New Dog. Again.

Last Wednesday, Tanner and I stopped by the animal shelter “to look.” I think we both knew we were going to adopt that day. And we did.

The thing is, our criteria had slightly shifted. It’s very likely that parvo virus is still alive in our apartment, so we had to choose an adult dog. We picked up a two year old mixed terrier named Nana. She is the most timid animal I have ever seen. It’s going to be a huge challenge trying to teach her to live with people (house breaking, leash training, etc). Right now, she has just shifted from hiding place to hiding place.

Nana is an excerise in patience. Which is hard to two dog owners who only want to romp with her.

She likes underneath the table best.

Ser and Estar

My last post was pretty dreary to say the least. I thought I’d post an update so you all know I’m not living in constant misery.

Parks news article #1. We are still dogless. Animal Services put me in contact with a woman who rescues dog with Parvo. We’re hoping within our apartment’s weight limit will come our way via her.

Parks news article #2. Two days after I was fired from DG’s, I called Eric because he asked me to. I had no intention of asking for my job back. I called because I didn’t want to burn any bridges on my way out. When I called, before I said more than, “Hey Eric,” he told me he’d like to put me back on the schedule for Monday. We had a small talk and I asked him to please, please, tell me what I’m doing that bother him before he spontaneously terminates my employment. Most of my friends think I’m nuts for retruning.
I came back because making some money is better than making no money. I’ll just hang out making sandwiches until I hear back from some of the places I applied to.

I think they biggest thing I have taken away from this whole thing-having the carpet ripped out from underneath my feet-is the lesson God is constantly trying to teach me: Trust.  Sometimes, people who are secure in what they’ve built up for themselves need a trust lesson. How can I be getting what I need from God, when I think I can be fulfilled in “the world”?

I am learning the difference between joy and happiness. I knew the difference in my head but now I am learning it in my soul. Yeah, I am really, really unhappy right now. I work for a crazy old guy who can’t keep his pants up and refers to his employees as “whatchamacallit over there.” But there’s an attitude I can cling to. Nothing will fulfill me but Christ, and that is a powerful notion. Powerful enough to obliterate the dispair I feel when I consider my circumstances.
It makes me think of Spanish’s ser and estar. Ser, if I remember correctly, is concrete. I am a girl. I am American. Estar usually connotates some action or temporary state. I am in the computer lab. I feel hungry.
Estoy, I am unhappy.  Soy, I am in Christ.

It’s Been the Worst Day Since Yesterday

One of my favorite Flogging Molly songs, and what seems to be the theme of the week thus far.
Saturday is the day we brought Beans home. She seemed especially frail and nauseus, which I asssumed was due to her recent surgery. Sparing the gory details, she didn’t improve over the night. Tanner stayed up all night with her, trying to get her to eat and drink.

I had work the next morning, which was Super Bowl Sunday. A big deal in the sandwich business, which means that yes, we were mercilessly slaughtered. I don’t even remember all of what happened, it was that crazy. At one point, however, I was working on the flat grill and had all my orders set out, and a huge line of customers quickly formed. Eric was in the back, in his “office” working on some spreadsheets or something.
“Eric,” I call, “Can you hop on the register?”
“What?” he says.
“Can you take some orders?”
“Oh!” he jumps up, grabs the waist of his falling pants, and waddles to the register.
He helps one customer. Then, ignoring the rest, turns around to “help” me on the grill.
“Eric, I’ve got this,” I insist, “I really need you to take some orders.”
The man ignores me and sticks his bare hands (that just handled money) in a bag of frozen hashbrowns.
I insist again, “Eric, please, I really need you to take some orders.”
Everyone in line is looking peeved. He still mutters something to himself.
I am begging him now. In my head, I promised him everything. A pickle. A cookie. My tips. My paycheck. My firstborn. Just please, don’t touch the food.
He finally gives up “helping” and returns to the register.
This story is important later.

Toil, toil, endless sandwich related toil. Finally, it nears the four o’clock hour. Caroline and I are about to get off work for the day. My phone rings. It’s Tanner.
“Babe,” he says, “the dog hasn’t moved in the last three hours. Did you call the shelter already?”
“No,” I say, “I haven’t had a chance to.”
“She’s in really bad shape, her nose is all dry. I’ve been wetting it and her mouth for awhile, but I’m at work now. I really think it’s parvo.”
Silence.
“Babe?”
“I’m still here,” I say.
“I’m going to call the shelter, ‘k?”

Tanner calls back five minutes later. The shelter thinks it’s parvo too. I need to bring her in ASAP they say.
Caroline speeds me back to the apartment. I run inside and throw a towel inside my laundry basket and look for Beans. There she is, laying next to Tanner’s side of the bed. Drooling. Lying in her own bloody mess. The word “Parvo” in racketing around in my skull. I pick up her stiff body and wonder if she’s dead. Did I just touch a dead animal? I hold her body to my ear. Did I just put a dead animal to my ear? Tiny breaths. She’s breathing. I run to the car, laundry basket in hand.
Caroline puts the car into gear and speeds to Bataan Memorial. I crane my neck every thirty seconds to see if Beans is breathing. When we pull into the animal shelter, a tech is waiting for us. We have to take the back door, so as not to infect other healthy dogs. The tech goes in. A vet comes out. She is an Amazon of a woman. I keep on staring at the gap in between her two front teeth and her name tag. Melissa.
Melissa says this dog is in bad shape.
Melissa says they will treat her for parvo, but things look grim.
Melissa says that we, of course, can pick out another puppy, but should probably get an older dog because the parvo virus is in our apartment now.
Melissa took my dog and my laundry basket.
Caroline took me home.

The shelter called the next morning, to let me know they decided to euthanize.

Three days later, Tanner comes home early from DG’s. “We have to talk,” he says.
Eric pulled him aside when he arrived and told him that he wanted to “lay off” Tanner and me for awhile. He tells Tanner he’d like to keep him, but not his wife. Apparently, I used to be okay but now I boss him around too much. So I am fired. Tanner is fired by association. More than anything, I am so furious that Eric didn’t even have the nerve to call me and tell me that I no longer had a job. He can’t even afford that courtesy. He had to send Tanner like a messenger. And how do you lay someone off “for awhile”? We’re either fired or we’re not, we aren’t just going to hang in the balance until you decide we are worthy enough to make sandwiches.

I have been encouraged by Caroline to file for unemployment. My head is spinning so much I don’t even know where to start. Today I applied for a couple of jobs but am not feeling terribly optimistic about them. I am not feeling optimistic about much today.