Empty Nest Money advice - I like it!

http://money.cnn.com/2012/10/01/pf/empty-nest-finances.moneymag/index.html?iid=HP_Highlight

Dog Days...tribute to a good/bad dog

Dog days

When our Vizsla dog, Dandi, turned 13 she began to slow down.  Passing squirrels and bird shadows no longer interested her.  The much hated neighbor, walking the much hated neighbor’s dog, failed to invoke her former Kujo. She turned up her nose at her dog food even when mixed with sour cream, or mushroom soup, or cottage cheese, or chicken broth. That is, unless it was human hand fed, one sticky kernel at a time, several times a day, while her favorite music was playing... and all the planets were perfectly aligned.  To make matters worse, she was sporting, what we affectionately called,  a “butt nugget” dangling from her behind. Not a pretty sight for us (previously) sausage loving Chicagoans. This 3 inch long unwanted shadow was the cause of much conversation.  We didn’t want to put her through a surgery at her advanced age, yet when the vet suggested that the growth itself could be the cause of her future demise,  we decided the kielbasa had to go.

   The good news was that when Dandi went in for her one month post surgical appointment, the vet  declared  the “butt nugget” removal  a complete success.  I was thrilled for two reasons:
1. Dandi was free of the menacing meat byproduct  
2. We were personally given credit for the new veterinary term “butt nugget”.
Furthermore, I was happy that the categorization of this new affliction did not involve the actual last name of the founder...such as “Howe Hiney” or even worse … just “Howe”... (ie., look at that poor soul with a horrible “Howe” hanging from his butt).

  Around this same time,  I heard a rumor about a 3 year old female Vizsla that needed a home.  I knew that it was true since the information came from the hairdresser hotline.  My friend’s hairdresser heard it from her friend’s hairdresser.   Hairdressers and bartenders are always in the know. (You probably cannot guess how I am aware of this fact.)   Upon further investigation,  the unwanted dog turned out to be a 4 year old male Vizsla.  I was less excited about raising another male in household.  Already outnumbered  with three sons and one husband, I would have preferred another female for moral support.  I did want another dog however,  so I rationalized to myself by saying that a neutered boy dog is kind of like a girl dog.  I had another obstacle.  I had not informed my husband of my plan for second dog. I knew that in order to achieve my goals, I had to be VERY excited about the idea during my sales presentation to Tom.  Tom  worried about taking in an older dog that had most likely developed bad habits such as biting people and peeing all over the house.  I poo-pooed that notion and begged him to agree to a trial dog visit.  Tom acquiesced just in time, since the dog was already on his way to us.  

The couple pulled up in a minivan, opened the passenger door and, as if catapulted by a sling shot, the dog bounded out of the car . Crazed from lack of exercise and attention, he leaped wild eyed around the yard.  The man said nothing and the woman hurriedly handed me the dog’s leash. Leaving no room for  possible “suckers remorse” from us - they departed in a flash.   In less than five minutes this brown jumping bean became our new pet.  I honestly thought Tom was going to kill me.    Dandi witnessed the exchange from her perch on the top deck and for the first time in many months she ran down the back stairs in order to check out the commotion. She greeted new dog, (whose name was Achilles), with great enthusiasm and it appeared to be love at first sight (cougar like love - but love nonetheless).  He sat dutifully while she licked his “face” and ran through her points of inspection. She outsized him by at least a head, and her old age took nothing away from her firm control of the situation.  In the short time of their meeting in the yard, she regained the liveliness of her puppyhood.  Just as Mrs Robinson had a skip in her step, Dandi was rejuvenated. Witnessing the extraordinary transformation in our old dog, Tom commuted my sentenced execution.

After three glorious years with her boy toy, Dandi started to deteriorate. The family  encouraged her as she willed herself to stand up. We followed behind her as she tackled the stairs... always ready to catch her if necessary.   Each step she took was wobbly and rickety with the constant threat of complete collapse.  Her eyes glazed and we saw that the painkillers were no longer effective.  We saw that it was time. I called the vet.  It goes completely against a mother’s nature to have to make this decision.  We are innately built to protect and to nurture life - not the opposite.  Veterinarians must  be required to take classes in order to comprehend the foreign language that comes from the devastated dog owner sobs as they attempt to make the most difficult of appointments.  Somehow, our calm vet understood as I requested, “she....snffff...not... wah...wah...doing... wouaaa wouaaa wu wu wouaaaaaaaaaa”.   

We decided to give Dandi, our beloved family member, a final, favorite day.  She loved the water; but most particularly she loved the waves.  She was a surfer dog.  Viszla’s do not have webbed feet and are not known for their swimming prowess, however Dandi was a California girl at heart.  In Chicago, our ocean is Lake Michigan… no salt but decent waves all the same.  Tom carried her 50 pound skeletal frame down the sloping Indiana Dunes and at the shoreline she stumbled toward the water.  As if on autopilot, she wandered into the water and began to ride the waves.  Tom threw the stick. She retrieved it by timing the rolling water and gently surfing in.  Amazing.  Barely able to take a step without falling on land, she looked light and lithe in the cool, blue water of the lake.  It was like watching Phyllis Diller turn into the little mermaid.

The vet had cleared all of his appointments for us to come in.  He was kind and patient with us as we gnashed and wailed through his office - me in my sunglasses and Tom in his pulled down baseball cap.   The vet gave Dandi a sedative and she looked so relieved--as if she was finally pain free.  Next came the injection.  The end was serene.  Tom and I sniffled our way out of the office and said to each other, “OMG - that was absolutely hideous. ”  Now I know how actors summon tears on command... the director says, “think about your pet dog!”, and  the waterworks begin effortlessly.

We returned home and looked around at the reminders of Dandi that were everywhere; scratches across  the window screens; claw marks on the basement  door; baseball caps with chewed visors; stains on the carpet.  Having another dog helped our spirits considerably.  Our grief turned into obsession about with our remaining dog,  Achilles. We lavished him with attention and he accepted it graciously without casting judgement as to why so much love all of a sudden.  Friends asked us if Achilles missed Dandi.  I really don’t think that he had time to miss her while he was carried on his silk pillow and fed treats around the clock. I’m sure that his continual happiness to see us had nothing to do with the Beggin’ Strips that we kept in our pockets.  As the month’s passed by,  Achilles started to look like Jabba the Hut from Star Wars.  We had to channel our grief in a different direction.  Doritos and pumpkin pie...  now I look like Mama Cass.  

Well, it has been one year since Dandelion Sunshine Seven's death, and we miss her good/bad behavior.  We were blessed to have such a good/bad dog for over 15 years.  

Day 8 RX - Write a book (may take more than a day)

When you empty-ish nest you have time to write a book.

I have written a book.

To all of you empty-ish nesters, empty-ish nesters-to-be and true empty nesters...  I would like to share my knowledge of book writing to this point.

1. It is hard to write a book.  The clever words formulated in the brain turn into incredible dumbness when typed onto the page.  How can that be?  They were so fabulous in my mind... where did the crapola come from?
2. It is hard to re-write the book.
3. It is hard to re-rewrite the book.
4. It is hard to make the decision that you are finished re-re-re-writing the book.
5. My mother read the book.  She loves me and thinks that everything I do is fabulous.
6. My sister read the book. She loves me and thinks that everything I do is fabulous.
7. My husband (sort of) read the book. He  loves me and does not care what I do as long as it will make money.
8. I have for-warned the boys (husband and dog too) that they are the subject matter in the book and the stories are true (so there is no suing for libel or slander).  Since they have only ever seen me cooking slabs of meat and folding laundry, I don't think that they took me seriously.
9. Technically, I finished the book in February, 2012.  I sent the book to a professional editor whose name I found online.  She did come highly recommended... too highly apparently, since her book queue for editing was initially 3 months, then 5 months and then 6 months....  When I didn't hear back from her after 7 months, I gave up.  I decided to take the project back and start looking for an alternative editor.
10. What to do?  With my confidence in the project waning,  I sought advise from a woman who is a college professor and tutored on the side. I met her many years ago and give her complete credit for raising Jeff's ACT score by 6 points ...a miracle worker.  She became a willing editor and a cheerleader.  Book edited in 5 weeks.  Self esteem re-established in the same amount of time.
11. Hmmm - now how to publish book?  I am going through this process now and will continue my thoughts for Day 9 RX.  Writing your book will keep you busy in the mean time.