For those of you that don’t know, I killed a helpless animal last night, and it’s having a lasting effect on my morale today. I don’t know who I’m angrier at – myself or the neglectful owner(s) – so I’m concentrating on nonsense until I find my balance once again.
Yesterday was an incredibly frustrating day. The construction guys never showed up (and I believe their were supposed to at least put a final coating on paint on my deck, but I could be mistaken as I knew they were juggling jobs and I was ok with having only part-time service for the next few days).
I spent HOURS, actual hours, on the phone with Stanford trying to arrange my liver clinic appointment (doubly frustrating, as my insurance ran out yesterday, and wasn’t resolved by their machinations for how to f-up making a simple doctor’s appointment while I still had coverage). So, as I wait to see what COBRA will mean to me in terms of coverage, I know that I’ll have a $830 minimum bill for the liver clinic if the new coverage isn’t accepted. Lovely.
As for Stanford, I think it’s ridiculous that their own people cannot access the online patient portal to see my records (or, allow me to send them copies of my report) as part of trying to book an appointment. Instead, I have spent the last 3+ weeks being bounced from person to person trying to get folks to answer the phone, and then – when they finally picked up the phone – spending another 45 fricken minutes on the phone with the clerk trying to prove that Stanford DID perform a CT scan in May.
That Stanford DID recommend a follow-up appointment with a specialist.
That my doctor DID send in the requested referral…
2+ wasted hours playing phone tag yesterday trying to get thru to them when I’m already tired and the heat is getting me down. It was NOT the way to have me be polite and patient when I finally got a clerk on the phone.
Then, I had to go back to the Post Office to pick up a package that they were too lazy, indifferent, overworked (whatever) to put into my oversized PO Box, or in one of their package lockers.
(I’m really starting to hate Amazon for taking up ALL priority and changing protocols on how everyone’s packages are handled).
I ended up writing them a firm but aggravated note on Wednesday night about their new practice of holding my packages, and had it out with the clerk and the Postmaster when I was in line for over 30 minutes (15 minutes after they’d closed for the evening), waiting to be helped. A hot August night was not fun for anyone yesterday.
So, to improve my attitude, I took my roomie to dinner and we sat around enjoying her A/C and Project Runway until about 11pm last night.
Had a good evening, ripping apart Project Runway candidates and their brain farts for good and awful designs, and found my balance once again. For anyone who follows Project Runway, you know how arch some of the precious designers can be.
This season, the Twins, Shawn (bald) and Claire (high pony tail), are getting on my radar for booting them off the show fast, as fast as possible, as they are wannabe’s *.
Anyway, we had a lovely evening slamming Shawn and Claire’s antics, and I was sad to see that Shawn had copied a design she’d done in an earlier show (even if I only have the earlier design to show here, as the images from last night’s show are not yet available):
(Last night’s episode, Season 16, Episode 3, had a pink pair of pants vs. the metallic shorts. I’m getting a 1-note feeling about Shawn’s designs, and the season has barely begun). So, it was an all around nice evening to improve my mood (as I was ready to take strips off of everyone before I’d had dinner – not a pretty sight).
However, the really sad part is that, on the way home, I hit and killed a dog.
A dog that I think I saw being dumped (along with another dog) from a mobile home on Wednesday evening.
My radar is usually pretty good for something being “off”. Last night’s heartbreaking situation falls right into that category.
There’s a part of the farm country where I live where there aren’t any street lights on a long and lonely stretch of road. Wednesday evening, or Tuesday, I was driving along this road at sunset and saw a mobile home / winnebago pull up on the side of the road, and two little fuzzballs of joy running out on the side of the road next to the winnie.
Giving them a quick glance while driving by, I saw two fuzzy butts appearing fairly clean and well-cared for, but no collars or leashes. My radar perked up with a vengeance that something was “off”.
While I was tempted to stop and make sure the dogs weren’t being dumped (people are HEARTLESS), I convinced myself that there was no way two tiny white terrier mixes would be left to fend for themselves on the side of the road, and I didn’t do what my heart told me to do – stop.
I didn’t take pictures of the mobile home’s license.
I just told myself that I was over-reacting and went on my way home. Because I was in a hurry. Because I prefer to believe in the goodness of people despite the evidence to the contrary.
However, driving home just before midnight last night on that same lonely stretch of road, I hit and killed a small white dog. Heartbreaking and totally unnecessary, if only I’d followed my instincts and stopped earlier in the week when I thought something was off-kilter.
So, I went back around to make sure whatever I hit was ok (it’s a jersey barrier divided road), and found this poor little fuzzybutt in the road. I wasn’t sure if it was still alive or not (it appeared to be breathing, but was most likely dead given the violence of the impact), but I wrapped it up in my blouse and put it in my car while I went from Vet to Vet until I could find a 24-hour location. I probably wasted a half an hour trying to find a vet that was open, and I will never know if I could have done more for that poor dog besides drive around trying to find help.
By the time I made it to the vet’s, the dog had passed.
There was no collar. No tags. No microchip.
It was not neglected nor did it appear mal-nourished, despite the signs of neglect for it being on the loose after midnight without ID or any way to let its owners know what had happened (in the event that they DIDN’T abandon their pet).
The poor little guy appeared to be less than a year old, as it didn’t yet have all of its adult teeth, and I will never forget it’s black button eyes staring at me, while marveling at the downy softness of it’s perked and pink little ears.
I’ve posted notices on Craigslist, Nextdoor and Facebook, and I hope word gets back to its owner if it was a beloved pet that had slipped out.
If it’s owner did, indeed, abandon it on the side of the road earlier this week, then I hope they rot in hell for what they may have done by abandoning two little bundles of joy in the middle of nowhere.
I’m hoping I’ll get out of my angry, off-kilter mood, but the events of last night are going to linger until I either hear from someone, or I’ve worked off my guilt and anger. I was clearly driving too fast to be unable to stop in time. Or, I was too slow on my reflexes to be safely driving at all. I don’t know what the proper answer is, but in 40+ years of driving, this is the first time this has happened.
I am so sorry for my part in ending the life of this poor puppy. I’ll be off-kilter for awhile until I manage to accept my guilt and shake off my anger. If you have a puppy or other pet, please do what you can to keep it safe. This so DID NOT have to happen last night.
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* My Wannabe radar is amazing, if I may say so myself. I had a huge fight with someone I considered a treasured friend in Junior High and High School (over 6+ years), as I disagreed with her design aesthetic for her art projects as it consisted of ripping off other’s work for inspiration.
Roger Dean was an amazing artist (he’s done album covers for rock groups like “Yes”, among other efforts). Anyway, it made me crazy to have her receive accolades on her art when it was a 100% knock-off of someone else’s work. She was a great copyist, I will absolutely agree to that, but she did not have her own vision and thus it was the same as if she was plagiarizing someone’s written work and passing it off as her own.
Anyway, I was too poor to go to college full time and thankful to finally be done with school so that I could get a real job and go to college at night. D, meanwhile, was in art college, fully paid up, because her alcoholic father was on disability for his car accidents (and at that time being a benefits recipient guaranteed tuition coverage for college).
While we remained friends during college, her dilettante tendencies got on my nerves. Especially when she was sucking the inspiration out of the heart and soul of others. (All things that remind me of the Twins, “Indeed”).
One incident, in particular, ruined our friendship (and impacted my relationship with mutual friends) because she’d determined that “Anne”, a fellow art student, was the love of her life. Suddenly, her “artsy” personality had her trying on the suit of a lesbian, and I wasn’t buying it. IMHO, it was just another faux effort to be seen as exciting and different, and I thought that Anne’s heart was going to be broken as D was clearly playing at being who Anne thought she was vs. actually being that person. I detest feet of clay personalities.
I also have amazing radar for faux personalities, possibly from being raised by a charismatic and functional alcoholic. But, that’s a story for another day.
Suffice it to say, flashing forward 30+ years since that time, D is now married with kids of her own and still playing at being an artist, while her hubby carries the banner and the burden for living in the real world and covering the real world bills. Sad. Sad, IMHO, because I think she’s still hiding from herself in faux personalities, and I miss the woman she had the potential to become if only she’d have been true to herself. Ethics and self-identity are terrible things to waste.