Our sweet Poco seems to be taking a bit of turn. It’s not so bad that we’re horribly worried, we’re starting to notice changes.
It seemed only a few weeks ago that Poco was a champion cookie catcher. It didn’t matter where you threw it, he’d manage to catch the cookie in his mouth. Now it could hit him in the nose and he wouldn’t catch it. He can’t seem to follow the ball when we throw it and he seems to go by sounds.
We’re worried that our little Poco is going blind.
He’s nervous and fearful. He tends to bite more and is easily startled.
When we got Poco we knew he was badly damaged physically from the years of abuse he sustained at the hands of his previous family. We knew his life expectancy would be shortened by malnutrition. The vet has a hard time getting blood from our little guy because his cardiovascular system is not the best.
When Brent and I decided to adopt Poco from our rescue group we talked at length about the medical attention he may need in the future. After much though and a few sleepless nights we decided we’d make Poco’s life as happy and wonderful as possible without putting him through the trauma of excessive medical tests or procedures. This is our choice.
Modern medicine can’t fix the damage done by five years of starvation and physical abuse. Nothing can and that’s the saddest thing.
Our little Poco is still spunky and I think he’ll adjust to his blindness. He’s relying on Gizmo and Taz to help guide him in the right direction. He’s still eating well and sleeping lots, even if he’s started to pee in the upstair hallway at night.
We make sure that Poco is safe. We’ll keep him warm and love him until the time when his life has more downs than ups. Poco hates the rain, we already know that today will not be a good day, but tomorrow is full of sunshine.
Our wedding tent is sixty by sixty. It’s huge. It totally kicked our ass yesterday. With only three days before the wedding and an thunderstorm predicted for Thursday, Wednesday became the day to put up the tent and move tables.
It would have been a thirty minute sitcom with lots of physical comedy, except it took over five hours in real time.
After we managed to sink all twenty-four of the three foot long steel tent pegs we tried to put the side posts up. We’d get one side up and the other side would fall over. We run around to the other side and then the front would fall. This went on for an hour with lots of grunts and a few swear words (okay, more than a few).
We gave up on the sides and decided to put up the centre pole. This was much harder considering we didn’t know what we were doing.
There was five of us in the middle of the tent trying to get the massive centre pole up. We struggled against the weight of the tent and the sides we’d already tied down. We tried brute strength, but we were no match for the tent.
Huffing and puffing we were getting frustrated and a little snappy with each other when Brent’s dad had the idea that if we take the tension off the sides perhaps we might stand a chance of getting the centre pole up. Hmm… sounded good, but we still were not strong enough to lift the weight of the tent.
My dad offered advice based on watching circus tents go up on TV. It seemed they put the poles in and then pulled them up from the outside. It was worth a shot. We’d be at it nearly three and a half hours, so it was really time for some progress.
We untied all the sides facing the lake and sent Brent and Chuck to man the pole under the now collapsed tent. I don’t know how they could breath. With the rest of us on the outside pulling like mad towards the lake the pole began to rise.
Our excitement fueled our muscles and we pulled harder and the post rose a little more. With a cheer from inside and outside, we pulled. Our feet dug into the sand and our backs and arms screamed as we pulled with all our might.
Once we got it going the centre pole reached the magic point and suddenly it was upright. We cheered out loud. Breathing hard, covered in a slick layer of sweat mixed with gritty sand we popped the tops on our beers and congratulated each other.
It didn’t matter that the sides had all fallen down or that we had to reconnect everything – that centre pole was up.
After struggling to move the heavy hardwood picnic tables into place we sat under the tent, cracked another beer and watched the sunset behind the windmills to the west. Billy and Chuck made jokes that they signed up for a wedding and not a construction crew. Dad joked that we’d get his invoice soon.
I think we all felt a little satisfaction that we’d managed to kick the tent’s ass.
Funny side note: My sister Lisa and I got a pedicure this morning and in order to preserve the delicate yellow flower that was glued to my big toe I refused to wear shoes. The tent erection was done in bare feet and moving the picnic tables by loading them onto a trailer manually and driving them onto the beach with the tractor was done in thong sandals.
Several people asked if I was crazy, but I shrugged my shoulders and said it better break my foot without damaging my pedicure. Go big or go home I guess. My feet and toes survived.
I refuse to wear shoes today or until after the wedding. Wish me luck!
My house guests sleep peacefully as I wake at the crack of six and am filled with excited energy. Two days till the wedding. By eight I’ve got the dogs fed and walked, the living room dusted and the kitchen tidied. I feel the steady calm that comes when I clean.
It’s a wonderful feeling I get when I can quietly clean my house. The structure infuses me with waves of calm as appreciation for the tender ministrations. I am usually filled with joy when I clean. I know it sounds a little weird, but I love to take care of this house. This old century farm house that needs so much care. We have found each other and out of love and respect we take care of each other. Brent says I’ll wash the pattern right off the floor, but it’s therapy and way cheaper than shopping.
I am envious of my house guests as they sleep on into the morning, but I’m happy to steal this moment to write and relax. Jenn and Billy are my best friends visiting from afar and I am so grateful we have more than just one day together. I’ve realized the wedding is about more than one day. It’s about family and friends coming together to build a foundation for the future. When I hear couples who have been married for over twenty years speak of the best man at their wedding or the maid of honor with pride I know what they’re talking about.
Our wedding party is still reeling from all the work. I thank them with my whole heart. Without our friends and family there is no way we could pull this together in typical Brent and Amy fashion: cheap.
Yesterday we set up the tent and move twenty picnic tables to the beach. It’s sounds fairly simple, but let me tell you it was a bit of a struggle. We made up for the lack of tractor power with man power as we pounded in twenty-four, three feet tall steel tent pegs with sledge hammers. There’s no better work out than the sledge hammer, but there’s not better way to hurt yourself either. The sledge can be oddly daunting until you figure it out. It’s all in the swing and let the hammer do the work.
There was seven of us taking turns with four sledgehammers. You can only swing that thing so many times before you need a break. I was standing over a peg huffing when Billy came over and offered to take a few swings. Gratefully I handed over the sledge and stood back to watch.
Billy is one of those people who was never exposed to tools – power tools, hammers, screw guns or the dreaded circular saw. He doesn’t really have much of an interest in learning for long term used, but he does light up once he figures it out. Last time he was visiting we were building the picnic tables and Billy learned to use the chop saw. He is so proud.
With a gentle swing Billy brought the sledge down onto the steel peg. With a ring and a giggle of delight he pulled back and took a harder hit – he missed. I hate to admit, but we were all watching out of the corner of our eye. Actually, I was standing beside watching in earnest everyone else had a soft smile as they watched from a distance.
I offered the advice of “letting the hammer do the work” and “keep your eye on the peg”, but Billy was going to swing that sledge his way. Much like a princess. It took about ten minutes, but Billy did sink that peg and he stood staring at his new nemesis with pride. He handed the sledge back to me and smiled. I am so proud.
We got the tent erected with a few attempts and as we all sat at a picnic table under the tent eating slightly charred hot dogs watching the sunset, covered in sweat and sand and dirt, I began to realize that this is what is was all about. Working hard together and bringing memories that will last a lifetime.
I can hear the stories decades from now: “Remember when we set that tent up for your wedding and I used the sledge?”
I wonder what today holds in store for Jenn?