Thursday, December 15, 2011

Christmas Time

Is much less fun when you're not 6 years old.

But I still have a list for Santa.

Dear Santa Claus,
I would greatly appreciate winning the lottery please. It would also be handy to get my credit card paid off and get me all A's on my exams. Not to be greedy, but I really need new tall show boots. My current ones make me look midgety and they are quite old and dying. It would be awesome if you could teach my horse how to do flying changes, piaffes and execute perfect sidepasses. I mean, that'd be just swell. You know what else? It'd be super neat to have a self cleaning stall. Or a stable boy. Could you convince my boyfriend to do that for me? Thanks. Also, please tell me who to vote for next year. I am really quite lost and I know that this next president could make or break my future. Perhaps too, rustle up a "Graduating from College and Entering the Real World For Real For Dummies" guidebook. I'd really appreciate it. And lastly and rather greedily, I would just love another thoroughbred. For some reason I just love those psycho creatures and can't stop looking up ones for adoption. Ok Santa, I realize I have a long list and I sound like any other greedy ass American, but I really need to catch a break, and you, my favorite fatman are made of Christmas miracles. Love you long time.
Monica

Monday, December 12, 2011

Well F*** Me. Retail Therapy Needed.

Remember how I said it couldn't get any worse and things were mellowing out in terms of bad things happening?

Apparently that was false.

It seemed like my life ended last Wednesday...I've been a complete black hole since then.
Not only did I have the week from hell with final examinations (BEFORE official exam week), piles of last minute assignments to turn in, and exams to cram for...but I am dealing with possible expulsion from the University for low GPA (an ENTIRE clusterf*** of ubsurdness that basically ruins my entire life...no joke. I will go into at another time) but I got the worst possible news at the worst possible time at exactly 2:32 PM on Wednesday.

I was studying my ass off and fooling with a few friends, trying to shake off pre-exam jitters and trying to make the marketing exam my bitch when I get a text from the BF.
It read, "Are you alone?"
Thinking, "What a naughty boy, he knows I'm studying"
I laughed it off and said "No".
I get a reply that reads, "Go get alone and call me".
My heart sinks. This can't be good. It can only mean one thing.

The instant he picks up, I hear his voice and it is thick with tears. My buff, extremely manly BF is crying. Nothing else could bring him to tears like this....My dog had to have died. YEP. Sure did.

He tells me what happened (Tonka had a horrible seizure, lost control of bodily functions, foamed at the mouth, stopped breathing, and died. BF gave him CPR, but he was gone...just like that) and I stand there...absolutely FLOORED.

FLOORED.

I can't take this in. I think he is f***ing with me. I tell him to cut the shit and stop, he knows I have an exam in less than half an hour. How could my sweet Tonka be dead? He is only two years old...so long a life to live. I saved him from death...this was not his time. He was 2 yrs old, perfectly healthy. What the f***.

Then I realize he isn't messing and I lose my shit. ABSOLUTELY lose it. Right in the middle of the Student Center...I am bawling, shaking, crying, screaming...and I don't care who sees me. I run back to my friends and they can barely make out what I am saying through the tears and sobs. No frecking way am I in any shape to take an exam. I was the epitome of a hot mess and in no way able to function. I could barely breathe...I felt like I lost a child, and to me, he was my child.

I don't know how many of you out there will understand, but I had a connection with this dog more powerful than anything I've ever felt in my life. More than with any horse, more than any dog...more than any human. I felt like my life ended. I was stunned. I couldnt do anything but cry...and I did, for over an hour. I talked to my professor and he was surprisingly understanding. The exam I was about to take was ridiculously difficult and VERY important (like...decides whether or not I can stay in school or not) and there was no possible way I could do it in the shape I was in. He felt for me (dog lover) and is letting me take it in January. How nice.

Tonka was the most amazing creature I had ever met. Surprisingly forgiving, unconditionally loving, courageous, sweet, cuddly, soft and understanding.

His story begins 14 months ago when I found him on a highway in the middle of Missouri's winter. Surely close to death, I took him in. Fed him, bathed him, loved him.

He grew to be my closest companion. He was with me through numerous road trips, moving, my car accident, quitting my job, my break up, moving again, and he kept me sane. His sweet little face always brightened my day, and every night he cuddled up with me to sleep. I know in his little heart he had experienced pain, but he let me in, just like I let him in mine. We understood each other perfectly, we healed each other and he went with me everywhere. I spoiled that little shit beyond belief and he knew it. He was as much a part of my life as waking up everyday was. I loved him with my whole being, my whole soul...and now I feel empty. Lifeless.



After crying for a day and a half, I laid him to rest in Yankees pasture. After that I couldn't cry any more. I just laid in bed for 2 whole days. I didnt move...didnt shower...didnt eat. I had someone feed Yankee for me. I called off work. I didnt even watch TV. I just laid there. For 48 hours. The depression gripped me like a steel hand and wouldnt let go...squeezed the life out of me. I felt dead. I still feel...empty. But at least I have some movement. I've eaten, Ive worked out, Ive studied for my last final, I rode my horse...I've showered. But I can't shake this sucking depression that is a black hole in my soul. I know it will get better, but I miss that shithead more than anything right now.

Yankee said his goodbyes to Tonka. He stood there for 5 minutes...head hanging, absolutely still. I caught this photo as he was leaving. Animals are amazing beings.

Most of you probably understand, since most of us are animal people...but what you might not grasp is how much a part of me this little dog was. It kills me inside that he suffered a horrible, painful death. I know he suffered and it breaks my heart. I wish he could have gone peacefully and with me there, to give him a kiss on his sweet nose one last time. Some might think its ridiculous, my reaction...but my animals ARE my family. And I lost part of it last Wednesday.

So I went out and did what an grieving tack whore would do. I bought shit. A lot of it. My credit card suffered...and probably got rugburn from the swiping, but at least the ponyface got a sweet ass blanket out of the deal. And no, retail therapy didnt really help me. Nothing but time will right now.

Yankee being a hay-thief in his new duds. Tragedy aside...this is a kick ass blanket (will do product review later)

I will miss you forever, smalldog. Rest in peace lil guy.
There was an error in this gadget