So Far, 2020 Is Going…

It’s a bit of a mixed bag, really.

The writing’s great, full steam ahead. The Moreva of Astoreth is with the betas–sent it a full 5 days ahead of schedule–and The Final Victim zipping along. I’m close to finishing it. If it’s not finished next week, it’ll definitely be finished the week after that ’cause I’ll be on vacation. I’m doing a video shoot for a friend. Advertising for her, exposure for me. Win-win.

I have to let my sweet, lovable Daisy Mae cross the Rainbow Bridge. What’s hard is she’s not sick. She’s got plenty of spirit. But her body is failing her. Her spine and hips have deteriorated even more since November. I have to help her up the stairs. I usually have to help her onto the bed. She collapses a lot. I can get her on her feet, but it’s so painful to watch. Tonight I let her out, and went to let her back in about 5 minutes later. I didn’t see her. I stepped out onto the porch and saw her on the ground, struggling to get up. She managed to do it before I got to her, and I helped her up the porch stairs. A couple of weeks ago, I had to go out and my housemate did, too. I was gone for about 2 hours, and got home before he did. Daisy wasn’t on the bed, which was unusual. I walked into my office and she was on the floor with this sad look on her face, in the same place where I’d left her. She hadn’t been able to get up. I’ve no idea how long she’d been lying there. I don’t want her to go. But I know she’s in pain, no matter how many pills I give her. That’s why I’m taking my little vacation, really. After she’s gone, I’ll be in no mood to write an article for the magazine. The fiction will help me through.

I’m going to miss the hell out of her.

Will I get another dog? Yes. Probably toward the end of the summer, early fall. But it won’t be a Great Dane. I’m no longer in good enough shape to handle a dog that size. I was researching dog breeds, someone that weighs 35-40 pounds max, someone I can pick up. After going through a couple of pages, I gave up. The only purebred I’m interested in is a Dane, and that’s not happening. So a mutt from the pound will do fine.

My heart started acting up. Doesn’t seem to be anything fatal, but I ended up in the ER over it. So my brain is whack, my eyes are whack, my heart is whack, my knees are whack, and my feet are whack. It’s like, “body, if you’re going to die, just die. I’m sick of this shit.” Got to ride in an ambulance, though. First time. You know, if you outfit that thing right, you could live in it. Make it into a funky RV.

Next month, the family is going to sit down and have The Talk. My parents will be 86 this year. It’s long past time, but I don’t want to do that, either. And May 17th marks 10 years since my sister died. It makes me sad. Our family was a 6-member monolith, and now it’s 5. Then it will be 4. Then 3. The monolith has fractured, and will continue to fracture, and there’s not a damned thing anybody can do about it. It’s kinda funny. I don’t want anyone in my family to die, but if given a chance, I’d check outta here in a New York minute.

In a week, my bed is going to feel awfully lonely.

Ciao.

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