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CJ's Journal  I started my first diet in 1976. I was 11 years old. Weight Watchers. Low carb. Calorie restriction. High carb. Low fat. No fat. Slimfast. More Weight Watchers. The Banana diet. Diet pills. The "Eat Only Half of What's on your Plate" diet. South Beach. Atkins. Weight Watchers again. The compliments and approval during the early days of each new diet were intoxicating. Was I dropping weight or was it my newfound belief that I was better than all of those other fatties who had no control whatsoever that people noticed? I can't be certain but I soaked it up and beamed with misplaced confidence that this time would be the time I would succeed. I would shed those pounds forever. But diets don't work, not for the majority of us, and as I inevitably grew weary of drinking my meals or viewing the world of food through the filter of points and the pounds came back. And my body, hoping to brace itself against the next cycle of deprivation, got a little larger than it was before the madness started. I started my first diet in 1976. I weighed approximately 126 pounds. Today, in 2009, I weigh 265 pounds. It doesn't make me uncomfortable to share that with you. It's a number. It is not who I am. I've maintained that approximate number since normalizing after the birth of my child. I've grown to love myself enough to give up dieting forever. I do what I can to make sensible choices for my body and my spirit. So if a genie were to come along and tell me that for 24 hours calories didn't count, I'd laugh heartily and go forward, choosing the same things I would have chosen if calories did count. I'm off that merry-go-round and not even a calorie free day could convince me to get back on. My doctor has been repeatedly reminding me that exercise is essential in the management of my health. Every time I go in, she asks, "So, are you getting some exercise?" and I hmmmm and ahhhh and spit it out that I'm not really getting any. She nods, very understanding, but reminds me that I would see some real results from getting off my ass and moving it. (She doesn't put it quite that way, but close enough.) So I got a dog. Walking is good, right? Except Wonton didn't want to walk. Hated it, in fact. Mike would call it "going for a pull" because that's what it was. Now Wonton meanders around my mother's backyard at a snail's pace but is quite content. Sasser had all the energy that Wonton was lacking. Loves walking. And we've found she has one little quirk that I swear is the cosmic joke on me - she won't poop in the backyard. She'll only poop while out on walks or in the house. So, if I don't want the dog to crap on my carpet, out we go. Twice a day. Rain or shine. I wonder if my doctor had anything to do with this???? I'm looking forward to my next doctor's visit. :) Always seems to come together, right? I always ask for the bad news first. I prefer leaving the conversation on a positive note. So, the bad news is that Wonton's revival was short lived. Mom is having the same problems with her that we had here at home. Mom has purchased a warming bed and hopes that will help a bit. But her vet, who she discussed the situation with, pondered out loud if we were dealing with a neurological condition. (After some research I found information on a condition called Degenerative Myelopathy which sounds like Wonton. It's just impossible to tell without $$$$ in tests which none of us have.) Mom is taking her in and will see if there's anything her vet feels can be done. In the meantime, we began looking for another dog. We went into it with the thought that Wonton may at some point come home. So, we looked for a younger dog (around a year) who was a bit more energetic, liked to play and was okay with dogs, cats and kids. And I preferred short hair. And we wanted a medium sized dog. *grins* We weren't being too picky, were we? Rachel and I began to make a round of the local shelters. The next day we brought Mike back to one of the shelters to meet some dogs. After meeting a few different dogs, we decided to begin a "courtship" with Sasser: http://www.petfinder.com/petnote/displa After conducting a cat test and spending some more time with her, we decided that Sasser was the one. We put in an application and were accepted. We bring her home on Monday. So, it's a bittersweet time. Mom is willing to work with Wonton until it's no longer practical for a 63 year old woman to haul a 55 pound dog outside. I am insistent that I be there when it is time to euthanize her. I'm sad that things aren't going better for her - I had such high hopes when we first brought her to Mom's house. And I do feel a little disloyal that we've moved on with bringing another animal into the house. At the same time, I'm thrilled at the thought of having a dog that likes to walk and run and play with us. I'm looking forward to training her and being her forever home. Did I mention I put in an application to volunteer at the shelter? In for a penny... :) The story begins with bringing Wonton to New York. For a variety of reasons, I wanted the dog here with us. On Wednesday, I intended to call the vet to make the appointment to have the dog put down. That got delayed when I got the phone call about my father dying. I even joked, "Well, Wonton, you've gotten a reprieve." As most of you know, Mom has been caring for my father for years. It's gotten particularly intense during the last year as he has not been able to be alone at all. I'm sure you all see where this is going. Within 24 hours of the dog being at her house, Mom took Wonton on as her personal charge. She's been massaging and exercising her limbs. She's been carefully monitoring her medications to see if a slightly higher dose of the pain med would be helpful. She upped her dose of glucosamine. She's been getting her outside (in her fenced in yard) and letting her spend time in the sun warming herself. It's like boot camp for special needs dogs. (Mom has taken in other dogs with special needs and has some experience.) For her part, I've never seen Wonton so active and, well, happy. She is like the queen of all she surveys. She suns herself for a bit, gets up, moves to a new spot, suns herself some more. This morning she took off running after a cat in the backyard - moving faster than anyone has ever seen before. She gets along very well with JR, my father's cocker spaniel. Even JR, who has been moping around since my father's death, perked up and is more active with Wonton around. Can anyone say kismet? This morning really sealed the deal. I woke up and saw my mother hugging Wonton and giving her kisses. My sister looked at me and said, "We're not bringing your dog home." She's already home. I'm sitting at my computer, refreshing Facebook to get updates on my dear friends J & M. They're having their first child, you see, and it appears that J is in labor. I can't help but think back to my own labor and delivery. Almost 8 years ago I was there, wondering if I was truly ready and knowing there was no longer a choice - our bundle of joy was on the way. So, for folks who are parents, or who have observed parents, or have had parents, what advice would you give to new parents? Here's a few things on my mind right now. - Don't let anyone convince you that you're not a good parent. Follow your own heart. Opinions are like assholes - everyone has one and some of them really stink. People will second guess you and even complete strangers won't be shy about telling you that they think you're doing it wrong. - Go ahead. Sniff that baby. There's nothing like new baby smell. - Don't adjust the volume of things in the house because the baby is sleeping. Let the baby get used to the normal volume of your household. You won't have to worry about the baby sleeping when you decide it's time to go back to normal. :) - Everyone will tell you when you first get home to "sleep when the baby sleeps". It's actually good advice. I found it near impossible to do because I wanted to use that time to get things done. - Most of all, have fun. Yes, you're going to worry about everything. It's okay. What would other folks add? ETA: 5/13/08, 8 a.m. - She's at 9 cm now. Any time now! ETA: Master MRT was born at 10:48 a.m. Everyone is doing fine. I will go meet him in person tomorrow. :) Big day today at Little Fish Comics - it's FREE COMIC BOOK DAY! And it's exactly what it sounds like - we give away free comics. This year we've decided to go all out and have a comic book artist coming in as well as a roving storm trooper. Balloons, sales, and door prizes round out the festivities. So, if you're in the Fredericksburg area, come on by the store. If not, just think good thoughts for us today. It's going to be WILD!  She went to the vet yesterday and the news was mixed. Apparently Wonton broke her left leg when she was a puppy and never received medical attention. When her leg healed, it fused the carpal bones together. Apparently there was some damage to the humorus as well because she's got a pretty bad case of arthritis. The initial blood work that had me scared all day - words like "cancer" and "very sick" stuck inside my head and wouldn't go away no matter how much work I tried to do - was wrong. She's fine. Well, except for some worms which I don't think is unusual. Medication for 5 days and she'll be tip top. We don't know much about Wonton's story. She was found wandering the streets. Someone at PetSmart took a look at her and said, "Wow, a foxhound!" I looked it up and it appears that she is indeed a foxhound - a pack hunting dog who's good with kids and prefers to be outdoors. Except she doesn't like to be outdoors. Someone else said, "Oh, a foxhound! They love to bay and bay. Noisy dogs!" Except we've only heard her bark/bay once - when she was trying to convince the cats to come play. My theory is that she was meant to be a hunting dog. Then she broke her leg and didn't like to run. She preferred to be comfortably on a couch. And that made her not worth keeping as a hunting dog. So she wandered the streets, eating from trash cans, until the Orange County Humane Society picked her up. She was there for 3 months before she came home with us. And now this is her life...  A comfy, warm couch. People who really like her. Meals she doesn't have to scrounge for. I'm not sure about her past. I do know her future will be full of love and treats. And a few toys if we can find ones she likes. We got a dog. Yes, a dog. 3 year old Wonton came to us from the Orange County Humane Society. She had been found wandering the streets and was at the shelter for 3 months before we adopted her. The Bean is over the moon. I'm remembering what it's like to be a new parent - when the baby needs something at 4 a.m. (in this case, a walk) you get up and do it. *yawn* Still, it's pretty darned cool. :) Will post pictures as soon as I get a chance! So apparently my 7 year old was telling the other 7 year olds in her Girl Scout troop about french kissing. "I've done it with my doll," she told the girls who weren't quite sure what french kissing was but were interested nonetheless. "Uhm... honey, let's not talk about that right now," the adult chaperone in the car asked, practically begged. I wasn't there. I got the scoop when the chaperone dropped her off tonight. The following conversation ensued: "Bean, where did you hear about french kissing?" "Uhm... why mommy?" "I'm just curious. Where did you hear about it?" Long pause. "In my class." "Do you know what french kissing is?" "Sure. It's kissing with a little bit of tongue action." Who needs to watch comedians? ;) I'm curious how other folks deal with stuff like this. A woman I used to work with often sends me "helpful" emails that have been forwarded to her. She means well. The latest one is a cancer update from Johns Hopkins with fun stuff like "sugar feeds cancer" and "milk feeds cancer" pearls of wisdom. Except it's all complete crap and Johns Hopkins has completely disavowed the information in it. |
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