Not a Penny Left

I took one of my sons out for dinner last night. I insisted on picking up the check. I enjoy spending money on those I love.

I know my sons worry about my finances, but until I have to ask them for money, it’s none of their business how I spend mine. This one worried aloud if I should be paying for this. I told him, “It’s twenty-five dollars. What else am I going to do with my money, if I don’t enjoy it while I’m still here?” I went on to explain “That’s twenty-five dollars you three won’t argue about when I’m gone. I’m keeping you from fighting over it.” He smiled and didn’t say anything.

It’s my money. If I want to enjoy it while I’m alive, I will.

I plan to die penniless.

They all know I don’t want to live, if I can’t get up and do for myself. I’ve researched the states that allow euthanasia. As we baby boomers age, I imagine there will be more of those states. I’ve told them to send me to Ohio with a note directing the taxi to the Euthanasia Clinic.

They’re going to love each other when I’m gone because there will be nothing left to argue about.

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I Can See Clearly . . .

Old people’s eyelids are so thin that when they close their eyes and tell you they’re “just resting their eyes”, they’re really still watching you.

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The ifetch too and Joy

I bought my younger dog, Joy, an ifetch too for Christmas.Yesterday we tried using it with her. My middle son, Conrad, helped with putting balls in it. Joy did not grasp the concept of what was going on. At one point she stuck her nose in the ifetch too to try to get back the ball he had just dropped into it. I made three videos of them with the ifetch. I will post one of them here.

This morning I put the ifetch into a chair. I taught Joy one summer to put the ball she fetched outside into the lawn chair. If I can get her to understand what is going on, I can train her to use the ifetch. She seemed to realize the machine was throwing the balls today. That will be today’s lesson. I’ll play with her and the ifetch in the chair a few more times. I’ve asked Conrad to record me putting the ball into the machine and Joy watching and running after it. When that is recorded, I’ll add that video to this post as well.

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The Hidden Pill

I think my dog gets as angry with me when I hide a pill in her treat as I get with her when she finds it and spits it out. She seldom finds it, but when she does, we both stay angry too long.

She has Arthritis. This expensive, expensive pill will help her pain.

She foolishly spits it out.

I vow not to ever buy more. I lie. She always gets another bottle of them when what she has runs out.

But it galls me to see her ingratitude.

She hurts so bad that once in awhile, she falls down. She looks at me in consternation when it happens.

I tell her “Get up”, as if it’s fine and nothing to worry about. Sometimes I help her up.

Her pill lies beside her plate, spit out again for the second time.

I am angry and so is she.


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We Baby Boomers made it easy for you until we couldn’t any more.

Now it’s our fault your easy ride has ended?

Point taken.

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McCalls Restaurant

I often take McCalls Restaurant buffet food out in one of their take-out cartons. It’s a white styrofoam container with divided sections. I always get more ¬†items than the number of sections, so my lunch resembles a casserole by the time I’m done.

Today I saw they had turkey and dressing and gravy and I got a little excited. I’m an older person now and sometimes have some coordination problems.

There was a young man who seemed to be following me around the buffet. He made me nervous on top of my already excitedly shaking hand. I don’t usually spill anything, but today was different.

He was peering over my shoulder at “what are those green looking things?” he asked the attendant. I turned and told him they were fried okra before she could figure out what he was referring to. In my excited state, I flung two of them into the mashed potatoes. “Now they’re in the mashed potatoes”, I told him.

He stood there as if deciding whether he wanted any of those “green things” while I tried to manuver the gravy ladle that was under a low hanging lamp and impossible to tilt . . . there went gravy all over everything in my container. Good thing I like it.

When I finally got home and took out my container, the bag it was in had gravy in the bottom of it. All the contents had slid to one side of the container and now it really was a hodgepodge mess.

If I see that man in McCalls again, I’m going to either eat in, wait until he’s filled his plate, or turn around and leave.



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Joy, the puppy who was brought into my home to lift the spirits of my grievning dog, is now learning how to be my dog.

My sons spent most of the time with her and she learned to play and she thrived. I made sure she was fed and watered and asked if she’d been taken out? That’s was most of my interactions with Joy.

She became stuck here with me on September 20. This was her reaction:


This broke my heart. Did she truly think she had been abandoned and everyone who loved her had moved on. Ahem . . . hey, girl, have you ever noticed ME?

Joy has always loved to chase balls and bring them back to whomever threw them. After a few hours of looking at this behavior, I found some of her tennis balls and began to bounce them on the floor close to her. She got up, took them back to her spot by the door and laid back down.

Eventually she had all her balls in her grieving spot.

Then I began to take my toe and roll a ball away from her. She’d get up to get it and then go lie back down.

I could get her to move, if I’d start to open the door she was lying against.

She had little interest in anything.

Eventually she had to go out and I went with her. I love being outside. She wasn’t that fond of it. However, I talked to her and showed her things in the yard.

I fed her. When my son was here, she ate more people food, I suspect, than dog food.

Now she was getting mostly dog food. One day I boiled chicken and cooked rice and she had some chicken and rice, which is something my vet recommends, especially for my old dog.

I sat in the floor with her and talked to her.

It has taken time. Now she is back to wagging her tail and being happy just to be alive.

Grief can suck the life right out of you. I don’t know if she will continue to be bonded with me so strongly when my son returns, but for now, she is happy being my dog.

My other son was here the other day. She ran to greet him when he came in, but she surprisingly ran back to me and leaned up against me while wagging her tail. I took that as a good sign.


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