flying ants or some shit.

Sidebar note: I meant to get into this earlier, and will still talk about it, but I love the new Andy Richter show. Screw you if you don't and you think I'm a doofus. But I laughed my ass off watching it for the past couple episodes. Everyone thought he was an idiot for leaving Conan... but I like this show and hope he can keep the momentum up. Please watch it if you haven't yet... I want Fox to keep it on the air. Anyone with any inside knowledge on how the show is doing (I should just email Max Robbins from TV Guide to find out on the next time he is on the Howie Carr radio show in Boston) email me and let me know what you know. End sidebar note.

Got email from my dear friend Mr. Garfield who says:

I think you should get a new Guinea Pig and should work on a barn.

The new pet won't be just like pigpigpig ----- even these meek fellows have personalities ---- but you fell so quickly and entirely in love with pigpigpig, and I'd eat a porkpie hat if Geoff doesn't do at least a little better a second time. I'm not suggesting you use Guinea Pigs as Guinea Pigs, but if he's gonna grow up to be Lenny of Mice and Men you'd want to know now.

Oh my God.

Lenny in Of Mice and Men. Can I just confess that was the first thing that flashed through my mind? I've read the book a million times, and am especially fond of the version starring John Malkovich and Gary Sinise as opposed to the 1939 version with Burgess Meredith and Lon Chaney Jr., who scared me no matter what role he was in. I also hated the 80s TV version with crappy Robert "Beretta" Blake and Randy Quaid. Ugh. Malkovich's Lenny is the best ever, but I digress.

When all this happened, and Geoff told us what he did, and was sad... I couldn't help but think of Lenny and the soft furry sweet things that he just couldn't help but hug so hard, and how George felt, protecting and taking care of Lenny, running away with him from place to place to avoid consequences of the things Lenny did ... Please God, don't let that be what my kid turns out to be like. Please! I'm officially worried beyond belief now.

On a note to make you laugh, last night Doug found this very funny website which I've sent out to a bunch of friends but couldn't help including here. If you need a good laugh, I highly recommend it. And, I used one of the pictures to serve as a foil to My Sister's Former Co-worker Gayle. Linda, this is just what you've been waiting for!

Gayle used to refuse to go into the shop because she was afraid she'd step in oil and fall down. So many of her coworkers found that alternately infuriating and amusing... so, we continue the Gayle tradition. Enjoy Linda, enjoy enjoy enjoy!

Last night was the first night since I believe October that we slept with the windows open.

It wasn't quite warm enough to do so, and we limited the open panes to our room only. They were open about 1/5 of the way, and you could hear the creek running, and peepers, and occasional cars.

I love sleeping in the spring and fall with the windows wide open, before the creek starts to smell funny (late May), the spring is rife with noise and moist air. Freshly turned earth as gardens are readied, swollen creek and pond giving flow to the Merrimack. In the fall, you can smell the woodsmoke of stoves and fireplaces in the neighborhood, or the residual scent of brush burned in yards. Crisp and cold, and dry, the air wraps around my head, my face, like a soul blanket, and the sounds help me sleep deeply... they drown out Doug snoring.

I slept semi-fitfully last night. It would have been better sleep, but I was interrupted at midnight-thirty by Geoff who wanted a cup of water. I made him pee, then got him one half cup of H2O. He downed it like a Hells Angel getting a triple shot of whiskey at a biker bar, filled his cup up again to the brim and downed that. I guess he didn't get enough liquid during the afternoon. I knew I'd have to wake up at some point after say 3am to have him hit the head.

At about 4:30 I thought I heard banging and all kinds of noise coming from the living room. I got up, discovered Kinger dead to the world asleep in the middle of the floor, but no source of noise. I went to the bathroom, went to Geoff's room to get him up and he wasn't there.

He'd relocated to the couch, not sure at what time, but he was out cold, breathing the breath of deepest sleep... so he didn't make any noise. I guess it was a dream, something to wake me up to get him to the bathroom.

Recently I asked our pediatrician why he sleeps so heavily and straight through the night and has an accident once in a while. He said that Geoff, like many five year old boys, hasn't figured out how to self-wake and take heed to the call of nature. Girls don't seem to have a problem with this, or if they do, it is far less common than it is with five year old boys. Jessica wet the bed once when she was like three and a half... that was it.

Boys eventually catch on, sometimes as late as age 8. Dr. E told me to wake him up consistently around midnight, and make him go to the bathroom. Which I've been doing. Two nights in a row I slept through midnight, and he didn't have an accident. He got himself up or he just stayed dry, I have no way of knowing... suffice to say, Dr. E is right on the money. As the father of three boys, he has the inside track on what boys do, not just as a professional who got a degree but someone who has been through the motions three times over.

I took Kinger for a walk yesterday but no swim. It was a quickie walk because I realized I needed to go to the market and get stuff for dinner, so I was pressed for time once I realized the day had been frittered away right here.

Doug had a professional development meeting yesterday that kept him at his school until 5:30 and brought him home grumpy and annoyed. So I had dinner prepped. I had painted shelves, I finished the hardware needs for a project Jessie had for school. Yesterday afternoon turned out pretty productive even though I crammed all the action into the last hour before his homecoming.

This morning I took both kids to school and then took Kinger for a swim.

There is a pond across the street from our house, but the last time the dogs (Missy was there) swam in this end of the pond they got nasty sores on their bodies and I was thoroughly freaked out. I am sure they got sores from some sort of chemical pollutant or something. Whatever makes the creek stinky in the summer... the town said none of the septic tanks near the pond is in violation, that the smell comes from a bacteria that grows on the tree leaves and branches, and when the water levels drop the bacteria rots... just like what happens in Nahant and Swampscott down closer to Boston on the ocean (those in the area know exactly what I'm talking about). The smell lasts as long as the bacteria or the branches and leaves are wet... so when the water level in the pond rises and drops, and the heat bakes the exposed materials, the smell goes on. I think someone's septic tank IS leaking, because lately we can catch whiffs of it in the winter... when it is freezing out, so you can't tell me that it's from bacteria baking in the sun. What a crock. But I digress.

So we went to the other end of the pond, where no one lives right now. There is a proposal to build a shitload of houses around the other side of the pond and a lot of people are angry. I am not sure how I feel about it, that's for another entry... but for right now, it was lovely to park on the side of the road, throw a stick, and have my dog hit the water. He loves to swim, and will keep going for hours.

Last spring a swan came out on this end of the pond, by itself, which was weird because swans usually always have a partner and mate for life. Local environmental junkies and animal rights fans were saddened to see the swan by him/herself (no one is sure if it is female or male) and insisted that someone killed the other swan. There's no proof of that, but it is sad to see him/her/it swimming around. Jessica and I would feed it honey nut cheerios and sit on the guard rail across the street and watch it swim. It had a posse of about 10 ducks of different breeds that would swim with it. We thought it was awesome. It would come up out of the pond and eat right at our feet. Such a treat... we loved hanging with the swan.

Then it vanished. We didn't see it at all for the rest of the summer.

Today, I saw it again. It is living at the unpopulated end of the pond, tucked deep into the swampy part of where the pond meets the woods. It swam out to find out what we were doing, came out of the brush to the far right, honked a few times in a curious way, Kinger was fascinated... I called back with the honk and it got very close. It didn't get at all defensive or spread its wings. Kinger swam out to check it out, but it swam farther out into the pond... I had visions of Kinger not making it back, but eventually he turned around when he finally realized the swan wasn't going to let him have a good sniff. Then, after it realized we had no food and weren't swans, it swam back to where it was staying. I'm going to swing back later and try and get some pictures of it.

I ran around in the woods when I got home, trespassing on my neighbor's well marked land "NO TRESPASSING!!!" Asshole. It's the woods. I can walk in the fucking woods. Anyway, I digress. I will go over to the other side of the pond later and see if I can get the swan to come out and say hello. I'll be sure to bring honey nut cheerios. In the meantime, here are pictures from the creek and the woods right behind my house, and the primary reason I love living here. That and we can afford it. Those are the two biggest reasons.

From the edge of our property, you can see our church, and the back side of Jessica's friend Maddy's house. For the longest time the two girls have longed to build a bridge to span property edge to property edge... unfortunately, my neighbor's property is in the middle.

I climbed down low and looked west to where the street is. There is this big island in the middle of the creek which is visible most always. The neighbor kids have put all kinds of crap on that little island... broken lawn furniture, a broken trampoline. They suck.

A fleet of tiger lilies lines the area where Geoff likes to stand and throw rocks into the creek. This is visible from our deck and our side windows.

Evidence of the mill that once ran right behind where our house is today. There are TONS of bricks back there. Enough to build another house.

More lilies... this is behind our property line on a little ridge overlooking the creek. Our old landlord had a chair back here, and grew the lilies for himself even though they were on the neighbor's property. Back then, stuff like that didn't rightly matter.

More mill evidence... a fireplug in the middle of nowhere.

Vibrant. Verdant. Green. Spring is here! Spring is here!

I love our woods, even if they technically belong to someone else right past the tree line.

---

My tenant just came downstairs and informed me that her bedroom and their livingroom were FULL of flying ants or something. I went up, and sure as eggs is eggs, another sign of vibrant verdant spring. So I came down here to check out the situation and Jessica's room and picture window are swarming, the front door is full of them, my livingroom now has them. Fuck Fuck gah damnitfuck! Terminix will be here at 2pm. I called five "local" small businesses, local guys in the phone book. Got their answering machines. I would rather deal with a local bloke, but in this case, the big company was the last company I called, and they are having someone here ASAP.

Jen showered down here... she is all freaked. Her laundry, her TV, her bureau... covered. I'm freaked too because they're starting to get thick around the couch in my living room. The dude said not to spray or do anything ... just hang tight and they'll get her quickly. So I am going to quickly clean up Jessie's room, get the toys off the floor and the dirty laundry all taken care of. My skin is crawling! I hate this. If it's not one damn thing, it's another! MEH! MEH! MEH! more later.

What kids think I should be; ticks on the dog

Doug woke up at 7:35 or so this morning, usually that's the time he's walking out the door.

He was mad because he didn't set the alarm or someone turned it off. I pointed out to him that I heard him hit snooze twice, and then I didn't hear anything after that.

Suffice to say, he was very late.

Geoff was sitting on the couch. He'd been awake for a little while, long enough to get the TV turned on and go to the bathroom. The fact he didn't come in to wake us up made me sad. I'd gotten used to the 6:30am crawl that he'd do, up into the bed with the pig, smelling warm and sleepy... I think that phase of our relationship is either over or suspended.

Doug rushed to get ready, I got the kids ready and knew I'd be taking Geoff to school. He was amazingly cooperative when I asked him to dress, clean up his dishes from breakfast, get his shoes and socks, get his backpack.

Geoff and I went to his school and I sat down on the rug with him to tie his shoes and say a quick prayer with him to get his morning going on a positive note.

Within a split second I was surrounded by four or five preschoolers, about 4 years in age, all telling me that they are puppies or kittens or babies for the game of "house" they were playing right there in the reading nook. I expressed interest in finding out who was a puppy or a kitten.

Next thing I know I'm there for about 45 minutes with kids taking turns sitting on my lap, reading stories, talking about favorite colors, finding out how one girl's grampa died last month, who lost a pet, who lost an uncle. Kids this age usually volunteer this kind of information willingly, to anyone who makes eye contact with them. You get a life story, a complete "Did you know my dad likes to watch football?" kind of thing.

I'm that kind of an adult. Doug is too. For some reason, we are kid magnets, always have been. I remember going over our friend G&K's and their little boy I became attached to Doug like nobody's business. We were amazed.

Some little kids hang back a bit, but when they see four or five others, they creep closer and begin to spill their guts on whatever the topic is. First it was favorite colors, then death, then uncles and aunts who live far away (I told them how Geoff's Aunt moved to Florida and they all have been to Florida at least once), then who has gone to Disney World, who was in a wedding... it wasn't going to stop. The teachers seemed amused, the director kept popping her head in to see what I was doing, and was laughing that I had such an audience.

One little girl, cute as can be, was missing her bottom front tooth. I was surprised and asked her when it fell out. She was three and she tripped and hit her face on the side of the coffee table in her house, and the tooth fell out. It's been gone ever since.

"What are you doing today?"
"Are you staying here with us?"
"You should take your coat off."
"You have gum on the bottom of your boot."
"Why are you wearing winter boots?"
"What kind of job do you have?"
What kind of JOB do I have?"

Uh, well.

"I don't have a job right now. I'm looking for a new one... any suggestions?"

Well, of course. These four year olds are very opinionated.

"You should be a teacher here. You'd make a great teacher. You are very friendly and Geoff already goes here so you should be our teacher," said one girl followed by several nods of agreement and big, hungry smiles. Aaah, a victim to lure into our lair they seemed to say, with their tiny teeth showing and eyes glinting in the fluorescent lighting... vampires these kids are. Vampires!

"How do you know I'd be a good teacher?" I asked.

"You sit on the floor," said another girl, "and you look like a good teacher, and Geoff is really smart."

Hmmmm. Geoff is really smart. That's the most positive feedback I've heard on him from anyone in a few months, from a four year old at that... So I must be doing a good job teaching him, according to this little girl. Okay. Let's keep going.

"You can be a mommy teacher. A mommy who works here and is a teacher like this mommy and that mommy and her mommy..." they were still hung up on the idea that I should be a teacher. I finally got them to move on from teaching.

"I think you should be a fire fighter."

"Why do you think I should be a fire fighter? That's a really hard job."

"You look like you could drive a fire truck really fast and you look really strong so you can rescue people from burning buildings when they can't breathe and they fall down."

Not bad... nice suggestion. I look strong too. I like how kids these days don't see gender as an issue when picking jobs for someone. Keep going...

"You can be a farmer."

"A farmer? What would I do on the farm?"

"You can work on a barn (note, on a barn is what the kid said... not in a barn or on a farm. On a barn. How funny is it when kids are still acquiring language) and you can take care of the horses and they'll listen to you."

Great suggestions, but I'm not in shape enough to be a fire fighter and I bet mucking stables doesn't pay more than unemployment.

So I got some good suggestions from kids. I doubt I will follow any of the career paths suggested, but

---

Jessica has the MCAS test today, and didn't remind me, so I didn't get her up early enough for breakfast... I threw a granola bar to her on her way out of the door.

There goes her academic future... she'll fail miserably and her "young girl dreams of Vassar" will vanish (to steal from Lisa Simpson).

Kidding. She'll do wonderfully. Last week they spent a whole day doing a "practice" run for today, which I found appalling... that they would spend a whole fucking day practicing to take a test. It's a full day test with a break for lunch and a snack break during the morning and afternoon. It has caused a lot of grief here in the state of Massachusetts, parents and kids all up in arms about the test. Failure to pass the one that you take in high school prevents you from graduating.

The first phase of MCAS that she took last year she scored in the 98th percentile I do believe. I think that it was reading comprehension. I don't recall what it is (way to keep up on the parenting here, Chris...) The rest of her class was in the 96th for average. So the school here is doing an amazing job with the kids. The pass rate for MCAS in our district is very good. I had to take very similar tests in New York State when I was growing up, I distinctly remember them. I remember not answering the questions but just filling in circles in a pattern. I tried to make a flower out of all the dots without checking two circles in the same line, which would be bad. No lie.

I'm surprised as hell they didn't pull me in and say "what the hell is this? A 10th percentile?"

I'd have admitted it to them if they did ask. I was bored, the tests were stupid and boring. I wonder if I accidentally filled out every single right answer. Regardless, I made it out of the elementary school and in high school took the test correctly, and obviously did well, but have no idea what my scores were. In New York, the test was a general Regents test... and then there were Advanced Placement tests. A ton of my friends were in AP classes, I took AP English, which I was told I didn't belong in by some of the teachers, but I loved English. My grades weren't great, but I stuck with it. When I took the AP test, I got a four. Yup. Highest grade you could get was a five. Ha. Made you think for a second I got four out of 100. Proudest achievement of my academic career was the four on the AP English test.

I have no worries about her, with or without breakfast, she'll shine. She isn't worried or stressed, for her, it's just another day. Some kids freak out when presented with just the concept of a test. Not her... She loves tests.

When Doug was in graduate school, he would bring tests home for preschool and early elementary school aged children and practice administering them on Jessica. He had to get the flow down, how to turn the pages, how long to give a kid, how to score the tests... and he had a willing subject in her. She loved it.

One test that he gave her corresponds very closely to an IQ test... the score you get is limitless, and is supposed to pretty much equal what your IQ is. She got a 174 on the test. Doug thought maybe he did something wrong in grading it. So after a few weeks he gave it to her again. The second time she got a 170.

"I'm afraid," said Doug to me as he held the scoring sheet. "I'm terribly afraid."

---

Geoff wouldn't sit still for the pre-preschool tests, which Doug took as a bad sign right from the start. He still doesn't sit and test well.

I sent in the paperwork to have him screened by a behavioral neurologist at a local hospital to see if he has anything that can be diagnosed. I don't want to stick a label on the kid, like "Oh, he's O.D.D. [what a great acronym, eh? Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Like kids aren't screwed up enough and they find out they are odd...]

I want to find out what we can do to work with him, if he needs medication or not. If it is strictly behavioral... and find out now. Doug has kind of dragged his feet on this, but the past week has shown that we have to get a handle on what's going on in his little head. So I'll be sure to keep people posted.

We got a great book called "The Explosive Child," which was recommended to Doug by his school psychologist. Doug is reading it now and is almost done, and yesterday he did a few things which he read in the book to diffuse Geoff's temper when we asked him to do something and he fought back. It was almost like magic... Geoff stopped the arguing, and did exactly what we needed him to do. I couldn't believe it.

One thing that we're both applying to Geoff is something that Doug shared with me last night -- never try and out yell your child. Your child will always win, and will piss you off and frustrate you and you will then lose your temper. Never try to out yell... which I always try and do. What I've been doing instead of yelling is talking softer and setting up the consequences. By talking softer, Geoff has to stop yelling to hear me. Then he hears the message. Bingo - he gets it.

Wow.

I never thought I could learn something new but there ya go.

We'll keep you posted on Geoff... pray for him if you pray. He can use all the mojo he can get.

---

It is tick season.

Last week I was sitting on the couch and noticed a lump right between Kinger's eyes. It was a tick. I pulled it out, dashed him with a swab of alcohol, and then sent him on his way. Doug later pulled one out from his cheek.

The next day I had him pinned down on the floor and was pulling and picking all over his big furry body... I got 20 frigging ticks off that dog. Twen-teee. Good gracious.

So now I am constantly checking his furry bod. He's got thick heavy fur, so you have to get your fingers in there tight and close to the skin and crawl around, which he absolutely loves. I brushed him twice this week, going against the grain, looking at the skin as the brush passed. He's never been so well groomed. I called the vet to get some tick medicine, which normally we don't put on him until May, but the incredibly mild winter has obviously benefited the tick population.

I think I'll take him swimming today because he can't go swimming for about 24 hours after the medicine is put on his back... and you know this dog loves to swim. So have a great day, stay on the look out for ticks, and enjoy the nice day (if you are in New England) before the rain comes tomorrow

What a hard weekend that was...

I am worn out.

It's almost 11 am, and I feel like I need a nap. I took Geoff to school because Doug got a late start. I woke up sad because there was no half dressed little boy snuggling up to me with a guinea pig in his hands whispering "isn't she cute? I love the guinea pig... Good morning mommy..." and it broke my heart. I could have just cried my eyes out right there. So I've been kind of down in the mouth, but trying to look on the bright side of life, even in the face of inadvertent death.

Geoff has been on best behavior since the pig incident, and I know he feels badly and is totally sorry. I've never seen him express regret, or remorse before, so this is all new. I'm sorry that he had to learn that his bad decisions sometime have bad consequences in this way, but I hope this lesson sticks with him.

Jessica already wants a new guinea pig. I told her no, not for a while. And when we do, we get a proper cage with a sturdy locking top that he can't open.

After I wrote about the incident yesterday, we had a funeral for Oreo. Jessica got one of her tiedye shirts, which used to belong to Doug back in the day. It had holes in it, and was all worn out. Hell, it must have been 15 years old... Doug looked shocked that it was her choice, but I totally agreed with it. She loved that shirt, and she loved that pig. They could be retired together. Geoff didn't take any of this seriously at first, which totally made Doug and me very nervous... what kind of a monster is he? Can he just kill a guinea pig and laugh it off.

Doug told me he thought the laughing when we would try and talk to him about what was happening was a nervous thing, but I didn't feel it was. Sometimes little kids laugh not to be mean or because they actually find humor in the situation, but because they are nervous and don't want it to show.

He was right. When we went outside, Doug had picked a place and dug a foot deep hole. He quartered an apple, and I wrapped the now very stiff guinea pig up in Jessie's shirt. I laid her in the ground (crying my ass off silently, whispering "bye pig,") and each of us put a quarter of the apple in with her, because it was her absolute favorite food. Then, Doug started to fill in the hole, and Geoff freaked out.

"Stop it! You can't do that! It's not true!!!" He started yelling. Right up to that point, he thought it was all alright. But here, seeing the reality of the grave, the finality of life, it hit him.

Doug let Jessica go in the house because she was very sad, she didn't need to see any more, but we made Geoff stay with us, and we talked to him by the now covered hole. She can't be woken up, the vet can't fix her, and God isn't going to make her alive again babe, she's gone.

He was really upset, and spent the afternoon crying and moping about the house. He played on the keyboard with Doug for a while, but he was certainly sullen, and very sad.

I feel horrible that we all had to go through this. I especially feel horrible about the guinea pig.

I looked up some stuff online about kids his age and death, why this happened, how to deal with it. We did everything right and he didn't do it intentionally or with malicious intent or depraved indifference (man, I sound like I'm on "Law and Order," don't I?), and it was an accident. Kids do stupid things like this, and man alive, I think it finally made a difference in him to see that not following rules and not listening to his parents does actually lead to bad ends.

I hope it really makes a difference in what he does in the future, and I am so sorry that the guinea pig was the "sacrificial lamb" to knowledge on his part. But I always try and see some sort of positive in things, ya know? And if the positive is that he finally gets it... well then hallelujah. I see Bart Simpson up on the statue of Jeremiah Obidiah Zechariah Springfield addressing the crowd with something along the lines of "this Sunday School student on the brink of redemption..." when they are ready to string him up for cutting off the head of the revered man's statue... and I think of Geoff. He's my Sunday School student on the brink of redemption... and I sure hope the lesson sticks.

No more guinea pigs for a while. Thanks.

---

And thanks to everyone who wrote me... I got some very sweet email from people. I guess that Lileks is right, that the web is a conversation, and I appreciated all the kind conversings that you folks did towards me. I'm humbled.

Earlier in the journal, Saturday to be exact, I mentioned we were going to Walden, to Concord, to places historic. Well, Doug found out they were doing a reinactment of Paul Revere's arrest down there at the national park, and it was supposed to be well attended, which meant tons of people and no fun for us, and we'd have to leave the dog home because he wouldn't be able to deal with the crowds... so we went to a place not too far from the house to walk. I took some pictures, here they are:

It wasn't Walden, but where we went did have conservation in mind. Here's the trail marker. It is somewhere we've gone a bunch of times. There's a good swimming hole for the dog(s). Aaron swam in it once. We learned there are leeches in the water there thanks to his experiment.

Geoff kind of looks like Kurt Cobain here. Piercing eyes. Grin. Blonde.
I thought Jessica did too at this age. She's grown out of that look.

Jess and Dog in the car... funny angle.

Aaaah, goood loooookin' doggie. He looks like the king of nature.

And another shot of Jess in car.

More of dog.

Me. Jessica insisted on taking my picture. I was harassing the kids by taking tons of pictures of them while Doug was in the store.

Geoff is a little nature boy. He loves to go for hikes. I look forward to having him all to myself for a while. We'll be doing this solo, with dog.

Doug and Geoff crossing a bridge, rather small in comparison to the old trees here.

Doug thought these buds was freaky. They were furry and grey, kind of like pussy willow, but on a tree, and they dangled down. We have no idea what they are. And I took this with a flash, so they look super funky.

Alrighty then. I have a curtain to make for Jessica's room, something to spray paint for a project for her for school which is due tomorrow. I have to buy rubber bands too for this (pictures coming, I assure you). And finally to finish up on the websites I've been building. I'm waiting for content from all three, one is 99% done. The other 80%, and the catering man's site is in its infancy.

My life... busy but boring.

To Grieve A Pig

I was very sad yesterday to read Shelley's account of the death of the one and only hairless pigpigpig Wilbur. I sent her a condolence email, letting her know I will think of her when I call our pig a pigpigpig, and to let her know I feel her pain.

Well, this morning rises and shines and we find ourselves pigless as well.

Geoff decided the guinea pig needed a bath while we were all sleeping. I'd been up twice this morning. The first time was to help him to turn on the television, the second was to make him come back inside because it was 29 degrees out and he was barefoot in shorts and a tshirt from sleeping.

I should have stayed up, this never would have happened, but I was tired and daylight savings time was kicking my ass.

Doug got up when the dog threw up (yes, the dog threw up in our bedroom, can't you tell this is just a gorgeous morning???) and went to get paper towels. He opened the bathroom door and the pig was in the sink. She was soaking wet, and there was no water in the sink and no Geoff.

Suffice to say, he either drowned her by accident or held her still because she was trying to get away. She was smelly, she needed a bath. So he says.

We grilled him and he said that she wouldn't be still so he had to hold her. So either he squeezed too hard or he just held her in there. Doug tried to revive her, when he picked her up he thought he felt a heart beat, but it was no use.

Geoff wanted us to call the Doctor and see if we could get her fixed. But it was too late.

I sat on the couch and cried, Doug lectured Geoff on what happens when you break the rules, the fact that every single day since she came in this house he took her out of her cage without asking permission, without asking a grown up.

Jessica didn't take it well. But she's already asked me for another one. The hell we'll get one anytime soon.

I'm not good with pet death. It is almost a year to the day (tomorrow) since we put My Missy down, and I'm just not emotionally stable when it comes to four legged death. So this is not a good time for me. This is bad. I'm sad enough about the pig, but have residual grief on Missy.

Later this afternoon I guess we'll bury her in the yard (Geoff said "YAY! I get to dig a hole!" to which we expressed displeasure, even though hole digging is one of his favorite things). Jessie is crying on her bed and will not allow any of us to console her.