Joy In A Box

As per my last post, things were not great. The orange idiot convinced 70,000,000 us citizens he was 

going to "Make America Great Again" again. *sighs* On top of that, I lost both fur babies. Then my

Dad died. I was not doing great, my friends. The grief was the worst of my life. I gained a ton of weight 

despite NOT eating. It took months for me to eat normally again. I miss Boo. I miss healthy, happy 

Boo. I miss silly, healthy Oswin. I got a new therapist & that went terribly. So I got another one.

 

 

 

I had been leisurely searching through the city pound pages, hoping that I would see "the" dog, but I 

 

realized I was looking for Leela. Another Leela. And I realized that was unrealistic. I had no idea who 

 

Leela was when I got her. She was a tiny, beautiful puppy. Barely old enough to eat solid food. I spent 

 

her first year at home. I trained her. I spent time I just don't have now, with her. Even if I found another 

 

pup, the outcome would not be the same. 

 

So, I kept looking. Hoping one would just drop in my lap & sure enough, not one, but seven did. 

 

 

 

Seven adorable, beautiful babies abandoned on the side of the road in a box. 

 

Seriously, what was I supposed to do?! Clearly, the universe knew I could never choose. So, T plucked 

 

one out of the box, we got the others to the shelter, another found a home before we got them in & that 

 

was that. All were taken to rescues due to the fact that the shelter was at capacity. Everyone found a 

 

a home. There's nothing that will fill you with a sense of urgency quite like seeing a tiny puppy head 

 

pop from a box that is just about to be turned over next to a busy road.  There was literally no thinking 

 

about what came next. We just knew we had to get those puppies somewhere safe. And we did. 

 

 Meet Parker. T named her after a character in the television show "Leverage". She was the runt of the 

 

litter. She weighed in at around 4 lbs. She loved to bite. We even wrote her a song about biting things. I 

 

may have to post it sometime. It was about how much she loved to bite. That was March 1st, 2025. The 

 

vet gave her a clean bill of health and we had another puppy. A wild, crazy, bitey puppy. OMG. Why 

 

did I do this again?! 

 

I forgot what a tiny puppy was like. It had been 17 years almost since I got Leela, and Oswin

 

was already a year old when we got her. Leela was the easiest puppy ever. Nothing like this little brat

 

from a box. Parker was non-food motivated and hated going to bed. The first three months were rough.  

 

The first six months we considered maybe we made a mistake. You know what though? The grief was 

 

gone. The deep grief. I still occasionally tear up & cry hard when I miss my Boo. Leela will always be 

 

my soul dog. Oswin will always be that little buddy. Terminally ill, yet gave her all. She made me laugh

 

every single day she was on this planet. It still haunts me a bit with her. The choice. She seemed so 

 

very alive. Complete renal failure was mere days away and there was nothing more we could do for

 

her, but you'd never have known it, if it weren't for the complete loss of bladder control. Silly girl to 

 

the end. Back to the new kid, though. This scruffy looking nerfherder of a pup.  Superman came out in 

 

July that same year (2025). T and I looked at each other during that first Krypto scene. OMG. It was 

 

the same dog. We had unknowingly found Krypto the superdog in that box.  

 

 

 

 It's been a year and three months now. She's still scruffy looking and a brat, but man, you couldn't have 

 

her for all the money in the world. She's so loving. Such a sweetheart. And so small! 17 lbs. That's it.

 

That's as big as she's going to get. Her non-food motivation turned out to be a medical issue. She has a 

 

chronic pancreas issue. She has to have a special diet and no fun foods. It sort of explains why this 

 

adorable puppies were abandoned in a box. They were probably breeder puppies that the breeder blood 

 

tested once they were of adoption age. Breeders will dump or euthanize puppies with any defects. 

 

Lucky for me, they opted for dumping them. It's a manageable issue, but you can't sell them for 

 

hundreds of dollars if they have issues.  People will sue your ass. I thank the universe every day that we

 

found her.  

 

 

So, Leela loved walks, Oswin loved ball. What does Parker love? Bye-bye rides.

 

The dog loves going places. Seeing things. Rides. Rides anywhere, anytime. 

 

She loves playing gloves. You put on a pair of gloves and she attacks you and tries

 

 pull the glove off. It came about because of her sharp little teeth as a baby and how bitey she was.

 

She loves rope tug. She loves grabbing one end of the rope & being dragged through soft grass. We call 

 

it "Snake in the grass". It's hilarious. She's hilarious. Dogs literally are the best things in the universe.

 

She doesn't howl like the other two did at the Saturday tornado sirens. I still howl. For them. 

 

Maybe one day she'll join me.

 

So yeah, I made it. Through the roughest, worst thing ever. For me anyway. We made it.

 

T & I both. I can't imagine going through anything like this alone. For those who have, I love you. I'm 

 

sorry.  I don't know how you did it. I hope you have joy now. I know I do. 

 

Thank you, Universe. Thanks Leela & Oswin. Thanks, T.  Thanks Parker. I'm glad you are here.  

 

 

 

Grief

 Grief.

No one can tell you anything helpful about it.

All I can tell you is that it's horrible and I want it to be over.

Apparently, grief doesn't work like that.

Especially for those of us on the autism spectrum, but it can be impossible for the strongest of us.

 I lost my babies. 

Both of them.

At the same time.

Nov. 8, 2024.

It has literally been the worst month of my entire life and that is saying something for those of you that know me & my history. 

And there are literally no helpful resources out there.

At all.

I can find a step by step on how to wax your balls but grief....

Yeah, nope.

And honestly, if you searched grief & ended up here, I'm probably not going to be a ton of help either.

What I can tell you is that you might reach a point where you think you are having a heart attack. Your chest will hurt so bad. Your stomach might hurt worse. You simultaneously feel nothing & the worst pain you have ever felt. And apparently, you throw up, or feel like you will, every time you try to eat, so you stop trying & consider the hospital.

I have two friends that are widows. WIDOWS! They lost their partners, who were two of the funniest humans I have ever encountered, and I cannot understand how they continue to function. They have immense fortitude. I also had no idea what was happening to them. I am sorry.

I...I do not have this fortitude that they possess.

Yes, these dogs were basically my children, but as an autistic person, they were so much more. Routine, structure, comfort & absolute unconditional love. They hugged, snuggled, & generally gave me a strong sense of purpose. Humans have never been touchy feel-y with me for the most part. Even when I so desperately wanted a hug. Dogs? Yeah, they know. They always know. Oswin wouldn't even let me cry. She would rush to my side & start licking tears & do something hilarious to make me laugh.

Leela. Leela was my heart. My soul dog. My adventure time buddy. She made me leave my comfort zone. She loved people. She loved walks. She loved everything & everyone. Except that Drake guy. She really did not like him.

They howled every Saturday at the sirens test, until Leela stopped due to age. Oswin picked up the slack & put her whole body into it to make up for the lack of Leela's strong voice. It was adorable.

An now...they are just gone. Poof! Just like that. My babies are gone.

I feel like I am carrying chains. Chains on my arms & chains on my legs. It's the weirdest sensation. Every time I stand up. There is a weight. Weights. I can't shake them.

I can't stop crying.

I'm still struggling to eat.

I've woken up in the night with panic attacks.

My anxiety is through the roof. 

Got some slight paranoia creeping in.

Insomnia.

Weird body aches & pains.

Cramps? Despite being menopausal.

My guts are a wreck.

I have zero motivation at work.

I don't even know what happened today. I went to work, I came home, I'm typing, I will probably go to bed by 9.

Coming home is the worst. Waking up is horrible. Dinner is terrible. Going outside is awful, being inside is just as awful. I want to move away from every one & every body I have ever known & live in a hobbit house in the forest alone until I die.

Leela was 17 & a quarter. Oswin was almost 13. I'm really struggling with Oswin. She was soooooo alive. Except she wasn't. Her kidney's were shutting down. The Cushing's disease was catching up. There was nothing we could do to stop it. Leela, my sweet, sweet Leela. She had just stopped. Stop waking up. Stopped eating. Stopped being part of the group.  Stopped absorbing her food properly when she did eat & lost control of her bowels. She was an easy decision. Well, lol, easier. Nothing about any of this was easy.

I called Oswin, Junior. She was born 4 days before me. Different years (Of course). She was my Junior Scorpio. I called Leela, Boo. Before Boo became a widely used word to mean someone you deeply care about. I called her Boo because we got her right before Halloween & she had coloring that sort of looked like a mask but she really ended up being my boo. My bestie. I would've died for her. I will never love another dog like I loved that dog. 

But I will love other dogs. Deeply.

I didn't expect to love Oswin as deeply. We had a rough start. She was 3 hours from being put down in the pen. She was saved by a rescue but bounced around quite a bit her first year of life  & from what we could tell, had been abused by a male. She really hated men.  Especially a certain type of male. And she wasn't keen on me at first, either. We were a little worried she wasn't going to work out that first year.

When T had her motorcycle accident, that little pup did such an excellent job of taking care of me & her sister. We bonded. And when T came home, she was fiercely protective of her Mom. She wouldn't let anyone near her Mom's leg. She made sure it was going to heal. She adjusted to the wheelchair & the walker &  everything that changed, so well. 

And now. They're gone.

I don't believe in an afterlife.

That's part of what makes this so hard. 

They're gone. That's it. The end. They lived, they loved, they died. 

I am still here. Alone. 

This grief has brought out interesting theories for me. It's very obvious now, why humans created gods. An afterlife of any sort. The reality that there is simply nothing after is an extremely heavy & impossible thing to deal with for a creature with such a strong sense of self. To know, or at least believe that when I die I cease in every aspect of who I am, was or would ever be. It just stops.  

It's hard.

I will never see them again. That was it. 

I knew that going in. I didn't know I would fall so deeply in love with them both. 

I understand now, that people do not recover from grief. They just move forward. One step at a time. 

Even if they believe in some sort of afterlife, very few people have NO doubts. 

I've only ever know one person who believed so strongly that when they're father passed they were not the least bit sad.

Honestly, it was fucking creepy. LOL.

So, yeah, this post is part of me dealing with this grief. 

Talking about it out loud. For me.

Maybe it helps you. Maybe it makes things worse & you get angry at this post. 

That's okay. Anger is part of grief, too.

If I'm wrong & there is something after, I am popping that son of a bitch right in the mouth.

Of course, the minute I see my babies, I'll forget about this anger.

Man, I hope I'm wrong. 

Hug your fur babies for me tonight, will ya?

Love them with all your might.

Nothing deserves it more. Dogs are a gift.

I can't wait to meet my new baby.

See who she is. What wonders she discovers. Will she howl at the sirens, too? Will she play ball in the hall on rainy days & drag me out of the house for walks every sunny day & eat snowballs & chase grasshoppers? I don't know. Maybe she'll do something completely unexpected & wonderful.

And that's the only thing getting me through right now. 

Hope.

Hope of a new life, with a new pup & new adventures. 

Until then, I guess I just have to keep trying. Because Leela & Oswin would want me to. I can't let them down. Even if they are nothing more than star stuff now.

I love you guys. 

I miss you immensely. 

I always will.

Getting Old is Weird

(Photo copyright Elsner '24)

50. No way. There's no way I could be 50.

I'm not, yet, but soon. Those around me getting younger & younger. Where are my other 50ers? Gen X badasses? They're missing. MIA. Not in the workforce. Everyone is older or, the majority in my work space, 20 years or more younger. 

Are that many of us dead?

Damn.

At this point, it's true. I know more dead people than alive people. My age. Weird.

50. Older than so many, & yet still, so young.