Bad Decisions notwithstanding, poverty should not mean my dogs are better cared for than humans. . .

We took Punkin to the vet the other day for his annual. He's the oldest dog here, 15 1/2 years old, cataracts, hard of hearing, toothless and a mind of his own. In addition to being the oldest, he is also the smallest at 3.2 lbs. Lest you think that puts him at a disadvantage, let me put your mind at ease, this little guy runs the place. 

He thinks nothing of charging Prince to take over Prince's meal if the mood hits him and he'll even tackle Nikki if she irritates him. Because he has thyroid issues he usually has a T4 test every year which is a blood draw taken from the neck region. When he first had a T4 several years ago, this 3 lb dog needed 7 (yes SEVEN) people to hold him in order to draw blood without hurting him. Today they have a system and can do it with only 3 people. Punkin knows exactly how to take advantage of his diminutive size.

His blood tests came back and he needs to start eating kidney friendly food which is fine, prescription diets are no strangers in this house of former mill dogs. His tests also revealed the beginning of glaucoma so he was prescribed eye drops which hopefully will relieve the pressure, if not then it's off to see our favorite ophthalmologist at MedVet.

His eye drops are what prompted me to write today. While waiting to pick up Punkin's prescription at the pharmacy two people were ahead of me. One gentleman had apparently lost his insurance and was trying to decide which medications he could pick up. I had Mason with me at the walk-up window so we walked away to give the man privacy. When we came back a lady was picking up several prescriptions. I heard the pharmacy tech tell her that the $181 xyz prescription was not covered by Medicaid and asked if she had a supplemental insurance plan. The lady said no and asked about two other prescriptions that apparently were covered ~ at this point Mason and I walked away again to give her privacy.

Once the lady left, I went back to the window to pick up Punkin's eye drops. They weren't terribly expensive but they weren't inexpensive either. I thought, not for the first time, how fortunate we are to be able to care for our pets and ourselves. We've never been in a position where we had to choose between medical care for our pets and the shelter or euthanasia. We've never had to pass on a prescription for one of our dogs or ourselves because we couldn't afford it. Decisions about our dog's welfare are made based on what we believe is best for them, not for financial reasons.

Somehow it does not seem right that whether you live in pain or comfort, live with a medical condition or are cured, even live or die should depend on how much money you have. Somehow, it does not seem right that my dogs have better care than many humans. I understand that sometimes people are living in poverty because of bad decisions, but I don't agree that those bad decisions are justification to either let them suffer in pain or die. We need to fix this. We need to help those who can't afford medical care. We need to take care of our own.  In this country? In this state? In this city? We need to do better. . . .

Sweetie & Holly

Sweetie is the little Yorkie in front, Holly is the foxy, red Pom in back and we lost them both in April of 2014.

I usually write a eulogy for my dogs when we lose one but I have not been able to say goodbye to these two. They were such bright lights in our home and losing them both so close together was a nightmare. Both of these little dogs came to us as rescues, Sweetie's owner was in a nursing home and her care takers were not kind to her. Holly came to us from a rescue friend who saved her from a terrible breeder.

When Sweetie came to us, it was just going to be for a short stay until we found her a home. She had been locked in a basement for 5 months and was so happy to be out and among people again that she was super hyper. She barked, turned in circles and zipped around like a crazy dog. Once she understood she was not going to be sent to the basement and that sofas and beds were once again in her future, she became the happiest of dogs. At one point I wanted to change her name but the fact is, once we got to know her there clearly was no other name that fit her. She came here a "Sweetie" and she left here a Sweetie.  Cancer may have robbed her of a few more years but it could not take away her wonderful personality.

Holly the pretty, red Pom left us way too soon. She was such a character. She was happy go lucky and silly and just loved life. We called her our rabble rouser because she would be sitting outside and all of a sudden jump up, run to the other side of the yard barking her head off. All the other dogs would take off after her barking like idiots and Holly would stop in her tracks, walk back to where she started and sit back down watching the fun. Oh what a stinker she was. 

I don't know what happened to her. She laid down on the deck one day, went to sleep and never woke up. She had been to the vet a few months previous, her bloodwork was good, her dental went well, she had a clean bill of health. The days and weeks before she died she exhibited no symptoms. She ate supper the night before and breakfast the day she died. I just don't know what happened to her. I do know that this house is a bit quieter, there is a certain silliness missing and there is a hole where both Holly and Sweetie once were.

I really can't write a eulogy for these two little ones. Maybe someday but not today. For now girls just know, Mom loves you both.

I borrowed this blog from one called "TRUE STORIES OF A MIDWEST YANKEE"

I read this blog and thought it was worth sharing. Random acts of kindness are so worth mentioning as are the wonderful people on the receiving end. I've included a link to the original blog at the bottom as I am only sharing, not owning. Grab a tissue and rejoice in knowing there are Angels out there. . . .

Dear woman behind me in line at the grocery store,

You don’t know me. You have no clue what my life has been like since October 1, 2013. You have no clue that my family has gone through the wringer. You have no clue that we have faced unbelievable hardship. You have no clue we have been humiliated, humbled, destitute.

You have no clue I have cried more days than not; that I fight against bitterness taking control of my heart. You have no clue that my husband’s pride was shattered. You have no clue my kids have had the worries of an adult on their shoulders. You have no clue their innocence was snatched from them for no good reason. You know none of this.

What you do know is I tried to buy my kids some food and that the EBT machine was down so I couldn’t buy that food. I didn’t have any cash or my debit card with me. I only had my SNAP card. All you heard was me saying “No, don’t hold it for me. My kids are hungry now and I have no other way of paying for this.” You didn’t judge me. You didn’t snarl “Maybe you should have less kids.” You didn’t say “Well, get a job and learn to support yourself.” You didn’t look away in embarrassment or shame for me. You didn’t make any assumptions at all.

What you did was you paid that $17.38 grocery bill for us. You gave my kids bananas, yogurt, apple juice, cheese sticks, and a peach ice tea for me; a rare treat and splurge. You let me hug you and promise through my tears that I WILL pay this forward. I WILL pay someone’s grocery bill for them. That $17.38 may not have been a lot for you, but it was priceless to us. In the car my kids couldn’t stop gushing about you; our “angel in disguise.” They prayed for you. They prayed you would be blessed. You restored some of our lost faith. One simple and small action changed our lives. You probably have forgotten about us by now, but we haven’t forgotten about you. You will forever be a part of us even though we don’t even know your name.

You have no clue how grateful and embarrassed I am that we pay for all our food with SNAP. We eat well thanks to the government. I love that. I love that the government makes sure my kids are cared for. It is one less worry for us. I also struggle with pride and embarrassment. I defiantly tell people we are on SNAP. Daring them to judge us.
Only those closest to us know why we are on SNAP. They know my husband is a hard worker who was laid off after 17 years in a management position with his former company. They know we were moved from our home to a new state only to be left homeless since the house we had came with the job he lost. Only those closest to us know my husband works part time while looking tirelessly for more; that he has submitted more applications than he has received interviews for. Too many jobs are only offering part time work anymore. It is not easy for a 40-something year old to find a job that will support his family of 5 kids.

You know none of this but you didn’t let that stop you from being compassionate and generous to someone you have never met.

To the woman behind me at the grocery store, you have no idea how much we appreciate you. You have no idea the impact you had on my kids. You have no idea how incredibly thankful I am for you. Your action may have been small, but to us it was monumental. Thank you.

Thank you for not judging us. Thank you for giving my kids a snack when they were quite hungry. Thank you. Just thank you.

Forever,
Andrea, the woman in front of you at the grocery store with the cart full of kids who are no longer hungry

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