Job: An Extraordinary Companion

With apologies to my readers who have already seen this:

Job


December 1, 1992 – November 10, 2008

It was October of 1992 when Nancy lost her job due to a downsizing. In January, while she was still on severance, she caught a news broadcast that included a plea from the Capital Area Humane Society to help with their overcrowded shelter. One of the puppies highlighted on that show was Job.


She fell in love instantly with his eyebrows and him. As he gazed into the camera, it was clear he was scared and needed the right mommy. Because she was home all day and available for house-breaking, it was the perfect time to bring a new puppy into the family, and "Moe" as he was originally named seemed like the perfect pup. After all, in her youth Nancy had been owned by a fantastic kitty named Moe. Was it the first sign she recognized in her life? She wrote down his information so she could be sure to get him.

It was two days later before she and her (now ex-) husband could get to the Humane Society, and Nancy was afraid he would be gone, but he was still there. Anxious to get out of his cage, he dug at the bottom of it as soon as they walked around the corner, making it clear he felt the same connection she did, and he came home that night.

They named him Job because they were certain they saved him from a life of misery by bringing him out of the shelter. A few years later when he developed a flea allergy and lost all of his fur from the neck back, Nancy would joke she should have named him Lazarus because then she wouldn’t have had to worry about his being killed by a passing car. Besides, people hearing his name always then called him Joe; people seeing his name in print mispronounced it as well.

While the kitty they had wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of having a puppy around, she learned to appreciate the protection he offered her, and so began to enjoy playing with him in return. A few years later, they adopted a slightly physically-impaired adult dog, Unger, and the two of them became instant partners. Job would nap on the porch while Unger kept watch. If she saw something that might be construed as nefarious, she would give him some warning barks, and he would leap up and charge to it. He would then trot back, give her a nudge that would be a high-five if they could do that, and then lay back down to start the process again.

Job was there for Nancy through many trials. During the troubled times of her first marriage, he would not leave her side. He was always there to give a hug, to lean, to give a kiss. After the divorce, he protected her vigilantly when she lived alone. His elation whenever he was reunited with his mommy made her heart sing. It did not matter if it was 10 minutes to go get some Wendy’s take-out or 10 hours at work; to him any separation was inexcusable, and he would throw himself down and wriggle with “puppy joy” that she was back within his sights.

He reserved his opinion on Don joining the family until he was confident it was a good idea, but once he gave his heart, he gave it completely.
When Fred died, Job laid at Nancy’s feet to say his goodbyes. When Unger died, Job leaned against Nancy to quiet her tears. When Don died, Job would not leave her side, and showed his own mourning by sitting at the gate and waiting for him for hours on end.

While Nancy mourned Don, Job gave her a reason not to give up, and his unconditional love saved her from herself. Nancy knew that no one else could love Job as she did, and he needed her to stay healthy, to continue to work, to get up in the morning and put one foot in front of the other.

He was her rock, happy to jump in the car with her to go visit family or to stay home quietly and just ‘be’ together. As long as he could watch her, smile at her, cuddle with her, he was happy.

When Chris came to visit for the first time, he showed his approval with more puppy joy. When Chris brought the Four Southern Dogs to meet, he sniffed each one, pronounced them worthy, and began to show them how to enjoy a fenced-in yard. He showed them the best places to mark, and taught them to ‘run the border’ before coming in the house.

When Chris moved in, Job made it clear that regardless of the fact that two other men had lived with him, Chris was his only Daddy. From day one, Job gave Chris the same loving looks, followed him around the house, and was elated when Chris returned from any absence of any length.

In recent months, it was clear his health was deteriorating. In recent weeks, he slowed further, and on his last day, he made it clear that while he was not in pain, he was tired and ready to go to the Rainbow Bridge to wait with Fred and Unger. He slipped away quietly as the family was getting ready for bed.

He will be forever missed.

Some Pictures

Just some pictures from the honeymoon.

I can now say that I've hiked the (entire width of) The Appalachian Trail:















On Wednesday, it rained; it was lovely anyway:














On Thursday we hiked to Clingman's Dome. It's the highest peak in that part of the Smokies (for all I can remember, it could be all of TN, but no matter). We were way up there:

















It was so very very high, that you could see across multiple states on clear days. Here is the view north:
















You have to wonder. . .

This week

You’ve reached the blog of Natasha Fatale Badenov. I’m not available to post anything just now: I’m on my honeymoon.

I don’t expect to post anything substantial until after Columbus Day. For now, I leave you with this:

















(thanks, P!)

I'll post more as they are processed and sent along.

Expressions

A fellow widow's post on her nomadic blog got me thinking about this blog, expressing opinions, and such. Let me preface the rest of this with this sentiment: I don't like fighting, no matter how you wrap it up and label it.

I don't like debate.

I don't like screaming and yelling.

I don't like name calling.

I find all of those things childish, and I find the people who thrive on arguing and fighting tiresome.

Like everyone else, I do get passionate and/or angry over events or situations or things people say. Because this place was very private (1), it was here that I used to post private thoughts on which I knew the people around me would disagree with me.

So I felt comfortable a while back when I wrote a post that expressed my anger over something someone had said. I was surprised when someone else - one of my “friends” who read here apparently and who should then have known me well enough to know that I don't like fighting (or at least figured out that I’m smart enough to have posted it where I didn’t think she would see it for a reason) – directed her here to read it. She subsequently jumped all over me via PM on the Internet board we shared, and included the phrase, "I remember when we used to be friends."

See, that's EXACTLY why I don't like fighting. Natasha says, "I'm more angry than I've been since the anger phase of Don’s death, f**k you, how dare you say things that undo my understanding of my adulthood." In return I get, "fine: you're angry at me so we will never again be friends."

Other people are allowed to confront and name call and yell, and when the firestorm of emotions subsides, they can make up. Me? I yell and vent here under the assumption that she would not see it, and I still got attacked. I posted it HERE and not on the board we shared because primarily I saw no good coming from her know how I felt and assumed I would get an attack back if she saw it. On that board, there is plenty of petty bickering (2). There is no way I could ever change her mind on this topic, even using the same logic back she has used to explain her point: Her: "there is evidence that it isn't, so I say it's not." Me: "there is evidence that says it IS, and I say it is." Her: "You're not a scientist, so you don't understand these things like I do."

Anyway, the bottom line is that I’m not allowed to express anger without losing relationships. While certainly this is the Internet and I have posted this URL (see Footnote #1 for why I did that), I did think it was fairly private. I mean seriously? Look at the number of comments I get. I guess I just don’t have anything worth saying. Blogs I read get double-digit replies. The most I’ve ever gotten is 5.

So I think that’s what I’m coming back to:

My writing isn’t worth the electrons it takes to post it.

Edited to add the footnotes that didn't transfer from my Word draft:

1. Even now the feed shows that only 5 people subscribe (and I suspect most of those folks are not regular blog readers); my traffic reports show very few people actually hit it on a regular basis (and frankly, I don't believe the numbers are even that high. They're too constant from one report to the next report. For those reasons, I know my readership is low. Does that bother me? Well, yeah. I would like to be a writer, but if I can’t sustain a readership here, there’s no reason to continue to harbor that dream, and every reason to abandon it. Now. Before I get my hopes up.

2. The petty bickering is one of the main reasons I don’t bother to post there any longer. The other main reason is not something I'm willing to share publicly, but know that it has nothing to do with my upcoming remarriage.

Rhetoric

Like everyone, I have received quite a few emails lately regarding the election. What I hate about all of them is regardless of who wrote it, you can tell within the first paragraph how they lean.

It irritates me greatly because there has been one in particular where the message is so very important that I would like to share it with folks who are on the other side of the aisle from me. However, I won’t. I think it is too easy to simply dismiss the message because the unnecessary introduction means it’s very easy to simply write it off with a mental eye-roll of, “here we go again.”

Why? If your message is that powerful, why is it necessary to wrap it in rhetoric that turns off the folks who most need to read it?

I know I’m naïve and I know I’m in the minority because I don’t like arguing, but I also know I’m not the only one who gets tired of all of this.

This won’t change anyone’s mind on how they write, and I know it. Acutally, I would fight for their right to speak how they want to speak. But it’s how I’m feeling right now, and I'm disgusted by it because I find it childishly tiresome.

I’ve decided while writing this to post the link to the article. You can find it here.

October 4, 2008

October 4, 2008 is 11 days away.

EEEEEK!

Two Important Reads

Tim Wise is "among the most prominent anti-racist writers and activists in the U.S., and has been called, "One of the most brilliant, articulate and courageous critics of white privilege in the nation," by best-selling author and professor Michael Eric Dyson, of Georgetown University. Wise has spoken in 48 states, and on over 400 college campuses, including Harvard, Stanford, and the Law Schools at Yale and Columbia, and has spoken to community groups around the nation."

He has written two pieces recently that I consider quite important. If you care about America, please read them with an open mind.

The first has political overtones, but if you read it and then the second, you will understand that Mr. Wise is only continuing the discussion that is his career.

Oh, and by the way? Before you dismiss either of these as having been written by an Angry Black Man, this is Tim Wise's picture:

And now the links:

The first:
This is Your Nation on White Privilege

The second:
Explaining White Privilege (Or, Your Defense Mechanism is Showing)

I guess "enjoy" isn't the correct term, so how about, "happy thinking."