compulsion

I don't understand, having done my bloggerly duty today and made a post, a fairly lengthy one at that, nothing on the order of Jane's posts but none-the-less having some length to it (she cheats, too, having a wider column..wait, maybe I cheat by having a narrower column...don't confuse me with logic right now), why I feel the need to write more. Today's blog was nothing too pithy, more foreshadowing of things to come, I guess. The ubiquitous List. Everyone should have lists...they make handy toilet paper in times of crisis.

Compulsion--or is it compulsiveness? Compelling urges to do...something, anything...I suddenly drove to New Orleans about 8 years ago, I told my boss my mother really needed me. Truth was I was going fucking bat-shit-stir-crazy and ended up scaring the crap out of mum...kinda forgot to call her and tell her I was on my way.

Heh.

At least her German Shepherd returned the favor. I had never met the wondrous Eowyn of Colmar, fondly known as Winnie....she barked once and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. But as soon as I walked in that door, it was like..oh..Nan...where have you been all my life?


I don't much care for GSDs as a rule, but this lady was one of the most gorgeous dogs I've ever seen, let alone German Shepherds.


Winnie in her prime, on the stairs of my mother's house in New Orleans.

Too damned smart for Mum's good, too, I might add. Winnie had my mother very well trained. And the damned dog, who could have been a shining example of what German Shepherds really can achieve, was a spoiled rotten, out of control weiner.

She was finally starting to get some manners and all when she died in my bathroom. After Mum lost her home in New Orleans, thanks to Katrina, Winnie had to come live with us because the apartment mum got wouldn't take HOOGE dogs. I was just getting used to the idea of having her around, even though I really didn't want her (I have two big dogs already--three large dogs in a 1200 sq ft house...um, no.), and the fricken dog DIES!

*sighs* I felt guilty as hell about it, as if I had wished it or something, and I hadn't. I had given thought to how upsetting it would be for Mum if something happened to Winnie in the wake of everything else, but had not wished it. *sighs*

Mother has her in a box in her closet somewhere...well, her ashes, that is. Turns out she died of cancer of the spleen, there was a mass and it bled out internally.

I couldn't quite accept she was dying or I would have just sat and held her head and talked to her...and for that I do feel guilty.

The last picture taken of Winnie, just a few days before she died.