Poodle Promises

I met a 22-year old poodle this week, and he gave me hope.

Let me explain.

Benji

<—This is Benji. He was the first dog that was only mine. I adopted him when he was 6 months old, after he’d been abandoned and passed around so much that he became permanently scarred for life. I promised I would never abandon him, and I didn’t. After years of illness, he crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 16 1/2. I was heartbroken.

Six months after I lost Benji, I adopted Duncan. In some ways, Duncan has turned out to be more my soul dog than Benji ever was. Like me, he’s an introvert, an observer. He too was abandoned, found in an open field during a polar vortex winter. I adopted him a couple of months later, and I made him the same promise I made Benji: I will never abandon you. At the time, Duncan was almost completely shut down. It’s taken time, but finally, in the last few years, he’s started to show his personality. It turns out, he’s a funny little man.

When I adopted Duncan, I was still grieving Benji. Duncan was 7 1/2 when I got him, and I knew I would have fewer years with him than I had with Benji. So I asked Duncan to make me a promise: stay with me for 8 years.

Duncan

It’s a promise he seems to be keeping. Duncan is now 14. He’s in perfect health; the vet said he’s the healthiest 14-year-old she’s ever seen. In the back of my mind, though, I’ve known we’re approaching that eight year mark, that my time with him is likely winding down.

Enter Cooper, the 22-year-old poodle.

There’s no question Cooper is an old man. In fact, he’s the oldest living poodle I’ve ever met. He has clearly been loved and cared for, like Duncan is. And it hit me: if Cooper can live to be 22, so can Duncan.

So I came home after meeting Cooper the Elder and asked Duncan for a new promise: stay with me until you’re 22.

So far, he hasn’t said no.

Giving Thanks

It’s Thanksgiving day here in the United States, and as is my tradition, I’m making an inventory of what I’m grateful for.

This year, Twitter is at the top of my list. I joined Twitter eleven years ago. I had been working from home for a couple of years at that point, and I was eager for some “water cooler” conversation. I found so much more, though—a community and friendships that have helped me through difficult times. I don’t know what Twitter’s future holds, but I will always be grateful for the people I found there.

Whatever you are thankful for, and however you are spending today, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. Thank you for spending part of it here with me.

WANTED: One Time-Turner

Remember the time-turner in the Harry Potter stories? The one that Hermione used to double up on her classes? The one that she used to help save Buckbeak and Sirius Black?

I need one.

It doesn’t need to be new. I don’t even need to own it. Borrowing it for what’s left of the month of November would be enough. Because whoo, boy, is my plate overly full for the next few weeks.

First, I need someone to tell me how the heck we’re already in November. Shouldn’t it still be August? I swear I blinked, and the calendar pages just flew away.

Now I have two weeks to get about four weeks’ worth of tasks done. Some are work tasks, and boy, am I feeling the pressure there. I have manuscripts to review that are coming in faster than I can read them. I have templates I need to create so that the next set of manuscripts can be written. And I need to map out the curriculum for our next project before the end of the month, because we need to have the budget and pricing done by mid-December.

Then there are home tasks in preparation for my family’s arrival for the Thanksgiving holiday. Things like making sure I have enough seats for everyone (Spoiler: I don’t. Yet.) and making sure my dining table is cleared off so we have a place to eat (which means finding a place for all the random stuff that currently call my dining table home).

I’m also in the middle of redoing my home office. I switched jobs in September, and while I still work from home, I have found that the new job requires slightly different logistics than my previous one. So my home office is currently mid-rearrange while I wait for the furniture I ordered to arrive.

Plus there’s the usual time needed for the normal day-to-day stuff—cooking, cleaning, taking care of the dogs, writing, reading, walking, etc.

I feel like I need another 12 hours in a day.

So if you happen to have a lead on a time turner, please do let me know.

The Colors of the Season

Why I love autumn in a single picture:

A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That

What a month it's been. Some random samplings of what's being happening:

Deadbeat Client

This past spring, I finished a large project for a new client. Payment for that work was due at the beginning of June. As of this writing, I have yet to receive a penny. I spent a great deal of time and energy in June and July nagging the client for information and payment, networking with other freelancers in the same situation, and even consulting a lawyer about my legal options. It's been an emotionally draining experience and financially stressful. The client insists we will all get paid in full eventually, but I'm not planning on it. They haven't kept their word so far. Why would I believe them now? (And no, I will not be working for this client ever again.)

UPDATE (8/18): Miracle of miracles! I actually received a partial payment today from the Deadbeat Client. I've never rushed a check to the bank so fast in my life. Any bets on whether it bounces?

The Novel

In addition to participating in Authoress' July Secret Agent Contest, I took a query-writing class and wrote the query for my novel. I admit I did a little dance when the agent teaching the class commented that my query was "very strong." Thank you, LitReactor and Sarah LaPolla!

Then I tweaked the query based on Sarah's feedback, proofread and fixed up The Novel, and submitted it for this year's Pitch Wars competition. In this first round, entrants compete for a mentor--a published or about-to-be-published author who will guide them through revisions and polishing in preparation for Round 2 of the contest, in which entrants compete for the attention of literary agents.

Mentors will announce their selections on September 3rd. In the meantime, I am a bundle of nerves. Every time a mentor I submitted to posts a comment in Twitter, I wonder, "Is that my entry she's talking about?" And of course I answer yes every time, even though I have absolutely no idea. If this is what querying literary agents directly is going to be like, I'm going to need lots of chocolate to get through it.

The Dog

I also discovered that I may have been inadvertently poisoning my dog. I discovered that the treats I've been feeding Benji for the last year have an ingredient called propylene glycol, which is related to antifreeze and has been connected to health problems, including kidney failure. (Benji was diagnosed with kidney failure last September.) I have no proof that Benji's kidney failure is connected to the treats I gave him, but I'm sure giving him the treats haven't helped his condition. (I'm also a bit miffed that when the vet was asking me about possible causes, she never mentioned propylene glycol as a possibility, but that's just one of many reasons my next dog will be seeing a different vet.) So, poor Benji had to go treatless for one night after I threw out the treats I had in the pantry. I have since been on a quest to find treats that don't have propylene glycol. Sad to say, they are few and far between.

Benji's also declined a bit in the last couple of weeks. He's eating markedly less (about half of what he had been eating previously) and his activity interest has decreased as well. I'm not sure which is cause and which is effect, but either way, they are signs of declining health.

A Heartbreaking Goodbye

A few weeks ago, the shelter where I volunteer took in a yellow lab named Buddy. This is Buddy:

He's a lovable lug who came in with a host of medical problems. At 8 years old, he'd never seen a vet in his life. He had an ear infection, a urinary tract infection, and a back leg that could not support his weight. Despite the pain and discomfort that he had be in, his tail always wagged and he was always up for a cuddle. He won the hearts of everyone who met him. We treated his ear infection and UTI. We had him neutered. But his back leg never seemed to get better. Last week, the vet confirmed the worst possible diagnosis: cancer. It had spread too far to be treatable, so on Friday, Buddy was put to sleep.

I was in the grocery store when I got the news that Buddy had passed. I stood in the salsa aisle and cried. Buddy had wagged his tail until the end.