Buddy Goes To Tuscaloosa
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Fever: Peggy Lee
July, 1995
Kath had been packing for weeks.
That is true. Robin had left for Atlanta in March. Kristin, Buddy and I had been running the household. Stephanie was in Montreal at McGill University. Kristin completed her school year and reluctantly bid goodbye to her friends. I spent days contributing years of school supplies, lessons, and displays to my colleagues. I was taking a leave of absence from my career, not certain if in fact I would ever return.
Kris and Buddy, the year before they left Toronto.
The house had been sold and I had arranged for movers to help with our transition to living in Alabama. Moving out of the country is a little different than relocating locally, so we had booked early, but I don't think we were prepared for the truck that arrived. It took up the front lawns of three of the homes on our street! Buddy would not leave my side and supervised as all of our belongings were loaded onto the giant transport.
The next day, I hugged my daughter goodbye - she had a babysitting job for the summer and would follow a month later when school would begin in Alabama. My sister-in-law, Rose, volunteered (I think she volunteered?) to drive Buddy and me to the airport for our flight south. It was July 11th and the thermometer read 104 degrees Fahrenheit in the city that day! The humidity was brutal.
We loaded luggage, Buddy's crate and Buddy into the rear of her SUV and headed out into crosstown traffic. Buddy could sense that something momentous was happening and he paced and whined and drooled all over our necks as he leaned forward to get a better look out the window. Rose unloaded us at the airport door. I think she left the car there (You could do such things in those days.) We found a trolley and loaded bags and crate and headed to check in. Because we had to present papers, passports, visas, and Buddy's vaccination report to customs and immigration, I was advised to keep the dog on a leash with me until we had been admitted to the United States. Rose accompanied us as far as they would allow and then wished us a tearful goodbye.
We stepped through the door and left Canada officially.
I was then advised by airline personnel that I should load the dog in his crate. It was me and Buddy - both crying, and fighting the whole crate idea. He slipped on the tile floor as he attempted to dig his claws in and resist. I shoved and pushed and heaved until finally, somehow, I won the battle and secured the gate.
Sobbing, I turned to find hundreds of eyes who had all witnessed this struggle in horror. I bravely moved towards security. Then it started - the most mournful wailing that you have ever heard! Everyone in the vicinity turned to watch as baggage handlers dragged the crate with the giant dog away and I fell hysterically into the United States.
I sobbed all the way to the boarding area. I sniveled as I waited to be called for my flight. The heat was overwhelming - the Toronto airport was not equipped to handle this kind of weather! Finally, we were called, and crying softly, I worked my way down the aisle of the plane. Everyone on board was sweating profusely and nobody was happy, but I was MISERABLE! My situation did not improve when I finally found my seat and discovered that it was in the middle of two businessmen. Both were in suits (Do you remember those days?) and hot, and the last thing they needed was a semi-hysterical female sobbing between them! I hiccuped my apologies and blew my nose and burst into tears once again. They did not try to comfort me, but politely turned away slightly so they did not have to witness my breakdown. I gasped for air and wiped my tears and was beginning to reach a more serene demeanor when an announcement came over the intercom: "Would Mrs. Kathleen Mullen please ring the attendant call button." We had not left the terminal. Terror overtook me. What could be wrong now? I had no house to return to. My husband was thousands of miles away. My children were God knows where. And my poor dog had disappeared howling on a baggage cart. I pushed the button and burst into tears again. My two fellow passengers distanced themselves as best they could. I am sure that they were secretly praying that airline personnel were about to remove me from the flight. But, a sweet southern attendant answered my call and came to inform me that the captain wanted me to know that my dog had been loaded safely. I blubbered a "Thank you" and sobbed from Toronto to Atlanta.
I am teary-eyed now remembering the day - such was the trauma. But, Buddy and I arrived safely in Atlanta where Robin was waiting for us. It was 104 degrees, but somehow felt manageable. The three of us set off for our new life in Alabama. We never looked back.
I had not seen Kath for almost a month. Steph had been the last to visit me at my rental apartment in Buckhead. I had been in Atlanta for over three months, getting familiar with our National Account team and their customers, and had been working out of our sales office, very near my apartment.
I had also spent considerable time introducing myself to suppliers, many of whom had flown in to take a measure of "the new guy". A good number of those I met then are friends to this day. When business partners become friends, it makes for an exceptional relationship. I think it creates an honesty that enhances the business partnership. When we trust one another, we all have a better chance at a brighter future. I had enjoyed entering into my new business, but many nights were spent alone, and the weekends were long. I spent those days playing basketball with some of the neighborhood kids and wandering the area, looking at stores in malls. Not to buy anything, but mostly just to stay cool. On July 11th, 1995, I loaded my suitcases in the car, returned my keys to the agent, and drove away. This stage on my journey had ended.
And now I was anticipating my partial family's arrival in Atlanta. The temperature was a staggering 104 degrees. I thought this sweltering heat would prove too oppressive for my bride. Little did I know that Toronto was suffering the exact same problem, high humidity and all. It was late afternoon, and there was no hint of a breeze. One of those days when taking a deep breath was an effort. The heat was intensified by the pavement. Shoe bottoms had become frying pans. This was going to be tough, I thought. Especially on our poor dog's paws.
When I entered Hartsfield, the air was finally cool. I was going to be with Kath again. She had been sorely missed. I had called her every night, while we were apart. But if a phone call is "the next best thing to being there", it is still a far cry from getting a real, long, loving hug. I felt like a six year old waiting for Christmas morning. My insides were knotted.
And finally, there she was. I remember unconsciously sucking air, deeply, and then holding my breath. And then forgetting to breathe. My God, I was happy.
And I got my hug. Kathy melted into my arms. All tears and trembling.
Then we both waited for Buddy the dog. Eventually, Kat's name was called over the PA. And we stood in front of the special package area. And through the door came a crate. Buddy. We all cried, including our dog. We released him from his crate, and he wagged his tail so hard that his entire back end jumped off the ground. We grabbed the rest of the luggage, and headed for our car.
We began the drive to our new home in Tuscaloosa. We stopped several times to let Buddy shed his grogginess from the pre-flight drugs that he had been given to keep him calm, and to pee. Good idea, right? These days it is me who needs the rest area breaks. Come to think of it, calming drugs also seem like a good idea.
Who knows what that poor boy was thinking. His mom had deserted him in an airport. He had been shuffled around in a crate, which was foreign to him. Loaded in the belly of a plane. The strangers. The noise. The heat. What horror for a dog. I doubt many humans could have endured.
He was inside a car now, with his parents. He normally loved car rides, but he was not comfortable with this one. A four hour drive. Not his usual car. Not his usual route. He must have been traumatized.
Alice Maxwell had arranged for a villa rental for us. It was in Northriver Yacht Club, and I had agreed to rent it, sight unseen. It was to be our temporary residence until the construction of our new home was completed. The real problem was that it was getting dark and I had no idea where, exactly, we were headed.
Alice had left a key for us, hidden near the door. She had left groceries and a bottle of wine for us in the kitchen. What a wonderful surprise. Especially since it was 11 o'clock at night. I brought the luggage in while Kath familiarized herself with her new Tuscaloosa abode. A little two bedroom gem. Right on the golf course. It was our romantic cottage for months to come.
Before bed, I took my dog for his first walk at his new digs. We had been city people. We lived in a city. A big city. There had always been light. And there had always been the hum of traffic in the background. You never could escape it. Here, there were no streetlights. And on that particular night, clouds covered the stars. It was not just dark. It was impossible to see anything. It was like being enveloped in a cow's belly. Hot, steamy, and black. And there was no hum of the city. There was only the staccato of tree frogs. Tree frogs? Who knew tree frogs? I could not see the road's edge. I knew not what that noise was. I was not enjoying this outing.
It became a short walk. I think Buddy was good with that.
The next day, and each day thereafter, our lives became better and better. The days were all sunshine and the nights became easier to navigate. The walks became much longer and we became neighbors and created new friendships. Thus began our Tuscaloosa years. They were most magical. Our lives were filled with all things good. I will always remember Bob Keith offering me what was, to him, "the best job ever". What he did not know, was that the job came with the best people ever. People with whom I worked, neighbors, and friends. We could not have found a better home.
Kristin is reunited with her dog prior to enrollment in Tuscaloosa Academy in late summer.
Today
Hope you all are well. Not much has changed on the health front. The Child Bride continues to hack. Last year she coughed for almost two months. So, although not pleasant, it is not a new symptom. She has had no fever for weeks. The signs are good for her.
My arm continues to heal. I think. The Integra "skin" has been removed, leaving a raw wound. I have since skinned it on a pantry door, and created a new wound on the previous one. Not so good. I have re-covered it, to slow the oozing.
More next week. Golf today on the Pines has been cancelled due to rain. It seems fine right now, but we are expecting more weather to come. I continue staying busy at an un-busy time. That's what I do now. Kath has only a few weeks of teaching left. And then she will become the boss of me again. I can't wait.
I convinced The Sheriff that with the necessary mask, the proper hat would enhance her appearance.
Hope your lives are full. We have much for which we should be thankful. Despite isolation. We should love as our dogs love. Unconditionally. Like our Buddy forgave us for treatment he did not deserve, we need to do the same. We can aspire to be as pure of heart as are our pets.
See you again next week. Be careful out there.
jrobinmullen@gmail.com
Some previous wound pics below. Stop scrolling now unless you want to see what we are up against. This note is especially for you, Sandy.
Pulling the covering off the Integra
The beginning of new skin
After scraping my arm on a door.
On The Stereo: Fever: Peggy Lee
July, 1995
Kath had been packing for weeks.
That is true. Robin had left for Atlanta in March. Kristin, Buddy and I had been running the household. Stephanie was in Montreal at McGill University. Kristin completed her school year and reluctantly bid goodbye to her friends. I spent days contributing years of school supplies, lessons, and displays to my colleagues. I was taking a leave of absence from my career, not certain if in fact I would ever return.
The house had been sold and I had arranged for movers to help with our transition to living in Alabama. Moving out of the country is a little different than relocating locally, so we had booked early, but I don't think we were prepared for the truck that arrived. It took up the front lawns of three of the homes on our street! Buddy would not leave my side and supervised as all of our belongings were loaded onto the giant transport.
The next day, I hugged my daughter goodbye - she had a babysitting job for the summer and would follow a month later when school would begin in Alabama. My sister-in-law, Rose, volunteered (I think she volunteered?) to drive Buddy and me to the airport for our flight south. It was July 11th and the thermometer read 104 degrees Fahrenheit in the city that day! The humidity was brutal.
We loaded luggage, Buddy's crate and Buddy into the rear of her SUV and headed out into crosstown traffic. Buddy could sense that something momentous was happening and he paced and whined and drooled all over our necks as he leaned forward to get a better look out the window. Rose unloaded us at the airport door. I think she left the car there (You could do such things in those days.) We found a trolley and loaded bags and crate and headed to check in. Because we had to present papers, passports, visas, and Buddy's vaccination report to customs and immigration, I was advised to keep the dog on a leash with me until we had been admitted to the United States. Rose accompanied us as far as they would allow and then wished us a tearful goodbye.
We stepped through the door and left Canada officially.
I was then advised by airline personnel that I should load the dog in his crate. It was me and Buddy - both crying, and fighting the whole crate idea. He slipped on the tile floor as he attempted to dig his claws in and resist. I shoved and pushed and heaved until finally, somehow, I won the battle and secured the gate.
Sobbing, I turned to find hundreds of eyes who had all witnessed this struggle in horror. I bravely moved towards security. Then it started - the most mournful wailing that you have ever heard! Everyone in the vicinity turned to watch as baggage handlers dragged the crate with the giant dog away and I fell hysterically into the United States.
I sobbed all the way to the boarding area. I sniveled as I waited to be called for my flight. The heat was overwhelming - the Toronto airport was not equipped to handle this kind of weather! Finally, we were called, and crying softly, I worked my way down the aisle of the plane. Everyone on board was sweating profusely and nobody was happy, but I was MISERABLE! My situation did not improve when I finally found my seat and discovered that it was in the middle of two businessmen. Both were in suits (Do you remember those days?) and hot, and the last thing they needed was a semi-hysterical female sobbing between them! I hiccuped my apologies and blew my nose and burst into tears once again. They did not try to comfort me, but politely turned away slightly so they did not have to witness my breakdown. I gasped for air and wiped my tears and was beginning to reach a more serene demeanor when an announcement came over the intercom: "Would Mrs. Kathleen Mullen please ring the attendant call button." We had not left the terminal. Terror overtook me. What could be wrong now? I had no house to return to. My husband was thousands of miles away. My children were God knows where. And my poor dog had disappeared howling on a baggage cart. I pushed the button and burst into tears again. My two fellow passengers distanced themselves as best they could. I am sure that they were secretly praying that airline personnel were about to remove me from the flight. But, a sweet southern attendant answered my call and came to inform me that the captain wanted me to know that my dog had been loaded safely. I blubbered a "Thank you" and sobbed from Toronto to Atlanta.
I am teary-eyed now remembering the day - such was the trauma. But, Buddy and I arrived safely in Atlanta where Robin was waiting for us. It was 104 degrees, but somehow felt manageable. The three of us set off for our new life in Alabama. We never looked back.
I had not seen Kath for almost a month. Steph had been the last to visit me at my rental apartment in Buckhead. I had been in Atlanta for over three months, getting familiar with our National Account team and their customers, and had been working out of our sales office, very near my apartment.
I had also spent considerable time introducing myself to suppliers, many of whom had flown in to take a measure of "the new guy". A good number of those I met then are friends to this day. When business partners become friends, it makes for an exceptional relationship. I think it creates an honesty that enhances the business partnership. When we trust one another, we all have a better chance at a brighter future. I had enjoyed entering into my new business, but many nights were spent alone, and the weekends were long. I spent those days playing basketball with some of the neighborhood kids and wandering the area, looking at stores in malls. Not to buy anything, but mostly just to stay cool. On July 11th, 1995, I loaded my suitcases in the car, returned my keys to the agent, and drove away. This stage on my journey had ended.
And now I was anticipating my partial family's arrival in Atlanta. The temperature was a staggering 104 degrees. I thought this sweltering heat would prove too oppressive for my bride. Little did I know that Toronto was suffering the exact same problem, high humidity and all. It was late afternoon, and there was no hint of a breeze. One of those days when taking a deep breath was an effort. The heat was intensified by the pavement. Shoe bottoms had become frying pans. This was going to be tough, I thought. Especially on our poor dog's paws.
When I entered Hartsfield, the air was finally cool. I was going to be with Kath again. She had been sorely missed. I had called her every night, while we were apart. But if a phone call is "the next best thing to being there", it is still a far cry from getting a real, long, loving hug. I felt like a six year old waiting for Christmas morning. My insides were knotted.
And finally, there she was. I remember unconsciously sucking air, deeply, and then holding my breath. And then forgetting to breathe. My God, I was happy.
And I got my hug. Kathy melted into my arms. All tears and trembling.
Then we both waited for Buddy the dog. Eventually, Kat's name was called over the PA. And we stood in front of the special package area. And through the door came a crate. Buddy. We all cried, including our dog. We released him from his crate, and he wagged his tail so hard that his entire back end jumped off the ground. We grabbed the rest of the luggage, and headed for our car.
We began the drive to our new home in Tuscaloosa. We stopped several times to let Buddy shed his grogginess from the pre-flight drugs that he had been given to keep him calm, and to pee. Good idea, right? These days it is me who needs the rest area breaks. Come to think of it, calming drugs also seem like a good idea.
Who knows what that poor boy was thinking. His mom had deserted him in an airport. He had been shuffled around in a crate, which was foreign to him. Loaded in the belly of a plane. The strangers. The noise. The heat. What horror for a dog. I doubt many humans could have endured.
He was inside a car now, with his parents. He normally loved car rides, but he was not comfortable with this one. A four hour drive. Not his usual car. Not his usual route. He must have been traumatized.
Alice Maxwell had arranged for a villa rental for us. It was in Northriver Yacht Club, and I had agreed to rent it, sight unseen. It was to be our temporary residence until the construction of our new home was completed. The real problem was that it was getting dark and I had no idea where, exactly, we were headed.
Alice had left a key for us, hidden near the door. She had left groceries and a bottle of wine for us in the kitchen. What a wonderful surprise. Especially since it was 11 o'clock at night. I brought the luggage in while Kath familiarized herself with her new Tuscaloosa abode. A little two bedroom gem. Right on the golf course. It was our romantic cottage for months to come.
Before bed, I took my dog for his first walk at his new digs. We had been city people. We lived in a city. A big city. There had always been light. And there had always been the hum of traffic in the background. You never could escape it. Here, there were no streetlights. And on that particular night, clouds covered the stars. It was not just dark. It was impossible to see anything. It was like being enveloped in a cow's belly. Hot, steamy, and black. And there was no hum of the city. There was only the staccato of tree frogs. Tree frogs? Who knew tree frogs? I could not see the road's edge. I knew not what that noise was. I was not enjoying this outing.
It became a short walk. I think Buddy was good with that.
The next day, and each day thereafter, our lives became better and better. The days were all sunshine and the nights became easier to navigate. The walks became much longer and we became neighbors and created new friendships. Thus began our Tuscaloosa years. They were most magical. Our lives were filled with all things good. I will always remember Bob Keith offering me what was, to him, "the best job ever". What he did not know, was that the job came with the best people ever. People with whom I worked, neighbors, and friends. We could not have found a better home.
Today
Hope you all are well. Not much has changed on the health front. The Child Bride continues to hack. Last year she coughed for almost two months. So, although not pleasant, it is not a new symptom. She has had no fever for weeks. The signs are good for her.
My arm continues to heal. I think. The Integra "skin" has been removed, leaving a raw wound. I have since skinned it on a pantry door, and created a new wound on the previous one. Not so good. I have re-covered it, to slow the oozing.
More next week. Golf today on the Pines has been cancelled due to rain. It seems fine right now, but we are expecting more weather to come. I continue staying busy at an un-busy time. That's what I do now. Kath has only a few weeks of teaching left. And then she will become the boss of me again. I can't wait.
Hope your lives are full. We have much for which we should be thankful. Despite isolation. We should love as our dogs love. Unconditionally. Like our Buddy forgave us for treatment he did not deserve, we need to do the same. We can aspire to be as pure of heart as are our pets.
See you again next week. Be careful out there.
jrobinmullen@gmail.com
Some previous wound pics below. Stop scrolling now unless you want to see what we are up against. This note is especially for you, Sandy.
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