Thanksgiving 2017

   Here's how Empty Nest Syndrome went for us:
   G left for college, two years later H graduated from high school after surviving multiple Vasovagal episodes that determined that she would not be leaving for college after graduation.
   That was fine, she stayed home and attended Red Rocks Community College, and then chose to enroll in Massage Therapy school. She and her boyfriend got an apartment in January.
    By April it was clear the cost of living, both financial and emotional, was taking its toll on them, and she moved back home in August.
    We had an Empty Nest for about ten minutes.
     At the end of September, H asked if an acquaintance of hers from RRCC could stay in our spare room until the end of the semester, as her situation at home was not healthy. "S" moved her dresser and TV in, and we hardly knew she was here. She is a nanny and goes to school. She seemed to function.
     Then she adopted a dog. She is essentially homeless, and she adopted a dog.
Did I mention she did not ask us about adopting a dog?
     OK, maybe not functioning.
     Also, what shelter allowed this to happen?   
     We cannot have a second dog, and she did not ask us first, so I told her no when she arrived with the dog. I'm compassionate, but not kind. I cannot have two dogs, no nope nope. The dog went to live with her friend. Jim and I had many conversations about dogs, and he knew a woman growing up that "always had twelve hounds" running around, and he hated it. We are not the Bumpuses, we will not be the Bumpuses.
      Then G texted that her counselor at college recommended that she get a therapy dog, as her anxiety (A Gorgeous Family Trait We Are Proud To Have Passed On) is increasing exponentially as she approaches graduation. She and I and Jim had several conversations about her finding a different dorm room for her and her dog, paperwork for a therapy dog, the fact that it would be our dog when she moved home after graduation, and finally that over the break we will have a second dog.
      As a family we acquiesced and G adopted a bear named "Zeppelin", who is part chow and part lab. He is a year old and weighs 75 pounds. Oy. She clearly has no idea what a zeppelin is or she would have known he was going to continue to grow.
      Whilst all of this was occurring, H became attached to an elderly dog at the shelter who needed a home. As we knew Zep would be joining us, Jim and I said firmly NO THIRD DOG NO.
      However, there I was at the shelter visiting Yuri, because he was supposedly only going to live a few months, and Jim and I whispered that maybe that was OK...if it was temporary, he has arthritis and is not barky. H and I left without Yuri as he was awfully spry for his posted expiration date, and G was driving back home from Durango with a bear. We figured it'd be best to meet Zep first and get him settled with Marty and the five cats before talking about Yuri the Dying Senior Dog.
     The minute Zep entered the house we knew Yuri was not happening. Zeppelin is a bear, as you know if you read the previous paragraph closely. I told G the shelter had lied to her and she should call her congressman, as they are clearly passing off brown bears as dogs in Durango.   
     Side note but worthy note: Our beloved 14 year old lab Sundown died last November. On the 7th of November. Zeppelin was born last November on the 8th. I don't believe in coincidences. 
     At exactly the same time G was arriving home, S's friend's living situation had deteriorated beyond her, and both her friend and the dog became homeless.
     Jim and I were out, finally, seeing Christopher Titus when H texted to ask if S's friend could also stay with us. I said "That means the dog, too, H, we can't have a third dog." We got home and both girls, the dog and a cat were in my spare room.   
     My anxiety flared.
     I intended to come home from the comedy club and kick them out.
     Do not take advantage. I am sorry your parents are shitty, that's not my problem and it's a separate blog. As  teacher I have seen it time and again, and I was raised in a house with a mom who took in my friends when they ran away, constantly. We had a friend of mine live with us. Jim has a similar story, his friend Steve lived with them. All that was  fine, none of those people took advantage.
      Jim said "Krys, don't kick them out. That's not Christian. It's not their fault this happened."
      Instead, I had a stern conversation with them and the cat left the house.
     Then it became known that "S" was not moving out the second week of December as I thought, she intends to stay until she moves into her dorm in January. Her friend has vague plans to get an apartment and has no exit date.
      My anxiety went China Syndrome, and I forced everyone into a living room meeting, with words and eye contact. I have been kind in the past,  and every time that I am, I get taken advantage of. I will not be taken advantage of, but I will attempt kind. I am compassionate, never doubt that, but compassion and kindness are completely different. Kind is giving a card that says thanks, compassion is giving emotional support that is real and will not be thrown out. I've never been a fan of kind, but H, as a soon to be graduated massage therapist, started her Be Kind Save the Bees mantra and called me out.
       So I made them commit to dates. Whether she goes to college and moves into the dorms is not my problem, she's out of my house by the first of January. Whether her friend finds an apartment or not, she's out by then too. That's as far as I can go with "kind". I'm in theatre for a reason, I love deadlines, they address my anxiety and calm me down. I cannot function if anything is vague. I need a hard date and a curtain time, and others need to abide by them. That is part of what worked against Yuri the senior dog; his expiration date was too vague.
     So one girl is in the spare room upstairs, on the weird fold out bed thing we bought for G over the summer that H had turned into her Cat Lounge, and they rebuilt G's old Ikea bed so the friend is downstairs in the office. G and H will share H's room, as both have boyfriends whose houses they will be at on and off all week. If I am lucky, the apartment girl will find a place before Christmas so G can have a room in her own house for the month that she will be home.
      And I have three dogs.
      We agreed that H and I would actively try to re home the orphan dog, as he should not have to return to the shelter just because the girl who adopted him does not have a fully developed frontal lobe and adopted a dog while she herself was homeless. There is no kindness here, I am all of the judge-y about this. We will find a new home for this dog, who is honestly very pretty and cute and not trained at all, and H is getting attached...quick, somebody. Give this pup a home.
      Every Thanksgiving, I grouse that I'm not doing enough. When I was younger I drove for Meals on Wheels for PWA, for Volunteers of America, gave money to the Daddy Bruce Thanksgiving. I had a full house of my family and Jim's family and drank and enjoyed the quiet and questioned if I had really done enough.
       I woke up today, Monday, of Thanksgiving week. I started laundry and walked past the office where I heard a young lady who is not my daughter sneeze. The other young lady who is not my daughter and is staying upstairs texted when she left for work to let me know two of the dogs were outside already.
       Can I honestly call it "enough" if I have an orphan dog, my daughter's dog, freaking Marty The Spaz, five cats and two people not related to me filling up my house? All of them are "rescues".
       Is giving shelter to people and animals "enough" for the season?
       Thanksgiving 2017.
       I'll keep you posted.
     
This is Zeppelin. He was here barely an hour before H gave him a lymphatic massage for his sinuses.

 kwmartin 11/2/17 not facebook post