March 8, 2021
Week 51 of COVID in the Bay Area.
Week 51, Day 352: Smol Acrobat managed one five hour stretch of sleep at night!!!! Cue a silent celebration. This is especially appreciated because they only had two 30-minute naps between 12 pm to 6 pm yesterday and that was pure awful for everyone. We all wanted to cry.
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Grrrr, NewRez. When we refinanced, I specifically told them we were not escrowing. They told our insurance we have an escrow account anyway. WE DO NOT. If I weren’t on top of things, our homeowners and earthquake policies would have gone unpaid this year. I contacted our insurance agent to get them to fix this.
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I’m still waiting on our taxes to come back from the CPA. I had hoped we’d see it by the weekend since they said it’d be done “at the end of the week” but experience dictates that it’ll take another two reminders before I get the first draft.
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We have Chinese takeout leftovers for dinner tonight so I used the evening prep hour to make up a meatloaf for tomorrow’s dinner. I also accidentally over-ordered from Home Chef for this week so we’ll have three meals delivered on Wednesday.
Week 51, Day 353: I keep running the numbers on our investments and projecting returns using this Compound Calculator. I gave myself a micro midlife crisis moment because nothing I do to the numbers within reason will yield a more reliable and optimistic answer than “maybe we will have enough in the nest egg to consider retiring (if we can figure out the healthcare piece) in six years.” The “crisis” bit was feeling like I’m running out of time and these numbers trigger a bit of anxiety.
But it’s not like I won’t have anxiety if we pull the plug too early and it looks like we’re going to run out of money, though! I don’t know what’s up.
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Wow. I found a significant detail was overlooked in this year’s tax form and the error has gone back a few years so we now have also worry about filing amendments for the past three years as well. Good grief. But I hope it yields some refunds because this year’s tax bill is A WHOPPER.
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Today was full of bowling pins: setting tasks up and trying to knock them down.
I had to fill out the American Community Survey, pay my life insurance and car insurance bills, figure out whether our homeowners policy is sufficient, renegotiate my orthodontist bill, appeal our water bill, and and and ….
Week 51, Day 354: This was an “easy” day so I thought I’d actually chronicle it for the heck of it.
Smol Acrobat went to bed at 7 pm and woke up at 12:15 am so that was my cue. I changed their diaper, nursed them, and at 12:50 am, back into the Snoo they went. I couldn’t settle down so I read until 1:30 am knowing this would bite me later.
It did at 3:25 am when they were up again for another diaper change and feed. I creaked my way up and out of bed, and when they finished up at 4:15 am, I was almost too tired to put them back in the bassinet. But I did and they were back in again by 4:22 am even though they weren’t quite asleep yet. Not until they let out the obligatory shriek of protest at 4:25 am, after which they subsided into sleep.
I was out shortly after, with both my hands and wrists shrieking in pain. The previous night when I had to hold Smol Acrobat for a 30 minute marathon feeding session set off a fibro flare. Not good. By 6:20 am, Smol was awake and this time raring to start the morning with smiles and coos. My hands and wrists, however, were in agony. Luckily, as I struggled with the final diaper change of the night/morning shift changeover, PiC was up and took over. We discussed the morning for about five minutes as I searched out a half dose of my heavy duty pain meds – he had two meetings from 9-11 am, and he was also behind on critical work. Turns out the night before after he’d read to JB, they came in to bunk in our bed (thank you king size bed) and left him dozing on the sofa. He was so tired that he had gone to bed “early” instead of working past midnight as usual. He planned to try and do some emails while minding Smol during their morning session, I told him to wake me in 45 minutes so he could work if he couldn’t do both at the same time.
I woke up around 8:10 am and opened the bedroom door to find him lurking in the hallway with a sleepyish SA, getting ready to come in and put them to bed. But that wasn’t happening, JB was waking up too and at the sight of their older sib, SA was wide awake again. We gave in to the inevitable and let the two of them cuddle and play for a while. I took over at 8:45 am to feed SA so that he could make breakfast and then get set up for his meeting.
By 9 am, Smol was tired so they went into the Snoo for a nap, and then it was a race against the clock. Smol’s first nap tends to be an absolutely garbage short 30 minutes so I had to cram as much as I could into those precious minutes. I inhaled my breakfast, set up the computer for JB to start their schoolwork and sat down with my breast pump and work to do. It’s Wednesday so they don’t have a class session today, they just have schoolwork to do on Seesaw. I hate Seesaw with a passion but with bribery (a promised mystery prize if there’s no whining) those sessions now go by quickly without mental pain. JB had strict instructions not to interrupt me but of course by 9:37 am, about 3/4 of the way through my pumping session they came in to tell me that Smol was crying. They used good judgement!
I stop my session early and go fetch the baby. I changed their diaper and sat on the sofa coaching JB through some sticky bits of their assignment, review the ones they had done already and approved them for submission. Smol laid on the sofa, kicking and playing. I changed another diaper at 9:40 and prepped a bottle of formula for them. They weren’t ready to eat until 9:52. They’re being fussy about eating so only manage 1 ounce at first. JB asks for a break from Seesaw so I approve a 15 minute break. They set the timer, come to play with Smol, and bring two books over. One is for me to read to Smol and the other is for them to read to Smol. Break over, JB’s back to Seesaw and finishes up as Smol starts to get tired. They finish a second ounce of formula while I suggest that JB work on writing correspondence with me, and I make that a typing lesson. They’re assigned two people to type up short letters to, while I go put Smol to bed. At 11 am, I start the process of getting Smol in bed and when they finally drop off, I go back to coaching JB through typing in Word. Autocorrect is getting their goat. “IT’S PUTTING RED SQUIGGLES IN!” they bellow. I sit down and dash off a couple of cards myself, some friends are going through tough times and I want to send them notes.
I finish coaching JB on their notes and print them out so they can add some art, I use that time to get some more work done. We still need to replace our baby monitor so I periodically go down the hall to check on Smol. 11:50 am, their eyes are open but the bassinet soothes them back to sleep. I finish some more work. JB brings me their completed letters and we get them into envelopes. They want to have a snack but I suggest we get lunch going since it’s noon – they would like a PB&J sandwich and I sign off on this plan. PiC emerges from his work den a short while later and joins JB in the kitchen while I dash off a note to surrogate mom. I want to add mine to JB’s envelope. Letters are all set, I emerge to scarf down the lunch they made, and tell PiC I will take the next shift with Smol so he can get some more work done. He’s got an extra busy day today and I did my extra busy day yesterday. He can take over with the kids after JB’s afternoon lesson and Smol’s next nap. Smol blessedly naps until 1:55 pm during which time I’ve gotten a heck of a lot of work done and organized. I change their diaper and feed them, then we kill 45 minutes. I show them JB’s art while I write checks, we talk and sing, we play with their little owl. They go through another diaper / feed cycle, and flip from smiles to shriek so it’s time for bed! Their eyes are wide open as I swaddle and hum to them, they start doing fishy mouth so I insert the pacifier and hold it in for them for about 24 seconds and they’re satisfied to drop off to sleep. I go and dash off another couple rounds of work, while they log a 50 minute nap: I feed Sera, answer emails, pay bills, look into classes for JB for Spring Break, update our automatic savings transfers, print out some coloring sheets for JB for later.
Awake and chirping at 4:20 pm, I change their diaper and hand them off to PiC. He feeds them while I put on my headphones and sit down for my second pump session. I knock off work while I’m pumping, and text my cousin who’s having a bit of a time with work and life balance. The milk gets bagged up and frozen, I wash up bottles and pump stuff for what feels like the millionth time, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s 5:30 and time to make dinner.
JB had asked for an extra journal to make a book to share with Smol. I keep journals for each of the kids but JB wants creative control so they tackle the new book with a box of stickers.
PiC had already unpacked the Home Chef delivery and taken out some of the leftovers from earlier to warm up so all I had to do was dive right into the cooking while he minds Smol. Teamwork! I snack heavily while cooking because it’s been a long time since lunch. JB sets the table and goes off to bathe, PiC feeds Smol again. I get dinner on the table and take Smol because I don’t feel like eating first. JB emerges from the bath just after PiC’s scarfed down dinner and takes Smol in for a bath. I prep a plate for JB since tonight’s meal is rather messy, then retrieve Smol from the bath to dress them. PiC takes over and puts them to bed while I eat dinner. JB gets to watch some Wild Kratts while I eat.
The bassinet is a magical thing – PiC is back out to join me for the rest of dinner within ten minutes. Before the bassinet, I had to put Smol to bed and I’d be stuck the rest of the night with them because we were cosleeping. Also because of my hands, lifting Smol Acrobat in and out before this month wasn’t a possibility. I clear half the table, take my medicine, get my aligners in and come back out to do more clean up. PiC’s contemplating a late night Costco run to spare everyone else the trouble of running an errand. I don’t love the idea. I want my family safe at home after dark, but he has a point. He plans to wait for me to shower and wash my hair though. I can’t remember the last time I washed my hair. He reads to JB and takes off when I’m ready.
I’m ready for bed by 8 but spent 20 minutes typing this up and as I get in bed, I remember I need to do my #PFPlank!
Three more planks done, I think about the day. It was remarkably smooth in comparison to most of our days and yet I am pretty sure I never stepped outside today. I never had time. I still haven’t picked a new baby monitor. My lower back still hurts a lot (which is why I’m doing the planks), so popping Smol Acrobat into a carrier to take a walk feels very unappealing. Oh and I forgot to go pick up JB’s school packet so we need to do that on Friday. I also feel pretty sick from my heavy duty pain meds which is always irritating. I need the pain relief to sleep but having to take nausea in its place feels unfair. (Later update, the nausea kept me awake until 4 am. I guess I would have been up with the pain too but that was just irritating.)
Week 51, Day 355: Smol has the most noxious gas. I wouldn’t even say “for a baby” because JB was like this too, and Seamus used to join in the toots.
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I think I knew this word at one time but it had slipped my mind: Hiraeth (Welsh pronunciation: [hɪraɨ̯θ, hiːrai̯θ]) is a Welsh word for longing or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that no longer exists or never was. A deep and irrational bond felt with a time, era, place or person.
I feel this about a lot of the PF blogging world; I miss some folks from the early days. But I’m really lucky that some are still around one way or another and it’s not just all impersonal or new folks I don’t know well.
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I finally sealed up the two flat rate boxes to ship to our 5th Lakota family. I need to write up the email update to the group for the donations to date.
Week 51, Day 356: Terrible night, truly. Smol woke every 3 hours which meant I was up for an hour each time. Usually I just sort of float from one short nap to the next but last night I was so tired I fell asleep after nursing them and woke 55 minutes later. They were safe. No matter how tired I am, my body locks in a specific cradle position and does not move when I’ve got a baby cuddled up to me. But it was disconcerting to record the start of nursing time at 205 and wake up at 3 am. We made it to 5 am whereupon Smol starting chuckling and talking.
Oh. Time to be up, I see. We hung out in bed for about 80 minutes and then like a switch flipped, they freaked out. Oh, time to eat and sleep again. Right-o. They nursed and passed out, I tucked them into a swaddle and tried to sleep too but sleep was elusive so when Sera came trotting down the hall to do her daily check to confirm all humans are still where she left them, I went and took her for a morning walk. The timing worked out perfectly, I got her squared away, then she told me that Smol was awake so I fetched them out to the living room so PiC could have a rare sleep in. I’ll rest later, he goes to sleep late and gets to sleep through until morning but he’s always got to be up early to mind all three kids. JB woke up next and played with Smol for a little bit, and then went to go get ready for school.
PiC woke up and took over for me with Smol while I dished up a quick hot breakfast and then I took my break in the form of paying bills, writing cards, and addressing envelopes for the cards that JB wrote. It’s soothing to noodle around with my spreadsheets.
I had to call it quits and take two rounds of laying down before and after lunch because my body, having been up since 5 am without good sleep before that, was no longer functioning. And I wasn’t even mean to myself about it. Progress!
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Today I learned that typing either of the following into a browser gets you a new GDoc or GSheet: doc.new and sheet.new. Love it!
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Next week we’re going to be at the one year mark of this pandemic affecting our lives. What a very weird place to be.
:: How is your mental / emotional / physical health as we round the corner to a year of this odd reality?
March 1, 2021
Week 50 of COVID in the Bay Area.
Week 50, Day 345: We’re trying a new sleep aid, we’ve gone nuclear, and I am reserving judgement for a couple weeks but at least last night’s observation was: I only had to change and feed Smol 5 times between 7 pm and 7 am. That includes the initial bedtime round, and the final “oh it’s morning and we are UP” round, which means there were three middle of the night rounds. Of late there have been six middle of the night rounds so this was an improvement. Whether it will be consistent or get better remains to be seen.
***
Last night I couldn’t sleep for three hours because my hips and back felt like they were on fire. Thankfully I’d booked a session with my very careful of COVID massage therapist and she worked on them today for a good hour. It was desperately needed but also wore me right out. I ended up taking an unplanned nap after.
Week 50, Day 346: I’ve been doing so much stretching to try to ease my lower back pain but it’s only moderately reducing the pain. I think this means I need to address the floppy midsection laughingly referred to as my (very weak) core. I’m looking up easy no equipment needed exercises to work the core.
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JB was having some mood issues and I did my best to maintain my calm throughout. They were not pleased that I continue to enforce my rule about energy-in-energy-out when it comes to extra treat / junk food. We do our best to have a generally balanced diet with treats in moderation. Because it’s so easy for us to be inside and sedentary too much given our isolation, whenever they want something particularly sugary, it’s permitted after they’ve done a good amount of physical exercise. I don’t want it to have any obsession with weight develop, I just want to pay attention to balancing what we take in and how much we exert ourselves.
(more…)
February 22, 2021
Week 49 of COVID in the Bay Area.
Week 49, Day 338: We got scary news last night. Our cancer battling friend lost consciousness and had to be hospitalized. This morning, tests showed that their cancer has returned. This is too much. I really really really don’t want to lose another loved one.
***
Not sure what set it off but my pain flared so high today that I literally hurt from head to toe. Thankfully PiC didn’t have meetings so he was able to field the kids all day so I could rest. The rest helped enough so I could just do the bare minimum: eating, bathing, pumping milk.
***
JB closed the night with a long cry. We could hear them talking to Seamus about how much they miss him. We stayed with them for a while, commiserating.
Week 49, Day 339: I’d like to make a big photo book to commemorate our life with Seamus. We happened across MILK books several years ago. I had a Groupon for one of their classic books that I had to use by the time Doggle passed so I dedicated that to him. The end product was gorgeous even though we didn’t have great quality / resolution pictures to work with back then. It’ll be on the pricier side so I need to wait for another sale. I like that they let you prepay for a book to take advantage of a sale but I can’t accurately estimate how many pages I’ll need.
I have started organizing photos into a folder so I can design the book, then order it when their next sale comes up. There are A LOT of photos.
***
I get this sad empty feeling every time I see old blogs gone fallow. Or when I think of friendships gone quiet.
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For the first time in months, only one of my hands was completely swollen when I woke up. Is this finally getting better?? (Since giving birth, they’ve both been wsoll
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This is the first day that Smol Acrobat laughed at belly raspberries!! Up until now, they’ve only been startled and confused by them. I feel rewarded for my persistence.
Week 49, Day 340: I made chicken gyros for dinner and they were delicious! The dill-buttermilk sour cream really pulled the flavors together.
***
I had my Invisalign buttons applied? fixed? something today and it feels weird but not as weird as braces or a nightguard. I know it’s going to be sore soon but for now, I’m glad that it’s not quite so bad.
***
I played a game with Smol Acrobat and they seemed to grasp it enough to play along. I know they didn’t really, but it seemed like it and it was fun in the moment.
Week 49, Day 341: Last night’s sleep was non-existent and after a busy day yesterday, I desperately needed the rest I didn’t get. I managed to stay functional long enough for PiC to take some meetings and then crashed and burned for a few hours. This level of sleep deprivation has me really down in the dumps. I know it’ll pass but these moments are so hard.
***
Small habits: Two weeks ago, I asked JB to pay attention to capping their toothpaste and putting their toothbrush in the same place every time because I was tired of knocking the brush into the sink. It’s taken a reminder every single day but they finally did it twice in a row without a prompt! The habit may be starting to form!
***
I’m really anxious for our initial tax calculations to see what we owe after selling the rental last year. We’re just paying the capital gains on that sale because we never lived in the property. Living in it could have been part of the very long term plan only if we held it for 20+ years, it was never going to work out to live in it in the first 15 years of owning it. So we’re taking it on the chin instead of rolling it over with a 1031 exchange or living in it. I set aside a large portion of the sale money to cover the tax bill last year and we withheld 120% of our 2019 tax bill. Now all I can do is hope that I covered our bases sufficiently to have some cash left over. That’s my version of a tax refund this time around.
Week 49, Day 342: I just found out that two people I know, one of them a health care professional and the other one with a scientific background, neither of them with any reason to be suspicious of the medical establishment as some minorities do, declined the vaccine. Their relative has tried to talk to them about it, to no avail. I’m rather appalled, honestly.
Yes, I’m being judgy. I’m not speaking to them about it because it’s not like I would change their minds, but arrrghhhhh get the vaccine!
***
Answering the question of what I would do if I didn’t have to work for money, the parenting-leave version: Manage our investments, take care of the kids, read as many books as I can get my hands on, walk the dog, eat/cook/eat/cook/plan meals, yearn for sleep, manage our taxes, throw myself into charitable projects, therapy, attempt to exercise a little bit each day. I wonder what the not-infant version would look like.
:: How have you been this week? Have you started preparing your taxes and do you have any idea what they will look like?
February 15, 2021
Week 48 of COVID in the Bay Area.
Week 48, Day 331: I’m struck by a peculiar manifestation of (Asian mom?) parental guilt that tells me that I’ve had almost a year with JB at home and my inability to have spent this time teaching them everything about money, science, math, history, music, crafting and a slew of other things is a failure. I especially feel the failure to impart sufficient money philosophy and knowledge keenly. Perspective, I do not have it.
For one thing, hello pandemic. Also hello being pregnant much of that time. And then having an actual baby. Also hello working FT as well. Where exactly was this magical pocket of time with which I would have schooled them?
For another, they are just at the very start of school age. All the academics aren’t necessary right this very minute.
And yet I feel the sting of “why haven’t you taught them how to play piano yet?” and “why haven’t you taught them how to do origami yet?” and “why haven’t you taught them the scientific method yet?” as if all I’ve had since March 2020 was time on my hands. I can’t help feeling some comparison to my mom who managed to teach me how to read and write in another language at a very basic level while we were growing up even though she was working 12-15 hour days by a certain point. My memory is a little hazy though so perhaps the time she taught us and the time she started working such long hours didn’t actually overlap like I thought?
(more…)
February 8, 2021
Week 47 of COVID in the Bay Area.
Week 47, Day 326: Sometimes I forget that it’s been 326 days since I could see the human elements of my family out the door to their work and school respectively, then settle down to work with just my dogs. I miss that. My introvert soul is struggling with that lack of a break.
***
My Twitter folks and blog readers are the best. Those who are able shared the Giving Project, and those who are able contributed. Having this work has been a balm for my grieving soul, having some additional resources helps. I appreciate y’all deeply.
Week 47, Day 327: I don’t know if this is due to stress, lack of sleep, or PPD which I’ve been fighting but I haven’t been able to feel full for days. Weeks, even, possibly. I eat full relatively balanced meals but feel physically hollow afterward. It’s like I hadn’t eaten anything. It’s exasperating and I don’t even bother trying to eat enough to feel full anymore because it seems pointless. No matter how much I eat, I don’t feel any satiety so I’ve been walking around feeling hungry for ages. It’s gotten so that I am both hungry AND lack appetite at the same time. It’s weird and I don’t know what’s going on.
***
I spent hours working on more fulfilment for our Lakota Families. My grieving process demands that I do things. Helping people distracts and helps my feeling of loss.
(more…)
February 2, 2021
Week 46 of COVID in the Bay Area.
Week 46, Day 319: TFW it’s 2 am, you’re thinking it is about dang time to wrap up because you’re already on your second post bedtime wakeup cycle with the baby (need to change a diaper while they wail rigorously to express a deep despair and grief, nursing for 20-30 minutes plus another five after you lay them down and they holler with such insistence that they weren’t done yet mom I’m still starving and they reattach only to hang out casually like it’s the mall), and you look down to see eyes that are wide open. No thank you please.
I am not enjoying this particular overnight stretch.
***
My cell phone battery life is absurd. It was 95% when I started typing. It’s now 68%. And I type pretty fast.
***
Seamus’s health took a sharp downward turn.
Week 46, Day 320: One of the saddest days and worst nights of my life.
JB was unconsolable this first night without their big brother Seamus and I wasn’t in better shape. We hugged and cried and cried and cried.
They thought they understood what “dead” meant, and they wanted to be there for the appointment to say farewell so we thought they were at least getting the idea of what was happening. I had explained it earlier and they’d had time to be upset at home. They seemed almost upbeat at the appointment, asking the vet which injection was “the dying shot”.
But they couldn’t understand why he wasn’t coming back home with us. They didn’t understand why he didn’t close his eyes. They wanted to know how he was going to be cared for overnight. I’ll tell you what, that last one destroyed me for another hour.
Week 46, Day 321: I just about remember how to exist. We still have to do all the usual things. Schoolwork, fighting with Comcast, figuring out why my leave claim at EDD is stalled out. It rained almost all day, so Sera just had quick trips outside for the bare necessities because she hates walking in the rain.
We finally had a break in the early evening so the whole troupe went for a walk and the pain of our being all together without Seamus was palpable. I felt like I was holding my breath the whole time, muscle memory telling me to walk slowly and looking down to ensure his feet didn’t slip or his hips didn’t give out or that he wasn’t struck with a sudden unpredictable need to stop. Then I’d look down and he wasn’t there. And my heart would hurt all over again. This is so incredibly hard.
Week 46, Day 322: I miss my Seamus. I will always miss him.
***
I’m incredibly frustrated with EDD right now. They have questions but they didn’t give me any way to respond to them when I missed their unexpected call. Then they just rejected my claim without explanation. Then they refused to answer the phone ever. It was nowhere near this painful getting my disability claim paid with JB, I don’t understand what’s going on but it’s taking several phone calls to our doctor to see if they can help with documentation.
Week 46, Day 323: With the good news about the J&J vaccine, I find myself pondering the state of things.
As parents, we’re deep in the “it’s a phase” stage of life again with an infant, with things changing day to day and week to week. Also sleep deprivation. I haven’t gotten a full night of sleep since the 2nd trimester probably so I’m going on 6 or 8 months of interrupted sleep?
As humans, we’re almost a year into this pandemic. We still have no information about when we adults are going to have access to vaccines, when kids under six are going to have trials for vaccines, when it’ll be moderately safe to travel or how we’ll establish our next new normal. I have to confess to at least some jealousy of our family in other countries that have dealt with this so much more effectively that they have essentially normal lives now. I also have to figure out if I can make any changes to JB’s educational experience this year. Looking into some of the online public school / charter school options, they don’t seem to be well reviewed by employees which suggests to me we’d still be dealing with stressed and disgruntled educators and it may well be going from the frying pan to the fire.
Collectively, at least a dozen friends have lost a loved one to COVID, at least six of us have bid farewell to long beloved dog companions, we’ve lost grandparents after not seeing them the past year, our kids have been socially restricted for so long I wonder if they’ll just be feral by the time they’re back in society again and I’m honestly not sure how badly stress has deteriorated the health of most adults just coping.
:: How are you?
February 1, 2021
About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag a dog into his shambles of a life?? But in 40 years, adopting Seamus was probably the one unmitigated good thing he’s ever done.
Seamus was smarter than any dog I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of dogs in my years of working with animals. He was dignified, chock full of patience, and clever as all get out.
Back in the early 2000s, I would occasionally bring him to work with me. It made my horrible office job in LA on and off again tolerable. On his first day, he unerringly identified, and ignored, the most evil person in the office. He sat in our meetings, and even when he was climbing into a colleague’s lap for some cuddles – all 105 lbs of him! – he was whisper silent. We carpooled to work in those terribly stressful days, and he would silently rest his head on my colleague’s shoulder in the front passenger seat, resting his butt in the back seat, the whole ride home.
In my rare downtime with friends back then, we’d occasionally pick up fast food and eat it in our living room. I remember how he “begged” for food. He would politely sit several feet away, across from the person most likely to break under the pressure and watch them until they broke down.
I remember when we rescued him and brought him to the Bay Area several years ago. I had been struggling with wanting to help Seamus but being uncertain I could take on his challenges in addition to my highly stressful job AND Doggle. I was pregnant with JB, too, so I didn’t want to make a rash decision and take on more than we could handle. Then I’d heard that my trainwreck sibling had crossed a line, he hit Seamus, and that sealed it. We went to get him.
6 and change years ago. 15 lbs too thin, welts and weeping rashes and sores all over his body from allergies, bright eyes and a heart the size of the sun. We still had Doggle back then. We we invited Seamus to join our little but growing family, he hopped in the car and tucked himself neatly behind an oblivious Doggle who he hoped to make his very best friend without a moment’s hesitation. He still loved my sibling because that’s just who he was but he was also going to grab the offer to save his life. It was the beginning of the best journey and my biggest heartbreak.
We started our life with him with a bath and a 9 hour car ride back to the Bay Area. He became Doggle’s tan-colored shadow. He was miles smarter than Doggle who had a vague notion of what dogs are, but he was humble and sweet, absolutely willing to use his smarts to get along.
Making squeaky toys squeak, the joy of his life, was verboten because Doggle thought he was hurting the toys. So Doggle would huffily confiscate Seamus’s toys as they squeaked, one by one. Seamus would watch them go, sadly, but without protest. When they were all lined up in Doggle’s animal rescue (the crate), Seamus would come to me and request liberation of the toys. He wouldn’t get them himself, crossing Doggle directly simply was Not Done.
We tackled his health issues on multiple fronts. We changed his diet and put him on steroids. He hopped into the tub on command and submitted to medicated baths three times a week for his sores, he stretched out on the ground and laid still as long as required for me to medicate and treat his hot spots all over his raw feet. He was a blinking mess physically, but he cooperated every single step of the way as we trial and errored our way to a healthy weight and healthy skin and coat. It took months of effort, and I’ve never been prouder in my life of anything than the day I ran my hand backwards across his fur and confirmed that his entire body was entirely free of the persistent and painful sores that once blanketed his body.
In turn, he helped me out. As my pregnancy progressed, he would come help me up when I got stuck on the sofa. He’d let me lie on his side for a cuddle when the back pain was too much.
Months into his health ordeals, JB arrived on scene. Despite never having been around children before, he took one look at the baby and claimed that puppy for his own. We always joked that we had a third co-parent but it wasn’t really a joke – he had opinions about infant JB’s care and he shared them quite clearly.
No one was allowed to come in and pick up his baby without checking with him first. PiC pretending to toss JB like a football? UNACCEPTABLE. Make him stop, he ordered me with a low yodel, that’s not funny. One parent was taking too long to soothe the crying baby? He’d fetch the other human. The number of times I caught myself arguing with him that a particular cradle or solution of his wouldn’t work? An embarrassing number. Up for a middle of the night diaper change? So was he. He would stand up on his hind legs to oversee the change on the changing table – the only time he’d ever stand on furniture. When we were sleep training, he would station himself in the room with the squalling child. Whenever JB was playing or creeping on the ground, he would stretch out casually and “pass out” but he was always really closely paying attention.
Until JB learned to walk / run, he hovered. It wasn’t obvious until he relaxed his guard, seemingly telling us that he didn’t need to worry anymore because they were strong enough to cope without his constant nursemaiding. But he always cared about their well being. Woe unto anyone who scared his baby. He’d never picked a fight with any dog but when a small terrier jumped on JB and startled them into crying? Seamus dashed 50 meters to appear by their side ready to kick that dog’s butt. We had to talk fast, explaining that JB was unharmed, or he might have eaten that dog for supper. When they cried, real crying, not dramatic fake crying or tantrum crying, he would station himself nearby to keep them company. Even when walking was hard for him, even if they were so angry they didn’t want anyone around, he was always there for them. On his last day when they finally realized what his appointment meant for us, when they wailed out their grief, he wobbled over to check on them.
He always intervened when we were frazzled and disciplining too harshly – you’d find a gentle paw on your hand or your shoulder, and get a look. But he didn’t just tell us what to do as parents, he was also our hall monitor. When I worked from home, he was my work buddy. We’d sit on the rug together and he’d hog the space heater, leaning back on my legs. We’d sit like that until it was time for his walk. When Sera came along, the two of them would simultaneously loom on either side of my laptop when I lost track of time. On mornings I slacked off and ran errands before starting work, I heard my marching orders. He expected me at my desk and working before ten am and told me so in no uncertain yodels. No excuses, get to work!
It wasn’t just us, the world loved him on sight. We took him anywhere we could and he always collected a band of admirers, hoping to pet him. He welcomed it all with a tail wag and a grin. Children of all ages would come right up to our boy and ask to pet or hug him and he basked in their joy. When we took friends around town, he’d come along to soak up the adoration of the masses. He was a loving charmer, full of smiles and good cheer for anyone who needed it, and thrilled to meet a new face anytime.
He wasn’t just an attention sponge either. He could read people. He always knew if someone was scared or uncomfortable and he always gave them exactly what they needed to they needed to ease their fear. He was so good at this, he won over our friend who has been deathly afraid of dogs his entire life. Our friend is still afraid of dogs but Seamus? Seamus was invited to their home and hand fed treats by our friend who has never once petted a dog because he was so afraid of them. Seamus was magic on four paws.
I’d say he was brave but it may be more that he was fearless. There wasn’t a thing in all these years that unnerved or scared him. He strongly disapproved of certain things: rudeness, fireworks, and the postal service coming right up to put mail in slots (mailboxes were ok, mail slots were “trespassing”) but he wasn’t afraid of them. They simply did not meet his standards.
His favorite destination was the vet where he could meet all manner of new pets and people. To my embarrassment, in his later years, he would yodel-scold people if they were standing around not petting him. Worse, when I apologized and explained why he was yodeling at them, they would comply. I could only shake my head. There’s something about him.
Just last week he dug his geriatric heels in. COVID had stolen a year of his social life and he had had enough. On a walk on a rare sunny day when all the dogs were out for a walk, he demanded to meet at least one puppy before we went home.
He should have spent this last year sunbathing, being doted on by passersby, running his heart out, playing fetch. He loved us all but he felt the world constrict around him as the pandemic took away physical contact and his health began to fail.
Unfortunately, in the course of this past year, he suffered from more than a dozen UTIs, several eye ulcers (one severe enough I thought we’d lose the eye), hot spots as his allergies flared intermittently, urinary incontinence, hyperthyroidism, increasingly severe arthritis, advancing neurological weakness that severely affected his gait, and mysterious weight loss. We did every single thing we could to heal his hurts and manage his pain but inevitably, we reached a point where there was nothing left to add to his personal pharmacy. He had a complex sheaf of prescriptions rivalling that of any human senior citizen and it was painful watching him stumble and deteriorate. I’d give just about anything for a few more good years with this good boy, but for his sake, we finally had to make the decision to let him go with our love. I’ll never be ready to live without him. I’ve cried a river and my heart is shattered. But we couldn’t be selfish and keep hanging on for one more day.
“Why does he have to die?” asked JB. Why indeed. Of anyone, he deserved another decade of good hard running, fetch for days, and all the good food he could handle.
PiC often reminds us that when someone we love passes, they’re still in our hearts. JB on the first of many hard nights without our boy cried, “I don’t feel like he’s in my heart because he’s dead.” I feel the same way. There’s an enormous hole where Seamus was. We miss the sound of his footsteps. We catch ourselves reaching to refill his medicine, checking his water bowl, planning for his next every two hour outing. We miss his politely inquiring nose at the dinner table, nudging our elbows as he draws exactly level to the table top but never reaching higher. We miss his meander under the dining table to roll under the feet of the person he deemed worthy of petting him with their toes. We miss his popping up when the baby is crying to gently snuff the head and confirm it’s ok. We miss the weight of his butt resting on our laps as he backs up to share my lap with JB or Smol.
I keep expecting him to come open the bathroom door to tell me to hustle myself out to breakfast, or hear him tapping down the hall to fetch me to punt Sera off the bed he wanted, or to tattle that something wasn’t to his liking. I can’t shut my office door without half expecting him to shove it open because he likes keeping an eye on all his people. He didn’t like to be separated from us, so he always picked the spot that was equidistant from everyone to monitor. If that wasn’t possible, he’d go guard JB.
The nights may be the hardest. We can almost see him out of the corner of our eyes during the day as we keep busy, but at night, the silence weighs heavily.
We miss him so much.
It was an honor and a privilege to care for this giant among dogs, the best dog we have ever had the pleasure of knowing.