Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

So here we are.  Lent has arrived for 2010 and I really haven’t put much thought into what I’m going to sacrifice for the next 40 days.  Last year was pretty tough with the whole beard thing.  This year, I think I’m going to simplify things.  I’ve done the “no red meat” thing before, so I think I will subscribe to that thinking again this year.  But I also feel like more needs to be done.  I was thinking that I could do something where I work out hard every day of Lent, but now I am going to be do a lot of traveling over the next month.  It will be near impossible to accomplish that.  Maybe I’ll give up cursing?  Nah.  That’s been done.  I also tried to give up sarcasm, and that worked wonders… not!

So I know it’s a little late in the game, but please feel free to send any ideas my way.  Keep it realistic.  Also feel free to buy some shares of Chick-Fil-A stock.  I’m going to be paying them quite a few visits until Easter.  Peace!

-Dave Q.

Wow.  I can’t believe we are 2 weeks into 2010 already.  I’ve been slacking on here because my focus has been elsewhere.  So that means this is my first post of the new year.  So… Happy New Year!  Moving on…

I’m glad to have survived yet another holiday season.  It’s funny how it was so fun and stress free when I was younger.  And today it’s one huge headache.  Part of growing up, I guess.  I did score some gift cards from Home Depot to help me with my remodeling project.  Yes, the same remodeling project that started in late 2008.  I’m just as sick of it as anyone else is.  It’s difficult to complete when you only work on it during the weekends.  And then of course, football season comes along and then that cuts in to your remodeling time.  You know where I’m coming from.  :)

Anyway, all the difficult stuff is done.  Or at least it appears to be.  You never know.  So my focus over the last month has been my “man cave”.  Basically, it’s going to be an office, but with a personal touch.  That would include a flat screen, an X-Box, a mini fridge, and some decor that could be seen as tacky.  See dogs playing pool pic above!

I actually love that poster.  I have it in a nice frame.  Looks good.  I got it almost 10 years ago.  My girlfriend at the time hated it.  She referred to it as tacky, juvenile, and tasteless.  Yet, I loved it.  I’m pretty sure she would have taken a hammer to it if she ever had the opportunity.  I don’t remember if she ever said anything like “it’s either me or the dogs playing pool”.  All I know is that she’s not around anymore.  And the dogs are.  Rack ‘em!

-Dave Q.

The following is an open letter to my dog, Max.   He died today.  And after 10 years of his companionship, I wish I could have told him all this myself.

Dear Max,

If there was a way for you to clearly understand what I wanted to convey to you, or to tell you how I was feeling, I would do it.  But unfortunately for us, a crazy device like that has yet to be invented.  Can you imagine it, though?  It would be like a voice translator, from owner to dog.  And vice versa.  Although I would probably be nervous about what you had to say to me.  But I digress.

You died today, Max.  You had complications from your surgery.  You know, the surgery to remove that part of the bath towel that you found irresistible?  Yeah, that one.  Not the second one where they went in again two days later to try and repair the leaking of bacteria to your belly.  That’s what did you in.  You went in for your second surgery on Saturday.  That day the vet said that you being put to sleep was an option I should consider.  I told them to take you into surgery to try and save you.  I’m sorry they had to open you up a second time.  But I couldn’t not try.  You were too important to me to just let go of.  I think you knew that too.  Or at least felt the same way.  Because you fought until the end.  Even though you were just a dog.

I’m 33 years old.  And I’ve never really dealt with death until now.  Yes, I’ve been to funerals before, but not for anyone, or anything, that had direct impact on my life.  I got you as a puppy in 1999, the only good thing that came out of a relationship with a young lady that we have both forgotten about a long time ago.  You have been a constant in my life for 10 years.  For all the questionable decisions I’ve made in my life, for all the people I’ve hurt and for all the times I displayed less than first-class morals, you never judged me.  All you ever gave me was you eternal loyalty.  And your love.  And I will always be thankful for that.  If there was anything I could count on without hesitation, it was you. And that you would always be happy to see me.  And that meant a lot to me.  Even though you were just a dog.

It scares the crap out of me for how I am taking this.  What happens the day I lose someone in my family?  Or a close friend?  Am I going to be 10 times worse than I am right now?  These are questions I don’t want to think about at the moment.  So I am hoping this helps me.  I’m hoping that writing you this letter will help bring me closure.  I know.  It’s funny to read about.  Closure from losing a dog??   Seriously?? Yes, closure.

You fought hard, Max.  You fought hard all the way.  You even showed signs of beating the infection.  But in the end, after the second tough surgery, you were too weak.  And you were suffering.  And it killed me to see you like that.  I recall when they first suggested euthanizing you.  It was like a punch to the stomach.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  Of course I knew how serious it was then.  And at this moment I hate myself.  Because you would still be with me if I hadn’t left that towel out.  I don’t get it.  What is so good about a towel that would make you want to eat it?  WTF?  It couldn’t have tasted good.  But how were you supposed to know what you were doing to yourself.  You were just a dog.

So now I’m trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.  I’m pretty bummed about all this.  And in fact I have cried several times.  And I don’t mean I’ve shed a couple of tears.  I mean I have flat out weeped over losing you.  I’m a 33 year old man.  What the hell, right?  What kind of man does this?  Every time I feel a lump in my throat, I ask that question.  At this exact moment, I am sitting in the backyard (God bless wireless), on the deck with Murphy, watching a fire burn.  I am not feeling the lump right now, but downing a bottle of sangria I found will make you numb enough to get through writing a letter to your now deceased dog without crying like a little girl.  I’m sure I will need to proof read this in the morning.  Anyway, a real man doesn’t cry.  Especially about something like this.  I mean, for crying out loud, you were just a dog.

So today around 11:30am, the vet called me to tell me that you weren’t showing any signs of improvement.  That your protein levels were down.  And that your recovery was grim.  I asked her if you were suffering.  She said yes.  So at 1:30pm I went to the vet’s office.  They brought you to a room and left us alone for roughly 15 minutes.  I apologized to you profusely for my mistake.  The carelessness that led to your demise.  And begged for your forgiveness.  And what did you do?  You just looked at me.  You gave me a “Can we get the hell out of here already?” look that broke my heart.  Of course, you did this while you were laying down.  Too weak to move. And then the vet came back in, with the euthanization drugs that would end our time together.  She injected the drugs into your swollen front leg, and told me that it would only be a few moments.  But it wasn’t.  And she was puzzled.  And she soon discovered that the catheter that she had placed had come loose, and all the lethal drug she thought she had injected in you had in fact leaked onto the blanket you were lying on.  I’d like to think that this was your handy work.  That is was a last ditch effort to fend off death.  If you could have turned your paw over and given her the bird, I know you would have.  But of course, you didn’t.  Because you were just a dog.

You passed away at about 1:53pm.  But not before I told you something I had never told you before in 10 years of companionship.  I told you I loved you.  Again, here I am a grown man telling a dog that I loved him?  Yeah.  I did.  And I’m not ashamed.  And I told you that I hope it was true of what people said.  That all dogs go to heaven.  Because that would mean if I cleaned up my act and started leading a more fulfilling life, then maybe we would see each other again.  And that I would be there with you to throw a tennis ball for you to fetch.  And that you would then look at me with that “You don’t expect me to go get that for you?” expression on your face.  But I would be cool with that.  I honestly wouldn’t mind.  Because a moment of me wondering what it is that you hate about playing fetch would be one more moment with you.  And I would take that in a heartbeat.

I wish I had been a better owner to you, Max.  I regret so much not taking you to the dog park more often.  I regret not letting you inside the house more.  And I especially regret not taking more pictures of you.  I wish we would have had more time.  I wish you would have been around to see my first born.  I often wondered what you would have thought if a baby ever come to the house.  Knowing you, you would have just loved it like you loved me.  Deep down, I do believe you were capable of loving, even though you were just a dog.

There will no doubt be people wondering what is wrong with me (I haven’t told too many people, but to hell with it, they can find out about it now).  Why I’m bummed out.  And why am I taking your death so hard.  I won’t know exactly what to tell them.  But in the end, most of them will say the inevitable.  They will say something like, “I’m sorry about Max.  But get over it.  He was just a dog”.  But that’s where they are wrong.  And as I type this last part of the letter, it is evident that the sangria has  worn off.  You were more than just a dog, Max.  You were my friend.  A loyal and devoted friend.  And I will miss you very much.

Goodbye, Max.

-Your friend, Dave Q.

Now here is a cause I can get behind.  :)

October is here.  And that means it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month. And it’s times like these that I feel I should speak out.  You see everyone, few causes are as important as this one.  You want to Save the whales?  That’s great.  But let’s save the boobs first, got it?  Priorities, people!

You want to hug a tree?  That’s cool.  Me?  I’d rather hug boobs.  And I think I speak for every man and woman out there that boobs take priority over trees.  So, to hell with the trees.  Save the boobs!  This cannot be ignored!!  If that means other causes have to be put on the back burner, so be it!  Priorities, people.

What about PETA?  Hmmm…  no.  Save the boobs, damn it!  I hope I am getting through to everyone.  This is absolutely of the utmost importance!!  Don’t ignore this plea.  To illustrate how motivated I am about this, I will offer free breast exams as long as there is something in writing that I can’t be held accountable for anything.  I am just trying to help here.

A world without boobs is a world I don’t want to be in.  

-Dave Q.

So I am up right now thinking about my dog, Max.  I had to leave him at the vet tonight.  He has something potentially serious happening with him and if he doesn’t improve by tomorrow, then he’s facing surgery.  And that’s not good.

So you might be wondering what is wrong with him?  Well, I noticed that he was acting funny Sunday night.  He was very lethargic and didn’t want to eat.  I thought it was odd, because Max is an eating machine, but I left it alone.  But last night was the same thing.  And I took him to an emergency pet clinic.  They took some x-rays and ran some tests, but nothing was conclusive.  All this wrapped up at 2am.

This morning he seemed to be doing better, but I called his regular vet anyway and gave him a head’s up on what was going on.  He asked if Max had vomited, which he had, and if he did anymore to bring him in.  When I got in from work today, I saw that he wasn’t holding anything down.  So off to the vet we went.

More x-rays.  More tests.  And the doc sees that he is constipated.  Which wouldn’t be a big deal except he couldn’t explain why.  Not to get too graphic or anything, but the doc decides to give Max an enema to try to get his bowels going.  Well, it kind of worked.  It worked well enough to see what he had inside him.  The doc removed cloth.  To be more exact, cloth from a towel.  And then of course it all starts to come together.  I found a ripped up towel in the backyard Saturday night.  The towel I use to dry them after I give them a bath.  I didn’t realize he ate any of it.  And it’s my fault because I left the towel within his reach.  Way to go, Dave.

I got Max as a puppy.  And back in the day he had a tendency to run off with my girlfriend’s panties and eat them.  No joke.  And I thought he had grown out of it.  He is 10 years old now and  I just haven’t worried about anything like this for a long time.  But I blame myself for dropping the ball.

So, here I am.  Unable to sleep.  Wide awake thinking about my buddy, Max.  We’ll see what the doc says tomorrow.  I’ll keep my fingers crossed for good news.  I know he is just a dog.  But if you feel like saying a little prayer, or just want to send some good vibes his way, please feel free.

-Dave Q.

By the way, Max was the only good thing to come out of a relationship with an ex girlfriend.  Well, that and a John Smoltz autographed baseball.  He’s my boy.  And I want him to be ok.

So I will be leaving this evening for a trip to Las Vegas.  Before you start with the “I wish I were going” rhetoric, just know that I’m going for business.  Not pleasure.  That being said, my hope is that the business side of things wraps up quick enough to be able to enjoy some of the more diverse things Vegas has to offer.  Eh, who am I kidding?  I want to hit the casinos!

I’ll be staying at the Red Rock Resort, which will be the first time I go to Vegas and not stay on the strip.  I’m not quite sure how far from the strip it is, but I do know it’s more than $50 for a cab from the airport.  So, yeah, that sucks.  But hopefully I can make that up at the craps table.  That is, if there is time for that sort of thing.  :)

-Dave Q.

Just wanted to make note of the date.  8 years ago was the most shocking day of my life, so I can imagine how hard it hit those who witnessed it or lost loved ones on that day.

I know the country is going through some tough times right now.  But I believe the American spirit will prevail.  And if there was ever a perfect example of American spirit is when the passengers of Flight 93 rose up against the hijackers on that flight.  Both a sad and proud moment in American history.  We need some of that American spirit these days.  God bless them.  And God bless everyone was lost on that day.

On a lighter note, I bet the temperature is rather warm wherever those hijackers ended up.  And by wherever, I mean hell.

-Dave Q.

Just an FYI.  Don’t bother hitting on her.

-Dave Q.

June 2022
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Today's Deep Thought

  • If I lived back in the Wild West days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like 'Hey, look. He's carrying a soldering iron!' and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, 'That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice.' Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they had made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.