It is hard to believe that it is less than a week until Christmas. With me being retired and subbing sporadically, I have had much more time on my hands to enjoy the holiday season. By enjoying I don’t mean shopping and decorating and the like. I just mean that I am savoring the whole intended spirit of the season. I am drinking more chai tea, making pumpkin and cinnamon types of things, and just allowing myself to breathe. 

I know Michael has gotten something for me for Christmas, which I didn’t expect at all since he’s Jewish. But he mentioned needing to buy wrapping paper the other day, and I asked him why. He told me that he had gotten me a gift. I have no idea what it is, I am just worried that it is something expensive.  I have gotten him a couple of little things, and Shirley got him a dog calendar. The gift I am most excited about is a movie that I just finished making on my computer. It is a compilation of all of the wedding photos and videos, all corralled into one long “film”. I worked hard on the transitions, on the music, and on the placement of each photo or video. The video is about 20 minutes long. I would love to show my final piece here, but I won’t. It is a gift from me to him. I plan on downloading it to a flash drive, and wrapping that up in a box.

I did include a few photos and videos of Shirley at the tail end, since she’s now part of our “family.” I found this app called “Talking Pets”, and I have become enthralled with it. Shirley videos now have now gone to a whole new level. Yes, it is creepy, but it is fun too. I laugh every time I make one of them. 

I wish everyone a happy remaining holiday season!

~Michael

I know. What a weird title for a post. I signed Shirley up for obedience training at a local pet store. The trainer is a drill sergeant. I guess that’s a good thing as she has to train us to train the dogs. Shirley is doing really well in class and she quickly catches on to things. She’s actually quite amazing in how quickly she will catch on to things as long as there is a treat involved. Today we played hide-and-go-seek in the store and Shirley did well. We get homework after every class (we meet once a week). The homework for today was to teach how to come, how to sit, and how to look at us. Shirley, thankfully, is quite quick on the uptake and I don’t have too much trouble getting her to learn something new. I think the fact that she loves treats does indeed help.

This week she told us to bring in Vienna sausages all cut up as dogs love them. So this week at the grocery store I dutifully bought a can for 89 cents. I have never really eaten them. I remember my father used to eat them regularly, but I never liked them. The smell alone puts me off. I looked them up online. According to wikipedia, the online guru, these little morsels are made from beef and pork, in a casing of sheep’s intestine. Is that true? I would always tell my students that wikipedia isn’t always reliable as anyone can edit their entries. The sheep’s intestine stuff is questionable to me, but after smelling them and cutting them up to bring to class, maybe they are correct. My father died young. Maybe he ate too many of them.

Well, Miss Shirley LOVED them. She would probably learn backflips just to have a Vienna sausage treat. I put the remainder of the sausages in the fridge for more training tomorrow. Shirley is still doing very well. We go on five to six mile walks every day. She loves being outside and so do I, so it is a win-win for the two of us!

After four years, I put up a Christmas tree again. There were a lot of reasons for my four year hiatus from the whole Christmas decorating thing. For one, I live with someone who is Jewish, and the whole Christmas decorating thing isn’t something that he really does. He has never said that I couldn’t do it, but with no one giving me that push, I just didn’t have the impetus to dig out the boxes and delve through it all. With my kids all gone, and with Murphy’s passing, I just didn’t feel it, nor did I really want to do it.

Maybe it is Shirley that has renewed that spirit, maybe it is being married, maybe it is being retired with more time to do things, but I put up the tree on Monday. It is rather quite skinny, not quite Charlie Brownish, but certainly it won’t make any beauty pageant wins in the Miss Christmas Tree contest. I remember I bought it with my daughter when I had absolutely no money. A tree on sale at Target. We had fun decorating that skinny little tree. As I was putting the tree together, I remembered Christmases past. With each ornament unearthed, the memories came flooding back. I even have some ornaments from the 1980s when I was first teaching that students gave me. With each one I put up, I found myself feeling that spirit once again.

And then I found the Christmas tree skirt. For those of you who have been blogging over the last few years, do you remember Ann-Marie? When she saw the photo of the tree that I posted way back in 2018 (I think), she told me that the tree needed a skirt. And then do you know what? She knitted me one and knitted a little skirt for Murphy. I will never forget getting that in the mail. And I will never forget her either. Boy did she have a salty mouth, but she was sure full of love. When I would post about cancer and my treatments, her frequently opener on her comment would be “Fuck Cancer.” She gave me smiles in a pretty dark time. I really do miss seeing her online and reading her comments on my blogs and on other blogs that I follow. May she rest in peace.

Shirley and I went on a 7.2 mile walk yesterday. I hadn’t intended it to be so long, but it just kind of happened. As I was walking along the James River, I saw a street named “Shirley Road” that I had never noticed before. So of course, I had to snap a photo of the street sign! She was tuckered out last night and slept well. And now she’s raring to go again. Tomorrow we have our first vet appointment and another obedience class. The trainer is a drill sergeant, but maybe that’s what she and I need!

I thought I’d write an update about Shirley. I want to look back and remember all of my initial Shirley adventures. She has adjusted well to her new digs. She has only had one accident, and has settled down and has become accustomed to the routine that I am trying to establish for her. I think dogs like routine. So do humans for that matter.

My one stupid worry is about leaving her. Michael said that when I went out on Friday to run some errands, she cried for 20 minutes just staring at the garage door. I worry that when I have days where I substitute teach she will be flummoxed with the change. This Friday I am subbing, but Michael will be home. But there are days coming up where he won’t. I will crate her, and I will feel guilt. That’s the one thing about me. Once I have a dog, I become so attached to them. I have always been that way. I am also finding I am not getting my runs in as I am always walking her. But yesterday, I ran with her a bit on our walk. The whole running thing with her on a leash went fine, until she’d see a squirrel. I am finding that she doesn’t like them, and when she sees one, she lunges. So life with Shirley is a bit of an adjustment, but I am already so incredibly attached to her, and I think she’s attached to me too.

I haven’t put up a Christmas tree for a couple of years. But I think Shirley is helping me feel the spirit once again and I think we’ll take a walk out to the storage shed in the backyard to unearth some of the boxed decorations that I have. A ran into a friend of mine at the pet store parking lot and she mentioned talked about me adopting a dog. She said that it was on Facebook. I remember them taking our photo as I was about to drive off, and thought nothing of it. Well, Shirley and I made their Facebook page!

It is the last day of November and I realized that I haven’t posted in a bit. Life has been busy despite the fact that I am retired! I was going to write a Thanksgiving themed post listing all of the reasons why I am thankful, but I found myself preoccupied with other things. Maybe I can write that post later.

We spent Thanksgiving at the beach. I precooked some things to bring down in the car so I wouldn’t spend a lot of Thanksgiving in the kitchen. Michael hates to cook, and I like it, so it has become more or less my job. I learned how to cook from my mother. She always makes things that taste so incredibly good, and she takes pride in the fact that when we eat something that she has made, we ooh and aah over it. The oohing and “aahing” comes naturally as it really does taste good. We left for the beach early Thursday morning, got there around noon, and then ate around 3:00. It was a quiet holiday, but it was also good. We were to go to Michael’s step-sister’s house, but that drama has gone nowhere. I guess time will tell on that one. Michael did text her back, but she never answered. Michael has talked with a lawyer, and he plans to reach out to her again.

I also have been doing a lot of substitute teaching. And I am finding that it cements in my mind how glad I am that I have retired. I think teaching and school life in general is getting nuttier and nuttier. I would not want to be a young teacher starting out now. The job is becoming increasingly difficult and thankless. When I come home from a day of subbing I am totally and completely drained.

When we got back from the beach, I started looking for dogs online. I was beginning to get that mental nudge to imagine another dog in my life. For those of you who have followed my blog for a bit of time, you know that my last dog, Murphy, was the best dog ever. He helped me get through my cancer treatments, he was there for me during my divorce and the upheaval in my life. Losing him to cancer just added to my angst. I thought to myself, “I just cannot go through the loss of something like this again.” I still have (what Michael calls my Murphy shrine) things of his in our bedroom displayed. Now when I look at those things, I smile. Before I would tear up.

Murphy was a golden doodle. He was a gentle giant, kind of goofy, and whenever we were out and about, he would bring smiles to everyone who saw him. So I began my search online for a golden doodle. When I saw the price of them…egads! Up to $3500. I couldn’t in my right mind rationalize spending that much money on a dog when I am not rolling in dough. I tried looking up other breeds, but I found myself always drawn to doodle-esque dogs.

Then I started thinking about adopting a rescue. The one thing I knew in the back of my mind is that I wanted a dog that wasn’t aggressive. I wanted a friendly, goofy, affable companion. I didn’t want to worry that when we went out for walks that I’d have to be nervous when a person or another dog approached us. I was reading Janie Junebug’s blog about an adoption she had done and I began to look on petfinder. Michael kept encouraging me to get one, but I kept balking because I knew in my heart that after Murphy, it would be hard to have another dog that I could love as much as I loved him.

Everyday I would look on petfinder. On most days, nothing hit me. On some days, I would see a dog and think, “maybe”, then the next day the dog would be gone. Then this past Sunday I saw this dog named “Polly.” She was a rescue and about a year old. She was a labrador/poodle mix. I read her bio and was intrigued. But I didn’t do anything about it. On Monday, when I got up, I checked again, and she was still there. So, with a bit of “let’s just do this” attitude, I filled out the necessary forms to apply to adopt her. I went about my business on Monday. I got groceries, cleaned the house a bit, and went for a walk. And then my phone rang. It was the shelter. I had been approved to adopt her. I was in a state of shock as I didn’t think the process would happen so quickly.

They told me that they were only open from 10:00 to 2:00 and that they wouldn’t hold her. It was a first come first serve type of place. I told them that I would drive out and look at her. The SPCA where she was housed is about an hour west of me in the Virginia hinterlands. I called Michael at work and told him what was going on, and he told me to send him a photo, and that he’d trust my judgement. Driving out there was something of a culture shock as I had never been to this part of the state before. I certainly have been west, but not this particular part. There was a HUGE Confederate flag flying next to the road. When I see flags like this, I realize I am in Trump country.

When I got to the shelter, just in time as it was 1:52, I was greeted by the receptionist and I met Polly. She immediately tried to jump in my lap. Her tail wagged nonstop. Her whole body wiggled and glee. I was smitten, and right then and there I knew. But, I am not living alone anymore, and I just didn’t want to spring her on Michael, so I asked if I could go home and talk to my husband (yes, I used the word husband in this foreign land) about it. The receptionist said that they don’t take deposits and if someone came in before I got there tomorrow, she wouldn’t be mine. I told her that I hadn’t had time to get any doggie supplies and I needed that time to make sure that when she came home that she’d be comfortable. She called her manager and they said that if I texted the manager that night on my intent to pick her up the next day, I could have her. I went home, talked it over with Michael, and then texted her back and said that I would take her. Michael was a bit concerned with her size as she’s 56 lbs, and he was hoping for a smaller dog.

The next day, I drove out to get her. She greeted me with such exuberance and vigor that in my heart I knew that I was making the right decision. She was picked up as a stray in the middle of nowhere. No tags, nothing. She definitely needs some training as she loves to jump up on people and can get quite frisky and wild. I was a little nervous driving her home as Murphy always got carsick. She loved riding, she sat in the back and just looked out the window. The minute I got her home, I took her into the yard for her to do her business. She didn’t do anything so I brought her in. The minute she got into the kitchen, she peed all over the floor. So potty training will be high up there on the agenda. I am bringing her to a dog obedience class this afternoon, and she’s going for some grooming tomorrow as it is hard to see her eyes with the hair drooping down. Below are some pictures of her.

I know this sounds so incredibly cliché of me to say, but I think I already love her. I had forgotten just how much companionship a dog brings, and I how they love you unconditionally. Right now she’s sleeping at my feet. We went out for a run in the back yard and she did her business where I wanted her to!

I am finding that I am snapping photo after photo of her. Michael just laughs, especially when he saw the number of photos I have already accumulated on my phone. Oh…I almost forgot. Her name is Shirley. I know that’s an odd name for a dog. Since she doesn’t know her name that the SPCA gave her, and Michael didn’t like the name Polly, we decided to come up with a different name. Nothing seemed to gel at all. Until Michael said, “What about Shirley?” I just laughed. I said, “Shirley? For a dog?” Then as I kept saying it, I would laugh some more. So Shirley it is. And I love her even just after two days.

“When you adopt a shelter pet, you save two lives. The one you adopt and the one who takes its place.” – Anonymous

Love to all. ~Michael

I know…a weird title. I am finding out that when someone dies, they still have an impact on the people that they have left behind. As I’ve written previously, Sy’s death was really hard for me, unexpectedly so. I guess because I had only known him for four years, I thought that I would bounce back into the routines of life. But, I saw how much Michael and Alan grieved his death. I saw his one and only grandchild, a very bright Princeton junior, overcome with emotion. Normally he is very quiet and reserved, but the sadness he felt was written all over his face. I saw how Michael and his step-sister became closer through the last few months of Sy’s life. They gave each other support when each one of them needed it.

And then, the text came. Michael had just gone back to work on Monday, dreading it as he has been out of the office for over a week. He had been calling his step-sister about having a celebration of his life and she’d never pick up the phone, nor would she return his calls. She wouldn’t answer texts either. Michael told me that he thought she was mad at him, and I scoffed and told him she was just probably grieving and once things got back into a routine, that she would talk to him. She has always been such a nice person, always kind to me. The kind of person that will hug you or pat you on the back. Well, I guess everyone has two sides, and the other side came crashing through.

Michael walked into the house on Monday evening and told me that he had gotten a nasty text from her. To me, the word nasty doesn’t describe her at all. He showed me the text. It was really dreadful and filled with venom. She even put quotation marks around certain words. In a nutshell, she is angry that Michael and Alan have inherited the house and she was left out. Evidently there was an original document that was changed years ago that Michael and Alan knew little about. This document was around when her mother was alive, but was changed by Sy after she passed. It is all very confusing and filled with legalese that my pea brain doesn’t quite get. Michael was furious. I encouraged him to respond to the text after a few hours so that he could cool down. He did do that, and basically told her that he didn’t like the accusatory tone of her email, that he knew nothing about the original document, and that when she felt ready, he would be glad to talk to her about it to iron it out. Both of the brothers were planning to give her a chunk of the estate (which isn’t really much) anyway. Now, who knows?

We were invited over to her house for Thanksgiving. I guess that’s not happening now as she hasn’t responded to Michael’s reply. The whole thing makes me really sad. Why can’t people just talk things out rationally? Dealing with someone passing is hard enough as it is.

I went for a run this morning, thankful that my old body can still move. I took some shots with my phone after I finished exercising. Even though the colors of autumn aren’t as dramatic as upstate NY where I grew up, I am still mesmerized by the different hues. This afternoon Michael and I are going to the county courthouse to see if we can find some of the documents in question about the ownership of Sy’s house. I am not looking forward to that.

I went to my urologist yesterday, preparing for the worst. I guess that’s the negative side of me. I just figured that’s what was going to happen. Of course, I had to wait in the waiting room for a bit, then wait again back in the examination room. When the doctor came in, he had a very neutral look on his face. I braced myself for the words that I would remember for the rest of my life. But he said this, “Well, I’ve got good news, but you aren’t out of the woods yet.” The good news is that the PET scan showed no signs of cancer metastasizing. He showed me all of the stuff on the computer, and it was like me looking into a circuit board. It made no sense whatsoever. He also told me that I have a 4 mm kidney stone. I have had them before, so I guess I have that pain to look forward to when it decides to move. The not out of the woods yet is because of the fact that my PSA numbers keep fluctuating, and they should be on a constant downward trend. He told me there’s another test that they can do, but wants to wait to do that until I have another PSA reading.

When Michael got home from work, he asked me a ton of questions that I couldn’t answer because I didn’t think to ask the doctor. I guess that’s one of my faults in that I just accept what the doctor tells me, rather than question him. So this morning, I will email my oncologist and relay the information shared with me yesterday and see what he thinks.

I will take my appointment yesterday as good news. I just wish things would have been a bit more definitive. Before my appointment, I went for a run near where Sy lived. It is very wooded, so with it being autumn, the leaves were gently floating down. It made for a nice and memorable scene. I am still so very lucky that I can run and move. After seeing some of the patients yesterday in the waiting room, I was most definitely reminded of that.

Thank you for all your kind words from my last post. They truly mean a lot!

~Michael

I am not sure if I can find the exact words to capture everything that has happened since my last post. This is a time when I wish I had special writing talents that I could unhinge at this moment. But alas, I don’t. So I will just write as best as I can about the last days of Sy’s life and the impact it has had on everyone.

Sy died on Friday afternoon, November 3. The day before, the people at the facility told Michael that he could be any day. Michael’s brother booked a flight and texted me and asked me if I could pick him up at the airport. The flight got in around 11:00 AM. When Michael’s brother got to the airport, he had trouble getting his boarding pass only to discover that he had booked his ticket for the wrong month! He managed to get on a later flight that was getting in at 3:30. Because of the delay, I was worried that he might not make it in time. Luckily his flight was early. I drove him to the facility as quickly as I could, knowing that this was probably it.

We arrived just in time. When we walked into the room, Michael and Marcella were there. Both brothers took each of his hands in theirs and Michael said, “Dad, Alan is here.” Sy had been out of it most of the day, but when Sy heard these words, or maybe a coincidence, he opened his eyes. I will never ever forget the look on his face. His eyes looked frightened and he was gasping for breath with a gurgling sound that was haunting. Marcella found some sort of Jewish hymn on her phone that Sy loved and played it for him. He passed within a couple of minutes. I have never watched someone die before except for my sweet Murphy. Sometimes at night, when it is quiet and I am getting ready to fall asleep and I close my eyes I hear the sounds and relive the sights of that little room where he died. I know that with time I won’t be so upset by the memory, but right now I am. Michael is having a hard time of it, and I am trying my best to support him and to just be there.

We flew up to NYC the next day for his funeral on Sunday. It took place at a Jewish cemetery in Queens. I met Michael’s extended family and learned more about different traditions in the Jewish religion when someone dies. One of the things is putting a little stone on a tombstone that you are visiting. I put one on Michael’s mother’s stone. Sy is buried next to her.

We flew home the next day. One of the hardest things for Michael is when it is 6:45 PM as that was the time when he called his dad. Everyday no matter what. One of my fondest memories of Sy is when I was taking him to one of his appointments this summer. We were on the expressway and he turned to me and said, “I am so glad that Michael has you.” And then he said something totally different, “You know what? I will never ever go to a Chick Fil A because they don’t support LGBTQ people.” And this was from a 92 year old man.

Michael took the rest of the week off to deal with his father’s affairs. We are planning a celebration of his life for early December for his many friends here. The venue overlooks the lake he loved so much. It is high up on a hill with a sweeping view, and I know he would have liked that. This past weekend we went to the beach to check on things at the house. As we were driving down, Michael was unusually quiet. I looked across at him (I was driving) and I noticed he was quietly crying. I have only seen him cry a couple of times since I have known him. When we got to the beach, we stopped at the grocery store to buy a few things for the weekend. I suggested to Michael that we buy frozen chicken pot pies for one of our dinners. Why? Because at the very first time we were at the beach in this house, Sy was with us, and we had frozen chicken pot pies and Sy loved them. So in honor of him, on Saturday night I made those, and I fixed gin and tonics to replace the martinis that Sy oh so loved. And we toasted Sy. May he rest in peace. I will miss him dearly.

I took this photo above right before we left the beach. The seagulls were all over the place. Tomorrow I get the results of my PET scan. To be honest, I am a bit worried about it, but I will face whatever I need to face.

Love to all….I plan on catching up on blogs this week!

~Michael