Tag Archives: Losing a Loved One

Victor and Kristofer fell asleep on the couch with KC our spaniel, 2 weeks before the accident

Victor and Kristofer fell asleep on the couch with KC our spaniel, 2 weeks before the accident

We were at VGH in 20 minutes; we went through every intersection with lights and sirens going, every time he put on the sirens he warned me, I felt very much like Victor and I were in capable hands.

We talked a bit on the way down about how Victor and I had just had a baby who was only 6 weeks old. I remember we were laughing about something.

When we got to the hospital he told me to wait for him he’d be right back. When he came back he told me to stick close to him. They unloaded Victor and all of a sudden there was a flurry of activity (just like on medical shows like ER) doctors and nurses every where and they whisked Victor down a hallway, I stuck beside my ambulance attendant and a nurse tried to block my way. “You can’t come in here. You’ll have to wait out there.” The ambulance attendant said, “This is his wife, she’s ok” the nurse gave him a look that said, “You know it’s against the rules” or maybe more like “I don’t need an hysterical wife on my hands”; and he took her aside. I couldn’t hear what he said but she let me through until we got to another area and then he said I’d have to stay there; someone would get me after they admitted Victor and examined him. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that ambulance attendant paved the way for me and opened doors usually closed to the family of patients in the trauma unit; he gave me credibility.

It was hours before I got to talk to any of the doctors but finally they called me into a little room (they have these little almost cubicles with a door on them to give privacy, that is where they usually give you the bad news) inside the trauma unit. The prognosis sounded pretty good, they said that his physical condition was a big plus in his favor. He had been going to the gym regularly and was in good shape, and weighed almost 200 lbs and they said that was really going to help in his recovery.

They said that barring him getting an infection they didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be out within a week or so and go into a ward. They said that the key was getting him out of there within 10 days; that every day past 10 days in the trauma unit his odds of surviving dropped drastically.

I was very niave and had no idea what an infection meant or how life threatening an infection can be.

I was taken in to see him and was shocked by what I saw when I walked through the double doors of the trauma unit. In every sense of the word it was a MASH unit, it was a huge sterile room, to the right was the nurses station and on three sides were patients, only a few feet apart, all hooked up to monitors, and respirators, there was a constant beep, beep, beep, coming from each bed, and whoosh of air for each respirator. All the patients were naked except for a small white hand towel covering their private parts, there were curtains to go around each bed but every one was pulled back. I tried not to look at the other people, wanting to give them their privacy and afraid of what I might see. (I was told the trauma unit was designed after an army medical MASH unit because it was the most efficient and successful way of dealing with severly injured people. They said the first hour after a traumatic injury was crucial to whether a person survived or not.) I hated hospitals at the best of times and usually cried just entering one; this was testing me big time.

They took me to Victor and he basically looked the same, without blankets covering him I could see the tire tread marks across his abdomen. They said they had given him something for pain so he was groggy but they said he had quite the personality and with his attitude he should have a speedy recovery. Figures, he had won them over within the first few hours, typical of Victor and my spirits were uplifted.

“Hey, sunshine, how are you doing? I’ve been waiting to see you a long time; do you know where you are sweetie?”

He shook his head. “You had a motorcycle accident, you are in VGH, but you’re going to be ok.” When I said motorcycle accident he looked surprised, he was trying to talk but the breathing tube down his throat stopped him, he tried writing on a chalk board but was too groggy. “it’s Ok honey, just rest; I’ll be here when you wake up”.

They told me that they were going to set his pelvis the next day and they were also going to remove his gall bladder and spleen because they were too damaged.

To be totally honest I don’t recall what happened next or in what order things happened, I only know things went downhill fast and furiously.

I am sure it was because of the ambulance attendant saying something to the nurses when I arrived but I was given preferential treatment right from the start, where as other families would have to wait for hours in the waiting room and only be allowed in for certain times and length of time I was allowed in 24/7 for as long as I wanted.

Victor took a turn for the worst and my mom ended up getting a hotel for her and I for two days; I had slept in the hospital for a couple of nights. I didn’t see Kris for almost a week when I finally was able to go home.

My best girlfriend Teri took it upon herself to organize baby sitting for Kristofer and when I got home she handed me a list of who was taking him on what days; what a saint she was. She was a single mom and paid our mortgage one month too and she also found someone who donated to us a beautiful crib and baby clothes, he was the best dressed baby for the 1st 2 years of his life, whoever donated the clothes must have had money, I had never seen such beautiful baby outfits.

My dad took care of Kris when he wasn’t working, he just couldn’t stand seeing Victor that way, he had a very hard time dealing with the accident. My dad was a tough prison guard who’d seen it all and I’d never seen him like that. He thought he was better off taking care of Kris which was great because at least he was with family.

The hospital guaranteed me that they could keep Victor alive for 3 hours; meaning I had time to get home and back to the hospital. Some times they couldn’t guarantee me that and it was on those days I stayed at the hospital until they could get him stable enough for me to leave. Of course this was before cell phones and it was an hour and half home if traffic was good.

I always stayed amazingly calm, I don’t think I ever cried in there, my parents pointed out that I had developed a habit of twisting a piece of my hair around and around my finger, but I never let my emotions show. I think I was afraid if I did I would lose control and they wouldn’t allow me the access I had.

Some of the nurses told me I should be home with my baby that Victor didn’t know I was there anyway. I figured I had a life time with Kristofer and maybe only hours with Victor, the father of my baby; Victor needed me now and Kristofer was going to need his daddy. They insisted he didn’t know I was there, but I knew he knew. I would sit beside his bed and talk to him about all the things we would do when he got well, how we would take Kristofer fishing, and we’d get Victor workout stuff for at home, I would ramble on and on about anything I thought would give him hope.

I brought in his pillow from home and pictures of me and Kris and Kris with his daddy and taped them to the pole that went the length of his bed; as much for the nursing staff as for Victor. I wanted them to know the person; that this wasn’t just another patient, another piece of meat laying naked on a gurney, this man was a daddy, my husband, a good person that had to live and go home to his family. I really started something, before I knew it other patients had cards, pictures and such taped to their beds also.

They started alternating Victor’s nurses often because some of the nurses got too emotionally attached and they were afraid they wouldn’t do their job effectively. I was afraid there wasn’t enough consistency in care that way, sure they had his chart but they wouldn’t have the hands on experience of caring for him day to day so I started keeping track of his blood count, temperature, and heart rate so I could tell if an infection was brewing.

I had started a journal after the first week he was in the hospital because I wanted to keep it for Victor to read so he wouldn’t miss any part of Kristofer’s life.

The journal became so much more than I had initially anticipated it would be. I would keep track of my weight (even at times like this my weight was a major concern for me), I kept track of Victor’s vital signs and what was happening with him day to day, I wrote about Kristofer and any little thing that happened with him each day, I started to keep track of how much wine I was drinking because I thought I was developing a problem, and it was my sounding board, it was where I poured out my heart, my fears and anger.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

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The Phone Call That Changed It All.

That is the face of my sweet 6 week old baby boy

That is the face of my sweet 6 week old baby boy

Victor and I just after we got married preparing for a 25th anniversay party for my parents.

Victor and I just after we got married preparing for a 25th anniversay party for my parents.

“There must be some mistake.”

“Have the police not called you Mrs. Ouellette?”

“No! No one called me except the hospital to say my husband had been admitted.”

“Well, I can’t tell you much more than that myself, he is pretty bad.”

“How bad? Surgery for what? Can’t you tell me anything?”

“Mrs. Ouellette, he has lost a lot of blood, he has major trauma to most of his body, they are taking him to surgery to try to stabilize him and find out the extent of his injuries. Mrs. Ouellette, do you have someone who can come and be with you right now?”

“No, I am coming, I’ll be there.”

“He is going to be in surgery a long time, if he survives surgery; why don’t you come in the morning?”

I hung up; did she really think I could just sit at home and wait to see if he survived surgery?

I couldn’t breath; I was walking around the house in a daze wondering what I do next, get the baby up? What will I do with a new born baby at the hospital? Why was Victor in Abbotsford? Where is my dad? I was shaking so badly it took me 4 tries to get my mom and dad’s number right and when I did the line was busy. I was pacing, crying, I just kept thinking No, it must be a mistake, it has to be a mistake. Finally my mom’s line was free and it only rang once, “Mom? Has dad called you?”

“Carrie, I just got off the phone with your dad, your brother is on his way to get you now, I’ve talked to Roy and Barb (my mom and dad’s neighbors They had been so supportive when I was pregnant the first time and now after having Kris they were so happy for me) and they are up and ready to take Kristofer.”

“It will be faster if I just drive there”

“Carrie, you are in no shape to drive, Mark is on his way, just get Kristofer ready to go, throw some diapers and formula in a bag and Mark will be there in 10 minutes.” My mind was racing as I threw formula, bottles, diapers and a few pairs of sleepers and t-shirts in Kristofer’s diaper bag then I went in to get Kristofer. I watched him sleeping, sucking his thumb. He was born sucking his thumb; he had even been sucking it when they did the ultrasound. He looked so peaceful, I hated to wake him but he snuggled into my neck when I picked him up and wrapped him in a warm blanket, I just kept thinking “No, there has to be some mistake, my dad would have called me if Victor was in an accident.”

Barb and Roy were up and waiting for Kristofer, they said not to worry they would keep him as long as necessary and I handed them my sleeping sweetheart. God how I hated to leave him; but I told myself I wouldn’t be long; it would only be until morning, then we’d get Victor transferred to Chilliwack hospital so he’d be closer.

Mom was ready to go and Mark drove the three of us to the hospital.

Me: “Why didn’t dad call sooner? Did he say what happened?”

Mom: “He sounded like he was in shock when I was talking to him, he thought he was calling you when he called the house and I had a hard time getting anything out of him. He is a real mess from the sounds of it over the phone.”

Me: “Were they all in an accident? Where’s Ken, are they both at the hospital?”

“Your dad said he’d meet us there, I don’t know if Ken is still there or not.”

When we got to the hospital my dad and Ken were sitting in the waiting room and both looked white and traumatized.

I asked what happened and they said they had gone to the Holy Smoke Pub; (a popular hang out for bikers in an old church) shot some pool and decided to eat some supper before heading home. Dad said he didn’t think Victor drank that much.

When they got to the border Victor was in front and cleared first, he yelled something about “See you guys at home.” And he laid on the throttle and disappeared. Ken was next to clear and then my dad bringing up the rear. Ken was a fair amount ahead of my dad but hadn’t caught sight of Victor yet when he heard a horrible grinding of metal and sparks lit up the sky in front of him. Ken rushed to the freeway and was confused by what he saw, Victor would have been heading east to go home but the accident was obviously in the west bound lanes, there was a big old Parissiene parked off to the side with a woman getting out of it but no other vehicles, but Victor was no where to be seen and there was a black lump laying on the road, Ken then noticed a semi tractor trailer barreling down the highway obviously unaware of the accident ahead; he managed to flag him down before he ran over Victor.

It took many months to figure out what exactly happened that night, but between the police report, the experts calculations, tire marks etc and then finally Victor’s recollections. Victor was heading onto the freeway and was speeding, I forget what they calculated but it was up around 100 mph, there is a long merge lane and according to Victor he was trying to merge but a car was refusing to pull into the left lane and was keeping pace beside Victor so instead of backing off he accelerated and he thought he hit the car and that is what caused the accident. In actual fact the police and highways department’s report stated there was gravel in the corner on the merge lane, anyone who rides motorcycle knows gravel in a corner will cause the motorcycle to go out of control and slide sideways. Victor hit the gravel at a high rate of speed he lost control of his bike and slide into the concrete abutment that divides the merge lane from the highway. Hitting the abutment catapulted Victor and his bike into the air. Victor landed right on the center line of the west bound traffic and was run over by a woman driving an old Pontiac Parisienne (s) his bike landed several yards east of him in the west bound lane. So he landed in front of the lady and his bike landed behind her. She stated that she saw the sparks but didn’t know where they came from and then what looked like a big green garbage bag fell from the sky, she didn’t know where it came from and didn’t have time to react and drove right over it. Ken stopped traffic, including the semi that was in line to drive over Victor, there happened to be a doctor in the traffic that night and he happened to have plasma and was able to hook Victor up to intravenous immediately which is no doubt what saved his life because when he got to the hospital his blood pressure was 0.

My brother drove my dad home and Ken rode his bike home and Mom stayed with me to wait for word on Victor. Nine hours later the surgeon appeared through the double doors of the OR looking like a character off of the movie MASH. His shoulders were slumped, he was pale, and he was covered in bright red blood, it was splattered on his face, his booties, and all over his green surgical outfit. You could tell the blood had been spurting at him and I kept looking at the bright red blood blotches and splatters thinking, “that is Victor’s blood he must be dead, no one can lose that much blood.” I prayed he wasn’t Victor’s surgeon but he walked up to me and asked, “Mrs. Ouellette? Can you follow me please?”

“How is he?……. Is he……alive?”

The doctor tried to give me a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace, “He is stable at the moment, critical by stable, we almost lost him several times and had to bring him back. I was able to stop the bleeding, I think; there is such major trauma to all his vital organs, his pelvis is crushed and all his organs were pushed up into the chest cavity. I was able to reattached his heel and his leg but he will need more surgery to set his pelvis.”

“But he’s going to live, right?”

”The next 36 hours will determine a lot, if he goes into renal failure we will have to send him to VGH (Vancouver General Hospital) they are the only ones equipped to deal with this kind of trauma. But for now he is stable.”

“Can I see him?”

“The nurse will come and get you as soon as they have him in post op. now if you will excuse me I am exhausted and.” He looked down at his gown and shoes as if he just realized he was covered in blood, “I want to clean up.”

After an eternity a nurse came out and said I could see Victor now, she took me aside and said, “Now I want you to be prepared, he isn’t going to look like himself, he has tubes running out of him every where, we need you to stay calm.” I nodded my head. “he is hooked up to a lot of different machines, there’s a lot of beeping etc.” I nodded again. “You can touch him, just be careful not to pull out any of his lines.” “I nodded and said,”Ok, can I see him now?”

“OK, come with me, now brace yourself, if you feel faint or anything let me know.”

We walked through the doors and there he was, I was so relieved, he looked great to me, he looked just like my Victor, “Hey Sunshine, I’m here, you had a motorcycle accident.” And I kissed his forehead and grabbed his hand. He had a breathing tube so he couldn’t talk but I could tell he recognized me but was confused. I told him as much as I knew and then said to rest. His eyes kept closing and he was fighting to stay awake, I told him to just sleep and I’d be there when he woke up. “I love you Sunshine, I’m going to go home to change, I’ve been here all night, I’ll check on Kristofer and then I’ll be back OK?” and he nodded and tried to smile.

The nurse seemed surprised at my calmness, “You did really well.” I thought he didn’t look that bad, from the way she had talked I didn’t know what to expect but his arms weren’t broken, his face was fine, there wasn’t a scratch on him; I had expected horrible road rash (when a motorcycle rider has an accident they usually lose a lot of skin etc from rolling on the pavement). I told her I had a new born baby at home and I wanted to go home and change and maybe sleep for a few hours and asked if Victor would be ok.

She told me they were monitoring him, he was stable but critical and if his organs started to fail they would be shipping him to VGH but it was safe for me to leave for a while and if anything changed they would call me.

I went home and I can’t remember to be honest with you if I saw Kris or not or where I saw him, I know I tried but couldn’t sleep, I packed more of Kristofer’s things, and I went back to the hospital within about 4 or 5 hours. When I got back they were getting him ready to send him to VGH, Vancouver General Hospital, which is an hour and half from Chilliwack but felt like across the country to me. I asked the doctor if I could ride in the ambulance and he had said no. I was beside myself and crying when the one of the ambulance attendants came up and said that they were preparing Victor for travel and once the paperwork etc was done they would be on their way. He looked at mom and me and said, “Are you his wife.” And I said I was. He said, “I’ll come and get you when we are ready to go.” I was confused, it sounded like he meant I could ride along so I said the doctor told me I couldn’t ride in the ambulance. The attendant said, “Do you want to ride along?” and through my tears I said I did. He said, “it’s my ambulance, I say who rides and who doesn’t, but we can only take one.” And looked at my mom, she said that was Ok she would call my dad and she would drive. He was so nice, I wish I could remember his name, he patted my arm and said not to worry and just wait there, he’d come and get me when it was time to leave. He said, “Just make sure you are ready to go when I say because once we have him loaded we aren’t messing around”.

I calmed down then and mom said she would call dad and they would both drive down, he could bring my car and she would drive theirs and that way I’d have a car in Vancouver and she would ride home with my dad.

True to his word the ambulance attendant came and got me when Victor was ready. He put me in the passenger seat and told me, “You are going to ride up front with me and my partner is going to be in the back with Victor. We are going Code Red that means lights and sirens all the way. I need you to stay in your seat no matter what happens, my partner has to be able to do his job and if Victor goes into cardiac arrest or something we can’t have you getting in the way, let us do our jobs ok?” I nodded. Once they had Victor in the back the driver said, “We are going to have the lights on but I won’t use the sirens unless I have to and I’ll warn you before I put them on ok?” and he smiled, “It’ll be ok.” I guess I must have looked scared to death. When I think about it I was only 26, and my whole world had just been turned upside down, I was terrified.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Anorexia, Cancer, and Sexual Dysfunction

After Jason was born I finished school and graduated with a B average, I had a job with the Bank of Commerce 2 weeks before grad and I put the past behind me; or so I thought, but as his 1st birthday approached I found it harder and harder to cope. Finally one day I broke down at work and my supervisor sent me home and told me to take stress leave and get help dealing with the issues of having a child and giving him up for adoption.

I don’t want to go into the details of my childhood here; my father and I have recently reconnected after not speaking for almost 20 years, I have no idea if he has seen my blog, my mom knows I have it but hasn’t read it but I don’t want to create problems for or with my folks. Suffice to say I carried issues from my childhood and refused to face them for many years. I would go to counseling and the minute they brought up my dad I would stop going, my mom tends to bury her head in the sand thinking what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. But I had migraines by the age of 9, ulcers by 10 or 11 and attempted to overdose on pills and cheap red wine when I was about 13. The night I took all the pills I threw up and that is why I didn’t succeed and ended up just sleeping the whole day the next day. I know they knew I had tried to kill myself because after that the booze was locked up, the sharp knives went missing and the pills were moved but no one said anything to me.

I started to diet immediately after having Jason and ended up being anorexic from the age of about 19 until I was in my early thirties. I would weigh myself 20 or more times a day, if I was up a pound I would take diuretics, if I ate I would take laxatives, I would starve myself for days at a time and kept very accurate tabulations of my caloric intake and my daily a.m. and p.m. weight. I screwed up my metabolism so badly that I could gain 8 lbs just from eating a decent meal. My emotions could be erratic, as were my periods. I also carried with me an irrational fear that I would never have another child; that I had my one chance to have a child and blown it; then at the age of 21 my pap smear came back with cancer cells and over the course of the next 5 years I went for pap smears every 3 months and they performed various procedures in an attempt to keep the cancer under control to allow me time to have another baby.

I didn’t realize it at the time but looking back at pictures and from the attention I got from men I gather I was a fairly attractive woman, tall, slim with a big smile and witty sense of humor; I was asked out a lot and had developed a confident persona but the only thing I was confident about was my sexual prowess. I knew how to please a man, Wayne had taught me well and I used my skills to my advantage. I had several long term loving relationships but it didn’t matter what the man tried I never had an orgasm during sex; I just shut down, I felt nothing. I knew I could have orgasms, I gave them to myself all the time but whenever I got even close with a man a switch when off and I would go numb.

As insecure as I felt about my appearance I was confident in my abilities and wasn’t afraid to try new things and take a chance. I had an “it doesn’t hurt to try” attitude about most everything. When the bank sent out a notice looking for people to join the “On-Line team” (a team of up to 12 people who went from branch to branch throughout BC converting branches to an on-line banking system) I applied. That’s how old I am, I worked in banks BEFORE computers!!! Bonnie the supervisor hired me because, “I can’t believe you had the audacity to apply, you have practically none of the qualifications and will be the youngest on the team, but I like your spunk so I’ll give you a try.”

I turned 21 the week I started with the on-line team and had been dating a real estate agent from Chilliwack. He had pursued me for quite a while before I gave in and I was starting to really care for him by then; it was an exciting time in my life. We celebrated my birthday at a Greek restaurant and my real estate agent was there along with over a dozen friends. There was a table of two men sitting enjoying watching the revelers at our table and decided to send me a tray of about 8 different liquors, I was instructed to sample them all and they would buy me the one I preferred. I never back down from a challenge and did as I was told. Then I went around buying birthday kisses with pieces of birthday cake and at the end of the night I danced with the waiter and people threw plates at our feet. The dancing started because I had been making a big production of stuffing napkins down my top in order to look bigger busted, I guess the waiter had been counting the napkins and when I got to 7 he grabbed my hand and said, “Come, we are going to do the dance of the 7 napkins”. He took me out in the middle of the restaurant and started pulling napkins from my blouse, first the neck and then from between the buttons, and I stopped him and pulled the last two out myself. The whole restaurant was clapping and cheering. As we walked to his car my real estate agent said, “I thought you were shy”.

I put my furniture in storage and lived out of a suitcase for the next 10 months, it was a wonderful experience; lots of drinking and partying. Twelve of us between the ages of 21 and 34 spent the 2 months of summer in the Okanogan, I had an expense account that covered everything and I had a boyfriend at home whenever I made it back which was about every 2nd weekend. The real estate agent and I joined a motorcycle club, he was president and I was social director so we were very involved in a lot of activities like Poker Runs, fund raisers, dances etc. I wrote a monthly newsletter that went out to the membership and he and I were a “couple” in everyone’s eyes and every weekend I was home we were together.

I was good at catering to a man’s needs in every area but I didn’t take any shit from anyone either, if the guy didn’t treat me right or if he was too controlling I would give him a chance or two, voice my concerns rationally and then if nothing happened I would dump him and moved on to the next one. Once my mind was made up it was over, it was over. And that is what happened when I met Victor just as I was turning 22. After I got off the road it became apparent my real estate agent wasn’t seeing just me and told me he had plans to go on a month’s vacation with another woman. I told him that when he got back from his vacation he had better have made a decision, either he was committed to me or I was not seeing him any more. By the time he got back and had decided he was ready to commit I had met Victor and was moving to Ontario.

Victor was a French Canadian in the Armed Forces, when I told my dad he had asked me out my dad said, “There’s no way my daughter is dating a French Canadian.” I thought he was serious and then he said, “Because they fight with their feet, eat with their hands and fuck with their face and no daughter of mine is going to date one.” And he was right. Victor was charming and treated me like a lady, came to pick me up for our first date dressed in dress slacks and a sports jacket, he was very good looking, with the bluest blue eyes, a dimple in his chin, of course short hair being in the army, he had a broken nose that just added to his “bad boy” image. He wasn’t tall, about 5’10”, my height and he had a natural body builder type frame, and he just had a devilish way about him. He was a bar room brawler, every body’s buddy, lady’s man, man’s man, sensitive, romantic, and the best damn dancer I’ve seen before or since him. This man could jive with 3 women at one time and never miss a beat. He had no trouble getting women and was a little perplexed that I didn’t fall into bed with him and I think that is what kept him calling me.

The first time we had sex he did not give up until I had an orgasm. We had been dating about a month when he was transferred to the army base in Borden, Ontario and said, “If I thought you’d come I’d ask you to come with me.” And my reply had been, “If I thought you’d ask I would probably go.” So I went into work the next day and requested a transfer to our branch in Borden, thinking it could take up to a year to come through and we would just see how long this long distance relationship would last. The last day of work for him fell on a Thursday and he had plans for one last piss up with his buddies and asked me to drop by in the morning the next day and have a coffee with him before I went to work. At the bank we alternated coming in late on Friday because we were open until 6 and it was my Friday to start work at 10 am. Victor lived with Pierre; his best buddy and a real lady killer; or so he fancied himself to be anyway.

I got to their place about 8:30 and when I walked in the house I immediately noticed the woman’s shoes by the door and laughed to myself, “Oh Pierre, you got lucky again.” the house was silent except for the tsk tsk tsk of the needle on the stereo hitting the end of a record. I went over shut the stereo off and put the needle arm in the cradle. The coffee table had an empty bottle of wine on it, cigarettes stubs with bright pink lipstick on the filters and stubs of candles long since dead. In the corner was the gift I had wrapped the two nights before for my parents anniversary that we were celebrating tonight with dinner out and some dancing. I went in the kitchen and plugged in the kettle and then made me way down the hallway to wake Victor up by snuggling into bed. Pierre’s room was across the hall from Victor’s and I could see his door was open, I expected to see a woman passed out in his bed but it was empty. Victor’s bedroom door stuck so when I pushed it opened with a “thung” and my eyes scanned the room. Two near empty glasses of red wine, the empty bottle beside them on the dresser, two candles that were at the end of their life had dripped wax down the sides of the wine bottles that held them. I could see Victor’s dark hair peeking out from under the covers at the top of the bed and there was a headless lump laying beside him. I said in a sing song voice, “Victor dear, honey, I’m here”. He didn’t move but the headless lump sprang upright. Her naked massive tits flopped over the covers, her makeup smeared, hair disheveled, and with her eyes squinting she looked at me and said, “Oh fuck, the shits gonna hit the fan now.” And rolled over and went back to being a headless lump under the covers beside Victor. I gave his face a light slap and said one more time in my normal voice, “Victor I am here, wake up.” When he rolled over I knew I had better get out of there before I lost control and started wailing on him, and her.

I pulled the kettle out of the wall by throwing it the length of the house, ripped apart the gift for my folks and threw anything else I could lift and slammed the door. I left rubber in all 4 gears to the corner and up the next street. When I walked through the door to my apartment the phone was ringing and I let it, poured myself a stiff rye and water and called the bank to say I had come down with something and wouldn’t be in. the phone kept ringing and I kept ignoring it, then there was a knock at my door. I asked who it was and it was him, I told him to go away. He begged me to open the door and just talk to him for a minute. I opened the door, he looked like hell and his face was red like he’d been going down on her all night, then he reached for me and I told him to keep his hands off me and I wouldn’t talk to him until he washed his face because I knew where it had been. he looked so sorry and I was far too mad to talk so I told him to go home, give me some time and maybe I would talk to him later. After a few hours I called and said I was coming over, he had stripped his bed and was washing the bedding, had cleaned the house and was so happy to see me. He said he was sorry, got drunk and screwed up, no excuses, just that he wouldn’t do it again. I had my holidays booked, we were to be leaving in 3 days so I said I would still go on vacation with him and see how things went.

I drove back east with him, had a 2 week vacation and then flew home. The first day back at work I was told I was to start at the Borden branch on the following Monday. I panicked, what if he didn’t still want me to come? Did I love him that much? Was I prepared to make that kind of commitment? But I called him and he was thrilled. Two days later my dad walked in the bank with a goofy look on his face, and then a hand came up over the counter and it held a bouquet of flowers; it was Victor, my dad had picked him up from the airport.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

The Life and Times of Kato

you can tell he was sick, if a dog can be pale; he was.

you can tell he was sick, if a dog can be pale; he was.

when he was still sick

when he was still sick

my heart breaks looking at how sick he was

my heart breaks looking at how sick he was

Loving Kato time

Loving Kato time

Always waiting for me to return

Always waiting for me to return

Waiting for momma to get home

Waiting for momma to get home

He always sits pretty for treats

He always sits pretty for treats

taking his job as copilot seriously. I used to have a sign on his door. Dog is my co-pilot.

taking his job as copilot seriously. I used to have a sign on his door. Dog is my co-pilot.

Happy dog running at the river

Happy dog running at the river

Hey! when will you be back?

Hey! when will you be back?

His do you love me look

His do you love me look

At the river, waves crashing jumping over logs

At the river, waves crashing jumping over logs

Checking the horizon for tug boats

Checking the horizon for tug boats

What a handsome man

What a handsome man

Come on lets play

Come on lets play

Haha, Kato with James's toothbrush, good boy

Haha, Kato with James’s toothbrush, good boy

As soon as he got well he took great pleasure in kicking up dirt.

As soon as he got well he took great pleasure in kicking up dirt.

I have always had dogs my whole life, some I tolerated because Kris loved them and a few of them I really loved. I had a Border Collie, Shayla, that was extremely attached to me, extremely intelligent and a beautiful dog. She was an abused dog that I had rescued and I loved her with all my heart; but none of them ever compared to Kato.

He is so stoic and proud, when we walk you can tell he is trying to not limp and if he can get the right pace going he can stride along pretty good but he tires quickly; then you can tell how much he is really hurting, even then he doesn’t want to stop. He just wants to plod along not wanting to admit it’s too much for him.

As long as I have had him I have never taken him for a walk without someone stopping me to say what a handsome dog he is and how proud and regal he looks. My mom didn’t believe me, or thought I was exaggerating until we went to visit my son in Calgary a few years ago, and every where we went people were commenting on Kato. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a man, woman, young or old; Kato draws attention. He’s a man’s man kinda dog and yet women love him, small children hug him and guys you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley will yell out, “Beautiful dog lady!” He walks with purpose, tail straight up, head held high, staring straight ahead except to take quick glances to the side for danger. He was never like Laila, all tail wagging, drooling puppy wanna lick your face and jump up on you; Kato always had dignity, he would sit and wait to be petted but he had too much pride to ever grovel for affection. Kato has never jumped up on anyone, never licked a face, never chewed a shoe, never scratched a door, and never barked unnecessarily.

Kato was born the runt of the litter and the guy I got him from said that from day one Kato stood out from the rest. When he told me that, I had my doubts, everyone thinks their dog is special, but it was true, Kato is a dog like no other. It isn’t that he is so smart, even though he is pretty smart for a dog, it isn’t that he is so well behaved, and he can get a real attitude sometimes and be really stubborn and drive me to the edge of sanity when he refuses to come or get in the truck. Kato has something special you don’t see very often, he has an old soul; he can speak with his eyes, those deep brown eyes that reveal his pain, joy, concern and love. He is God’s gift to me and the best gift I have ever gotten.

I used to say Kato’s purpose in life was to make people smile and my purpose was to facilitate that. He used to sit tall in the seat looking straight ahead and then at lights he would stare at the person in the vehicle beside us until invariably they would look over and he’d be looking at them and they would have to smile if not laugh. One time I remember I laughed so hard because a Telus van was beside us and on the side of the van was a picture of an iguana about twice the size of Kato, the van was keeping pace with us and every time it got beside us Kato would start to snort and huff (shar-pei’s tend to sound like pigs, or Rocky Balboa (spelling?) before a fight, because they snort a lot). Well we get to a light and that iguana is right beside us and Kato is having a snort fest when the Telus guy looks over and starts laughing, he has a partner in the van with him and they are both having a good belly laugh over Kato.

Or one time a guy drove past and yelled, “Hey Sharpie! (pronounced like Sharpie the pen) I see you” Kato was looking every where and couldn’t see where it had come from. Then we hear, “Yeah I mean you Sharpie!” Kato is snorting and looking and the guy is laughing so hard he almost drove off the road. That’s what life with Kato has been like.

When we used to go to the river he would run through the waves that the tug boats make and he would have a look of unadulterated joy on his face, he would be smiling from ear to ear and would run until he couldn’t any more. Every time I watched him my heart would fill with delight for him. All I had to say was “river?” and his eye brows would arch up and he’d have the look on his face that said, “You aren’t messing with me are you? We’re really going to the river?” and I would say, “Do the river dance.” The river dance is when he would stand on the seat of the truck facing forward and he would take one step to the left, one to the right and then turn in a complete circle, then one step to the left, one to the right and then a circle and he would do that until we got parked at the river, he never changed his routine. I tried to video it a few times but he was just to close to me in the truck and of course he won’t do it if we aren’t in the truck on the way to the river. Every time we go to the river he runs in a few feet and then scans the horizon looking for tug boats, if one is coming he gets so excited he has to go have a pee and pooh, so he runs back into the bushes and is trying to hurry so he doesn’t miss the waves.

When the waves started crashing in he’d run through them trying to catch them in his mouth; sometimes making himself choke; he just loved the river. He still does but now he takes it a lot slower and will dig in the sand, chew on a stick, lay in the sun, sniff and pee to his heart’s content but Amix has barges off the shore so the tugs don’t make waves any more; probably just as well because he wouldn’t be able to run and I know he’d try. When we would get home he would have to pee to badly and so much his leg would start to shake and he’d end up squatting because his leg got so tired he peed for long; all that river water he swallowed.

Some people have said its time to put him down and I have thought of it but he has his good days and maybe I am selfish, I’m not ready to let him go. I wish I had a place where he could lay in the sun until he just fell asleep and didn’t wake up again. I feel guilty making him ride in the truck all day and I have tried to leave him at home but it just breaks his heart to be left behind, I feel guilty because Laila bugs him and he has had to share my attention. I would sell Laila even though I don’t want to and the main reason I got Roxy was so her and Kato could mate and I would have a part of Kato in one of the puppies. That was another well laid plan that totally fell apart!!

Every day he has been in my life has been a blessing and a gift because it was predicted he wouldn’t live past 2 and I was told when he was one that I was cruel to keep him alive.

You see when he was about 6 months old, before I got him, he was attacked by 3 rotties, one of them got him when he stuck his head through a fence and held his head while the other two went around the fence and literally gutted him. He had to have 80 stitches and almost died. I got him about 5 weeks after the attack so I never knew what his personally was like prior to being injured, he seemed timid and lacking energy but I thought maybe that was just his way. A couple of weeks went by and some days he could barely walk so I took him back to the vet and they said he had an infection from the wounds and put him on antibiotics, he’d have good days but mostly bad and didn’t fully recover. The previous owner feeds all his dogs raw meat so I was buying Kato steaks and giving him high protein food thinking he needed protein for energy. Some days he was pretty peppy but it seemed every time we went to visit his previous owner he would relapse and by the time we got home he would be barely able to walk. One time he had tried to jump out of the truck and his legs just crumpled under him and he laid there helpless. In the mornings I would let him out for a pee, if he couldn’t walk I would pack him, some days he was quite strong and would be able to raise his leg to pee and walk on all 4’s other days I had to pack him then he would crawl under a tree and lay there. On his good days I was hopeful.

The previous owner mentioned he might have Shar-pei Fever so I researched it on the net and could only find the same results, it is a death sentence, they never live past two if they have it and it is a painful slow death that affects their kidneys and liver and eventually causes kidney failure. It is impossible to test for until the animal is dead and then they can do a test to determine if it was Shar-pei Fever. Apparently many Shar-Pei carry the gene and it never manifests itself, but is often brought on by a serious injury or stressful situations. One of the symptoms is a very high fever, swollen hocks, a limp and lethargy. The fevers can get so high that they will cause brain damage and seizures. There were times I had cold compresses on Kato’s head trying to bring his fever down but no where could I find a cure. Then on another site I read that Shar-pei’s have a low tolerance to protein, they can’t process many proteins and the protein will calcify in their joints, liver and kidneys. I noticed the correlation between that and the liver and kidney problems they have with Shar-pei fever and decided to try a low protein diet with Kato. I started to make him a stew using chicken or beef bone and lots of vegetables. He loved his veggie stew and there were days he seemed to be getting better but he would always relapse. I was determined to figure out how to save him but I was losing hope.

He started to walk more and more using only his two front legs; he could walk over gravel, and go any where with his bum in the air basically doing a walking handstand. His toe nails on the back feet were getting so long they were curling inward. I kept taking him to the vet and this time I took him so they could trim his toe nails but the vet said, “There is no need to trim his nails, he isn’t going to live long enough for it to be a problem.” Finally he said he figured he had Shar-pei Fever, I was told the kindest thing I could do was to put him down. I started to sob, I just couldn’t do it. The vet said to give Kato low dose aspirin, that ordinarily it would be very hard on a dog’s stomach but he wouldn’t live long enough for a problem to develop and it would help keep him out of pain. I left in tears and after much thought I called the vets and said I would bring him in on Monday to be put down; it was Wednesday. I took the rest of the week off except for one new job I had to go check out on the Thursday.

I took Kato with me to the job and lifted him out of the truck, he was having a good day and was walking around when the customer asked me how old he was. When I said just over a year old the guy’s mouth dropped open; he had thought he was a very old dog. He asked why he was limping so I told him the story, his brother was standing by listening and piped up. He said that Kato was walking like he used to because he used to get severe pain in his kidneys. He said that the first 18 years of his life he suffered debilitating pain in his kidneys and his parents had taken him to all kinds of doctors and no one had been able to help him until he went to see a naturopath. He went on to say the naturopath prescribed digestive enzymes and from the first one he took he has never looked back; he has never had that kind of pain again. I asked if he would mind giving one to Kato and he went in the house and came back with a handful of them. I gave one to Kato, (yes, he is the only dog in the world who likes medicine well except for now Laila because if Daddy eats it she wants one too) and he swallowed it, by the time we got home an hour later he had an appetite and ate more than I had ever seen him eat. By Monday morning, the morning of his “appointment” I was in the kitchen preparing his breakfast when I swore I heard his toenails on the hardwood floor. I thought to myself that my mind must be playing tricks on me but I looked down and there he was looking up at me, tail wagging furiously, smiling, yes he was smiling……..as if to say…..”See!! you can cancel that appointment!!” which I did.

Inspired by his marked improvement I cut ALL protein out of his diet and fed him straight veggie stew with brown rice, barley and beans for filler and gave him a digestive enzyme and two low dose aspirin with every meal. About 3 months later I took him in to see the vet who had told me to put him down and he thought I was trying to trick him by switching dogs. The nurse at the front desk started to cry as Kato walked around the office.

He continued to get better and I slowly introduced tuna into his diet and basically that has been his only protein aside from legumes for his whole life. I buy vegetarian dog food and make his veggie stew; he is the only dog I know who will beg for a brussel sprout. After a while I cut out the aspirin unless he had a really good run at the beach and was limping, and I cut out the digestive enzymes unless he ate something he shouldn’t and he has been healthy for over 6 years. I have noticed a decline in him the past year and especially the last couple of months. I knew the day was coming but the time went by so fast, so much has happened and at times I was so self absorbed I didn’t give him the attention he deserved and was short tempered with him. at times he would take off on me and I would be crying and calling but he always came back. One time when we were in the little holiday trailer and I had lost a contact lens and couldn’t see he disappeared. James and his son Allen took off in the Kenworth looking for him and Allen saw him in a cemetery. As James pulled into the cemetery a guy stopped him and said, “You can’t bring that thing in here.” James had replied, “See that dog over there? That’s my wife’s dog, if I don’t go get that dog I will be coming back here in a pine box.” The guy let him in.

He has ridden with me every day, been with me through breakups and reunions with James, slept with me and protected me; no one ever gets near the truck when he’s in it. I haven’t had to worry about spiders, mice or rats since he came into my life; all I have to do is let out a little eek! And he comes running to kill it; whatever “it’ is.
It took him all summer but at the end of summer he finally caught himself a gold fish in the pond at the last place James and I lived. He would wade into the pond and the gold fish would all move under his belly and he couldn’t get them, with mice; he’d see one, put his head down to catch it and the loose skin would fall forward and block his vision and he’d lose it.

I found him a teddy once in the Pets Mart dumpster; it was a square patchwork looking thing with a squeaker in each square and a duck’s head on it that rattled when you shook it. One look at this stupid thing and he fell in love with it, we called it his squeaky duck and he would gently preen the feathers on the ducks head and he loved to shake it and hear the rattle in the duck’s head. Tragically the first time he saw a chicken he thought he could shake it and its head would rattle and he could preen it’s feathers. The chickens didn’t take too kindly to his loving attention and it would create quite a ruckus. He was extremely disappointed when shaking them didn’t make their heads rattle like his teddy. One day I went out to go to work and all the chickens were around my truck, I said to Allen, “Where’s Kato?” and we looked at each other in total horror when at the same time we yelled, “chicken coop!” and ran to the barn. There was not one chicken to be found only feathers every where, the rooster feathers were especially plentiful! We hunted every where and couldn’t find any chickens, dead or alive so we left for work. When we got back we confessed to the woman that owned the chickens what happened and she said she hadn’t found any dead ones either and there were at least 8 chickens missing. As the days passed more chickens started showing up, a little tattered and lacking in plumage but no worse for the wear (except they weren’t laying any eggs) then the rooster appeared practically bald and so horse he couldn’t crow; he sounded more like he was clearing his throat than his usual proud declaration that the day had begun.

Kato treasured and cared for his squeaky duck for a long time, until it’s Mohawk type feathers on it’s head were stiff with dog slobber and it was missing an eye; his squeaky duck went every where he went for several years even in the Kenworth ½ way across Canada, until he finally forgot it somewhere. Every toy I ever bought for Kato was intact, maybe a little stiff from being “cleaned” but intact none the less some of them were over 8 years old and then Roxy came into our lives. Kato proudly brought her one of his teddies and she proceeded to rip it to shreds and one by one she destroyed every teddy he had, then she shredded his bed. I felt so bad for him I went out one day and left them at home; I went to buy Kato something special. I bought him a turkey with a squeaker in it and a nice new bed. When I got home he was on the couch and had a “deer in the headlights” look on his face.
I said, “It’s ok buddy, I bought you a present!” He cocked his head to the side and arched his eyes brows and his expression said, “Really? For me? What is it?” and he sat up and waited. I threw the bed down on the floor and he immediately jumped down and laid in it and gave me a look of gratitude. I said, ”That’s not all, I have something else for you.” He sat up, “Really??” I pulled the turkey out of the bag and he grabbed it right out of my hand and laid down on his bed and started preening it. I sat on the couch watching him smiling; every so often he would look up at me as if to say, “gee thanks” and then go back to his turkey. He stayed on that bed holding his turkey for 12 hours straight, when he slept he had his head on it. I made sure it was Kato’s teddy and Roxy was not allowed to touch it.

Whenever I bought him something new he would immediately take it and then look at me as if to ask, “This is mine right? Like, I can have it right?” and wait for me to say, “It’s for you, go ahead.” Even with food, he wouldn’t eat until I said it was ok. I could leave a plate of food on the coffee table all day and he wouldn’t touch it. The only thing he ate that he wasn’t supposed to was a box of timbits from Tim Horton’s and even then he didn’t exactly eat them, he took them out of the box while I was working and hid them under his blanket in the truck. When I got back in the truck the timbit box was on the seat and when I moved it to get in it seemed a little light. I looked inside to find one chocolate timbit. I looked at Kato and he was sitting straight up looking out the window. I said, “Katooo…..what did you do?” and he looked at me with a “Whaaaat?” look on his face. I thought he had eaten them all until later in the day I caught him digging in his blanket and took a look at what he was after. There in the folds of his blanket were 7 timbits.

He gets angry with me if he is left alone in the truck too long, he won’t destroy anything, he will hide something of mine. At first I thought it was just coincidence but after 8 years I know he knows what he is doing. I would have my reading glasses or my cheque from Amix sitting on the seat beside me, get out to do a job and when I go to grab my glasses or to cash the cheque I can’t find them. I used to tear the truck apart, franticly looking for whatever it was I’d lost, sometimes it was my glasses, other times, my cheque or smokes, or lighter; finally in desperation I would make Kato move and there it would be under his bum. I am forever losing gloves, that is until I take his bed out of the truck and shake it and out falls glasses, gloves, my business cards, you name it he’s got it stashed.

James told me that whenever I left him home he would lie looking out the window in the direction I went and not even go out for a pee until I returned. On the two occasions that I was gone for more than a day he would lay waiting for me and if he went outside he would lay in the driveway waiting for me. If I leave him in the truck and go into a store when I come out he is still staring at the door I went into.

And of course there is his “do you love me” look; when we are in the truck and he needs some attention he looks at me by turning his head upside down and staring at me until I notice; that is my cue to give him head rubs and then he is happy.

Yesterday he slept until noon and seemed to be feeling much better, I gave him his digestive enzymes and later we went for a walk. He was stiff but able to trot along without much of a limp but we weren’t gone 10 minutes when he started to limp so badly he could barely walk. A distance that took 5 minutes to get to took us 15 minutes to get back and I knew it was just wishful thinking on my part. I am sure he could live another year or more but he needs to be out of the truck and someplace he can lay in the sun and I don’t want him to suffer in silence; I guess I will know when the time is right and I will be right by his side when he takes his final breath.

I will miss him so much I can’t even think about it, he has seen it all, been my rock when I didn’t think I could go on, he was my special gift from God and I know God broke the mold when he made him, even people that don’t like dogs love Kato, because he isn’t just a dog, he has a soul.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck using WordPress for BlackBerry.

You can see his back leg kinda pulled up; he does that when he is in pain.

You can see his back leg kinda pulled up; he does that when he is in pain.

I have started so many posts and after a couple of incoherent paragraphs gave up on them. Plain and simple; I have been going through hell and didn’t think I was going to make it back, I’m still not sure I will but I wanted to share something with those of you who have been or are involved with or you know a victim of a narcissist/psychopath; they set out to destroy/kill a person. That may sound severe or melodramatic and I have gone through a week of self doubt that brought me to me knees again and I don’t know how I will survive this latest consequence to being involved with JC. Sometimes I wish he had just killed me (my apologies to anyone who has lost a loved one at the hands of a psychopath; I don’t mean to minimize your pain) because I can’t fathom living the rest of my life this way and I can’t see a way out. One of the biggest incentive I had for not taking a bottle of pills last night was that I knew I would be giving JC the ultimate ego boost and narcissistic supply. You see, I have been researching again and once again found more evidence that they choose outgoing, confident and successful women because it is the ultimate power rush to destroy them.

I don’t know how to briefly describe my last week; it was one of the worst weeks of my life; I shed almost as many tears as I did the first week I was on my own after leaving JC; maybe I even cried more, who knows; when you are a broken person and have no where to turn and no options how do you measure the pain?

I am not even sure where I left you guys and because I don’t have the internet here at the trailer I can’t check my blog to see what I last posted about. You see I am typing this on my laptop and will transfer it to my BB and send it when I get down the hill back to civilization. I think I told you where this trailer is; out in the middle of no where. I am not ungrateful, Jim was the only person to reach out and give me any other option than homelessness but to stay here another day is putting me further in jeopardy of never recovering. It has been 6 days since I had a shower or bath; I have collected rain water and boiled it a bowlful at a time to make warm water and sponge bathed and washed my hair but that is a long process and time is at a premium these days. Time; lack of it, too much of it, the death of me.

Let me just give you a run down and I’ll start with Kato this post.

Last Friday I took Kato and Laila to the river. Kato doesn’t get near enough off leash time and has been really crippled up; old age, damage from when he was so sick years ago and being stuck in the truck so much I am sure. Any way it did my heart good to see him digging in the muck, chewing on sticks and wading in the water, especially with his little shadow Laila mimicking everything daddy did. I was just about to take a picture of them up to their shoulders in mud digging when all of a sudden kato came charging up the beach towards me with Laila right behind. I thought Kato was sucking Laila in by running to me and then he’d take off to get rid of her (she does annoy him) but he ran right past me so I thought he must have seen a rabbit. As Laila went past I stepped on her leash sending her face first into the sand and as I turned to see where Kato was off to I saw him jump and nail a young German Shepherd in the side.

Behind me had been two young guys with two German Shepherds coming down to the beach. I screamed for Kato to come but he was zoned out and ready to fight to the death, luckily I had caught Laila’s leash or she would have been in the middle of the mêlée but I was helpless to stop Kato and told the guy to kick him if he had to in order to get Kato off his dog. The two Shepherds were extremely well behaved and tried to get away but Kato was not backing down. The first guy, the brave soul, got Kato’s head between his legs and held him while the other guy got their dogs out of harms way. I put Kato in a head lock until he calmed down, he was bleeding on one side of his face but it was hard to tell what kind of damage there was.

I was so angry with him, this is the second time he has done this and the only reason I can think of is that he is protecting Laila, he never went out of his way to attack other dogs, if they approached him and were aggressive he would usually throw the first punch but this was totally unprovoked. I think too he knows he is sick and at a disadvantage physically so he is automatically defensive.

He is much too heavy to pack and I was parked a fair distance away. Once I got him far enough away from the other dogs that I was sure he wouldn’t go back for more I left him on the road and went for the truck. I put Laila in the truck and saw Kato limping towards me. I had to hook up the battery and then the truck didn’t start so I had to bang on the starter, it still didn’t start so I was checking the battery connection. Unbeknownst to me, he had come and laid down at my feet and when I went to try the truck again I tripped over him and fell on him, bruising us both. I got him in the truck and checked his wounds; nothing too serious.
I took him back to the old trailer and gave him some low dose aspirin and he slept.

The next day he could barely walk and we picked up Denise (JC’s sister) who was coming to help me move the bigger furniture and to make some money doing the Spring cleanup with me; with her in the truck he had less room to get comfortable and his pain was evident. It breaks my heart to see him like that and he appears to be getting steadily worse. I’ve heard that Shar-pei fever is made worse by stress and it seems true.

The weather has been rainy and cold which doesn’t help and lack of mobility for sure doesn’t help. The trailer we are in now is so small he has to lay down when we are there so he really is confined at all times. If there is one thing I can’t stand it is to see him suffer and I know as hard as it would be for me to give him up it would be the best for him; at least until I can get a better place to live. But who? It has to be someone he knows well and the only people he knows that well are Denise and JC. Denise can’t have dogs where she is and the thought of JC having him and Marisa taking care of him makes me ill but I can’t let my little buddy suffer. I watch him and cry every time I see him struggle to get comfortable, every time he pulled his leg straight up and looked at me with those big soft brown eyes as if to tell me he is in pain, my heart breaks. He deserves a home, Laila deserves a home; I deserve a home. But Kato has been by my side for 7 years, never complaining, faithfully taking whatever came our way, keeping me warm when we slept in the truck, keeping me safe, loving me and I am watching him suffer needlessly.
The breaking point was when Denise tried to get him to move over so she could get in the truck and he refused to budge, she gave him a gentle shove and said, “Come on Kato, move over.” And he growled, he has never growled at any body ever; I knew then that he must be in extreme pain. He is so stoic, so proud he would never show weakness but it was too much for him.

He is still with me but every one that sees him mentions he is in pain. I bought veggies last night and will try feeding him just straight vegetables for a while but I really think it is getting close to the time to say good bye. If I had a normal life and lived in a home I could make him comfortable in his final days and maybe extend his life. He doesn’t deserve to suffer; my brave stoic puppy.

When I let him out at BD now he just slowly wanders around sniffs a bit and pees a lot and then finds a warm place in the sun to lay down. He deserves to lay in the sun; he tries to follow me as I gather up the scrap from the various locations but gets too tired and will find a central spot to watch me from and when he is sure I’m done he will get up and follow me back to the truck.

I give him low dose aspirin for the pain but it upsets his stomach and he pukes. When we take walks now I have to be sure to not get too far from the truck because he’s too heavy to pack and he has a hard time. The spirit is willing but his body is giving out on him. His kidneys I think.

Sometimes I regret having Laila because she bugs him, bites him and generally just tries to taunt him to play with her. Once in a while he will but mostly he wants to lay peacefully in a corner close to me. I feel guilty he has to share my attention but then I am glad I have a little piece of him in Laila.

I don’t know how I will deal with losing him. I’ve been preparing myself his whole life because he was always on borrowed time; at least from the age of one. When he was sick back then I didn’t know his personality because I got him when he was 9 months old and already sick. When he got well I realized how active he was and not being in pain his personality came out. Now I know he must be in extreme pain sometimes just from the way he is acting, his lack of energy and enthusiasm; one thing that never changes is how much he loves me.

When we lived on the farm in Ladner he had a good life with a fenced yard, a pond full of gold fish to play in and a mice to kill. He loved James too and James was good to him (although he fed him Beggin Strips which was a definite No No) I think James loved him as much as a narcissist can love anything.

But the last year hasn’t been very good for him; I’ve been short tempered, sad a lot of the time, preoccupied, he had to share me with Roxy and Laila. We didn’t get much alone time him and I.

I laid with him on the bed last night and held him in my arms and cried. I apologized to him and he laid his head on my chest and I just stroked his belly until his breathing told me he was asleep.

When the time comes I want to find a vet who will come to the house and put him to sleep like that; peacefully in my arms, no fear.

He is what keeps me going right now, I have to stick around long enough to make sure his final days are as comfortable as possible. I hope they won’t be in this trailer. He deserves better.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck using WordPress for BlackBerry.

You can just see the end of the trailer under the lean-to

You can just see the end of the trailer under the lean-to

I heard this song in the grocery store the other day and had to choke back the tears. I can’t describe how I am feeling any better than this.

Torn
By Natalie Imbruglia

I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm
He came around and he was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry

Well you couldn’t be that man that I adored
You don’t seem to know
Or seem to care what your heart is for
Well I don’t know him anymore
There’s nothing where he used to lie
My conversation has run dry
That’s what’s going on
Nothings fine I’m torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel
I’m cold and I am ashamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusions never changed
Into something real
I’m wide awake
And I can see
The perfect sky is torn
You’re a little late
I’m already torn

So I guess the fortune teller’s right
I should have seen just what was there
And not some holy light
But you crawled beneath my veins
And now I don’t care
I have no luck
I don’t miss it all that much
There’s just so many things
That I can’t touch I’m torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel
I’m cold and I am ashamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusions never changed
Into something real
I’m wide awake
And I can see
The perfect sly is torn
You’re a little late
I’m already torn

There’s nothing left where he used to lie
My inspiration has run dry
That’s what’s going on
Nothings right I’m torn

I’m all out of faith
This is how I feel
I’m cold and I am shamed
Bound and broken on the floor
You’re a little late
I’m already torn

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck using WordPress for BlackBerry.

Don’t Let This Happen To You or Someone You Love.

Below you will find a link to Kim’s blog; a blog dedicated to her sister Kay who was murdered last year by her abusive husband.

Just days before the divorce papers were to be signed he left work early and sat waiting for her to come home from work with a loaded gun in his hand.

He shot her 3 times in the back of the head before he shot himself.

Kim is an eloquent writer who bares her soul, her pain and her sister Kay’s pain, unhappiness, Kay’s journal entries and final days in a gut wrenching tribute to her sister.

I can not read her posts without tears burning my eyes. Her hope is that by bringing awareness to the topic of domestic violence and sharing her sister’s story she will save some other woman’s life.

Please never underestimate how dangerous a narcissist/psychopath/sociopath is and how cunning and manipulative they are. They are expert actors and remember they do not have a conscience.

Please visit Kim’s blog and take tissues.

http://myinnerchick.com/category/in-memory-of-kay/

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck using WordPress for BlackBerry.