Halloween Night in the Cemetery

I actually wrote this last year, but I did a little editing and decided to re-post it for all you new readers who missed it last Halloween.

In the fall of 1984 I was working for a local factory on the night shift. There were maybe four other people working with me, and one of them was a friend of mine I will call "Greg". Greg and I were both in our early twenties, and after work we would often have a couple of beers together before we went home. On Halloween night that year we decided it would be fun to head on over to the nearby cemetery and toss back a few there. The cemetery is the oldest and most populated in town, and in the front it still has the old fashioned, standing tombstones as well as a few crypts.

We drove out to the side of the cemetery in separate cars, and parked across the street. We had planned our little excursion a few days prior, so we had every thing we needed, which was basically just beer and cigarettes. I stowed the beers in the pockets of my down-filled vest, and we scaled the stonewall on the north side of the cemetery. Not far from the wall was a small bench nestled between two gravesites in the oldest section of the cemetery; obviously the perfect spot for drinking with the dead.

There were a few nearby crypts, so after a couple of beers we thought we might check a couple of them out just to see what they were like inside. I thought for sure these things would be locked up to keep people like my friend and I out of them, but we opened the door to the first crypt we came across, and walked right in. It was a bit spooky in there, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Feeling a bit more emboldened, we fully entered the crypt and spotted a small fountain like structure at the far end where a bottle of holy water was kept. We walked down the narrow passage and took a look at it, and I remember feeling a bit nervous again. I guess it was because we were now so far into this crypt that if any psychopath or evil spirit had the urge to trap us, now would be the perfect opportunity. But of course nothing happened and we were soon out of the crypt moving on to the next one as if they were model homes.

As it turns out, once you have seen one crypt, you have pretty much seen them all. Every one we looked in was made of stone, had plaques on the walls identifying the remains that were entombed, and had nice examples of ironwork and masonry. So we returned to our bench o' beer.

As we engaged in the kind of semi-drunken chitchat you might find in any cemetery on Halloween night, my friend Greg suddenly got up, and ran off into the field of tombstones. Slightly bewildered, I looked around to see what sort of creepy apparition might have scared my companion away. For a moment I thought for sure I would look up to find a headless, see-through ghoulie hovering just over and behind my head, instead what I saw was even more frightening.

What had scared off my friend, and what now had me paralyzed in fear as I sat on the bench, was the horrifying sight of two police cruisers entering through the front gate of the cemetery. Once the reality of this spectacle registered in the feeble, alcohol soaked cells of my brain, I also got up and ran.

I had no idea in which direction Greg had run, and quite frankly I didn't really care. What was on my mind was avoiding the police, and getting the hell out of that cemetery. I ran full speed trying to make it to the south side of the cemetery where I knew there would be no fence or wall to scale, but rather a sizable hedge that I could hide in, and possibly escape through. I turned back to see where the police cruisers were in relation to myself, when I tripped over a small tombstone, and landed right on top of an adjoining grave.

I should note that I wear glasses, and as I lay sprawled on this grave I suddenly realize that the world had gone all fuzzy and blurry. I literally cannot see two feet in front of my face without my glasses, and so it was imperative that I find them if I wished to get out of the graveyard in one piece, and not spend the rest of the night in jail.
I scavenged around on my hands and knees furiously trying to locate my glasses. I looked up at one point and saw what appeared to be three headlights heading in my direction. (Everything beyond two feet is blurry, but believe me I can make out three bright lights coming at me in a dark cemetery.) I finally found my glasses, put them on, and saw to my horror that one of the cruisers was just a few yards away from me, and was coming down the path I was standing next to. They were using their spot light to look into the graveyard and up into the trees, so that explained why I saw three lights instead of two.

I had little time to react, and the option to run had long passed, and so I plastered myself against the far side of the nearest tree, and held my breath as the cruiser passed by. When it did, the spotlight waved through the tombstones as it approached my tree, and when it finally got to my location the light broke on either side of me as the spotlight briefly shone on the tree, and passed harmlessly on by.

After a few moments, I breathed a sigh of relief and looked down the pathway to be sure that the cruiser was a safe distance away. It was, and the other cruiser was on the side of the cemetery I needed to get to, but was well beyond the hedge that would provide me my escape. As I stood there formulating my escape route, I heard a whistle, and turned around already cussing out Greg for just up and leaving me back on the bench. But he wasn't there. I called his name, quietly of course, but got no answer. Figuring he would have the same idea as me, and would be heading for the south side of the cemetery, I quickly, but carefully, made my way towards the safety of the hedge.

I was almost there when I stopped to look for the police. They were all the way in the back of the cemetery by now, and were on foot around the mausoleum. As I stood there, someone grabbed my shoulder.
Being grabbed by the shoulder in a cemetery on Halloween night with the police looking for you is not for the faint of heart. I nearly peed my pants. Of course it was Greg, and indeed he had had the same escape plan as I, so together we made it to the hedge, and subsequently out of the cemetery.
We walked to a local gas station and called a friend to come pick us up. While we waited for our ride we watched the police continue to search the graveyard. When our friend arrived, we quickly drove by where we had initially parked our cars. Noting that there were no other police vehicles present, nor any sign of any cemetery personnel, we got in our cars and left.

From there all three of us drove over to the next town over and snuck into a smaller cemetery there. (We hadn't yet finished our beer.)

We found a good spot with a bench, and sat down to tell our friend about our adventure. I got to the part where I heard Greg whistle, but didn't see Greg. Greg said, "I didn't whistle." I said, "You didn't? I heard someone whistle just as clear as I can hear you guys now." Greg went on to explain that he never saw me from the time he ran from the bench, until he grabbed me by the shoulder over by the hedge.

And then we heard a distant whistle.

Each of us silently finished our beers, and then we quickly left.

Halloween Morning

I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday, but this morning it started off a bit ominous.

As usual I began my morning by taking Angel and Jacqueline out for a short walk. We follow the same path every morning, which includes a stop at a newspaper vending machine. This morning, after I purchased my paper, we started down the sidewalk back towards our house, when we happened upon a dark lump lying right in the middle of the sidewalk. As we got closer, I realized it was a dead coyote. He had been hit by a car while crossing the road, and then dragged himself over to the sidewalk where he died.

Either that, or he was a Werewolf.

In any event, I hope that doesn’t set the tone for the rest of my Halloween.

Thalia Siamese Ninja Master

Thalia has long been considered the warrior of the house. In fact, her nickname is "Siamese Ninja Master". In the next picture you can see her skills as she takes on two dogs, which collectively are three times her size.

But even A Ninja Master should never underestimate the skills of Jacqueline, Tai Chi-huahua Master.

More cats can be found at the Friday Ark at The Modulator.

Bath Time

Since the arrival of my stepdaughter's baby my digital camera access has been limited. As a result I dug into our pet pictures archive, and found a couple of Jacqueline and Angel each getting a bath.

Check out the Friday Ark at The Modulator for more fine examples of the pet world.

Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my birthday, and I gotta say, it's a far sight better than last year's birthday. It also looks like we are going to be celebrating a lot of birthdays around this time of year from now on.

As each year goes by I find myself increasingly fascinated by the concept of time. I am so fascinated by it that I even discovered the inverse ageing theory. The inverse ageing theory, or "The Babb Syndrome", as I like to call it, states that any given person's concept of the rate at which time passes is inverse to their chronological age. I have not yet devised a formula to mathematically describe this phenomenon, but essentially what I am saying is that a day for a person who is two years old passes at the rate of approximately two hours for every "real time" hour, whereas the same day passes at one hour to three "real time" hours for a person who is forty-five. This is why older people say that time "seems" to go by quicker as they get older. I am hoping one day I will be honored by an entry in Wikipedia for my work.

In any event, I look back on my rapidly passing life and think of some of the things I did that I am proud of, such as keeping out of a federal penitentiary, and some that I am not so proud of, like launching a clutch of eggs through an open high school gymnasium window during prom night. (I should've acted more like a man, and tossed them through the front door.) I look back, and find myself feeling over all quite good about myself. I have a job, a good wife, three great cats, two fun loving dogs, and three stepchildren that, as far as I know, don't want to do me in. I also have a turtle. For all that, I am grateful.

I have gone from living alone for most of my adult life to living in a three-bedroom house with all the souls I mentioned above as well as a newborn baby, and I haven't taken my own life.

Pretty impressive if I do say so myself.

Angel Has To Share His Birthday

Today Angel turns four years old, and he is as spunky as he was the day we brought him home.

But from now on, Angel will have to share his birthday with my new step-grandson who was born at 3:00pm today.

Happy Birthday to both, and may there be many more to come.

Thalia Makes The Big Time

I noticed a jump in legitimate visitors to Athenamama lately, and it turns out that my beautiful cat Thalia is the 25th hit in Google's image search engine when you search for the word Thalia.

It's even my favorite picture of her...

In case you are wondering, Thalia is not named after the Latin Singer Thalia Sodi. Thalia was named after the Muse Thalia because she was also a Greek deity, just like Athena.

Angel's Best Side

During his photo session this week, Angel had a tough time deciding on which is his best side.

I say each is equally cute.

And now for the gratuitous, Doggie in a baby blanket picture,

Jacqueline HATES to be spoiled.

Be sure to check out the Friday Ark at The Modulator, and Mickey's Musings for the Carnival of the Dogs.

Thalia Watches TV

I was watching the 1965 Disney classic, "That Darn Cat" the other day, and before long Thalia joined me.

Thalia thinks D.C. is the cat's meow.

Remember the Friday Ark at The Modulator, and the Carnival of the Cats this Sunday.

Bonnie in Black and White

While visiting with my parents the other day, my mother gave me some old photographs I took when I was a kid with this camera.

Believe it or not, my trusty Kodak Instamatic took great pictures. I got it for Christmas 1971, and that same Christmas my sister got a Silky Terrier puppy by the name of Bonnie.

I loved Bonnie. She had a goofy personality, and the longer I am around Angel the more I am convinced he is Bonnie reincarnated. They are so much alike in how they walk, how the play, and even how they bark. I guess an argument can be made that they are both small dogs of about the same build and weight, and so of course there will be a great many similarities. I don't care, to me they will always be brother and sister, no matter that Bonnie died 17 years before Angel was even born.

Anyway, the pictures my mother gave me included these of Bonnie. Black and white film was so much cheaper to buy and process back then, and my modest allowance forced a certain amount of frugality. Looking back, I wish I were a bit more frivolous when it came to choosing my film.

Pets are such a wonderful aspect of life. I really can't imagine my life without them.

How Jacqueline Learned About Candles

Early yesterday evening couldn't have been more perfect. With all my weekend chores complete, I ended up resting in the easy chair in my room with a snack and drink on the table next to me, my two dogs mildly wrestling on the rug, and a good movie on the tube. It was warm outside, and it was also lightly raining. The candles in my room gave it a warm glow, and I couldn't have been more comfortable. It was one of those moments that are all too fleeting, and I sat there trying to savor every second of it. It was glorious.

Then I looked down, and saw that Jacqueline was chewing on something shiny. It immediately struck me that little dogs shouldn't be chewing on anything shiny, so I wrested myself out of my chair, and took the shiny object away from her. At first I thought it was a piece of tinfoil. It was a shiny, silver material that was well chewed as evidenced by the tiny teeth marks all over it, but it seemed too stiff to be tinfoil. During the chewing process it had folded over on itself a few times, so I unfolded it to see if I could further identify what the mystery material really was. As I did so, I found a small chunk of wax, and immediately I knew that Jacqueline had ingested a tea candle.

I didn't think eating candle wax could harm her, but she chewed up the little foil cup that it comes in so badly that I figured she probably got some of the metal down along with the wax. I also discovered that the wick was missing, and along with it, the small, metal button anchor that keeps it from floating off when the candle is lit.

I called the local pet emergency hospital where we had taken Jacqueline when she fell. They said the wax shouldn't be a problem, but if I suspected she had ingested some of the metal, I should bring her in. I called my wife, told her what had happened, and then promptly drove Jacqueline to the hospital.

Once at the hospital I gave the attendant the chewed up tea candle as well as a pre-chewed example. The attendant said she would take Jacqueline to see the vet in the back, and would show her the candles as well.

Before I could finish filling out the paperwork, the attendant returned. She said that the doctor felt that, given the evidence, Jacqueline would be fine, but if I wanted to be sure they would induce her to vomit which would not only definitively prove whether or not she ate the candle, but might also eliminate any metal garnishes. I asked the attendant if she had shown the doctor the metal button wick anchor. She said she hadn't, and asked if I found the wick at the scene of the attack. I told her I hadn't, and that is why I was concerned she might have eaten it. I know it isn’t made out of the same flimsy material as the foil cup, and if it had made its way down Jacqueline's gullet, it could cause her some trouble.

Together the attendant and I removed the wick from the good candle, and she took it back to get the vet's opinion of its potential effect on Jacqueline.

The attendant returned, and said the doctor felt that the anchor was just big enough to plug up Jacqueline's plumbing, and that they should induce her to vomit in an effort to get it out of her. I agreed.

A few moments later the vet came out and said that Jacqueline vomited up some dandelion parts, her dinner, and something that had the aroma of paraffin about it. She did not barf up any metal objects of any kind, nor did she barf up a wick. However, she did say that when a dog is made to vomit, only about 80% of the stomach contents actually come up.

I asked if it was reasonable to assume that her stomach contents would come out in the reverse order that they went in. (Last in, first out.) The doctor said yes, that it did work that way. I said that Jacqueline ate the dandelion she found around 4:30, and her dinner at about 5:00. She tossed back the candle just before we went to the hospital, which was around 7:00. Given that timeline, she should have tossed up something associated with the candle.

The doctor asked me if I actually saw Jacqueline eat the candle. I said no I hadn't, but she has the mentality that if an object fits in her mouth, it is edible, so when I found the mangled candle body I naturally assumed it was she who ate it. The doctor asked if we had any other dogs, I said yes, we had another dog, but he's a good boy, and would NEVER eat something like the candle.

However, the more I thought about it, the more I felt that perhaps Angel DID eat the candle. I asked the doctor if her main concern over the metal wick anchor was that it might not fit through Jacqueline's plumbing. She said yes. I asked if Jacqueline weighed, oh, say 18 to 20 pounds, would she have the same concern? She said no, a dog that size should pass the object with little or no effort.

I thanked the doctor, paid the hospital $128.00 to make my dog barf, collected Jacqueline, and went home.

When I arrived back home, I found Angel just where I had left him, resting on the rug at the foot of my chair. I could swear, however, that he was looking at Jacqueline with a nasty grin on his little face.

Athena The Prarie Dog

Athena used to stand on her hind legs from time to time. She would do it when she needed a better vantage point while scoping out a potential target. She looked a lot like a prarie dog when she would do it. Below are the only two photographs I ever took of her sitting up.

Remember the Friday Ark at The Modulator, and the Carnival of the Cats this Sunday.

Still No New Pictures

I still haven't had an opportunity to take any new pictures of the pets, so this week I will be posting some older pictures of Angel and Athena.

These two were taken of Angel when he was about a year old. He seemed so much cleaner back then for some reason. Maybe his coat was just whiter. I dunno.

Be sure to check out the Friday Ark at The Modulator, and Mickey's Musings for the Carnival of the Dogs.

Speaking of Halloween

I conjured up a quick Halloween makeover for Athenamama.

I hope ya dig it.

No Bones ABout It

I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday of the year. So, in the spirit of Halloween I thought I would share with you this website I stumbled upon the other day. It’s Skulls Unlimited, a site where you can order up a skull of almost any critter imaginable. I found it by searching for images of Chihuahua's on Google, and this picture was one of the hits.

That's right, it's a Chihuahua skull. Looks like something out of a horror flick.

I found myself spending quite a long while looking at many of the specimens they offer for sale. It's really rather fascinating. I don't know that I would actually order anything from them because I don't think I have a need for another skull at this point in my life, and besides, they are somewhat pricey, but it's still a fun site to browse.

By the way. My shoulder, arm, and hands are feeling much better since I have limited my computer use. I think if I continue to regulate my computer time etc., I should have no trouble making regular posts here in addition to the Friday Pet Blogging entries.

More Baby Pictures

Last weekend my stepson went ocean fishing down in San Diego. He has a job entering data on a sports fishing website, and one of the perks is he gets to go on these fishing trips for free. He also writes about them, and takes pictures for local fishing publications.

He uses my camera on these trips, and so last weekend while he was gone I had no camera to photograph Angel or Jacqueline with. When he did bring the camera home, it smelled of fish, so I kinda kept away from it.

Honestly, that's not the real reason. I was just busy this week, so I have no new pictures of Jackie and Angel. That means it is Baby Pic's week again...

Thank you for your indulgence

Be sure to check out the Friday Ark at The Modulator, and Mickey's Musings for the Carnival of the Dogs.

The Most Elusive Cat In The House

I thought for a change I would post a picture of our most elusive cat in the house, Salem.

Salem was born just before I met my wife, and was a present from my mother-in-law to my stepdaughter. In fact, the first time I met my stepdaughter she was holding a very small Salem in her hands. When introduced to me she didn’t ask how I was, or say she was pleased to meet me, instead she held up her kitten and asked me if I would like to hold her. It made a lasting impression. We share a love of animals. In fact, she often tries to tell me Thalia is her cat. (Sorry, the name on the receipt is mine.)

Salem is now a whopping 24 pounds, and has such thick fur and undercoat that she must be shaved every few months. FIFTY DOLLARS! But, I love her. She is very quite, doesn’t move much, and though seems to prefer isolation, is very affectionate.

Remember the Friday Ark at The Modulator, and the Carnival of the Cats this Sunday.

Self Medication

I am very involved in my own medical care. For instance, as I discussed here, I have been prescribed two, 20mg oxycontin pills twice a day for pain with Percocet sprinkled throughout the day as needed for “break through” pain. At first that wasn’t working for me. I was finding myself in great pain by 1:00 in the afternoon, and faxed my doctor requesting a change in medication. (I had just switched to this medication, and so it isn’t unusual to try it out for a while, and adjust the dosage.)

By the time my doctor got back with me I realized my computer usage dramatically impacts my pain level. The more I point and click, the greater the pain in my index finger, forearm, shoulder, and neck. I do not have carpal tunnel syndrome, but repetitive motion is actively messing with my pain sensors. Or so goes my theory.

With my newfound hypothesis, I decided to stay away from computers, and cut my medication. I began my experiment last Saturday, and after three days, (I stayed home from work on Monday strictly in the name of science,) I was down to one 20mg oxycontin in the morning, and one in the evening, however I was a little sick when I woke up because of mild withdrawals. That’s when it became clear to me that oxycontin doesn’t last twelve hours in my body.

I told my doctor about my experiment, and that I was enduring less pain. She was happy for me, but she suggested I take two oxycontin in the morning when I return to work just to be on the safe side. I considered her advice, but felt one would be good for starters, and if I needed I could take another if necessary.

Necessity struck around 2pm.

Because I took the second dose at 2pm I figured I shouldn’t take another until just before I go to bed at 9pm. I did, and when I awoke the next morning I found myself feeling rather good!

Right now I have it worked out so that I take one oxycontin every eight hours. I don’t feel much in the way of side effects, I am somewhat pain free, and I don’t feel withdrawally. I think I may be on to something. Maybe, just maybe if I am able to keep my computer time limited enough to prevent the onset of great pain, I will be also able to cut back my medication. Maybe then I can eventually get off this carousel.

I am not sure if my problem has been excessive computer use all along, and that it has just worsened as time goes on, or if I am suffering from some malady that is aggravated by the time I spend on computers. But at least now I have a little hope that I might be able to lessen my pain to the point where I no longer need pain medication to control it.

I cannot tell you how happy that would make me. The problem with taking narcotics to control pain, at least from my perspective, is that it is a double-edged sword. The medication does bring relief, but only for a short while, so I do suffer intermittent bouts of great pain throughout my day. I also get a kind of narcotic hangover in the morning. It is very difficult to get out of bed, leaves a nasty taste in my mouth, and has a negative psychological effect when it comes time to toss down that first hit in the morning. It makes you feel like an addict. I also am exhausted by the end of my day, and usually spend the rest of my day in bed. If I were to move up on the drug scale to kill the pain entirely, and take something stronger and longer acting, like the patch , it amplifies the other drawbacks.

I don’t fear addiction. I have squared off with addiction before with alcohol and tobacco and kicked its slimy ass. I also know I take these meds responsibly, and for a well documented condition, and so I don’t care that some folks I encounter give me that “look” if the subject does comes up in casual conversation.

But sometimes, late at night as I lie in bed, I fear that this will be with me for the rest of my life, and THAT is scary. My life with pain and on narcotics is not fun at all. In fact, it’s a nightmare. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. But right now I see a little hope far off in the distance. And I see it because I am actively involved in my own medical care. I research my problem, at least as best I can, ask questions of my various doctors, and look up the medications that are prescribed to me. I listen to my body and try the different meds, and investigate different methods of using them such as I described above. I also have a wonderful relationship with my doctors, whom I trust, and who trust me.

Hopefully together, we will find a way to get me back living a normal life unimpeded by pain, and the nasty narcotics needed to battle that pain. For now, just to give you some idea of my condition, composing this entry has caused me fantastic physical pain. My index finger is numb, but throbbing with pain at the same time. My forearm is on fire, as is my shoulder area. My neck is also very tight, and has a deep and excruciating dull sort of ache that I find myself unable to describe even though it is the pain I have lived with since the beginning.

Because I am still trying to get better, I will not be posting as often as I had hoped. I will try to put together the Friday pet blogging entries each week, but little else for a while. I also won’t be checking in on many other blogs save for those I just can’t stay away from.

Don’t go thinking you can steal my domain name though, because I ain’t giving it up just yet.

Ten Years Gone Now.

It has been ten LONG years since Bill Watterson decided his highly regarded comic strip, "Calvin and Hobbes", had run its course.

Now it's back.

My copy arrived today, and it is 23 pounds of color and comedy that I can't tear myself away from. Not Since Charles Schultz has there been a comic strip artist with such a wonderful mix of artistic and comical genius all wrapped up in one wonderful package.

And here it all is again, in one equally wonderful package, for you to discover all over again at the low, LOW price of $150.00. But be smart and find it on Amazon or some other book slinger for around $95.00. I did, and it is worth every red cent.

Now I must go, I have a few slush balls to toss at Susie Derkins before I climb into my transmogrifier. Oh, and by the way, so far I have not seen one panel of Calvin pissing on ANYTHING!