Goodbye Shelby, the WonderMutt

Yesterday was a hard day.  We had to say goodbye to our sweet dog, Shelby.

I've posted several times about our genial, but less-than-energetic family pet.  You can read those here, here, here, here and here.

I've obviously been a little critical of our little mutt.  Okay, more than a little.  Mostly because humor at her expense was so abundant and so dang easy.  But our easy, content, whiny dog had declining health (she was somewhere between 13-16 years old) and finally got to a place where we had to let her go.

She had a cough that wouldn't go away, had seizures, she could barely see, could hear only really loud noises (which was kind of nice, because she no longer barked like a mad woman when the doorbell rang), had such stiff, sore hips that she would sometimes fall over just walking through the house - or even standing still.  She couldn't make it up the steps most of the time, and was even losing her sense of smell.  So we put her out of her misery and sent her to the carpeted home in the sky, with never-ending and never-fattening dog treats always at the ready.

Through all of it, she was a good pup.  We adopted her from a rescue shelter, and didn't know for sure what we were getting, but she was always good with our girls, and became an integral (if comic) part of our family.  She never nipped at us, was always glad to see us, and even if she wasn't the most energetic of canines, she was loyal and she made us laugh.

Farewell Shelby.  We already miss your clicking toenails on our wood floor.

An Update

There's a lot going on.  It is the middle of December, after all.  So I'm going to jot it all down, but I think no pictures.

First, Anya is home!  She returned to us on Thursday eve, having successfully completed her first semester of college at Utah State (Go Aggies!...or at least, Do Something Mildly Good Aggies, since you're getting such a large percentage of the Smithereens annual income).  She came with a long list of meals that must be cooked, and in a few cases restaurants that must be visited.  Evidently, the food on campus leaves much to be desired, at least in Anya's opinion.  She has often marveled at her college friends who praise the deliciousness of the college fare, making her ask, "What exactly were you served at home?!?  Because this slop can't even come close to the stuff my parents made." 

We blush contentedly.

But it does make us wonder:  is the food really that bad? Does Anya just prefer the way we cook?  Is someone following her around to the food courts and spiking her food with some taste-altering substance?  Okay, that last one might be a little conspiracy theoryesque, but I say it's still worth considering. 

I wrote about our unfortunate event while on vacation -- the semi smashing that seemingly slightly crumpled the rear end of our Santa Fe.  Turns out it wasn't so minor.  Once they started taking it apart and prepping it for repair, they realized it was in much worse shape than previously predicted.  Worse to the tune of total loss, as in your-car-looks-fine-but-the-amount-of-money-it's-gonna-take-to-put-it-back-together-makes-us-insurance-guys-wet-our-pants-so-we'll-just-cut-you-a-check. 

We mourned, we lamented.  We did a little dance of joy that the semi that managed to total our SUV did not simultaneously bring lasting damage to our frail houses of skin and bone.  And we started hunting for a new car.  Settled on this one:

Okay, well it's not exactly this one, but ours looks like it's twin.  It's a 2006 Toyota Sienna.  (yes, I'm fully aware I said no pictures, but since all I had to do was google the image, here it is).  Yeah, we're back to being minivan owners.  But it's in great shape, our mechanic gave it the thumbs up, and best of all, we bought it outright so no car payment.  Which is great, due to the previously mentioned money tunnel that is college.  We call it our swagger wagon.  If you don't know why we call it that, click here.  That's totally how we roll.

Em & Jen have three more days of school - their last day is the 19th.  Why?  Because, of course, they're going to get some really quality, in depth, life-changing instruction on these three days before Christmas break. 

Or their going to be surrounded by hellions clamoring for vacation and making their instructors long for the days of in-class corporal punishment. 

I am fighting a cold - my second one in the span of 10 days.  I don't think it's a relapse of cold #1, because this one seems to have a special vindictiveness quite set apart from the first version.  I feel like someone strapped me to the machine in the pit of despair from The Princess Bride, then wrapped my legs around the back of my neck and tied my arms behind my back, bounced me on a trampoline in a snowstorm, and finished my special spa day with a ride behind a pickup as I was dragged through a gravel pit.  Thank you, precious Lord, for inspiring someone years ago to dream up the chemical compound known as ibuprofen, for without those happy little maroon tablets this blog post would most likely resemble a Charlie Sheen interview during his tiger's blood period -- without the coherence he demonstrated so masterfully.

Of course, maybe it already does approach that level of readability and I'm just too mushy headed to recognize it.  If so, feel free to comment, critique, ridicule.  I'll read the comments when my torturous escapade is over.

And I'll reply to you all.  Fear the typing fingers of revenge.

The other big news:  G'pa arrives on Friday.  Oh frabjous day!  We've missed him way too much, and are sooo looking forward to 9 specatacular days of Christmas fun with him around.

Thanks for reading.  I wish you could hear this in my current voice.  Think the love child of Barry White and Gilbert Gottfried, and you'll get a close approximation.