Adventures in Puppyland: September 2011/Devil Dog version?

I really wanted to write about poop. It's a big deal. Somehow, I feel no shame or inappropriateness when talking about puppy poop patterns, consistencies and frequency. Preferred locations of puppy pooping can be an entire blog in and of itself.

However, I must talk about devil dog today.
My puppy is a devil dog. This is in more than one way.

1. The bestest way that my puppy is a devil dog is that he is a BLUE DEVIL Dog. He may not know what that is, but he is one. Just like we all know he's a Pomeranian, but he doesn't know the difference between his own breed and a chihuahua, which I have a personal dislike for...don't ask me why. Actually, I think I might have been traumatized by the creepy rat-look of chihuahuas and especially that one talking "Mexican" chihuahua that represented Taco Bell. The combination of Taco Bell, a creepy accent, the rat that they tell me is actually a dog and the fact that it talked...in Spanish, no less....I think it's understandably why I would've been forever scarred.

But creepy talking dogs and the yappy, insecure breed aside, I want to talk about devil dog. He is a Blue Devil Dog, and I am seeking a Duke blue rain coat in size x-small for the little one. I anticipate that his devilishness will need walks even when it's raining outside, b/c he's just a little devil.
Case in point: We had a 30+ min walk this evening, but he is currently growling and running around the teeny apt-hobbit-hole I live in w/ one of those long toys in his mouth. He's squeaked the squeaker so much that it broke...it just makes a plastic blup-blop sound when he bites down on that part, and rattles a bit when he shakes it like a small animal he just hunted. He does occasionally drop it by my foot and looks up, wondering why I'm not chasing him or is not interested in his toy. I blame it on my inability to get out of bed early enough to walk him and get to work early enough to make it there before the trial re-started. I tried tossing a toy around this morning as I got ready, and spent 10 mins making him do tricks for each bite/handful of breakfast.

2. My puppy is actually a devil in disguise. I really just wanted to talk about poop, but I must report his devilishness. He destroys stuff w/out care of the cost of replacement or repair. He is ruthless.
He decided that digging through my bag was a good idea, again. He had stopped for a bit, and I thought he was done digging through my bag and stealing from it. But last night, he tried to steal some paper to rip up...and I made him "drop it," much to his chagrin. Too bad, I'm the human that feeds you, you're the dog that must learn to obey. Sorry, life is unfair.
But no more than 30 mins after I got home and let him out of his crate, he decided to fish out a pen and chew on it....and gave himself a new beauty mark. I lured the pen away from him and threw it out before we both were inked.

But b/c chewing on a pen is not enough trouble for "devil day," he chewed up my ipad charger...like the wire part. He's never chewed up an electrical cord so I figured he wasn't interested. NOPE. I was wrong. He found the ipad charger that I am sure I hid from view, and chewed it to the itty bitty metal wires that are twisted together to conduct electricity into my ipad from the wall socket. But I saw that he had unplugged the usb end of the cord from the wall-socket part. So I scolded him and he seemed to feel bad enough to leave the room when I told him "out!"
But then, after we walked for over 30 mins and exhausted an already exhausted me, I found him quiet, out of view. I know that that means...he is in my room, either snuggled in the forbidden bed or eating something that he stole from my little stash of knick-knacks and make up and stuff by climbing on my bed and nosing around. And surely, he was...he found the ipad charger again, this time, he dragged it down to the rug, and had pulled the cord part out of the plug part, and not only that, but managed to dislodge the 2-prong plug part from the small, white boxy part that might serve as a mini-adaptor or whatever. You know how Apple products are w/ their interchangeable plugs/extension cords.
Genius? or pure devil? I can't tell...I had to spend some time creating a negative association for him to that set. I held it out to him, and every time he went to bite on it, I flicked his nose (not hard, b/c I seem to be unable to do anything w/ force w/ my fingers). Eventually, he decided it wasn't worth it and sat behind me.

I felt it was too classic to let it slide, so I took a picture of devil dog next to the ipad charger he just destroyed, sporting the beauty mark he gave himself by chewing up a pen. I shall post eventually, as soon as my phone e-mails the picture to my e-mail...it can take up to a day or so.

Oh no! I lied. Here it is...I titled this image, "Inked and Wired: Cody after getting himself a new beauty spot and supplementing his diet with much-needed plastic and metal"
3. The most devilish aspect of this all is that he pretends to be all innocent w/ his cute looks.
"Oh, I'm just a puppy, what can I do? WHAAAAT? You think I did it? Silly human, little me can't destroy things...too little."
Yeah, right, devil dog. Your cuteness is just a guise and I see right through it. You are dangerous stuff. Stop eating the corners of every cardboard box in my apartment. I need to move again in 6 months.
I can feel you chewing on the lever on my chair, the chair my landlord "gave"/lent to me. Stop pretending you didn't do it. I see your bite marks. Don't pretend I did it, b/c it's at your face-level, not mine.

4. He took to barking at every new sound. The radio I listen to b/c I don't own a TV cannot be heard in peace b/c he doesn't like the voices of the people being interviewed. Good thing I am armed w/ the spray bottle. I will shoot you, devil dog!!! I have a full bottle!!!!!! grrrr....

I can go on, but I really must shower and go to bed so I can get to bed, wake up early enough to walk devil dog (to wear him down and temper him a bit) and get to the ID making place by 8:30 am. B/c I am eager to get a county ID so I can use the employee entrance and not stand in line w/ jurors (I make no eye-contact w/ them, just in case they tell on me), crusty old private-practice attorneys and the general public. B/c I'm not paid, and the only thing I have going for me is the false impression of importance.

(Coming Up: Poop!!, bug-hunting and maybe more devil antics. PLEASE forward me any retailer that sells a Blue Devil doggy raincoat for small dogs one step above the tea-cups.)

Adventures in Puppyland: Another bite victim

The balls are coming off. No more hesitation. That's it.

We've got a new bite victim: my brother. He wouldn't believe that this dog was bipolar and could turn on you if you bothered him while he was w/ his select few "possession" and "aggression" triggering toys. I warned him several times about that bone I kept out of reach of the dog. I warned him that the dog is getting nervous about him constantly touching him and his bone. I warned him that w/ that growl the dog is getting angry. I and the dog warned him when the dog snarled. I told him to not bother him or just take it away.

And, the 6.5 lb pup bit him...hard. Harder than the pup has ever bitten anyone, yet. Definitely drew blood, more blood than the scratches suffered by my dad or me. I had been mistaken about my mom being bitten by him, but he's definitely tried. Good thing he was tied up whenever he got mad at my mom. But he's bitten me 4 times, my dad once and now my brother.

We looked at the wound and saw that the pup may have bitten more than once...possibly twice. My dad thought he was going to bite both me and my brother. We were laying on our stomachs on my bed, shoulders and heads hanging off the edge, me holding the insanity-inducing bone he was chewing and my brother pulling on his back paw or petting his head. My dad had stepped in to talk with us. This happened really fast, I tried to twap his nose w/ my finger to stop/distract/punish him and he almost got my finger too. I couldn't grab him by the scruff of his neck, but I yelled really loud in his face and snatched his bone away. But in all this chaos, my brother was bitten twice, and was left w/ a large scratch-wound that bleed for a long time, bleed through the bandaid. The dog is lightening-fast when he snaps/lunges/bites.

We warned my brother about the dog's speed too. He learned that our warnings were all true, the hard way.

I should have grabbed him by the back of his neck and threw him into the bathroom for a time out. He instead got thrown into his crate and was yelled at by my mom. She was angry at the dog for biting her son. She wacked the bottle of peroxide against the top of the crate and threw his kong at the crate while yelling at him. I made her stop but not b/c I thought he didn't deserve it...but more so b/c her anger might exacerbate his aggression issues. That dog is a pain in the butt.

Bottom line: I looked up low-cost neutering places in Chicago and Atlanta. I'm going to do it. I can't afford the vets around my town ($350 to $400+), but I need to have his balls chopped.

My dad and I had the same idea: I thought of tightly wrapping a rubber band around his balls and cutting off circulation until they fall off over the course of a week or so; My dad said back in the day they used to hold the dog down and wrap fishing line or strong thread tightly around the balls and that it'll fall off eventually.

Whichever way we do it, I really hope high-running hormones are 99% of his aggression issues. I can deal w/ all of his bad habits if he wouldn't snarl and bite people. It's just too stressful living w/ a biting puppy, he drew lots of blood today and I can't have him doing this anymore.

Oh, and he scooted his butt on the floor this evening and after his walk I got up close and personal w/ the pup's anal sacs...expressed them like an expert on the 3rd try. Didn't get it all over the place this time. No professional puppy bath needed this time.

Adventures in Puppyland (early August 2011 edition)

Last night (Aug. 6), I filled the pup's kong toy w/ kibble, sealed it with some puppy "stuffin" and secured it w/ a couple treats (I did this like 2 days ago so the stuffin paste had dried). He seemed to have trouble eating this new way to serve dinner and I offered to help. He bit me instead. And I instituted a social isolation on him to show him who's boss...but found it to be extremely difficult to feed him w/out giving him any commands. He is so accustomed to sitting and waiting for me to give him is "okay" before he approaches his food bowl that it was impossible...also, what happened today totally broke the isolation and make it impossible.

Today (Aug. 7), my mom found that he may have stepped on some poop he concealed on the dark stone tiles of our entry way, that my dad probably stepped on on his way out to Lowe's or Home Depot to find some mosquito repellent for the yard. My mom was dressed like a bee keeper when I went down to see the mess the dog made. She had on grey sweat pants, a light blue rain jacket w/ a towel covering most of her face with the hood pulled over the towel on her head. And the puppy was dangling from her arms, wanting to get down but not sure what he could do. I got her the rubber gloves she wanted to use to pull out the waist-high thistle plants that have taken over her vegetable garden.

Dressed like a bee keeper w/ make-shift protective gear against the mosquitos, she took the puppy dangling from her hands out to the backyard while she pulled weeds and I cleaned up. Fine, this is "my dog" so I guess his poop is my domain. It's not like I don't do this a minimum of twice a day. (If anyone reads this, and knows how to get a dog on a pooping schedule, I'd like to know. He does NOT keep to a schedule no matter how regular I keep his meal times and bed time.) B/c the entire entry way reeked of dog poop, I sported some rubber gloves, pried the dried and smeared dog poop pieces from the stone, wrapped them inside the glove and spill large puddles of the dog pee cleaner w/ enzymes and bacteria-killing stuff I got from the pet store (a half-gallon jug). I then got a new glove and a few paper towels to sop up the dog poop and dirt. I ended up doing this twice and wiping the bottoms of the shoes present...just in case any of them had poop on them. This was really exciting as I inched around the foyer/entry way wiping up dog poop and dirt and leaves shoes tracked in...that my dog was probably eating on his free time.

As I was finishing this epic clean-up effort, I hear the most shrill, pain-induced cries that is undoubtedly coming from him. I run outside in my pajama bottoms and run towards the sounds, and trace the blood-curdling shrieks to under our neighbor's deck. I have no idea how he got under there as the deck was sealed all the way around w/ brick flower beds and wooden boards making up a small step down into their yard. All I knew was that my puppy was trapped under the boards and he was dying. I finally found exactly where under the deck he was and my mom and I discovered the tiny space between the dirt and the board, behind some large evergreen shrub that he probably crawled under. Then, we stopped hearing his cries. We were sure he was bitten by some nefarious animal and has now passed out or died. I start frantically tapping on the boards and trying to revive him, then I heard him move and then he barks.

Relief.

So now that I know he is still alive, I feel the duty to work to get him out...I mean, that obligation felt stronger when I heard him than during the few minutes during which my mom and I stared at each other as two panicked women, thinking he has died. I was half relieved that the occasionally mean, biting and trouble-making pup had died and half fearful (and fully shocked) that he has died so quickly. I considered leaving him there, but then I considered the neighbors smelling his rotting carcass in a few days and thought it wasn't nice...that I should at least burry him in my own backyard. But then, he made noise to let us know he was living, and that's when I started to think of ways to get him out.

My mom still had those elbow-length rubber gloves on so I instructed her to push the shrub aside as I try to stick my fingers into the crevice and lure the dog out. It didn't work. I ran to my house and brought his treat baggie. I sprinkled treats at the entrance. Nothing. I tapped around until he barked again and dropped a few treats into the cracks where he was. I'd like to think he found them and got a few free treats out of this. My mom instructed me to throw more treats in front of the hole, yelling at me that I need to have more down there for him to smell it. We tried everything.

We were convinced he was bitten or injured or something. I yelled at my mom to go get a flash light. She ran home and got one. By then, the towel protecting her face from mosquitoes had been thrown on the deck and we were both being attacked by the world's meanest mosquitos. I wondered what the heck was my neighbors doing while we were making so much commotion in their backyard, pushing aside their yard furniture and their shrubs. She brought the flash light, I shined it in the cracks until I found the dog...and confirmed that it is indeed our dog and we can't give up and go look for our dog. I was partially hoping that it was someone else's dog in there so I could stop doing all that. B/c then I'd have the excuse of having to go look for my own lost dog. Right?

Well, I flashed the light into the hole to see if he'd come near it. I mean, there were at least 2 handfuls of treats in there! There was a light to show him the way in the dark, dark under deck! He did not come. By then, my mom and I were convinced he was trapped under there for sure. Maybe there were some supports for the deck that cuts off the direct route from where he is to the hole. Maybe he followed some squirrel or other small animal in there to catch it but he got lost in the maze and he is stuck in the small 3-ft area that we know he's under. I asked my mom if we had a hatchet...she said no. I was ready to bust that deck wide open to get my dog out. We decided we needed to remove at least 1 board to get to him and lift him out. I ran home and got my dad's tool box that he has all sorts of small things in, and I try to unscrew a screw of the shortest board we determined was closest to the crying pup. The screw would not budge...of course not, b/c they were drilled in w/ an electrical drill.

(**Aside: the saddest part of all this wasn't that my 6 month old rambunctious, trouble maker puppy was stuck under the deck and dying from a poisonous snake bite or had his eyse gouged out by a super-ninja squirrel. the real sad part was that while doing all this, I thought about trespasser laws and how this would, at least arguably, qualify as an "emergency" so my neighbor can't sue me for trespass...but that he is probably entitled to the cost of repairs to his deck after I tear it apart w/ my bear hands. yes, it was the bar exam and torts information coming at me during this time of extreme distress.**)

Continuing w/ the events of this afternoon...I finally run to my neighbor's house to 1) see if they have the tools necessary to remove a board, and 2) see why they haven't come out to yell at us or at least ask what the heck we were doing on their deck, tapping around w/ a mega-flashlight and screwdrivers poised to unscrew his deck w/ my sheer, brute strength. I ring their front door bell, I ring their side/back door bell. My neighbors weren't home, naturally. I run back to where my mom is, and her face was covered in bites, as were my elbows and her neck and our backs...those skeeters bit me through my shirt...wth.

We hear door slamming, so I run back to the side door and ring the bell, and this time, I open the storm door and rap loudly on the glass part of the door. Nothing...I run over to the front and my dad's car was in our driveway. I run over, tell him briefly that the dog is trapped under the neighbor's deck and tell him to come. He is able to unscrew 1 screw by hand using some tool I never thought to look at, then said we need a drill. By now storm clouds have, appeared and the sky thunders dramatically...Really? Is this for real? My dad tells me that we should go inside and leave the dying dog there. I run to the neighbor's house on the other side and ring the side door bell furiously. I finally hear the woman yelling at me but I can't hear what she is saying, but her husband isn't home, obvi.

My mom instructs me to run across the street to another neighbor's house and I ring their doorbell until the wife, her son and their crazy, yappy miniature pinscher who tries to eat me through the glass storm door, appears. B/c of the dog, I can neither communicate what the heck I'm doing nor hear what they are saying. Finally the son carries the dog further into the house and I explain to the woman (in her nightie, it appeared) why I was so frantically requesting their assistance. She tells me her husband isn't home and she doesn't know where the tools are, and to wait until her husband got home. I explain, again, that my puppy is TRAPPED under a DECK and that he is crying like he is injured badly. I ask her if her son would know. She calls him over and takes the dog. I ask him to please find his dad's tools. He asks me what's wrong and I explain to him what is going on and how my dog is crying like something is eating him alive. He finally relents and takes me to their garage, where there were all sorts of crazy tools in there. I mean, they could build a house w/ all the stuff in there. He tried calling his dad then opened a few tool boxes and pulled out an electric saw. I asked him if it would be possible to saw through the board w/out cutting up my dog, and explained that while that should be plan B, I wondered if he had a drill so we could try to remove the screws first. He then found the drill (he knew exactly where that was) and followed me over to where my parents were working on the dog.

And you wouldn't believe this...just as I appear w/ the neighbor with his electric drill, we see my dad pulling the dog out from under the deck. I thanked the neighbor profusely as I checked the dog for bites, ready to hop into a car and get him to a vet asap. And the damned puppy is FINE. He is, for sure muddy and smelly, but UNSCATHED.

Apparently, my dad of the longer arms, stuck his arm into that hole (scratching his arm up in the process) as my mom pushed back the shrubs, and when the dog came close, grabbed a paw and pulled. My dad was so mad. He said he could feel the dog's nose but the stupid dog wouldn't come closer or walk out towards the light. Idiot. 'Fraidy cat. Crying like an animal was eating his hind leg while he was still alive and kicking. Making us all think he was severely injured when he didn't have a drop of blood on him.

I gave him a bath immediately. By the time he was half dry, the 2nd neighbor whose door I banged on, w/ the wife home alone had come to see if he could help. The wife was apparently very ill w/ sever arthritis (I knew she was sick, but not sure w/ what) and took her some time to come to the door. But after speaking with my mom, had called her husband who was out of town and he rushed over to help. Their dog had died a few months ago...the dog who used to come over to our yard to poop/pee/steal food...and they were sympathetic. How nice of him...he said we could have called 911.

Of all the things that ran through my head, including tort laws and privileges to trespass to land, calling emergency did not enter my head. I thought 911 was for humans only. But our neighbor explained that there is an animal rescue place in Evanston, close to where we live, and that he had called 911 once when an animal got trapped in his house somewhere. They came and trapped it and took it away. That is why we pay taxes...and I never thought of calling for help. Instead, I ran around the neighborhood knocking on doors and asking for tools to bust open a neighbor's deck to rescue a dog that was uninjured and just being stupid.

He still smells funky by his head...like dead fish. Like the mud under the deck had some especially yucky, decomposing things and it rubbed into my dog's head as he squeezed into the hole and out of it.

And thus concludes today's episode of Adventures in Puppyland.

It's like 3 days before the bar, more like 2 b/c it's past midnight and I should be in bed working on getting up at 5 am.

I don't know what the dress code for the IL bar is, but I heard a few years ago they confiscated flip-flops. I wouldn't mind taking the bar sans shoes, but then again, I would prefer to have something covering my little piggies b/c they tend to get cold in air conditioning. I was planning on wearing sweats and like a tank top w/ a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, b/c I get cold in air-conditioning.

If anyone has a pill that contains like a temporary log of all the topics tested on the IL bar, please forward to me....and tell me how long it lasts and when it kicks in so I take it at the right time.

Oh, and adventures in puppy land took me to giving my puppy a butt-bath at 4:30 am one morning/night after I decided to quit learning bar stuff. He had stolen a croissant from my parents and managed to consume 1/3 of the gigantic ball of butter and flour. He did not get puppy dinner, but had a slightly wet movement in the wee hours that made him uncomfortable and stinky...and gave me a dot of wet poop on my arm when I picked him up. Is this like motherhood?

open letter to retailers and other e-marketers

Dear Amazon, LinkedIn, Facebook, Gilt, Shoebuy, Ticketmaster, Ebay, AA/Delta/United/airline mileages/clubs, Sephora, Lush, Habitat for Humanity, MyHabit, Akira, whoever you think you are who keeps on sending me promotional e-mails,

I'd like to inform you that you are just plain annoying right now. Please STOP.

1. you are normally pretty annoying on an average day/era, but I have the capacity to tolerate you, and occasionally indulge myself in wasting time looking at your e-mail at things I cannot afford.

2. right now really is not the time to be trying to lure me with vacations I can't take, things I can't purchase, new products I have ZERO interest in. You see, I'm sitting here trying to cram my flimsy hoax of a brain with all this lofty legal shizzazzz, and dealing w/ the other stresses of living a life and dealing w/ generational passage and other more profound facts of life. Life, Death, prospects of marriage, or lack thereof, etc. Your e-mails are doubly annoying, actually make that triple or quadruple. You don't need my approval for just raising the exponent on that annoyance factor. I authorize you, expressly, for that specific thing.

It's difficult trying to keep abreast of the relevant news, and your cluttering of my e-mail box so that I have to sort through, delete en masse, and finally discover messages to me from my bar examiners or from the bar prep folks are just too much for me to handle right now. Also, there is the danger that I might be deleting some very important e-mails from the two named parties that I am interested in receiving news from these days.

Because I've said my piece, nicely and politely and b/c I don't have time to banter about the nuances and the fringe-bits of these topics, I will sign off.

I do wish you'd all just ram your self-marketing heads into a concrete wall and call it a day b/c even after this period of anxiety and intrinsic and extrinsic torment ends, I would rather not see you on a daily basis.

Good bye, perhaps forever?

broke down again today

briefly.

So the update on my grandmother is that she is inoperable. the cancer is in its last stages and the doctors gave her 18 months to live w/ chemotherapy or 6-9 months w/out. SO NOT FAIR! she is, however, miraculously, pain-free, which is very, very uncommon. So we're praying she stays pain-free and that we can keep her standard of living high. If anyone sees this, please pray for her as well.
She needs regular/occasional blood transfusions b/c the cancer, which sits on a HUGE ulcer site, has ruptured and is bleeding constantly. She is mostly bed-bound b/c she lacks the energy to do much else. Soonee, the 4 yr old pomeranian doggie keeps her company w/ her quiet, gentle presence. And Cody, the puppy she bore, is now at my house, behind a puppy gate while I study, but he is being sent to a new home for 2.5 weeks until I'm done w/ the bar. He is adorable and cute and so confused, but circumstances kinda suck overall. I feel bad for him.
She lost 50 lbs in the past 2 years to an appalling 80 lbs. Way too skinny even for a small, tiny, short woman under 5 ft. The though of skin and bones on her just makes me weep.
The other thing that makes me wonder how she is handling it all, so silently, is that her mind is a clear as a bell. I thought she was loosing some clarity, but not so. She is fully aware of what is happening, no sign of dementia. Thus, even more tragedy in having to face her illness, her invalidity with her hyper-sensitive sense of guilt and burdening. My cousin is tending to her every behest, cooking whatever my grandmother asks for every day. I guess finally she is being pampered in her last days.
I sincerely hope these aren't her last days at all. I truly believed she would live until 92. She has to, and she has to live comfortably, free from stress. I want her to be well....I should've invited her to come live with me in Atlanta. I just didn't think I could spend that much time w/ her and care for her while I was in law school. Now I regret not going through w/ that idea.

but that's what's going on w/ my lovely grandmother. Here's her and Soonee, after she got back from the hospital.

On the bar front, I'm 18 days away from the bar, failing every subject miserably. Ready to get down with it, if not for the distractions and my own adhd mind.

that is all i have to say about that.

to take puppy to his bath while i study criminal law at the grooming center.

even good things inch towards the end

or the beginning.

just heard devastating news. good ol' gma has cancer. w/ her history of 2 brain surgery and her "work her bones into the ground" ethic...this is particularly hard to bear. the doctor said she has a tumor the size of an egg in her stomach, and it looks to have grown for at least 3 years.

my grandma never complains about anything. today, for the first time in her life, she stated something we all knew was true: that my cousin chides her and scolds her. we all did it to her at some point, usually out of frustration, b/c she tries to help out w/ her frail body and we get mad that she continues to want to work for us. and that cousin chides everyone, and they've had a bit of a strained relationship...as strained as relationships can go with my saintly grandma.

she always says things are okay even when there's evidence of pain and even when there's blood, and obvious dizzy spells and bruises from a fall or a gash. she says it's nothing. we know it's not nothing, she just doesn't want the attention and further hates worrying us.

she never complained, she grit her teeth and told no one of the discomforts that the growing tumor caused her over the years. she just drank soda to help settle her stomach, and we would scold her not to. she wouldn't eat brown rice and attracted even more reprimands. we would never have known of her cancer had she not fallen sick a couple weeks ago. had it not been for her vomiting or her inability to get out of bed. had it not been for the diarrhea or the visibly ailing old lady, shrinking annual from her already-diminutive stature, we wouldn't have known.

i want to sit here and blame the doctors who performed her 2nd brain surgery 3 or 4 years ago. but that's not the only thing. she had her first brain surgery to install a tube to drain fluids building up in her head, 13 years ago, the summer i turned 15 and she decided that it was her time. then 3 years ago, she took a fall on a very windy day and once again told no one. instead she threw up and couldn't stand up, notifying my uncle that something was not right. he forced her to go to the doctor with him and my mother and her sister flew to korea to be with their mother for what we all thought would be the end, again. the doctors performed the 2nd brain surgery and she seemed fine. but why didn't they check everything? why didn't they do a gastro endoscopy? test her blood for any abnormal cells? anything? couldn't they have done something to put us on notice?

but blaming them won't solve anything, and i know my grandmother's silent suffering has much to do with the development of the cancer. and we're all to blame for our oversight, our blindside focus on her brain surgery and the shaking of her hands the wobbling of her stride. we were too concerned about her gaining weight of her developing diabetes or her blood pressure rising and mostly the tale-tell signs of the 2 brain surgeries. we should have insisted on more check ups despite the difficulty of getting her to agree.

at the very least, we should have let her do what she wanted, ruin as many new-fangled, modern gadgets and never said a word about it. we should have treated her with the respect she surely deserves, never should have hinted at how upset we got when she broke or misused yet another kitchen gadget, yet another beauty product, yet another article of clothing. b/c she's worth more than all those things to us.

she doesn't want us to spend money or our concerns on her. she doesn't want to be trouble. but she doesn't know that she's no trouble at all. i want nothing more than to lay next to her, share my bed with her, hold her hand while she sleeps next to me. i want nothing more than to remind her of her goodness, thank her for her love and her sacrificial kindness. i don't want the last time i saw her to be the last time i see her. i don't want the last time i talked to her to be the last time i talk to her. i want to hug her forever, to tell her i love her and i want to do so much for her, even if she won't let me.

i wish i had the means to make her happier, more comfortable and feel more loved. i want to brush away the innumerable pains and heartache she has suffered, to erase the hardships of war and widowhood and raising a handicapped child. i want her help her forget the mean things that her grandchildren, her daughters-in-law and her own children have said to her in return for her quiet sacrifice. but most of all i want her to know that i want nothing more than to care for her, and that caring for her, expending my energy and my currently non-existent means, is the thing i want to do most right now. i don't want to go live my life, seek my own pleasures and desires. i want to serve her and comfort her while i have a chance.

the last i heard her voice on the other end of the line was the week after i graduated from law school and moved back to Chicago, i called to let her know. i wanted her to be proud of me, even when i was ashamed of my law school career. i don't think she noted the difference between college and law school, but she promised to make me marinated raw crabs. a korean dish that i don't like unless she makes it. she is the best cook i have ever met in my life.

when i visited her in Yeosu, she used to get up at 4 am to go to the dawn fish markets, to greet the boats that have been out catching seafood by moonlight just so she could get the best, freshest crabs. she'd made it especially for me. she would set the breakfast table for everyone in my uncle's household, but through the haze of my sleep, i would hear her telling my uncle to let me sleep. then, when everyone else went off to work and school, and i groggily walked out of the bedroom, she'd say, "my sweet grace is up! i made your favorite marinated raw crabs, and made sure to knock off all the spines on the claws so you don't hurt your mouth." then she'd pull out, from the back of the fridge, the prized dish that she hid from everyone else so i could be the first to enjoy it. she was so thoughtful and full of love. she wanted me to have that extra hour of sleep. she didn't care if she had to set the table again after she finished the dishes. she loved me and the love was palpable.

i might have had a special connection with her...or so i once thought. but i think it's just her nature to be so giving. i often wonder who i love more, my mother or my grandma. i'm sure i love my mom "more" and logically so. but i think i love them differently. i think there are some things i'd do for my grandma more readily than i'd do for my own mom. and i'm incredibly close to my mom and love her dearly (she could probably dictate my life, and even through my grumbles and resistance, i'd probably do her bidding). but with my grandma, i want to offer her things i don't even have, love i can't even show in any adequate way.

the last time i saw her in person was almost exactly 2 years ago. i promised to visit her in California. and i haven't visited her yet.

i hoped that she'd come spend her summers in Chicago once i returned. we joked that she has an especially strong life line that just won't break, having gone through 2 open-skull operations after the age of 70, and another uterous-securing operation in between. no matter how much weaker she got, she seemed to be one of those who just might live forever, like her older sister who is in her 90's and probably bedridden with arthritis. but she's gotten so frail in the past few months, her heart has been further burdened with complaints she would not utter and with discomforts she won't voice. i don't think spending summers in Chicago is a possibility anymore.

(waiting for the airline employee to bring her a wheelchair, at O'hare on June 13, 2009)

i wish i didn't have to bar to worry about...or had the guts to say, "to hell with it, i can take it in february, i need to be with my grandmother." but i don't know if that would trouble her or make her happy or both or maybe she won't know the difference...maybe she won't care. but i have a feeling if she knew then she'd want me to achieve and pay her no mind.

she could have flaunted her beauty and her brains as a young woman. she chose humility and sacrifice instead. she chose to understand circumstances and forgive instead of show anger or disappointment at her at times dismal surroundings. she never batted an eye about her lot of having to take care of her polio-survivor daughter (my aunt), carrying her to school both ways and visiting her school in the middle of the day to take her to the bathroom. she worked tirelessly to put her handicapped daughter through college, after her husband died young.

she is as close to a saint as i'm ever going to get. she is my mother theresa. she is the silent sufferer and the one who would give her life to make mine just a little bit more comfortable. and if she had her choice she would do it all without me ever knowing it was her. she would do it for me, and i know she would do ten times more for my mother, who my grandma says was the child who never gave her trouble the one she never had to discipline.

i love her.