Tiger Gate

February 19, 2010

I’m watching the Tiger Woods Press Conference on 2/19/2010, Here is what I see.

Blue curtain makes it look like a magic show.

Tiger is looking old, this has aged him. What girl would do him now?

On the verge of tears, tiger is a heck of an actor.

Tiger don’t read, it looks bad.

It went from an apology to a pitch for his foundation?

I feel like Tiger is making a speech in Basic Oral Communications 101. He’s on a routine of looking in the crowd.

No one cares if Elin hit you, in fact it’d be great if she did. Then that’d explain why you fled.

“Normal rules didn’t apply.” He just had an “I’m Keith Hernandez” moment.

He needs help, haha Sex Rehab, total joke.

Tiger’s a Buddhist? Obviously not if he craved the vag.

More treatment? What the hell? Dude how messed up are you?

Tiger went to treatment, left and now he is going back, does that mean he relapsed with a skank?

Tiger took full responsibiltiy, apologized, hugs his mom. Well done, that’s how you do it. But you don’t wait three months!!!!


Drive slow old man.

February 17, 2010

There’s been a heck of a lot of snow here in the Central PA region lately. We have 2 feet on the ground and another foot to foot and a half on the way in the next 48 hours. Having two feet of snow on the ground makes it hard to park in some parking lots as the snow has to go somewhere so it usually clogs up a few spaces.

One of my clients is in a medical facility, it’s a large mall of different medical suites for all sorts of needs. There are a lot of disabled people, older people, seniors, people with a general struggle in getting around. These people, along with the relative shrinking of the parking lot make it absolutely imperative that you watch your speed and where you are going when in this parking lot.

Today I was parked between two larger SUV’s. In my low profile VW, I couldn’t see behind or around me when backing out. I had to use the creep method. I began backing up slowly and tapping my brakes as to make it known I was backing up. The entrance to the center was about 100 feet from me right. I took about 15-20 seconds to get the rear end of my car out of my space, I looked and didn’t see anyone so I continued to go. Out of no where I hear this loud horn coming towards me. I hit the brakes so not to pull out anymore and this little Hyundai flies behind me not even slowing down. This guy had to be doing at least 30-40 mph.

I caught a glimpse of an older man driving. I was furious, what gives this guy the right to zoom through a medical parking lot at 30mph? And second, I was halfway out of my space before he even turned into the parking lot, there was no reason for him to keep flying by me and not hitting his brakes.

Me, being the brazen jerk that I am, I followed his car as he parked. I pulled behind him and rolled down my window, I didn’t swear, I didn’t yell, but I simply let the man know I was upset by his driving.

“You might want to slow down when driving through the parking lot, this is a doctor’s office and not a racetrack.”

“Huh?” he says.

“This isn’t a racetrack, slow down before you kill someone.”

“What are you talking about, I drive fine.”

“You flew by me in the parking lot of a doctor’s office, you could hit a car, God forbid a person.”

“Why don’t you mind your business?”

At this point I’m livid, first he buzzes my bumper then he talks smack to me. As he’s yelling at me his wife is struggling to get out of the car. I’d kept my composure so far, but it’s not me to be PC for too long.

“Look here old man, you probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel as it is, let alone speeding through parking lots, why don’t you slow the hell down and help your wife get out of the car.”

The old man stares at me, looks at his wife and gives me the finger. He’s crossed a line now. You see this particular medical complex is mostly cancer treatments and oncology specialists. I clear my throat.

“Headed to an appointment? I hope the news is bad, REAL bad! Shove that finger up your ass.”

I then slowly pull away saying, “15 mph is fine, who’s in a hurry?”

Do I feel bad? Sorta, the guy caught me off guard with that finger, and I just reacted. Do I wish bad things on his wife? No, only him. But with the way he’s speeding around parking lots, he’s gonna hurt someone.

Slow down old man, before you kill someone.


Chameleon Club can’t hide it’s true colors

January 16, 2010

I’m a fan of live music, I like going to concerts, shows etc. So when I was presented with the opportunity to see a friends band at a local club, I jumped at the chance. ‘Drop of Grey’ played its first show in a year on Friday at the chameleon club. The show was great, the band sounds like they haven’t missed a beat, but that’s not what I’m here to write about.

I hadn’t been to the Chameleon club in years. I actually can’t remember the last time I was there to be honest. My friends and I used to go all the time for 18+ nights and concerts and shows, it was the thing to do because you got drunk, and you got some live music. I remember specifically starting a tab, getting a few rounds of drinks, having a good time. I don’t remember some asshole owning the club however.

Last night my friends and I had to scrape together cash in order to get into the parking garage across the street from the club. I don’t carry cash, it’s not my style. I have a check card that runs directly to my bank account and I use that wherever I go. If I’m going somewhere that I’ll need cash like a casino, or a strip club, I’ll get cash before I go. But a bar that routinely has bands and shows and people, that’s been around forever and has recently renovated, I don’t take cash for that. It seems like the kind of place that would allow you to start a tab.

When we arrived on the second floor of the chameleon club, we saw everyone inside paying with cash for drinks, we thought this was odd. Asking the bartender we discovered we couldn’t start a tab. I had noticed an ATM machine on the first floor when we entered so I ran downstairs and went to swipe my card… Out of order. I went to go back upstairs and asked the bouncer what I could do, he mentioned that another ATM machine was on the second floor by the ladies room.

Walking back up the stairs and back the hallway to the ladies room, I went to swipe my card again, only to find… Out of Order. Ok, this sucks. Am I going to have to leave to get cash? What the hell kind of bar doesn’t let you run a tab? Isn’t that better for business when I can put some plastic down and let it ride?

We asked the bouncer again what we could do, he said, “Oh both of them are out, well talk to the owner he can get them refilled.” At this juncture he points to a 5′6″ dorky looking guy who resembles Dean Pritchard from “Old School.”

I walk over to the bar and track down the owner, here is what transpired:

Me: “Excuse me.”

Owner: “Yes?”

Me: “Hi, sorry, both of your ATM machines are out of order?”

Owner:”They are out of cash?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Owner: “Ok, well. just wait 10 minutes and they will get filled.”

Me:” Thanks, I don’t carry cash.”

Owner:”Oh that wasn’t very smart.”

Then he chuckled and walked away.

I can take this one of two ways, I can shut my trap and wait 10 minutes to get a drink, because I haven’t seen my friends band yet and I’d like to not get thrown out before they go on; or I can tell the Dean how I really feel. I chose option one, however; this is what was going through my mind.

Look here you slimy little prick, I don’t carry cash because it’s fuckin’ 2010 and the majority of businesses allow you to run a card for a tab. Little did I know that some asshole who think’s he is better than filling up his ATM machines before a God Damn show owns this place and would have some snide remark about me not carrying cash. I never carry cash, it’s petty to carry cash. I don’t know many people who DO carry cash simply because that shit is the nastiest germ ridden crap on the planet. It has even more bacteria on it than your damn uncleaned toilets.

So next time I come to your club, if I ever do decide to come to your club, if you still are in 1972 and won’t allow me to run a tab, and it just so happens that BOTH of your ATM machines are out of money, if I ask you to fill them nicely like I did, and if I tell you that, “I’m sorry, I don’t carry cash.” And you decide to get the balls to say to me “That’s not very smart.” I might let loose and call you a Prick, or an asshole, even if it gets me thrown out of your dingy little club.

It’s also not very smart to offend your customers so they never want to set foot in that dump establishment every again. I brought five total people to your club, we each spent $6 on tickets, as well as about $100 on drinks and tips. That’s $130 you may be alienating every time you open your smelly little mouth dickhead.

Eat shit!


Haiti

January 15, 2010

For those of us around the world fortunate enough to have electricity, internet, cable and clean running water, we take these things for granted. Haiti is not so lucky. Most Haitians survive on only two American dollars per day. The glass of milk and the toast with peanut butter I just ate cost me more than that. Haiti is a country in such poverty that they still rely on foreign aid for the majority of their food which is needed to survive.

And now an earthquake with a magnitude of 7.0 hit’s this Caribbean nation. Whether you believe the people of Haiti should just leave, or that they struck some deal with devil to escape the French, how can your heart not go out to these people? Some may not be able to afford to leave. We are not able to pick where we are born, and who our parents are, we should not punish these people for also not having that luxury.

You can help, but texting “Haiti” to 90999, $10 will be taken out of your phone bill and donated to the red cross in order to help the relief efforts in Haiti.

As for those right wing religious nuts who claim that Haiti made a deal with the devil to escape the French, what the hell is wrong with you? How can you justify the disasters which have hit this country because of an alleged deal with the devil? Did you know that at least 75% of the population of Haiti is Catholic? How about that deal with the devil now? What percentage of the population of Haiti that is alive now was around when this deal was struck? Five percent maybe? I’m not even sure, this is just a quick post to really bring to light the absurdity of these comments.

Oh and Rush Limbaugh shut your friggen trap. Obama is going to look like a savior for sending aid to Haiti? Really? So Bush didn’t look good just because he sent troops to the Middle East after 9/11. Maybe you think that tragedy happened at the perfect time for Bush. How can you listen to that filth, pandering to the idiots of the right. Now Obama will look good with the light skin and dark skin blacks. You racist piece of crap. Really? Even if that is a play on Senator Reid’s comments, how dare you?

The Haiti relief efforts are only going to be hindered by the idiotic comments of right wing nut bags who fear the bible over the truth. I have no problem with religion and I have no problem with good old fashion politics, but bringing race and religion into the reasons for disaster and the compassion for which follows it? How do you sleep at night?

I hope some day you are faced with a personal disaster, and that no one helps you because of the color of your skin, the side of the aisle you sit upon and the incorrigible rhetoric which you so blindly preach.


Spring Awakening

December 20, 2009

So with all the snow we’ve had in the last day, I figured we needed some good news. Well I found some. Spring Awakening is coming to the Hershey Theatre in January! I actually had a chance to see this musical a few years ago but was unable to make it, now that it’s coming local I’m no doubt going to go. Anyone want to go with me? We could get a big group and go? Anyhow, I found this this morning when I was surfing trying to stay warm. I also found a canned ad below from the site about the show. Check out the videos and the details on the theatre. Hope to see everyone there.

SPRING AWAKENING is coming to the Hershey Theatre Jan 5-10, 2010.  This  indie rock musical about three teenagers coming of age in oppressive 19th century Germany has swept almost every major theatre award out there, including the Tony for Best Musical and a Grammy to boot.  This is not your mama’s Broadway musical, with music by Duncan Sheik.  Check out these videos:

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=CA428DB8F69C4BA7

I’m going opening night and will post my thoughts, but you should get your tickets in advance.  Tickets start at only $25! here: http://www.hersheytheatre.com/performances_events/details.php?id=8952


Happy Holidays

December 18, 2009

This is not your typical happy holiday’s blog post. I do wish everyone happy holidays, just this means I’m cleaning out the notes on my iPhone with stuff that irks me. So enjoy the food, parties, people and the gifts, cause here is what is getting at me.

You ever see that Windows phone commercial? The one where the guy is in the meeting relaxing in his chair and Excel Icon is dancing outside the meeting room door waiting to get in. This commercial disturbs me. Why must you hide your icons under the table? Are they under there servicing you? I don’t think its a good idea to have tights adorn figures playing finger games under your desk, especially with you squirming all over the place like you are being satisfied.

There is a WebMD commercial that has all these people saying, “I looked up such and such, and webMD helped me out.” That’s great, I’m glad you figured out you have crabs, now you should probably see a real doctor in order to get a cream for that. A website can’t write you a prescription for your gout either. The commercial goes on to say, “I trust webMD because my doctor trusts webMD.” Really? Your doctor trusts webMD? If I was at my doctor and I saw that bastard peeking at the webMD site to diagnose my condition, I’d fight him first, then I’d get the hell out of there. If you are going to a place where your doctor trusts webMD, you are probably in Mexico, that or a free clinic in Chinatown. You shouldn’t be going to those sort of places for band aids let alone actual medical advice.

I never understood the idea behind a family four pack of anything. Aren’t you limiting your audience if you say, “Family Four Pack?” What if I don’t have a family? Can I still go? Isn’t that discrimination? I’m sorry you can’t/don’t have children, you can’t attend this event. I think we should do away with anything related to family four packs, unless it is Sesame Place, that’s ok then.

I shopped on black Friday, here are a few observations:

1. If someone is carrying a lot of bags and you aren’t carrying a lot, maybe you should move out of their way as a matter of societal expectations instead of making them shift their entire load out-of-the-way. Seems like that might work better.

2. If you start laughing and then coughing because you smoke too much, that might be a sign you need to quit smoking. Laughing at a joke should not be painful and should not make you cough up blood.

3. No I won’t save your spot in line while you smoke a cigarette, idiot.

4. Just because you and your friend are Puerto Rican and appear to be the only two spanish oriented people in the line, does not mean that you can yell at each other in spanish just because no one will understand. I speak a little bit of spanish, and no you couldn’t get me.

5. Black Friday = Lines. Deal with it or stay at home.

Why would you EVER use panelling in a home? I don’t understand the whole “wood” look in a room. If you are using panelling, we can tell it is not real wood if you didn’t spend the money. And why build a log cabin? Who are you Davey Crockett? It’s apparent that technology has advanced well beyond the log cabin design. I know you may be nostalgic for killing your dinner and sleeping on a burlap sack, but you might want to reconsider.


Winnie the Pooh not for you.

November 6, 2009

Winnie the Pooh is a cartoon character for children. He is meant to entertain children, he is meant to make them laugh, smile, maybe even teach them a lesson or two. He can adorn their clothing, blankets, pillows, etc.

Winnie the Pooh is not for adults, he is not meant to inspire or make adults laugh, he is not meant to adorn their clothing.

Last night while at the bar with some friends there was an adult woman wearing a winnie the pooh shirt. Why would she wear a winnie the pooh shirt to the bar? No children are allowed in the bar, no children were in this bar, why would you wear a winnie the pooh shirt to the bar?

She must have been retarded, a slow adult. Judging by her greasy hair, green teeth, huge gut, and child like attire, she was no doubt retarded.

Why would a slow adult be at the bar? Aren’t they lacking coordination and mental conditioning as it is?

Only children should wear winnie the pooh shirts… or slow adults.


My Best Friend

October 27, 2009

It’s no secret, I’m a dog lover. I’ve had dogs my entire life that I can remember. There may have been a year hiatus between when Crackers was put to sleep and when Kirby was adopted. Dogs sometimes just know things, speaking of which PJ dog must know I’m starting to write about her as she just placed her paw on my leg and is staring at me with her big brown eyes.

photoThis picture was taken a day ago when I was getting ready for work. The unwavering affection in her eyes, without even a whimper or a bark she lets me know, “I love you, thank you for saving me, thank you for rescuing me.”

I didn’t rescue PJ for the gratitude, I didn’t buy her because I felt I was doing something good and I wanted the credit for it. I rescued PJ because I’ve had dogs, I’ve seen that affection, that loyalty, that love. I wanted a dog as a companion and I got way more than that.

PJ is quite possibly the most affectionate dog in the world. When I leave my house in the morning, she sits there and stares at me, she turns her head to the side and her big brown eyes glisten as if she’s about to tear up. It takes everything I have to walk out that door.

As pathetic as it sounds, I leave music on when I’m gone to entertain her. I won’t leave the house without telling her I love her. If I’m going somewhere and it’s going to be dark before I return, I leave the dining room light on so she doesn’t have to sit in the dark by herself.

I don’t even have close to a real job. I can work from home most of my day. But for those four to five hours of the day I’m gone, if I’m gone more than that, I have someone walk her or pick her up. She could easily make it the entire day, but I just hate the feeling of her being alone.

I recently bought a house in Marietta. My first home, I’ve lived in a apartments and with my parents. People ask if I live alone, I tell them no. They ask who is my roomate, I tell them I don’t have a roommate, I live with my dog PJ. Most people just laugh, they don’t understand. But the dog lovers know, I truly don’t live alone.

Dogs are such a loyal animal, so loving and caring, they become part of your life just like a child. Some nights when I go to bed, I’ll tell PJ it’s bed time. I’ll go upstairs get ready to go to sleep, brush my teeth, set my alarm and the TV sleep timer. Most nights, PJ is waiting there at the end of the bed on her little pillow(yes she has her own pillow) and all is right with the world. I hop into the bed, tell pj good night and I fall asleep probably within 15 minutes.

But there are some nights, when PJ just decides, “I’m not going to bed right now, I feel like playing with my toys a little longer.” Those nights, I get ready for bed just the same way, I set my alarm, set the sleep timer, hop into bed… then I toss and turn, I can’t sleep. The sleep timer expires and I have to turn the tv back on.

There is a travelers insurance commercial where the dog has his favorite bone, he hides it a few places, he buries it, he puts it in a safe deposit box and he dreams about it. Finally he gets it insured by travelers and all is right with the world, see below.

So I’m watching that commercial and I’m thinking, “wow that’s a cute commercial.” As I look down, PJ is sitting there next to me with the same exact bone in her mouth, as if to say, “Can we get insurance on this?”

Dogs know, they know when you’re sad, or angry. I’ll yell at my laptop and pj will crawl over, put a paw on my leg and look up at me. Telling me, “Whatever is making you mad, I’ll listen to you.” I’ll sit there and talk right at her, and even though she has no idea what I’m saying, she tilts her head to look interested, then she’ll give me a few quick doggy kisses and everything will be ok. Today I went to visit my parents, they live only a mile away. The majority of the time I go there, I’ll take PJ with me and she will play with Kirby(16 years on Saturday the 31st and still kicking.) I didn’t take her today because it was just a quick trip and she HATES the car.

I get to my parents I’m cleaning up a small grill that I’m taking to a pearl jam concert tomorrow. I walk inside a few times, and back into the garage. I hear Kirby inside whining. My mom is inside, so she’s with him, he’s not alone, he sees me coming in and out and he’s whining. He’s expecting PJ to be with me. He misses his friend and wants to play with her. We promise Kirby she’ll be here tomorrow, so they can play. He opens his mouth, hangs his tongue out as if to smile and pants a little bit. You can tell he’s thinking, “But I wanna play now!”

The other week, I tortured myself by watching Marley & Me. Let me just say, I bawled like a baby. From the first time Marley had trouble walking up the steps until he was put down, my eyes were welled up with tears. I’d look at PJ and think, “I know you’re only five, but I have no idea how I’m going to take  it when this happens to us.” I love this dog. Pj watched the whole movie with me and we cuddled a bit afterwards.

How you could ever hurt one of this animals is way beyond me. That undying affection, the loyalty. No matter what kind of day I had, PJ is always waiting at the door to give me doggy kisses and I can’t wait for her to give them to me.

I love my dog.

PJ kisses


Game 163

October 7, 2009

In March 2002 the Minnesota Twins were one of two teams that were picked to be contracted, eliminated from Major League Baseball. Since then Minnesota has won 5 out of 7 division titles, had 2 Cy Young award winners, 1 MVP, 3 Batting Titles, and another possible MVP this year. They’ve had 4 consecutive seasons of 2 million + in attendance including 2.3 million this year. In 2010 they open brand new Target Field.

Almost eliminated from baseball, almost left for dead, players scattered among other teams, stadium abandoned… A city with one of the richest traditions in baseball history almost had their hearts ripped out by the greedy owners of baseball. Don’t forget 1987, they weren’t the favorites. In 1991 they went from worst to first to stun the Braves with 2 straight extra inning games to steal the title in possibly the greatest world series EVER.

Down 7 games on September 6th, the twins made an improbabe run of 16-4 to tie the division. With 4 games left the twins were 3 games behind the tigers, yet fought to force a tie breaker and game 163. Down 3-0 in the 3rd did the Twins give up? No. First and third with no outs in the top of the 9th did they give up? No. Down 5-4 in the 10th did the twins give up? No… They fought, they scraped, and Alexi Casilla who hits below the mendoza line hit a bloop single scoring Carlos Gomez in the bottom of the 12th to advance.

The Yankees may be the overwhelming favorites, and they deserve to be. They might have 103 wins and be 7-0 against Minnesota this season. But a billion dollars in contracts and an allstar at every position doesn’t mean you win every game.

That doesn’t sound like a team afraid of anything, contraction, seemingly insurmountable leads, players leaving for more money in larger markets, or 103 win fantasy teams. Go ahead and count them out, it’s what they want and they just might surprise you.

Go Twins!


All dogs go to heaven…

September 24, 2009

This post might be a little premature, but it’s been something that’s been resonating in my brain for quite some time. A dog’s life is something that’s quite like the elderly grand parent who’s accepted their better years are behind them and any day could be their last.

Everyone around them senses this feeling and feeds off of it, almost accepting the fact that life as they know it has come to an end, or will eventually. And when that day comes, we cry, we laugh, we gather around and celebrate their lives. Even with the overwhelming acceptance we’ve held for the previous days, months, years; it still hurts.

I’ve had three dogs in my life. The first was crackers, a stray my parents picked up around the time I was born. She was a collie and German Sheppard mixed, all white with a brown spot on her left hind leg and a pink nose. She was the sweetest dog; greeted you when you entered a room, slept at the end of the bed, didn’t have to go out too much, never really begged for food. As a child I was more concerned about friends, school, sports, etc, to really pay attention to the dog. She wasn’t mine per say, either. I loved crackers just the same, when she passed it was only a few weeks before my 13th birthday. We cried, she was cremated and now sits on top of my parents hutch.

We rescued Kirby from the Humane league in 1994. He was a 1o month old lab and border collie mixed. I remember when we picked him out, my mom put her fingers in his cage and he licked them, we knew he was the one. For those of you who know anything about border collies, they are extremely smart dogs, probably the smartest breed out there, they are also very hyper and very active. They love to run, they love to play. We did not know this.

The first night we had Kirby we didn’t have a crate, we had two baby gates stacked up on top of each other and kept him in a hall way, that was until he figured out how to jump over them. After purchasing a crate we thought the problem was solved until he was trained, but he figured out how to get out of that. It had three latches that slid behind bars, and another little turn key that wrapped around the bar and held it in place. Whether kirby was let out by someone or bashed his head against the crate until he escaped, we had no idea. Finally, a padlock was used. This was until the babysitter left it off, kirby escaped and decided to chew stuff meaningful to us. He chewed Kyle’s favorite Falcons hat and my sisters favorite barbie.

He knew what he was doing, he was no dummy. But we forgot about him trying to run, that was until he took off a couple times. He’d be laying in the middle of the living room, we’d open up the front door and before we could say hello, boom he was gone across the street and into the fields behind our development. We lived around a lot of farm land so as soon as he got off of our block it was all open space. Kirby was so fast, he’d get so far ahead of us that even if we ran full speed after him, he’d have time to squat and take a dump and we still wouldn’t catch him.

All he wanted to do was run, and after he got done and you were done chasing him or a neighboring farmer would catch him, he’d smile at you, tongue hanging out and walk home next to you. It was like, “ok guys that was fun, let’s go home.” He’d sometimes let you catch up to him, then as you stood face to face, he’d do this move where he’d duck his front shoulder down as if he was going to take off that way and then as soon as you froze or moved that direction, he would break your ankles and take off the other way.

I remember one time we chased him in a foot of snow, he was just this little black dot hundreds of feet ahead of us, the only reason we caught him was when he got caught in a snow drift.

My brother use to run football plays  in the back yard with the dog. Kirby would stand 4 feet behind him, my brother would yell  “hike” then all of a sudden kirby would run to the left or right and grab the nerf football. Hed take off to the end of the yard, stop, turn around and trot back. It was as if he knew it was football practice.

As kirby grew older, his back hips got bad. He started having trouble climbing the steps, or getting up on the couch to sleep. When my brother would leave, he’d cry and howl and whine. He’d take 2 minutes to walk up a flight of steps, but if you opened that back door he took two steps jumped off the first level of the deck to the second level, one bounce and was in the yard. You’d approach him and he’d still duck his shoulder, and run the other way.

Now, he sleeps all day, when he gets up he has trouble walking. It’s like he sleeps all day to avoid walking up and down the steps, but when he does get up, he can barely walk. He runs in the yard, his back legs move together as if they are one, he barks at whomever is out there and bumps into your legs cause he’s blind and has no idea you are actually there.

Kirby’s best days are when PJ is there. PJ is my 5-year-old lab mix, a ball full of energy and the sweetest dog you’ll meet. She’s the kind of dog that if someone broke in the house, she’d lick them and show them where all my cool stuff is. When PJ is there, Kirby runs, he jumps off the deck, he plays with PJ. We keep pj on a chain still, kirby knows exactly how long that chain is. He’ll sit there and bark at her as she runs towards him only to have the chain keep her away. Then he’ll trot around a little in front of her just to tease.

Kirby is now 15, he’ll be 16 at the end of November. It pains me to think that he might not make it through the end of the year. Dog’s are incredibly loyal, no matter what day I’ve had or what mood I’m in, Pj is waiting for me when I get  home. Her tail is wagging, her tongue is out, and she wants to jump up and give me a hug. She can’t wait to see me, she can’t wait for me to sit down at my laptop so she can sit next to me and stare at me as I work. Sometimes I eat lunch at my parents house, if kirby realizes I’m there he will come down sit on the couch next to me as I eat my lunch. As soon as I’m done and I clean my plate, he heads back up stairs. It’s as if he comes down to keep me company while I eat.

Whenever I’m home, PJ wants to spend all her time with me. She’ll grab a ball, bring it over to me and drop it next to my leg. Or she’ll get another toy and put it on the couch next to me so she can be right there while I work. At times I feel like I’m being watched, and I look over to see PJ’s big brown eyes starring at me. In the morning, when I get up, she doesn’t wait more than a minute to move into my spot in bed as if to keep it warm for me. Thinking, maybe he’ll come back and snuggle a little longer.

Dog’s are loyal, dogs are loving. They’ll forgive you when you’re mean, they’ll love you just for feeding them some bland food. They keep your bed warm, and there is never a shortage of doggy kisses.

Kirby is still alive, for how long I don’t know. I wish forever, it’s almost not fair that dog’s lives are so much shorter than humans. How is this animal who’s so loyal, so trusting, so trustworthy punished with such a short life.

For dogs, the pain isn’t as visible. Humans cry, complain, scream and talk about how much it hurts. A dog will limp a little bit, not be as energetic or just sleep all day. Sometimes it is nice, just because they aren’t bugging to go out all the time. But when I think about it, I’m going to miss him bugging me to go out, I’m going to miss his little duck and jive move, his dog hair everywhere. I’m going to miss his bark, and when he nudges your leg because you are paying too much attention to the TV instead of him.

And when I think about it, the more I hate myself for being a dog lover. Why get so attached to an animal that is unknowingly going to break your heart in a matter of years. It’s like any year after 10 is borrowed time almost.

When PJ turns 15 I’ll be 39. Hopefully old enough to understand more about death, pain, and more mature to handle the sadness. But right now, as kirby celebrates his 16th birthday, I’m not nearly able to handle it. This weekend I’m heading out-of-town and I’m dropping off PJ at my parents for the weekend. I think before I leave I’ll let them out to go for a run, so I can hear his bark, see his move, watch him play and leap off the deck. I don’t know when I’m going to be able to see it again, for the last time.

When Kirby actually does pass, I’ll write some more about  him… I hope I don’t have to do that for a while.