Losing a part of me

It was a very hard night last night. I suppose it started in the afternoon though.

First things first, I had breakfast with my boys. I followed my original plan and ordered the Peggy’s Poached with a second egg. It was only when my son the younger could not finish his meal that I strayed from the plan. I had another piece of toast with his eggs. He tried to give me his sausage link as well, but fortunately my son the older intervened, reminding him that I do not eat pork. Indeed, I would not have eaten that. There is a difference between eating too much of something that I am allowed to eat (both for my diet and for my religion) and eating something that is completely against one or the other of them.

When I left the restaurant, I had nearly 90-minutes before my scheduled haircut. I knew that if I went home, I would have to take Princess Sophie out… and then leave her again. Most of the time, she is saddest when I leave, but once I am gone, she spends her time relaxing. We have seen it in action… she lounges about quietly and comfortably, often for hours… but as soon as she sees my car pull in, it is showtime. She puts on an act as if she had been desperately crying the whole time I was gone. It was easier to just go straight to the barber and have a cigar outside while I waited patiently.

As it happens, yesterday was the day that I should have come home. For the first time since she came to Canada, and only the third time ever, Princess Sophie had an accident in the house. With dogs it is always difficult to tell if they are having soft stool because they are sick, or because they ate something that disagreed with them. I took her out immediately, and then came home to clean up the mess. For those of you who are wondering, this is where the hard night would begin… even though I did not know it at the time.

We went to bed at a reasonable hour, after a nice video date with the missus. She had been out a couple of times in the afternoon which is usually plenty for her… but she is a good girl who is very good about telling me when she really needs to go out, and so at 12:10am I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and took her out. There was more soft stool, but I would not really have qualified it as diarrhea.

When we came in, we went right back to bed. Only Her Floofness did not stay in bed. She jumped down within the next hour and did a lot of walking about the apartment. Twice I got out of bed to check on her, and to try to bring her back into bed. Both times she stayed for a few minutes, and then jumped back down. While she does this from time to time, I only really settle in when I know that she just decided to sleep on the couch, or in her bed. When she is walking about, I listen intently for signs of distress, and I cannot turn that off.

It was a little before 4:30am when she actually came into the bedroom to tell me she needed to go out again. If you want to know what an excellent communicator she is, she knows how to do this soundlessly. There is no barking about, but she makes herself clear… and I try to listen every time. As I was getting ready to take her out, I noticed she had another accident in the kitchen. I would clean that up when we got home again.

After that trip outside, we slept for three whole hours – the first sleep I got – before she told me once again at 7:30am that she needed to go out again. I was just hoping that when we came back in, I would be able to get a little more sleep. Once again, there was diarrhea, but when she was done, she saw her friend Charlie and was playful and frolicking like normal. This is usually a sign that yes, she is under the weather, but she is not sick… she just ate something she shouldn’t have. Charlie’s mom and I thought it might have been some of his puppy food, but apparently, she did not eat any yesterday. That she was not caught eating it does not mean that she did not, so we won’t know.

I did get nearly one more hour of sleep before she told me that she needed to go out once more. I suspect that this time, which produced only a miniscule amount of waste, would be the last time… unless she really is sick, at which point it will likely resume once she eats again. I am hoping that is not the case.

I did not try to go back to sleep again. By now it was 9:15am, and I am resigned to the fact that I had to get up and do my thing. I will try to get to bed early this evening so that I am not a complete zombie during class tomorrow. With that said, I will be keeping a close eye on my girl, and if she shows any signs of distress, I will take care of her.

The number on the scale this morning was extremely positive; it took five days to recover from that unfortunate spike, but my weight is back firmly into new-best territory, after a 1.6-pound drop from yesterday. I am not discounting the possibility that my interrupted sleep skewed the real numbers (that is a real thing), and I have to remember that the individual numbers are not as telling as the trend. With that said, down is down, and it always feels good. Knowing that I am now below the weight that I was the day my father passed away (which is essentially the day I stopped trying to lose weight on my last attempt) is nice. Knowing that I am still 20-pounds heavier than I was the day that I first heard the name of my wife gives me another goal to strive for.

The blister on my foot is worse than it was yesterday. Last night I removed the bandage and did not replace it. Had I known that between the time I did that, and the time I would sit down writing this with my second cup of coffee, that I would have put my sandals on four times to walk 2500 steps (with the leather strap of my sandal rubbing against the healing blister) then I would have replaced it immediately. I did replace it this morning of course, and I hope that I will feel fit enough to go for a good long walk this evening – my first in three days – without any discomfort. I might beat myself up for not taking care of myself, but I also have to remember that when I removed the dressing last night, I thought I had eight hours to let it breathe and heal. No.

It is looking like another beautiful day in Burlington, Ontario. The forecast reads sunny with a high of 33°C, which means it will be a perfect day to sit with a friend smoking a cigar. It has been more than two weeks since I have socialized with anyone. While I have enjoyed the solitude (and really needed it because of things that were going on), I am by nature a social being who enjoys seeing my friends. After lunch, Princess Sophie and I will head to Hamilton to spend the afternoon with Lyle and Dorothy. I am on the fence about taking her with me, but I would really like to keep an eye on her to make sure she really is feeling better.

Have a great day folks!