My Mother’s Day for Sunday is still in Drafts; I’ll post it soon.
I would say that I’m going to dedicate my evening to writing, but I’m afraid I’m distracted.
There was a $10 sirloin on sale for $3 and it needed to be eaten today. This will knock me unconscious after a while.
Stay safe out there, folks!
-JB Swift
This post was saved to Drafts so I could write out a full essay post, but given a few current events, I’ll be setting it to ‘Published’ on Thursday.
It’s Mother’s Day, here in the United States.
I’m giving the national context because I had learned recently from an associate in Spain that Mother’s Day falls on different days outside of the US, so I’m checking myself on the insular thinking.
Normally, this day would be chock-full of spending time with my mother, but we had a moment of pragmatism. The weather has been awful, and Mom called to say that she knows I appreciate her, but to not load up the family and drive through the storm to visit.
Which in retrospect just drives home why I appreciate my mother so much.
It’ll be a quiet day, otherwise.
Stay safe out there, folks. Write you mothers.
-JB Swift
PS~ Apologies for the short post; it’s not how I like to write about holidays.
It was Field Day at the kids’ school!
I am utterly exhausted just from the bare minimum of parenting! I went to watch!
I mostly sat on benches and watched my kids compete, cheering them on through hand signals (these two have learned a surprising number of my homegrown hand signs, and that’s disturbing), before my 7yr old daughter ran up to tell me her grandmother had arrived.
“Dad, you did great,” she said in a moment of empathy, “but you’re hurting. Please go home.”
…I don’t like not being present at my children’s events, but when they’re coming up to be more medically responsible, dammit I have to pay attention, don’t I?
I’ve made it back home, put a cold compress on my chest, and opened Battlestar Galactica. I’ll read for a bit, write a bit, see how the day goes.
If you can’t tell, the lack of physical activity is unnerving.
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
Looks like someone caught Dad’s bronchitis and needed a shot.
Nobody was happy about this. She’s asked to have a ‘real’ rest day, where she can lay down on the couch and zone out.
I sympathize, kid. I’m hiding in the next room, running down the list of deskwork that’s cropped up, but I’m at the ready for whatever she needs.
Stay safe out there, folks. Especially those of us weathering the storm that’s raging today.
-JB Swift
Going to be a quiet night of trying to hammer away at the outline and ‘test’ the setting of the science fiction story via Stellaris…
…you get inspiration where you can, folks. Establishing an empire in an RTS game and letting it run on ‘observer mode’ in the corner of my screen is one way to let ideas circulate.
In the meantime, these two are here to judge my procrastination excuses!
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
The vet called yesterday and said that Jojo had arrived.
I couldn’t go get him, then. The chest cold had done a number on me over the last few days, and I did the dumb thing by thinking I could still work on the mail route. Doctor put me on bedrest until Monday, but I was determined that Joe would be coming home today.
They’re both home, now. Sitting together as they always did.
Having them together again will help mend my soul back, even if my body is going to need more time to recover. My voice is all but gone, but I’m on strong medication for bronchitis, so that’ll get fixed soon enough. I’ve also recently learned that a severe cough can pull muscles in your chest… the hard way.
Sigh…I’ve been through the ringer lately.
But hey, I’ve been ordered off of work for a few days, and now that my home feels a bit more whole, maybe I can write again. Han (7yr old) has said that she did not like it that I was sick and not myself. She’s said she hopes I will feel better and write like she always sees me doing.
I’ll get there, kid. Promise.
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
Indiana knows there’s a lot missing in the house nowadays. With his vision mostly gone, and his mental faculties fading, he’s gotten more confused ever since Jojo died.
But he knows where to go when that confusion gets to him. He’s been staying nearby me more often, and barks if I leave the room.
I know, Indy. I know. I miss them too.
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
It’s one of those times that I admit that my heart is broken and my soul lost a part of itself. I’ve heard it said that humans will pack-bond with all manner of creatures, but I will steadfastly stand by the old phrase: “Dog is Man’s Best Friend.”
How do I know this? By spending over ten years of my life with Jojo being a constant part of it.
Joseph “JoJo” was born on March 22, 2012. Joe was special all on his own, of course, but for me, he held a truly unique post in my life: he was the first dog that I, and I alone, actively sought out and chose to take into my world. I worried that Casey would want a companion around to play with, as at that time I was still a hopeless bachelor. I decided to go out looking for a second dog to have around. JoJo came up in my searches. I met the folks who were selling his litter, talked it over with them, and asked for who would become Joe.
In May, he was brought down to Louisiana, and I got to meet him for the first time. He immediately clambered into my lap and curled up for a nap.
It’s selfish of me to say it, as he meant so much to so many, but he was my dog.
There were worries given to me that I brought home a second male puppy when I already had a male dog under my roof, but those folks forgot that these were Goldens. They bonded with each other and we were our own little pack for years.
I had planned to take Joe camping and hunting with me, but life always disagreed with this wish, leading me to never have that experience. In an ironic twist, it was probably for the best; Joe hated water. I never figured out why, though he loved sinks in his younger years (preferably dry).
As the years passed, and family grew, Joe was always at my side, ready to play, to walk, even to defend us from the perceived threats of squirrels or birds in the yard.
Jojo had one of the purest souls I’ve had the privilege of witnessing and was welcoming and patient with our children as they grew. But as they grew, he grew old.
Jojo had a tumor on his leg that had ruptured before his twelfth birthday. Surgery was not possible, as the tumor was right at an elbow joint and wrapped around major blood vessels. Amputation wasn’t an option, as it would have ruined his quality of life, at his age. I decided to go with palliative care, treating him at home helping him manage his pain until the end.
When that end came, I knew I wasn’t ready. Not again. But I shoved that selfishness away. It was his time, and he couldn’t go quickly like Casey had. He needed… help along the way.
On April 9, 2024, we took Jojo to the vet after having made arrangements. I took the day off to uphold my promise to not leave him until he had left us. We all took the day to say our goodbyes.
From the moment we entered the vet, Jojo did not leave physical contact with me, and I was happy to reciprocate.
When the time came, Sarah and I were sitting with him, telling him all the while how good a boy he had been, how grateful we had been that he was in our lives, and that we’d miss him.
“You did great, old man,” I said. “You can rest now.”
He gave one last sigh. He was gone. I broke again.
It’ll be a long time before I recover from these months.
Thank you, Jojo, for the last twelve years.
I’ll miss you, buddy.
Won’t be writing today. JoJo needs to go to the vet.
One last time.
…goddammit.
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
Edit: I had this written first thing in the morning, but walked away from the computer to play with my dog. Sorry it’s a day late. I’ll write a proper eulogy post for Joe after the day shift. Cheers.
Folks, I love the fact that I live out in a rural area. I really do. It’s usually pretty quiet, and I’ve preferred the open spaces as compared to a subdivision.
A consequence to having that space, however, is the maintenance. With Springtime officially (by way of the weather) hitting the Southern US, it’s time for the First Mow.
4 acres of land… this’ll be an all-day, all-family-involved event.
Stay safe out there, folks. I gotta go get the riding mower checked out.
-JB Swift
Swift's Corner 