The Swell and the Swill of Life...
My sister-friend (as best friend is a demeaning term to the other "close-ones" in your circle) lost her license in the projects of New York the other day. This set into motion a terrible stream of events: panic, police reports, anxiety about theft identity and so forth.
The precinct she went to wasn't filled with the post- 9/11 heroes we all read about - it had the back at the desk, "punished cops." The ones who take glee in the small inkling of power they have over the misbegotten that walk through their doors. Though NO one was around the clerk/copper made my friend and her posse wait about an hour - then jump through hoops like some evil David Spade-ish character; including an attempt to get her to go to another precinct deeper into the depths of despair within the "hood."
Meanwhile, my friend's like an unknown saint sort. She works now as a clinic nurse - one of those souls who does good in the "rough part of town" for people who have no insurance so - apparently - they don't count. But, they do to her and her co-workers. Enough that she makes 1/2 the pay she's worth, and schlepps across town to do the work. This kid was even at ground zero on 9/11 working for 72 hours - just doing what she could; and being told not to tell the press they were finding no "civilians." A special person is what I'm saying. One that deserved a heaping helping of "karma."
Well, she called today. A guy in the projects found her ID at the deli she stops in once-in-a-while. He mailed it back. See, good things do happen. Poor doesn't mean bad. People are nice (for the most part). It's an Ebay state of mind. It really kinda made me think. Smile for a minute. Some stranger went through the "trouble" of sending her ID back - with a note. She in turn responded, with thanks and some money for the guy to get dinner on her. Decent and right.
Me? Oh - well, I am presently on the other end of the happy chain gang. A film noir is playing in my neck of the woods - emotionally at least. In fact, I'm pullin' a Judy tonight; pills and booze - in a "don't care state of mind," Joe & The Mescaleros a-blasting.
My 17 and 1/2 year old dog is in full-fledged "end stages." In a mostly traditional family-style manner (the PEI and Gypsy union DNA in me) I am literally self-medicating the "pain" away. Trust me - it's best for all around me...With the help of a valium, a 1/2 a percecet and the chasing down with some swill beer called...Sam Adams Light (yech) - I am, functional. Barely. But, at least the self-pity heave-crying has ceased (my neighbors really think I'm mad as a hatter) .
As for the "swill?" I drink Guiness. Well, when I'm out-n-about. A friend left these behind after an outing at the cemetery films of Hollywood Forever last Saturday eve. It was that or Vodka chasers - and I'm depressed not suicidal.
I watched The King of Comedy - which I finally found on tape at Eddie Brandts haven for filmaholics. I'd been saving it for the right moment - like a special bottle of wine one finds. Then, I broke open the Murder by Death film; both STILL hilarious. And, as hoped, both films (and I imagine the pill combo) took a bit of the edge off tomorrow's dreaded phone call.
I must call in the vet. It's time. I promised my little guy I wouldn't make him stick it out for my sake; the old operations, induced life-support etc etc. He's sad, and weak and starting to lose "control." He deserves better and - because he's canine - has the right to die with his dignity. I called last week to see if they'd come to the house. Linda McCartney always said don't eat meat - she had said an animal's last glimpse of life was the slaughter house and their sense of smell ignites the fear which fills their last moments, and muscles (which we then eat) with the fear endorphins. I figure, if Clyde's last minutes are in the cold room of the vet - which he hates to the point of frothing at the mouth for a check-up - then I've failed him. It's only money after all- they will come here. I keep running some twisted Mastercard commercial in my head, "Monogram dog dish $14.00....New rhinestone collar that matches his eyes $25.00...Home euthanisia....priceless." Hey! It's how I cope.
He will lay on me and I will hold him as he goes. EASY? No way. RIGHT? Absolutely.
And my vet-like friend says they give him a kind of valium/sleeping pill....Then an injection which stops his heart. Dear god. I keep hoping he'll "just go." But, I have to be a big brave soldier. He's had THE greatest life a puppy snagged from the depths of hell (the pound a day-before his time) could have hoped for. Hell he stayed in The Elvis Suite of The Westward Ho in Las Vegas! Trekked the Everglades. Ran with wild horses in Kentucky. Hiked to the Hollywood sign, had two cat wives, a brother who always shared his chewie toys, and a "mother" who fed him sauteed garlic shrimp - just 'cause it's his favorite. He even learned to say "I love you" in dog/human. He was spoiled each day he spent as my friend - I saw to that. Even when i was SUPER broke - they ate and I hit the oatmeal.
He's sound asleep now - for the time being peaceful. Snoring away... His brother Taylor (the poodle) is by his side...Checking and rechecking stressed - apparently also aware something's goin on.. It's all quite weird - this death decision thing. Maybe He'll bounce back? He's done that three times in three months. But, ya know...ya really do.
Well, this was a fun chat huh? I think I'll go see Wedding Crashers http://www.bluntreview.com/reviews/weddingcrashers.html again tomorrow night and cheer myself up. Unless they come to "get him" - then I plan on just unplugging the phone and disappearing a bit...