Know what I like about Xanga? I like it that you can keep a site on here forever, and that when you go back to it, years later, it's still there. I like how you can go back and read all the comments people have left for you over so much time, and how you can read your old posts. I also kinda don't like that. It's a little bit depressing.

I was reading some old posts I'd written a few years ago, and it just reminded me of how much I've changed since then. Things happen and they make you look at things differently; can't really do much about that. It's just kinda sad...I don't think about the things I used to think about. I don't get as excited about the same things anymore. Even my dreams have changed. I really do not want to keep going this way if it means that, when I'm forty or sixty or eighty, I'll be somber and bitter and full of regret. I don't want the crusty old version of myself to tell my younger, more erratic self that she's ridiculous and that life isn't really the way she hopes it is, and to quit holding on to things she can't see and just be glad she survived this long. That would suck immensely.

I'm trying to figure out where I've been and why I've been there. I got so close to just giving up on everything and just settling for going through the motions, with my only goal being not to get hassled by anybody. But this part of me, the part that makes me a little odder than the other apples in the barrel (or wherever it is that apples live these days) just won't die. It really started to grow when I was a little kid and my parents were fighting a lot, my mom was in and out of hospitals, and my brother, sister, and I were being home-schooled while trying to get used to whatever new neighborhood we were living in that year. I used to lose myself totally in books. My mom taught me to read before kindergarten (the last time I went to school until I was nine) and I read whatever I could after that. I think that's when I started to really use my imagination as more than just an escape...I guess I just figured I could live there. And here everyone thought I was just really, really shy...

Anyway...I miss the way I used to be. I can't really go back there now, but for a while, it was fun. I'm not sure what I'm turning into, but I don't think it will take too much effort to retain my imagination and that part of myself that secretly thinks reality is one incredibly hilarious joke...

Man. Okay, so yesterday while my sister and I were out delivering on our route, we come across a dog that's laying in front of a customer's house. At first we think he's sleeping, but when we got closer, we realized he was in really bad shape. His eyes were sealed shut with mud, there was stuff coming out of his nose, he was skin and bones, and he couldn't move except to lift his head. So we call animal control. I gave them a very specific description of the black and white dog and his condition, right down to the leather, spiked collar he was wearing. We go back and finish delivering, do some grocery shopping in town, and then drive by the house to see if they'd gotten him yet.

 Nope. We get back home and call again, and they tell us that the call has been upgraded because someone else reported him, too. So, we hang out for a while, and then it starts to bother us so we go back and check again. He was still there. We made the first call at ten in the morning, and it was after eight p.m. already. My sister calls them again, and they tell her, "Look, we've been out there twice, and we can't catch him (what?!) So, if you can get him, bring him to us." We live way out of town, to the east; animal control is on the outskirts of town, directly west...way, way out there. So my sister and I find the dog; someone had moved him out of the street, but he could not move of his own accord. Then we saw another dog, white with black spots, running around, and realized that they'd been chasing the wrong dog. Somehow, they ignored all the other details I gave them, and just started chasing around some other black and white dog who was clearly not "blinded, unresponsive, immobile, and starved with a leather spiked collar around his neck". So my sister and I take a sheet and make a stretcher out of it, and scoop the dog into it. He didn't move at all, but he was still breathing. Then we drove him all the way the shelter. I kept checking to make sure he was still breathing the whole time, but that dog smelled like he was already dead. It was so terrible. We get him there and I go and get someone to come for him. They get a good look at him while they're carrying him in and don't say anything to us, but 'thank you'.

It was bad enough, because watching that little dog suffer was like watching my own big dog die all over again. But then I called this morning to check on the little dog's condition, and they tell me that he had a bad case of distemper and that they euthanized him. So I called the animal hospital because I was worried that my dog, Holly, could catch something because we had been in such close contact with that dog. The woman there kindly told me that distemper and parvo viruses can stick to clothing and that we needed to wash all our clothing and any surface that our clothing and the dog had come in contact with in bleach. She said that the distemper virus can lay dormant in a dog for two weeks, and to keep a close eye on our own dog for symptoms. She said it helped that Holly's up to date in her vaccinations and that she has a fully developed immune system. But I'm freaking out anyway. I took off down to the store to buy bleach and have been doing loads of laundry all day, most of it "just in case".

So because of some sick freak of a dog owner and because of the animal control's idiotic incompetence, I'm sitting here wondering if my dog is going to end up with distemper, and if my vet can save her if she does. Every little cough or sneeze, anytime she acts a little lethargic or has an upset stomach, for the next month or so, I'm going to be terrified that she's getting sick. I can't lose another dog. I can't lose her. I don't even know how to explain how important that is. Holly is more than a pet to my mom, sister, and me. She's part of the family. My other dog, Elvis, didn't deserve to die the way he did, and I don't know what I'd do if I had to watch Holly go through it, too. Especially knowing there was something I could have done to prevent it. This is so screwed up. People totally make me sick. They have no respect for life at all, and they're so freaking selfish and careless. I don't even know what to do, other than report the shelter to the ASPCA, and e-mail a letter of complaint to our local newspaper, so that at least other people are aware.

I don't know. I just wish there was more I could do. I hate it when things like this happen, and all I can do is wait. I just have to keep praying and having faith that God will make everything work out. Because this on top of everything else just seems like too much at once. I just have to trust Him that it's not.

Boy. Sorry for the depressing entry. Just needed to get it out, I guess. It's driving me nuts.

I finally figured out how to get some music on here. I love most of these songs ( a couple of them, I just like a lot...as friends. ) but there is a reason that there are three versions of The Lion Sleeps Tonight on my playlist. I really love music, and there are a lot of songs I couldn't imagine living without (some of them you're listening to) but this song has always been my favorite song. I don't have a particular reason why. It doesn't remind me of anything in particular, and I don't remember the first time I ever heard it or anything like that. It just always makes me feel good to hear it. If I had a theme song, that would be it. Lame, huh? But it's true, too.

The playlist is from Project Playlist, and it's free to get. Addictive as meth cookies, too.