Friday, May 29, 2009

Rattling cages

What have I been up to? Well, rattling some cages, making some phonecalls. Now of course, it seems things might have been easier becoming a direct client of an agency in the States. I wish I had known that a long time ago. Trying to scare me up a baby - and there's plenty out there - the one for me, however, is a trickier matter. I've been told to add more pictures to my profile. Great, that only took a year for someone to tell me. Over a year. Mmm, more pictures, eh? Now if I could just find some pictures of us without a drink in our hand. Of course, we didn't have kids, so we weren't thinking of that when we were photographed. Oh, yeah, better schedule photo ops with our friends' children. Finish the nursery so I can take a picture with an arrow over the empty crib.

I tried not to blame, I tried not to point fingers, cause you know apparently everyone can get matched faster than us, but with no waiting parent group to bounce ideas off of, it's been very emotional for me. We were the couple that would have a kid in time at all - hah! Just be patient. Hang in there. There's a birth mother out there for every waiting couple. You're top of the list! And I guess the alarm bells went off. It was starting to feel like it used to when were we trying IVF. You're next! It will be your turn soon! Great eggs! Just hang in there, be positive, drink this crap, we take Visa, take those needles and just consider yourself pregnant! And now I have gray hairs in places I can't take a picture of.

Also we've been asked to consider purely African American children. Fine. Now we did raise that question last year, but now they're asking us. Hubby is all over the idea, no doubt dreaming of a future basketball star supporting his lazy trailer park ass. So, we're opening it up, but if somebody mentions China to me, I'm gonna snap. We're too fat and old anyways. So I had the talk with hubby and I realized that one of the reasons I was hanging in for a biracial child, besides the obvious, is that I wanted a child that would have resembled the one we couldn't have. Sort of like the old dream. Not the exact one, cause that's impossible and I've already said goodbye to that dream, but one that's close enough. I also didn't want hubby to deal with stupid ass people who feel the need to voice their assumptions. As you know, in the arena of adoptive child rearing, everyone has an opinion. I didn't think I was being picky. Or racist. It just made common sense to me. Then I realized that I had to decide. Did I want to parent a child? Did I just want to be like everyone else, what everyone else seems to have taken for granted (some of course, not you guys) and just be another family on the street?

Now I told a friend the other day that motherhood was simply one of the things I wanted to do with my life. One. And yet more than a decade into our joined lives, what I am still trying to do? I am still stuck. Waiting. I had no idea that the day we "pulled the goalie" I'd still be going on about this shit. I wanted to be one of the blissfully ignorant omg what I've done with my life mothers who outwardly griped by inwardly smiled. That's not what happened. Okay, fine. I'm over it, but now I've entered another circle of hell called waiting to adopt. And I'm just about done with it. Hence, all phone calls, hi, remember us - got mocha baby? No twins, please, I still need time to get my hair done.

I've had a really good career but let's face it, I'm not young and hot (well too hot) anymore and the show business economy sucks right now. So what I am to do with my time? Raise a dog, go shopping, travel the world. Oh, yeah, I did that. Rinse. Repeat. Eat, pray, love. I wrote, I directed, I ate (boy did I eat), I prayed, crossed my legs, closed my eyes and waited. I watched my dog die before my eyes. I spent almost 3 weeks watching someone I loved very much die from cancer. I dealt with my mum and ovulation kits for 5 years. I breathed it in and breathed out love. For that I am grateful for the daimoku I chanted, cause I couldn't have made it without it. Seriously. I don't want anyone ever to ask me if I can handle a baby. I've changed diapers, so what if was my mother's. I've been sleep deprived (wake up, Juno!) and I can multitask - I'm doing laundry and having a nervous breakdown right now.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Dog food and makeup

Just a titch cranky this morning. Got my hair done yesterday and it's tighter than a .... fill in the blank. I decide to drag Juno out in the rain which so far she hates and she refused to do #2. I don't like the rain any better than she does of course but I figured if I get her out first thing, the sooner I can go back to bed with a cup of coffee and my laptop. But no, instead I drag her around like a pitiful child wondering what that nasty stuff coming out of the sky was. So back inside for food and then I drag her out again. Finally, success and back to my waiting coffee. And yes, it's still gooey. Her stuff, not mine. Sigh. But she goes to the vet tomorrow, so perhaps after some expensive test we'll figure it out. Mmm, yes, it's occurred to me that I manifested her runny bum to put off her impending surgery. Interesting. If I have to change her food again, fine, but she really likes the one she has now and at $20 a 4kg bag, she should. Whatever happened to the days where giving your dog supermarket canned food was the norm - have you ever looked at the shelves of a pet store lately? My god, these dogs eat better than some people in the world. They've got food with DHA in perfectly shaped kibble with human grade meat and vegetable and fruit products. Don't like chicken or beef? How about trout or venison or lamb or duck even? The one brand of food (that give her the squitters) looked like a can of chicken stew, you could even see the peas and carrots in it. They even have vegetarian dog food. And the canned products are even more expensive than a caramel macchiato. Of course, when you don't have a child to spoil, the furry critters of the middle class world get the best we can afford. don't look now, but they've got strollers for dogs. I'm not sure if they're for the infirm dogs, but they come in pink and blue. In my neighbourhood, organic rules and Whole Foods is a stone's throw away.

They've got everything for dogs here, but makeup for black people? That's a little trickier. Apparently, Estee Lauder has discontinued my shade of Walnut in the line I was using. I went to 3 counters downtown on Sunday looking for it. You can't even begin to imagine how pissed off I was. When I finally find one that is the right texture and close enough shade for me to use, they discontinue it. Which leaves me the choice of having to drive further afield in search of makeup that could be old and discoloured. The Fashion Fair counter disappeared years ago, then Clinique discontinued my colour, then Elizabeth Arden. Yeah, I've tried less expensive ones (which you can't get try before you buy) and I've tried custom blended Prescriptives. MAC was too oily and came off on everything, but maybe I'll go back and see if they have anything new. There are a couple of relatively new lines that are worth trying out like NARS, smashbox or Makeup Forever but I tell you, after having my makeup done by professional artists, I don't have much patience with young girls at counters that ignore you or don't know what the hell they are doing with black women or try to sell you so much junk you don't need. See, I told you I was cranky. Maybe I need more coffee. Years ago when I came to this city and tried to get some makeup. I had a professional membership card with MAC cosmetics in Toronto, but when I tried to renew it, they practically wanted my birth certificate in order to get the 30% discount. I'd show them my card but then they wanted more ID. My professional ID is either a 8X10 headshot or a laminated union card which doesn't have my picture or legal name on it. I had no intention of lugging my 8X10 headshot around so I could buy lipstick. And then I couldn't even get service because of all the young girls clogging the counters. And then when I did get service, I always ended up with the girl who had no idea of what she was doing. I'm a loyal customer so when I return to the same place, I know what I want, I want to get it, pay for it and move on in 5 minutes. If I even get a sniff of attitude like oh, she's not going to buy anything, I'll move on and probably spend twice as much right across the aisle and wave the bags in their faces. When I was younger I was ignored in the expensive stores and followed around by staff in other stores who thought I was going shoplift. And no, I wasn't wearing baggy clothes and carrying a duffel bag. Now I've developed a sense of entitlement when I go shopping in the fancy boutiques. And yes, it works. When you feel like you belong there, people take notice. If you skulk about, looking embarrassed and blanch when you see the price tag, people can see that. Last year for an exercise, I went into a high end boutique and tried on an expensive silk dress. I had lost some weight and finally felt deserving and once that silk hit my skin, I was in heaven. I had absolutely no intention of spending $1200 on a summer frock, but I was hooked on that feeling that I DESERVED nice things. That I was worth it.

I've tried the Iman line (disastrous) and I've tried Mary Kay which isn't too bad actually, not a perfect match but nothing but custom blended is. When I had lots of dough I would splurge on Prescriptives or Bobbi Brown, but I feel like I'm spending $1 a drop when I use those and god forbid I pore out too much on my fingertip or sponge. I'd try to pore it back in cause it was liquid gold. Do I need to do that when I'm just walking the dog? Mmmm, maybe. Cause I'm worth it, right?

Saturday, May 23, 2009

My little girl is growing up.




My little Juno has a runny bum. I gave her some new puppy gourmet mix to her kibble and it disagreed with her even though she loved it. Either that or she got into some duck poo. I'm not sure which since she ate both in the same week. However, I discontinued the wet food that I was adding and went back to her normal stuff. I'm very good at pulling things out of her mouth, but who knows. She's pretty happy though, she's still lively and running around tearing things up. The vet told me to give her some metronizidole and 1/2 tab of Pepto bismol and wait and see for a couple of days. He also gave me his home phone number just in case. And yes, I got another email from the shelter, but I just told them she had an appt for next Wednesday. So chances of her getting spayed for the end of the month are slim since I have to wait for test results. So there. I put it out there in the internet land and seems my contract is enforceable, though a few had an attitude like I was trying to put one over on the shelter. The dog's health or well being didn't seem to be of any consideration. However, I'll make sure her health is stable for surgery. My first priority is her health. She's shedding (you don't want to know what my lululemon's look like by the end of the week) and her adult hair is coming in on her back. Lots of people keep saying "Oh, look, Marley and me dog!". She likes other dogs and is walking very well on her leash.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Update on the waiting

So I've emailed our contact at our agency and haven't heard back from her regarding our profile. Nothing. Called the lawyer back east and in the States. Nothing to report. We're still getting BM profiles, not appropriate ones, but I guess we're on the list. And thanks to Teendoc's vigilance, even contacted an adoption agency in New Jersey that is approved for Hague Convention outgoing placements. They were kind enough to provide me with a link of other appropriate agencies which I'm assuming our agency knows about. I say assuming, because they haven't called. The American agency sent me a bunch of information - the next step would be becoming a client in that State. Still have some other things I have to finish. This makes me cranky. We've got a new pup, so I guess I should update our profile, but I don't feel particulary motivated. Looking at our profile just depresses me. Yeah, I know, I'll get over it.

Well, the sun is shining and my lazy pup is stretched out on my bed dozing, got to get her up and moving. I know how to pick 'em, eh?

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Bite Me

I am seriously aggravated. The rescue society where we got Juno had me sign a foster agreement for her until she was spayed whereupon I could then purchase her from them. They insisted that she had to spayed by the end of this month. I do have to say they never mentioned that she HAD to be vaccinated, just fixed. She is presently 3 months old. Now I knew this right from the beginning, but I was hoping that as time went on, seeing via pictures and talking with the adoption counsellor on the phone that she was well loved and that they would let it slide a bit. I had 2 vets recommend that the procedure be done at 6 months. Actually our old vet said that he would have refused to do it until she was 6 months old. The other vet where the society had arranged to have her spayed, didn't want to do it that early either and couldn't understand why they were insisting on it, but apparently someone there in charge said they would. And since the vet I saw is just on call and not the owner/vet in charge of everything, I guess her opinion doesn't carry much weight. I had her call the shelter but apparently they were not prepared to bend the rules. So I'm taking her in next week for the recommended pre-anaesthesia consult. This of course will cost me money. I would like to get a medical note saying she's too underweight for surgery or something, but we'll have to see. I'm not getting the feeling this vet is willing to lie or anything.

Is it just my imagination or is the shelter being a tad militant and inflexible? Not particularly the girl I speak to but her supervisor. Who by the way has not picked up the phone to explain to me why this is such a iron clad rule. The supervisor wouldn't speak to the vet either. And from what I hear she's regretting her decision to make alternative arrangements. I bet. I'm sure she really does care about animals and I'm also sure she doesn't give a rat's ass about how I feel. I just keep getting the broken record spiel about it being policy and that Juno is still their dog. Really. Try and take her back from me. Seriously.

I understand there's two schools of thought on neutering. Some say early spaying is fine, others say spaying should be done at 6 months. I can also appreciate that early spaying for shelter animals is preferable. However, my beloved Juno is not in a shelter. She's in my home under our care. Our very expensive and nurturing care. She's not let out in a yard cause we don't have one. We live in a city that just adores its dogs and there are not too many unleashed unneutered dogs roaming around the sidewalks near Starbucks looking for an easy lay. Let's be clear about this. I want her to be spayed, I can barely handle my own plumbing, I don't care to bother with hers. I have no intention of breeding her. I would never do that, have no interest. However, I just want what's best for her. At the time that is best for her. So let's just hope that at whatever point this spay procedure does gets done, that it all goes smoothly and her recovery and continued health is fine. Cause I just want to buy her from them and wash my hands of them. I didn't mean to start a conflict (or maybe I did, I don't know), but the one thing that truly gets my back up is when people try to make me do something that I don't want to do. And just because they cite a "rule".

Grrrrr.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Maybe I'm too picky

http://www.vancouversun.com/Life/Adoption+tale+mothers/1603767/story.html

I read this story with as much interest as I read about Val Cole's journey through IVF. And now she's a mother. And I'm still waiting. It's an incredible story of the birth mother who left Mexico and came to Canada to have her baby. Is there a miracle out there for me, I wonder.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Desperate housewife

This is what I started and deleted the other day. DH found a short history of a biracial 4 year old child on the provincial adoption waiting list. My immediate thought was no, I want a baby. What about attachment issues with the foster mum, where is her biological mum, questions begat more questions. Maybe, maybe. Another process to begin, more forms, more protocol, more questions. Which way to go?


Then I asked myself, why do I want a baby? Cause everyone else has one? Cause I want to buy cute little clothes and have a baby shower and people over to ooh and aahh, all the other things that I never got to experience as a biological mum of my own? Did I not realize how sleep deprived and crazy I would get worrying about which bisphenol free bottle to use? What about feeding her and bathing her tiny little body, memorizing every crease and detail? Watching her eyes become focused on mine as the one who would love and care for her? What if I left the kid in the car? Have I got what it takes to be a yummy mummy? I don't have a nanny, how am I supposed to get my hair done and go to the gym. What about DH, would he be content with the changes? My mum could coo and hold her - I know she would love her. I know she would accept her.


The other day, mum and I were hanging out at Starbucks. As per usual, I was reading a local paper and she was looking out the window at the people, we'd chat about this and that. A man came up with a child in a stroller and parked it so that the baby was looking in at us through the window. Then the mum came along with a little Yorkshire in her hands. Mum looked at me and said, "Soon, that will be you." Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to ask her, when, WHEN??! I wanted to believe that she knew something that I didn't.


And yet, my mind wondered to what life would look like if I did have an older child. I could take him or her to preschool or elementary school. I could have a bit of time to myself. We could go on vacation, maybe Disneyland and I wouldn't have to tote around diapers and bottles. We could dispense entirely the conversations about consistency of poo. I could talk to the kid. Help with the homework, teach how to tie shoes. I would have to earn their trust, help them to adjust to not having their present foster parent, maybe a new routine, cook their favourite foods.


Sigh. I'm a desperate housewife. Minus the gold credit card and the fake tits. My professional life is non-existent cause in show business you're only as good as your last job - which for me was a year ago. I am a woman of a certain age in a business that worships the young(er). I cringe but there you have it. I only get really jazzed up creatively when I'm working on a project, but until then.... I work at my joe job, move around the creative irons in fire so to speak, take care of my puppy, my mum, my hubby and do Buddhist activities (which I totally adore). So of course, I've attached my identity to being a mum - you know the MOST DIFFICULT JOB IN THE WORLD. I've got my resume in hand, filling out applications and no one is calling me back.


Hubby and I had a conversation the other night. Well, he did. I got a little defensive, I admit it, but it was because he asked why we had taken so long to get things done. He's been just as frustrated and discouraged by the lack of results. He's pragmatic and more "shit or get off the pot" kind of guy. Me, I'm more like "mmm, maybe I'll shit, maybe I won't, maybe I'll have a coffee, what's that shiny thing over there" kind of girl. Yes, we drive each other crazy sometimes. We should have gone with the US lawyer sooner, should have done our profile sooner, should have gone online sooner, etc. If we had to pull the plug on this, did we really do everything we could have done to make this thing happen? Maybe we didn't move fast enough. We're going to be senior citizens by the time this theoretical child is in high school. We need to start living our lives instead of just "waiting". Maybe we're not cut out for this shit. All true and significant points. It's nothing that I haven't considered. I heard that he was saying that he didn't need a child to "complete" him especially one that doesn't come out of me. He's cried right along with me after each failed IVF attempt. I didn't bring up the fact that at the end of our homestudy, we found that we had to do repair work on our relationship - and I had to work on the size of my ass - so our hot and heavy pursuit was significantly delayed. I know my enthusiasm was certainly dampened. I had become so focused on getting a child or rather NOT having one, that I had conveniently ignored the fallout of infertility and depression. Of course, obsession only works when you're finally successful.


It's a little like the acting profession. It's a highly competitive field and only a tiny percentage make a living out from it. You spend a great deal of time and money on classes, pictures, finding the right agent. The agent is always so excited at first and you get a lot of auditions. If you're not fortunate, you don't book. Other people seem to be working, but not you. Then as time goes by, the auditions get fewer and fewer and you have to figure out how to have a life in between them. Sometimes you get miserable, sometimes you get depressed. When you get a call, you drop everything, all your plans and your whole body goes into alert mode. What time is it, where do I have to go, how do I get there, do I have to cancel work, change plans, buy the right clothes, learn a song, brush up on an accent? Do I have time to find a coach, can I afford it, can I just wing it on my own? Do I stay up late to learn my lines, or get up super early? Then after the audition, you rush back to your joe job, and jump every time the phone rings - is it my agent, please let me get that job so I can quit this shitty job? You wait and wait, sometimes for days. Should I call my agent, what was the feedback? Sometimes, the call never comes. Maybe you start to resent the phone call cause it puts you back into the merry go round again. Maybe you need to find another agent and boy, let me tell you, that sucks. You hear in acting class how so and so is working, who got the job, what film is coming to town that you didn't get in to audition for and you start to question your worth. Your self esteem plummets. How much do you love acting? How long do you do this? Is getting a gig every now and then worth all the sacrifice, the hard work. You watch other friends get good jobs, buy homes and cars and build families. You doggedly pursue your dream and there's enough carrots to keep you going. Don't look now, but those carrots aren't helping you to get over the broken bones from the sticks. But the big break just never seems to come your way, it's not that you're not talented, it's not that you don't care. You just get tired of trying to reinvent yourself, prove yourself over and over and over. A thick resume in another profession might guarantee you respect and reward. But like I said, obsession only counts when you win big time. Then it can be described as dedication.


In both circumstances, I would have made different choices. Certainly speedier choices. If I knew then what I know now. There really isn't a roadmap to follow in these cases. None that I've seen anyway. Maybe I haven't been obsessed ENOUGH.

I'm sensing an end to this, one way or the other.

Talking about my mum

I put up a post yesterday, then deleted it. I need a bit more time to ponder things. I'll tell you about it later. A trait that hubby has never truly appreciated about it me (for understandable reasons) but there you have it.

We'd had a really busy day on Mother's Day. The care and feeding of Juno of course. She's not eating as much as we think she should and so we're trying to figure out what to do. Then he had to leave to pick up his mum at the ferry and I had to wait for the dog to wake up from her nap, get her fed, make sure she eliminated OUTSIDE, and shower, get all dolled up for My Mother's Story show, and tidy up the place. Then when they arrived, we crated the dog, I went to pick up mum ( I called ahead to make sure she looked presentable) and then we all went for lunch nearby. We had a good time, of course not mentioning that DH and MIL were going to see the show. I had decided earlier that it was best that she didn't attend this year's show. Her attention span isn't very long these days and the show runs 90 minutes straight. And half hour before the show, all the actresses are serving cookies and things to all the arriving guests (mothers, daughters, sons) and it would be too much. Then DH had to scramble to get his mum back to the ferries at 7pm and he wouldn't have time to take her back to the home and of course, one of us had to get back to the dog. So as you can imagine, I was a bit emotional about presenting a story about my mum's life and she wasn't there in attendance. DH always takes care of her and takes her to see my shows, but let's face it, with my mum it's all about her, and for once, I wanted him to spend time with his own own mum (who had come from Victoria to see us) uninterrupted. We are the only children here for our mums so sometimes we get a little stretched thin.

Turns out it was a good call, cause mum did get a little antsy at lunch, pretty sure she got a little drunk on white wine and we had to go for a little walkabout. I dropped her off with a bunch of roses and immediately had to head out to the theatre as I had to be there 2 hours before the show. The traffic of course on Granville Island was horrific (beautiful sunny day on Mother's Day) but I was only 10 minutes late so it all worked out.

My Mother's Story, is an amalgam of 20 different stories from Vancouver actresses about their mothers. This is one of the stories I told about my mum:

"After moving here to live with me, my mother had a stroke on her way to do some extra work on I, Robot. She was eventually diagnosed with dementia and I had to put her into residential care. One day, I picked her up at the home to find that a loving aide had braided her hair and put little artificial flowers in it. My mum was dressed in orange that day and by chance I arrived dressed in my favourite orange outfit. My mum and I walked down Robson Street, amidst the busy shoppers, hand in hand. As I looked over at her, with me leading her through the streams of people , I realized that I now knew what it must have felt to be her leading me, as a child, down a busy street: watchful, protective, proud that she looked so cute with flowers in her hair and in an outfit that matched mine. It was like time stood still and I had become the "mother" and she, all 69 years of her (now she's 74), had become the "daughter". This is a woman who, for most of my life, I could not be in the same room with, always ran from, always tried not to be like. Our bond is deep, undeniable, and inescapable. But really, who am I kidding? She is and always will the the "mother" and I will always be her child."

Yeah, I was a little emotional after the show. We all are. Felt a bit guilty that I had practically dumped her back at the home and took off to the theatre. She has seen the show, twice before. Still. I think this is what it's like when women drop their children at daycare to go to work. You want to be there for your loved ones, the ones who depend on you, but sometimes you just can't. You have to do what you have to do. Even if it's an hour to have a peaceful hour at the spa. Luckily, she's got dementia! And like a 3 year old, she's got a short memory! HAHAHAH. I just made fun of my demented mother. That's another show.

Friday, May 8, 2009

TGIF!

Feeling better today. I even had the strength to bathe Juno. She got a little motor oil on her (don't ask me, I left her with DH) and her fatties were a little less than fresh. She apparently thinks water will kill her and I got more water on me than I did on her. And of course, after she's racing around with her prize of an ice cube all clean and fresh. I've been using the kitchen sink which would work if she would actually sit down and let me do it instead of trying to claw her way up my torso.

Yesterday I did some daimoku with friends and last night I did a public seminar on Nichiren Buddhism. Made me forget all about the fact that I broke my glasses (right on the bridge) because they were on the couch and I sat on them after I was trying to stop Lucy (short for Lucifer) from destroying my jade plant. Which made me a little miserable cause I really need new glasses with a different prescription (yeah, yeah, progressives) but of course I was saving for you know what. New glasses are around the cost of a crib. I do have contacts so I'll just wear those.

Anyways, back to the public seminar. We had some young men that came right off the street and they were incredible. They were so open and positive. We had some amazing dialogue with people and it really touched my heart and lifted my spirits. I was just feeling in a box and seeing the path closed before me. But I've been told that when there are obstacles in front of you, learn to fly.

I'm going to start a daimoku campaign (chanting for one hour a day) to really make some breakthroughs.

And in the meanwhile, stay tapped into positive activities and taking care of Miss Juno/Lucifer. Here's a little video of Juno with her pal, Harvey.


video

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Hanging in there

I am feeling a little meh today. Inevitably, this means I must take action, I'm just not sure which one. We got another enquiry from our agency, I asked for our profile to be submitted and once again, it went over our financial threshold. This child was already born. Sigh. Honestly, if we had known then what we know now, we would have tried the surrogacy route in the States or maybe even India. Now, my eggs are toast. Haha. DH and I had a little chat the other morning - he's getting pessimistic and it took everything in me to sound hopeful. He's wary of his age and is wondering if it's worth it to have a 20 year old and be in your sixties. I really, really hate to see him so discouraged. The one time we do get chosen and it's loaded with problems and the ones that "seem" favourable, it's dangled beyond our reach. I know it's all theoretical in a way, there are no guarantees of a happily ever after, yet it seems so cruel. We went from being this special couple who would have a child by "Christmas" and now everyone is scratching their heads as to why it's taking so long. Good things come to those who wait? I'm not one to believe in negative signs from the universe. Only positive ones. Our profile, we are told, is not the problem, but if changes are to be made, that's an easy fix. He's contemplating opening up our request for other children, older children. So I went to two provincial waiting children lists. I don't think we can go to another province though. We didn't want a "conspicuous" adoption initially, attachment issues seem to be difficult as it was. But who knows?

A friend of ours is just weeks away from bringing her Ethiopian child home. She's seen him grow to almost 12 months in photos. His room is ready and waiting for him, her son after such a long time. I am happy and relieved for her. To know this child is there sitting in an orphanage just waiting for paperwork to be signed and sealed, the yearning for him was heartbreaking.

As I surf adoption blogs, I read that some wait a year, some wait a few weeks. I don't have a picture. I don't have anything to hang on to. Just a whisper of a hope. I guess I'm in good company.

Meanwhile, Juno has eased the waiting a bit. She's exhausting. When she's sleepy, she's as sweet as pie. When she's revved up, she's like Lucifer on crack.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Sampson and Nikki together at last




Sampson's long time friend and playmate, Nikki, a beautiful white Akita, passed away last night. Together, forever at last at Rainbow Bridge. She was our old neighbour's dog. I really loved this dog. She was so special. Before we had Sampson, when I was suffering from deep depression, I would walk this dog and I felt a part of the world again. She was so calm, so accepting, so healing. Graceful, keen intelligence, snooty and cold to those she didn't know, she became a great companion for me. We were worried when we got Sampson that she would make his life difficult because she was very dominant, but Sampson was too thick to realize when she was truly annoyed with him and they fell madly in love. I called her a Japanese princess. She was dainty and refined but quite the bitch when she wanted to be. She would even protect Sampson from strange dogs. They adored each other's company.
We all spent hours together at Spanish Banks beach, having picnics and playing in the water, going for walks in the endowment lands, Sampson and Nikki chasing each other til exhaustion on the grounds of a nearby church. She was an amazing dog and she will be missed by her family and by all those who knew her. Give Big Boy a kiss for me, Princess.