ah fuck it...

I really need to tell Dave to kinda lay off (literally?) of Sonia before it really gets to me... I mean, I'm not at nature a jealous man... but couldn't he just lay off for a month until I'm gone? Whatever... just had to say that somewhere...

Busy

I've spent quite a bit of time on the Army clock this last week. I'm the Davis liason recruiter, and as such, try and refer as many people as possible to my sergeant at the Woodland station (I've had about 4 referals in the last weeks). Last week I was called into Woodland to report and travel with my sergeants into the Sacramento Battalion base to reapply for my shipping orders. I spent several days, missing two days of class in the process (grrrr) because of having to wait on the staff sergeants and officers to make arrangements.
But I finally have what I was called up for! A ship date! September 24th for Ft Jackson, SC! Hooah - finally! It's maybe sooner than I hoped, but I just want to get this Change Of Station over with...

While at the Sacramento base, I spent a fair deal of time in the general lounge where all the kids who are hoping to ship off to basic sit around. Again, as always, I was struck by the fact that they are all children, between 17 and 19 years old. They are fit, to be sure, in good spirits, but so very young and inexperienced. Don't tell that to them of course - there's always enough testosterone running around in that lounge to make defensive attitudes rise quickly, although there's something about wearing a uniform in that crowd which draws instant respect, so maybe I'm lucky.
There was one guy there however - calm, about six foot something, of african american descent, and with a very mature bearing. I read his info sticker and it titled him as a US Army Active shipper - leaving that day. We sat next to each other in the outer lounge where non-military people are allowed, and his very tall and lovely wife and two small children came in to say good bye to pappa. I wondered what his story was. Everyone has a story for joining, but most of them are the same: either it's a kid who's wanted to be in the army since he or she was first able to walk, or it's a kid who's had a lot of trouble at school, is having trouble at home, and wants to get out and make a new life for him/herself. But obviously not this fellow - the only person below the rank of E-4 there who was, besides myself, over the age of 21! I didn't get to ask him why he joined, but you have to know it involved a fair amount of sheer patriotism to have left his family like that.
All I can say is I hope I have his type in my unit...

Late night forgetfulness...

drinking Old Rasputin Imperial Stout and watching scads of Cary Grant films... ahhh... The Aweful Truth, Holiday, and Talk of the Town... a great way to laugh again

Caber

She just sat there, staring at the door. Occasionally she would turn her head and look up at me, then back at the door. It was as if she knew it would be the last time she could go outside, and she wanted just one more chance to sniff around.

I left class early on Wednesday, because they said my dog's tumor was growing alarmingly fast. I probably sped a little on the drive up. She greeted me with a muffled "wuff!"; the tumor in her mouth and throat made speech really difficult for her, but she was still excited to see me.

Thursday we said goodbye - to places, to people, to things. She was still the same perky dog she ever was, I just had to stop and clean the puss coming from her mouth every ten minutes. But she was full of life, and happy to be living it. The tumor burst in a bloody mess that night, and I knew that today couldn't come too soon.

And so this morning she just sat there, staring at the vet door, as if she understood it wasn't a simple check-up or shots like normal. We brought her to this vet 11 years ago, almost exactly. She was about four pounds and the same number of weeks old - a tiny thing all covered in bulging ticks who made her weak from loss of blood. Who knew such a tired little thing would turn into a spritely and energetic puppy, and stay that way for a decade?

We had a good life. We both grew. She followed me everywhere. She missed me when I transfered. She was extatic every time I could come home. She followed me into the final room and lay down on command, her eyes a little nervous, and maybe just a little sad. I held her head and scratched her jaw. In a moment she relaxed and lay her head in my hands, her breathing slowed. I felt her pulse and knew when she was gone. I kissed her head for the last time and said thank you.

It will be a long time before I have another dog.