The Human-Animal Bond

 (a misnomer as soon as I typed it out - but it’s how the topic was presented to us as veterinary students… as it amuses me to no end when some people get greatly offended when humans are categorized as the animals which we certainly are! Very clever, technologically brilliant, philosophically-oriented naked apes but part of the animal kingdom just the same. A more correct phrasing might be “Human & non-human companion animal bonding” - probably too clunky, it will never catch on!)

The great news is, my little companion animal Tina Fea came through her surgery with flying colors. Dr L removed her diseased gallbladder & biopsied her stomach & liver as well as a couple of sites along her intestinal tract. I’m getting my day lined up to pick her up in triumph this afternoon, bearing sandwich trays for the staff (hope no one is vegan). I’ve started returning to my assisted-stretch appointments even though I haven’t done much of anything to earn them in the way of physical activity. Then, last but not least, I’ll be trekking to my attorney’s office in Frisco for the minor settlement in my personal injury case. 

Another very welcome piece of good news is the fact that somehow, Zach has convinced Victoria that a mini-elopement to Vegas is the best way for them to start married life together. He has booked the Little White Wedding Chapel, where my girl Misti & her husband Travis got married for Valentine’s Day ‘26. Their package includes 10 guests - causing me a minor heart spasm when Zach plaintively asked if I was certain Peran wanted to go because “I’m not even sure if he likes me sometimes”! Honey, I’m not sure how much he likes me sometimes!?! 

I did not disclose this to Peran as we were doing mundane Married Couple Things like selecting a new dishwasher last night, but I solemnly swear we’ll have that talk at some point. Years ago, I bitched to my closest friends that the best route to my heart was treating my son well - while Peran was a great stepdad when Zach was little, the challenges of teenage-&-young adulthood did not sit well with him. A fundamental difference of opinion: I told him I thought P’s parents had done him wrong - which basically involved putting Peran out with 3 cardboard boxes containing his earthly possessions when he was 18. Nevermind that everything turned out all right for Peran - we live in a different culture & a different world now. But apparently Peran can’t see past his own blinders…

In other news, another death in the family, so to speak - as my friend Lisa lost her brother-in-law basically due to complications from ignoring his periodontal disease (he developed septicemia & had already been undergoing dialysis for kidney failure). It was a miserable way to go 😔

The Power of Memory

 Another rough night (ugh), bcz “today’s the day”: I’ve got to trek up to the Surgery Center to hand over precious Tina Fea to my colleague/classmate for her gallbladder surgery. Cue the anxiety dreams - am I doing right by her? The surgery itself will be challenging, she’ll hate the hospital, as always there could be complications… This might be a one-way trip; I’m still excavating myself from tax & CC debts, & yet I’m gonna sink “???” in a rescued Chihuahua, a sunk-cost fallacy if there ever was one! (When she was doing so poorly after I initially rescued her, there were several times when I debated “pulling the plug” - if there’s one life lesson I have learned the hard way, it is that you can’t save ‘em all)

I had to go look up my post from those early days (Nov '24):

https://endurovetssparkjourney.blogspot.com/2024/11/sisyphuss-travels.html

My bladder got me up at 2:45, as I tossed & turned throughout the rest of my mini dark night of the soul, I dreamt that instead of taking Tina Fea to the Dallas Surgery Center, I had returned with her to the vet school. I wandered around the cavernous lecture hall, noticing that my classmates had these albums which were obviously some sort of homework assignment. An intern came over to collect Tina Fea from me, exchanging my tiny dog for one. Once again I was a “day late & a dollar short” - somehow a successful outcome for Tina Fea was linked to my completion of this task? What foggy confusion when I awoke - who can figure out the convolutions of the subconscious mind?

Charles & Janis placed great stock in dream analysis, & if I had to pick a side, I would say I’m more of a Jungian disciple than one of Freud. Overall I’d just rather it all made more sense…C’mon coffee, help me out!!!

Social Commentary Courtesy of FB

 (Occasionally I come across worthwhile content on FB, which is why I "keep coming back" - but full disclosure, I never watched the entirety of either The Sopranos or Mad Men... The Sopranos lost me around Season 3 with nonsense about the racehorse, while Mad Men didn't go off the rails until around Season 5. However, I was mesmerized by the towering arc of Breaking Bad - with Zach & I going to the theatre for a special anniversary showing of the finale. But I was well aware all along that Walter White was Ozymandias, a cautionary figure not "the hero"!)

Charlotte Clymer   · 

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I can't help but feel lately that the "Golden Age of Television" unintentionally enabled a lot of shitty behavior in some men by placing too much faith in them to be introspective about the shows they're watching. I've been thinking about this a lot.

1999: "Okay, so, my vision for this is the Great American Novel as a television series. It follows a New Jersey mob boss. He's ruthlessly violent and corrupt, but he does love his family. Even though he has power and respect, he's miserable and regretful most of the time, which is why much of the show will take place in a therapist's office. The juxtaposition between his violent crimes and peaceful domesticity create a tension that will entertain viewers and also make them question what 'evil' really looks like, if anything. It's also one giant commentary about the American Dream and whether it's really attainable at all."

Dudebros in 1999 and ever since: FUCK YEAH I LOVE THIS SHOW YEAH TONY I WANNA BE TONY SO BAD

2007: "My series is about a Manhattan advertising executive who builds the picture perfect life of an upper middle class suburban white family in the mid-20th century. He's able to do this by being a high functioning sociopath who steals a dead man's identity and allows his childhood family to believe he's died in the Korean War. He's alcoholic, manipulative, exploitative, and ruthless. But he does love his children and he's very attractive and could talk a tree into a wood chipper. That said, he's miserable and regretful most of the time. It's also one giant commentary about the American Dream and whether it's really attainable at all, with some feminist themes thrown in there for good measure."

Dudebros in 2007 and ever since: FUCK YEAH DON I LOVE THIS SHOW I WANNA BE DON SO BAD

2008: "My series is about a mild-mannered high school chemistry teacher who's just been diagnosed with stage-three lung cancer. He's extremely smart and capable, but he's also resentful over how he feels life dealt him some shitty cards. He cooks and sells meth at first to pay for his medical treatment and that morphs into a drug empire over time. He claims to love his wife and children but constantly puts them in harm's way. He is unequivocally a bad person by the end of the series. Many innocent people die because of him. He ultimately has no truly redeeming qualities, but he's involved in some really cool plot lines that are entertaining. It's also one giant commentary about the American Dream and whether it's really attainable at all."

Dudebros in 2008 and ever since: FUCK YEAH WALTER WHITE I LOVE THIS SHOW I AM THE DANGER

I'm just saying... there's clearly a pattern here.

Delayed Photo Dump (4th of July)

 Lining up for the parade...

                                                        Marina & Silas

                                               Karen lead-lined her granddaughter

I persuaded Marina that Buttercup the ball python was a good fashion accessory :-)

Operant Conditioning

 This slight nagging headache persists as I drink my coffee, fortifying myself for another busy workday…

We (Catie & I) had an uneventful pilgrimage to Ft Stanton - as it turned out, 3 of my other riding buddies hauled out but Catie & I were the first to arrive last Tuesday night. It was eerie to arrive to an almost-deserted campground; I didn’t sleep as well as I normally do in New Mexico, but that was probably from the stress of that long drive (uneventful, but nevertheless 11 hrs behind the wheel is 11 hrs behind the wheel!). Got up Wednesday morning to see Kathy parked across from us - she had arrived about 1 AM. Our first ride was a meander, going out the old familiar trail to the Ft Stanton cemetery, then doing a little bushwhacking around that back pasture… we found wreckage from an old junkyard but no gate, so we circled back to the highway to trace our way back to the campground. (approx 8 mi)

Drove the 5 miles into town for late lunch/early dinner, then took Catie to the Smokey Bear Historical Park/Museum. Picked up supplies at the feed store (beautiful hay! considering I paid $15/bale for crap-quality stemmy Bermuda at home) & took a turn through the grocery store for a few odds n’ ends… Returned to camp in time to help Kirsten get parked with her rig - Manda & her 13-yr old daughter Elizabeth pulled in as the sun was setting; such went Day 1.

Thursday dawned under brilliant blue New Mexico skies; we dawdled around & headed out on trail shortly after 9 AM; after all, there were no time constraints & no timer! Manda was riding a rehab project - a twitchy lil’ bay mare, who bolted & unloaded her when we were about 2.5 mi out of camp, also triggering her daughter’s gelding to jump out from under her. Fortunately no injuries as we gathered up the horses & Manda waved us along; she & Elizabeth would do their own thing… Soon Kirsten & Kathy were trotting off at a brisker pace than I wanted to maintain for Twoie’s first serious mileage in NM, so I waved them on. Catie & I wound up meandering off on a new section of trail designated “Zamora” which was extremely rugged - we climbed up into the rocky hills, finally tracing our way back down to the old stagecoach line. We drained our water bottles; I was pleased to see when we got back to camp that we had done 15 mi - a good solid day’s work for Twoie! (Baraq could have done it all over again, & Catie went out on an evening ramble w/K & K)

We made an earlier start Friday morning, heading out by 8:15. I peeled off from our main group a few miles in, since Twoie was acting a little footsore & fatigued - but Catie, Kirsten & Kathy continued on to knock out 25 mi, we were very proud of her & Baraq’s first unofficial LD ride! Both boys had some girth galls from the hill work, so when Catie wanted to go out with Kathy for another evening jaunt, we borrowed a bareback pad.

I decided to “quit while we were ahead”, so we headed back on Saturday - that made the transition back to real life a little less arduous, with having to drive back to Greenville to return Catie to the bosom of her family on Sunday (she was sad). The “operant conditioning” phrase came into play as I raced off Saturday night as soon as we got home to meet Zach with the expressed purpose of delivering a frozen bunny for Mila the python - I will miss no opportunity to see my son, even if ever-so-briefly! (We met up at a brewhouse by IKEA - we had about half an hour before Z left to go deliver dinner to Victoria) Zach had spent his 2nd week traveling to Midland & Odessa which were not fabulous places to visit…

The Devil Beats His Wife

 …as I trek down to the barn in brilliant morning sun, & another small rainshower blows through. The puzzle pieces of Another Pilgrimage to NM are creakily being maneuvered into place, although I’ve got to pay my dues at work today.

I drove to Greenville to pick up Catie yesterday, dodging a few more raindrops as the ragged edges of these storms peter out. (My heart is heavy for the tragic losses of life from the catastrophic flash flooding in the Hill Country) How can I be prepping for vacay?!? It was great to see Christina even if only for a brief luncheon. She’s looking at a “lane change” in her career as New Boss is insistent that All Workers Return to the Office (which is in San Antonio; C has been working remotely since Covid & has built a great team. They’ve sold both of their properties in SA & Manor (outside of Austin; 90 mi away from SA but could be manageable for weekly commuting), now she lives 400 mi away & there is no reasonable way to work this situation with teenagers, their farm, & investment properties now in NE TX…

(Postscript: never got a chance to polish this up, but I’ll publish it anyway as a “state of mind” post…)

Then Joe just texted me Charles’s obituary notice 😔, nothing else to do but finish packing up & head to NM! https://www.charliemarshallfuneralhomes.com/obituaries/charles-stephens

It Is Finished

 Hey, it’s my blog so I can be as sacrilegious/blasphemous as I wanna be!!!

Charles passed away around 11:30 PM Friday night, Happy Independence Day?!? Joe called me Sat morning, thankfully it was peaceful (thanks to hospice). He had had a bath Thursday, which Joe said really exhausted him, although he was still trying to do his dog & pony show of entertaining everyone! By Friday morning, Joe said Charles was only marginally coherent, having conversations with souls who were not there. He was getting palliative medications every four hours; when Joe went in around 11:30, Charles was completely unresponsive. He wanted a simple cremation with no funeral, although Joe says he’ll plan an open house for the benefit of we survivors. Charles did get to enjoy the tomato-basil soup from the care package I sent, although Joe said he “drowned it in mozzarella cheese”. We are a family of cheese lovers, that’s for sure - I took Zach out for pizza Thursday night to celebrate his new job & he joked with the waitress to stop grating the Parmesan when the block ran out!

So I’m in a sad & contemplative mood - I regret that I couldn’t get back down to see him, more so for Zach’s sake, but I’m also grateful his suffering was not prolonged. Charles was not religious, but he was deeply spiritual - I remember his sharp look when he asked me how long I thought he would survive? I tried to gently tell him from my perspective, he couldn’t last long like this & obviously he did not. The curse of the diagnostic sense.