Seven years feels like yesterday.

    It's hard to believe that yesterday marked the seventh anniversary of your going home to heaven to reunite with the love of your life, but I want you to know that when you left, a void was created that can never be replaced.

    I'll never forget that fateful day that I left my house keys in my dorm room and needed to come over to borrow yours. I had planned on a visit anyway, but the situation prompted me to come over sooner in the day. I'm glad that I was there, but sad that I didn't understand the severity of the situation until later. At first, I thought you were sleeping, but the look on your face told me something was wrong. The look in your eyes and the urgency in your grasp is an image and a sadness that will haunt me forever. I wish I could have brought you some comfort in your time of need as you did so often for me.  The ensuing week was one of the worst of my life, but knowing that you were heading home has brought me great comfort. Time may heal pain, but on the day you left, you took a piece of my heart. It's a piece that always belonged to you as my Nanny, my family and my confidant.

    I'll always cherish the conversations we had about your childhood and how you grew into the strong, spunky and beloved woman that you were. The sound of your voice still rings in my ears, because some of my favorite memories involved sitting with you and talking - talking about today, talking about yesterday, talking about Papa and how he would drive you mad, but it didn't matter because you loved him with every fiber in your being. With these talks came life lessons and it's because of these lessons that you taught me to be strong and independent; to be spunky and fun; to be kind and to love from the tips of my fingers to the depths of my soul. You taught me to have faith in Christ and the Blessed Mother, and you taught me that the power of prayer can help conquer any roadblock that may come my way. The life lessons that you gave to me will always be present in the decisions that I make.

I love you today as much as I did then, and I hope that I have made you proud. Miss you always and forever.

suicide hotline for dogs?

    So, I'm pretty sure that my dog is suicidal, since she just loves to get into things that could potentially kill her. Yesterday, while I was in the shower getting ready for work, I heard my hubby start yelling at Marley that she's a nut case with a serious screw loose. Then, he called for me to get out of the shower, because Marley managed to get an unopened bottle of aspirin off the counter and proceeded to eat the 32 pills contained inside.

    First of all, I thought these bottles were child proof? Apparently that does not mean they are dog proof. Hair still soapy, I immediately got out the peroxide to induce vomiting. The first spoonful, I had help from the husband because I thought Marley would fight tooth and nail to not swallow it. Not my dog, she enjoyed the taste and wanted more. After 7 minutes of no throw up, I called the vet to explain the predicament we were in. I gave her a few more spoonfuls of the peroxide and finally she started to puke. The vet told me to bring her in right away, so I rinsed the remaining suds out of my hair, threw it back in a ponytail and got Marley into the car. She vomited two more times on the floor in the car and was ready to go once we got to the office. After an evaluation, we decided to keep her hospitalized for the day with fluids and another "coal" diet to help induce more vomiting. I went to work and kept the cell phone glued to my hip.

   At 4:30 the vet called to say Marley was ready to come home and she was quite a handful while there. I asked the vet if there was a suicide hotline for pets we could call, and while she laughed, she explained that some dogs are just destructive. She then told me that Marley is the first dog they have ever seen that wanted more coal after her first bowl to help get her to vomit. After her stomach was cleared, she pretty much wanted to play all day, making it difficult to keep the IV with fluids in. She barked most of the day and kept the vet techs amused with her usual antics. Eric picked her up and when I got home she was happy and the same old puppy as usual. Later in the day I noticed she looked a little queasy, and it's my hope that she learned her lesson. I know that I have - when I get medicine it needs to be immediately locked away in the medicine cabinet. I don't have children yet, but I guess I need to start child proofing the house for the 66 lbs Labradoodle-terror that I have living with us.

   We have her in obedience classes, and she's definitely made progress, but maybe she needs therapy, too. Anyone know of a dog psychologist they can recommend? We definitely have our hands full.