrown the covers over my head and retreated until my head came around to thinking like my heart usually feels...which is grateful. But I didn't. I sipped on my disappointment like some folks sip champagne. Cheers to crummy weekends.
WHY am I bringing up Mother's Day weekend a month late, you ask?
Well, in addition to a bad attitude, that same not-so-great weekend brought a small tragedy, too. Our Bichon Frisee, Daisy, decided to push the envelop a little and get tangled up with husband's moving car. The result is too horrific to write about, really. No, REALLY.
But she is improving. I am certain most people wouldn't have spared her life. I am not certain we should have. But our emotions have made us come this far with her and now we are committed to helping her survive.
She is snoozing on the couch beside me. In her bandages and bonnet. And a feeding tube. She is happiest on the screened porch. I guess because it is a close to being outside as you can get without actually being outside!
She can't walk. She can't. Yet. But she is trying. She is eating better and looking interested in things around her. She likes to lie close to me, so I guess she has forgiven me.
We sleep next to her in case she needs to go out at 4 am. Or in case she soils the puppy pad. Or gets thirsty. Sometimes I think she is just bored. And then again, she might need a pain pill. I know I would!
I am learning to appreciate the small things.