The Reaction to my Unauthorized Purchase

This is Part 2 of the previous posting from back on February 16, 2020. It’s about Gracie, our new puppy, coming into our lives.

Mary was in Massachusetts at a client site where they were facing a 6:00 p.m. deadline and I didn’t want to disturb her. That caused a dilemma. If I had left Gracie at the pet shop, she could have been sold before I got back.

If I wanted to put a hold on her so Mary could meet her, it would be a $400 deposit that would not be refunded if we didn’t buy her. Plus, the hold was only good for 24 hours. Mary wasn’t due back until late Wednesday night and the following day was the 4^th of July and the shop would be closed.

What could I do? I purchased Gracie without checking with my wife of 14 years. Her reaction? Well…we had always had this agreement that if either of us were considering making a purchase of higher than $50, we would have a conversation before making the purchase.

Obviously, Grace and her crate, crate pad, brush, toy, harness and dog food were more than $50. Oops!

When I finally reached Mary that night and told her my news, she didn’t take it well.

During the course of that phone conversation, Mary pointed out the following: we had agreed no additional dogs until we moved into a house; we could kiss the apartment deposit goodbye; we are on the third floor which doesn’t make for a quick pee exit; getting dressed in the middle of night and going out frequently in the dark won’t be fun; Fast Eddie, our 13-year-old Puggle was enjoying being an only dog, and if we were to go out of town, finding someone to take care of two dogs would be more of a challenge.

Adding to all this fun was that Mary’s 90-year-old stepmother was coming to visit us for a week. Mary felt having a new puppy in the house would make some challenges with what was supposed to be a nice visit. There were some challenges. I had my hands full, but we successfully got through the week.

After mentioning these during the phone conversation, Mary informed me she needed to go for a walk and would call me back later. I know she subsequently called one of our friends. They spoke for over 40 minutes and she talked Mary off the ledge.

To be honest, when Mary called me back later that night, I don’t remember the conversation at all, which shows how stressed I was regarding my own actions that caused this upheaval.

When Mary arrived home late on Wednesday of course she fell immediately in love with Gracie. Who wouldn’t? She was a 3.5 lbs. ball of fur and cute as a button.

Has Mary forgiven me? Yes, months have gone by. I know though that I lost her trust in me and that will take time to regain. Gracie has brought us so much laughter and joy, we are very blessed that she is in our lives.

Recently, I mentioned that Gracie as she has gotten older has turned into a spitfire and I questioned whether I made the right decision to bring her into our lives. Mary turned to me and said, “If I come home and find that you have given her away, I am divorcing you.”

Until the next time…

The Start of My Love Affair with Gracie

Here is my story about Gracie, a Sheltie puppy, who came into my life in July of 2019. I wasn’t planning on getting a puppy, But I’m getting ahead of myself. There is background you need to know first to enjoy this story.

I did not get my first dog until 2004. Her name was Chloe and I’ve written several stories of her on my blog. Along the way, Fast Eddie and Chancey, came into our lives, our gang of three. Years went by and in 2017 we lost both Chloe and Chancey. I’ve missed Chancey. My grief over Chloe’s passing never stopped.

In the fall of 2017, we made some major decisions about our lives. We put our house of 13 years on the market and started looking for housing and employment in New Hampshire. Things fell into place, we sold the house, found an apartment that welcomed Fast Eddie and moved north.

The apartment is wonderful. Plenty of space, two bathrooms (a requirement for two women) great views and wonderful neighbors. The only problem is that it’s on the third floor. There is an elevator, but it’s a little distance from our apartment. Next to our door, is a staircase that goes down to the area reserved for dogs which is what we use.

Mary and I had talked about getting another dog once we move to a house. We both agreed that living in an apartment was not the best environment for two dogs, especially if one was a puppy. We agreed no additions until we moved.

In June of 2019, my grieving process over Chloe’s death intensified. I would sit looking at pictures and videos of her. Of our three dogs, we rescued two of them, Chloe and Chancey. Fast Eddie was an Internet purchase, which much as we love Eddie, we would never do again. And I was vehement about never purchasing a dog from a pet shop.

Near us is a pet shop which I had only visited once during the first year of our living in the area. Whenever they had animals for sale, they would mention it on Facebook and would post a sign outside. They only sold small-sized dogs, French Bull Dogs, Pugs, Pomeranians and Shelties.  When they posted that there were puppies, I wouldn’t see the posting until days after the puppies went to their forever homes. Which didn’t matter because we weren’t getting a second dog.

This changed on July 2, 2019. I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw a posting for Sheltie puppies. The posting dropped at 1:30 p.m. which was only 15 minutes old. Interesting, but not enough to go over to see them.

I was exhausted and decided to take a nap. While I napped, I had a dream about Chloe. She let me know that she missed me as much as I was missing her. She also let me know it was time to let her go. And, it would be okay to bring another dog into my life.

I woke up around 2:45 p.m., feeling fuzzy and trying to understand what my dream meant to me. I knew I needed to go over to the pet shop to just “look” at the puppies. 

I got there at 3 p.m. and one of the females had already been sold. There were two females left in the litter of six which were born on a local farm. One was black and white and the other was tri-color brown. My idea of a Sheltie was a smaller version of Lassie (a collie that had her own TV show from 1954 to 1973). 

I picked up the mini-Lassie, held her upright and looked directly into her eyes. I said, “Hi Gracie.” While I was holding her, a woman came up said, “What a cutie, can I hold her?” I thought, what happens if she doesn’t give Gracie back to me? I said, “No.”

BIG PROBLEM. Mary was in Massachusetts at a client site where they were facing a 6:00 p.m. deadline and I couldn’t reach her. If I left Gracie at the shop, she could be sold before I got back. If I wanted to put a hold on her so Mary could meet her it would cost $400 and wouldn’t be refunded if we didn’t buy her. Plus, the hold was only good for 24 hours.  Mary wasn’t due back until late the next day, (she would arrive around 10:00 p.m.). The following was the 4^th of July and the shop was closed.

What could I do? I purchased Gracie without checking with my wife of 14 years. Her reaction? Well folks, that’s another story that you can read about next week.

Until next time…

The Burning Bush – Moses Wasn’t the Only One!

Back when I was a child (in the 60’s) I knew that smoking cigarettes wasn’t good for your health. I came up with that conclusion long before the Surgeon General did.

Both of my parents smoked, and I hated it. The whole house smelled – I could never get away from it. We lived on a military base where a carton of cigarettes which consisted of 10 packs, cost only $3. These days one pack costs between $6 to $8. 

When I was about 9, my best friend, Melissa, and I decided to try smoking. I managed to get the cigarettes from my parent’s stash and Melissa got the matches. We decided that the safest place to smoke was underneath a large bush behind her house. And, being in Nebraska, there weren’t that many trees.

Oh, I forgot to mention that Melissa’s father was the second highest ranking officer at the Air Force Base where we lived. They lived at the top of a hill that overlooked the entire base. 

I remember it was a lovely day with few clouds in the sky and zero wind. There we were under our bush…it took us many attempts and some near misses, but we got the match to light! 

We thought we were so cool. There we were coughing our lungs out when the wind whipped up out of nowhere. Not sure whose cigarette started it, but the bush caught on fire. Since we were on the only hill in the entire base, our little wiener roast did not go unnoticed.

Within minutes, the base Fire Department put it out with the M.P.s (military police) standing at the ready as backup. Shortly after that, Melissa’s father joined the group, so we decided to have a party. Not! But wishing it were so.

My father went ballistic, not because I tried smoking, but because I got caught doing so. He was an NCO (non-commissioned officer with the rank of Master Sergeant) and having his daughter being caught smoking with the daughter of the second highest ranking officer on the base…well, it did not end well. He got called out on that one. Really? Though he wasn’t the one that lit the cigarette that set the bush on fire, the military saw it that way.

See, smoking is dangerous to your health and I was one of the first to find that out!

Until the next time...

What Kind of Closet is This?

If asked what my dream house would look like, one of the very basic requirements would be a huge walk-in closet. I love to organize, and I like every piece of clothing, purses, scarves and shoes to have their very own cubbies. 

My last house in Virginia had such a closet. It had space for hanging clothes, shelves, a storage area, and next to that more space for hanging clothes. It was that area that I turned into a small private office. That was some closet! I loved hanging out in there. What privacy and solitude I experienced.

Up to that point in my life, I thought of closets as places to store things in and not a place to come out of. But come out I did, because at age 49, I realized I was gay and had been my entire life. It was a real shock to me since I had been dating since I was 19. Plus, I had two ex-husbands and was married at the time to future ex-husband number three.

Let me tell you, coming out in Northern Virginia was quite an experience. I had people tell me it was a phase that I would soon tire of and that I was acting out to get attention. And the way they described my coming out was, “Sharon? She changed horses in mid-stream.” or “Sharon’s going through a mid-life crisis, probably due to menopause.” Oh please! 

The reason I came out was because I finally met a person who treated me as the wonderful, loving, funny, attractive, creative creature that I was. She didn’t try to mold me into someone I wasn’t and she understood what made me tick. 

The men in my life were always demanding me to be someone I wasn’t. To them I wasn’t thin enough, attractive enough, well-educated enough and so forth. Also, I did not have breasts to their liking. All I ever wanted from a man was to be appreciated for who I was, and not for what they wanted me to be.

During my years married, I read a lot of romantic novels to keep me content and in my place. The plot line was always the same - the heroine would find a man who immensely annoyed her, but due to a maze of inspired-by-evil events, he rescues her. At the end of the story, he becomes her prince charming, and they live happily ever after. 

Unfortunately, in real life, as we all know, it isn’t that simple. The problem was I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t and never could be. Once I had that epiphany, my life changed for the better.

Being a Lesbian at any age isn’t easy nor is it without its trauma-filled moments. Try getting a divorce from a white male, and a Republican to boot in a Southern  state.  A big oops! One finds out very quickly who really are the open-minded liberals and also the ones who pretend to be….and never were.

Another one of life’s lessons learned: you fill up your closet with lots of stuff so one can hide from the world about who you really are. It gets so crowded in there that you need to come out, just to be able to breathe and be your true self.

What is Forgiveness & What is Trust?

Forgive – to cease to feel resentment

Trust – assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something

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Many years ago there was an incident that resulted in the two of us not being allowed to participate in any of Mary’s family gatherings. Being told that we couldn’t attend any events, made me a raging bitch because of how devastated Mary was. Due to my behavior, her family felt they had made the right decision.

Over the past several years, Mary has slowly rebuilt communications with her family. I have been very outspoken about my feelings on her mission to rebuild relations with them. I went from being appalled in her attempts to mend fences, to accepting that this is what Mary needs. Being an only child, I have no understanding of the desire to remain in contact with family or friends who have hurt you.

For years, Mary has told me that I should get over my anger and forgive those individuals involved. I have not been receptive to her advice. And, here’s why.

Due to my own long-running history, I have developed a serious trust issue with people that I’ve dealt with over the years. For example; friends, co-workers, health insurance companies, government and state agencies, and even the random stranger appearing out of nowhere, wanting to berate me.

The other day I was speaking to a friend about Mary’s wish that I forgive members of her family. The trust word came up and I had an epiphany. I could forgive them, but could I trust them? Could I ever get over the feeling that given the opportunity, they would throw me under a bus or stab me in the back? And, I felt I couldn’t.

That is until I went to a recent church service. The second reading from Galatians 5:1, 13-25 made me think about the situation I had created. “For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.”

I have found that forgiveness is necessary for me to move on and to continue my life journey. How I will forgive is now the question. 

Do I go directly to these individuals? Or do I write down my forgiveness, burn the paper, and send it out to the universe? 

Until the next time…

The Vultures Among Us...

My future ex-husband #3 and I had purchased a piece of property about an hour west of Washington, D.C. It was six acres of grass, woods and a dried-up creek. I would have preferred a creek with water running through it, but that wasn’t an option.

To get to our house, you had to drive over a one-lane bridge. I always liked that part because from a distance, I could see the tops of the trees on our property. That all changed one Fall day.

I looked up as I was crossing the bridge, and I saw many vultures flying over the treetops of our property. What the hell? In my lifetime, I had never personally seen one vulture, much less a whole flock. Oh, it gets even better. I made it around the bend and started up the driveway to our house. There was a vulture sitting on our mailbox! And, there were many more sitting on dozens of tree branches. I’m not good at guessing crowd sizes (kinda like Trump), but there had to be 30 to 50 of them, not including the ones circling over our property.

I didn’t have a clue as to why they were there and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know. I waited until future ex-husband #3 came home from work. He had no suggestions as to why this was happening. At least there were now two of us trying to figure out what was going on.

It was getting dark and we decided that it was the wrong time of the day to go looking for the cause. The next morning, we walked down to where they were roosting. It was scary. They just sat on the branches and just stared at us. Then we found the cause. There was a carcass of a deer laying near the creek. It had been picked clean. 

Okay folks, this posting is no longer about birds. It’s about the human vultures among us.

There are so many individuals in this world that are evil. We can’t hide from that. What happened in Charlottesville on August 12, 2017, is a moment in history in which a group of individuals showed their vulture nature. Unlike Trump’s view on this horrible event, there was only one side that was the root of this tragedy. It was the white nationalists. They were “the vultures.”

Humanity took a nose dive that day. We cannot remain silent to that event or any other in these past three years. We must rise above their mentality and bring back justice and freedom to our society.

Remember, we are all immigrants unless you are a Native American. I don’t know how to rid ourselves of these degenerates, but we need to come together as a consolidated group of Americans. Or what happened in Germany during World War II will repeat itself.

HOME OF THE FREE – BECAUSE OF THE BRAVE

We all need to become brave and raise our voices against a group of people who want all of us to lose our freedoms because we are minorities and immigrants.

What can we do? I don’t have that answer, but I do want to find a way to be heard. What about you?

Until the next time...

What Came First: Writer's Block or PTSD?

I have wanted to be published for many years. The problem was, I’d had writer’s block for over 36 of those years. Back when I was 17, I was a student in Mr. H’s English class at Lincoln East High School in Lincoln, Nebraska. He was also the coach for one of our athletic teams, but I don’t remember which one. 

One of our assignments was to describe something in vivid detail. For my story, I chose Toby, my mother’s Newfoundland dog. Well, Mr. H. used my work to point out that I anthropomorphized my character. And he did so with a relish. Though he didn’t name who the student was, he looked directly at me during his entire tirade.

To say I was humiliated was an understatement. It was bad enough that I tried to hide from everyone in a school where the population was over 2,000.  I especially tried to hide from the football and basketball teams. They loved to grab my books and throw them in the trash can on a regular basis, and that was minor compared to the other things that they succeeded in doing. 

That experience in Mr. H’s English class, caused me to slip even farther down the rabbit hole, which isn’t healthy, especially for a 17-year old with no viable-support system.

Flash forward, I am now 65-years old. As of today, there have been over 67,000 views on my blog! My plan is to post every Sunday between 2 p.m. and 11:59 p.m.

The very insecure little girl in me is so thrilled. I’ve had many readers’ mention how much they have enjoyed my postings and that they look forward to reading more! What do you think of that, Mr. H?

Until the next time...