Misanthropic Monday

I am full of malice and spite today, which means it is time for another installment of Misanthropic Monday. I handle all my extra malevolence by tossing out random bits of venom for your to read, analyze (if you want to be bothered), compare and choose from to hate right along with me. It is very cathartic for a Monday, the most hateful day of the week.

1. I was at the bank today and I saw a kid pull up to the ATM in his car. He was wearing ear buds in both ears listening to his mp3 player. At first I got upset about the fact that there is an entire generation of young adults wondering around loose that should have been too stupid to survive childhood. After a brief rant on this topic I realize where the real blame belongs. It belongs with my generation because they failed to eat their young.

2. Silly college girls/boys who consistently chose the one road in the entire town that does not have a side walk, shoulder, or even enough extra room for a pedestrian and a car to share the same lane, for their daily run. In the college there is a brand new, expensive, and actually rather plush running track built just for the college kids (lord knows the track team won't be using it since the college disbanded the team last year). Also less than a mile in either direction of this narrow, shoulder-less road are two pleasant little parks, with tracks again created for runners, dog walkers, and just people out for a stroll. Seriously, why do they insist on jogging on this one treacherous road that I must travel to and from work? I think the blame again lies with my generation.

3. People who forget the object is to grow old gracefully. Seriously, you know who you are. Knock it off. No one says you have to act your age but please just stop making a spectacle of yourself. Its awkward for the rest of us and I hate it when someone else makes me feel embarrassed for them.

4. My dog is dying. Her name is Gia and she is a beautiful Irish Wolfhound mix (the other half is really freaking hairy) who came into my life after her found herself for the second time at the local humane league. She has terminal cancer of her urinary tract. The cancer metastasized. We found out in January, shortly after having to say goodbye to our seventeen year old cat, Buddy.  We were told then that she probably only had three months to live, possibly six if we put her through chemo. We opted not to torture her for only a few extra months. Nine months later she is still with us. I had begun to believe she would live to see her thirteenth birthday next month. 

For some stupid reason when we found out, all I could wish for was for her to live to see her next birthday. What can I say, grief is not a rational beast. This past week she has taken a turn for the worse. She still loves to be snuggled, she wants to be in the room with us when we are home but she has difficulty in standing all of a sudden. At first I thought it was because of the weight she lost once her appetite diminished and it took us some time to find a food she would eat more than one meal at a time (I have a new respect for parents of toddlers that are finicky eaters). The solution to her appetite problem was of all things a wet dog food that is very similar to stew. She seems to love the stuff. She put on some of the weight that she lost so quickly as we tried different options to entice her to eat (Arby's roast beef sandwich was a favorite for a time but we could not keep up with the demand).  However, she still cannot stand for more than a minute, her legs wobble too much when she tries to go to the bathroom, causing her to stubble when at her most vulnerable but still she turns her eyes to me and I see nothing but pure love, which breaks my heart because I know the time is soon.

You might be wondering where in those past two paragraphs is a nugget worthy of shining up a new hate on for? The answer is nowhere but I think about how much love she still holds for us and then I think about all those assholes in the world that do horrible things to dogs, animals, and other creatures who are at their mercy. Dogs who have done nothing but shine up eyes filled with love and trust for the hand that mistreats them, and then, and then I hate. I hate completely and with all the force that only a heart filled with so much love for another can hate. 

But right now what I hate the most is that I am afraid I am being selfish by keeping her around. I hate that she won't see her thirteenth birthday. I hate that for one brief moment today I thought about when it would be most convenient for my schedule to take her to the vet. And I hate that I am afraid to say goodbye and I hate that I have to be the grown up that makes the decision of when it is time to say goodbye.