In the wake of the Hurricane Katrina catastophe, allow me, for a moment, to do something totally American and selfishly indulge my own petty problems and sorrow.

But first of all, my apologies to netter for not visiting her journal of late(I miss your sense of humor) and my eternal thanks to her, randomthoughts and Saf/Perry for the kind words!



It's been a tough week. It's hard knowing the exact time your dog will be dead. We Americans are quite silly when it comes to our pets, and I never thought that I would be affected so much. I miss him every day. Not only did I bawl uncontrollably in the vet's office, on the way home, and after I got home, but I continue to sporatically break out into tears.

It probably wouldn't have been half as bad had it been a bad day for him. But it wasn't. He was romping and playing and seemingly doing ok. However, once we reached the vet's office, he was overly excited and agitated, and became disoriented, bumping into walls and chairs and such. Little comfort to me even then.

When they took him back to shave his leg and put in a catheter, we could hear his screaming. By the time they brought him back, he barely made it into the room before collapsing on the floor from the sedatives and pain medicine they pumped him with. I'm not sure if he knew I was there or not.

Our other dog, Sergei, watched us leave with him. We know he was jealous, thinking Yasha was getting to go somewhere fun while we left him at home. I'm sure it was quite confusing for him when we came back without Yasha and Momma was crying non-stop.

There was no love-lost between the dogs. Even though Yasha was younger, he was the alpha and stuck it to Sergei every chance he got. But Sergei is a sensitive dog, and while Yasha often got on his last nerve, he would shower affection in the form of kisses on him, sensing perhaps just how sick Yasha was.



It is little comfort to me that it was probably for the best. That's my selfishness. And when I look at his empty crate, or miss his warm fluffy body cuddled up next to me, I can't help but cry.

#

On the homefront, the SUV driving, gas guzzling, "I'm more important than you" citizens of Charlotte have lost their freakin minds. Yesterday there was a stampede at the gas stations as panic insued.

The two gas lines that run through Charlotte were down due to Katrina and rumors of gas shortages and prices rising to $4 a gallon shook the community. At 8 o'clock last night, my sis in law said that her out of town bosses had planned a visit to her store but couldn't find a single drop of gas in the whole city of Charlotte. She herself had waited more than an hour at one station earlier in the evening.

We had stopped earlier in the afternoon to fill up the Nissan Altima, at a whopping cost of $34. Indeed, I had put gas in the day before and the price was $2.59. Yesterday, we paid $2.79, and early this morning, with the station's supply restored, the price had jumped to $2.99. 40 cents in less than two days

Other stations down the street, those that had gas, were, at last check at 7 am, charging $3.19

My neighbor, who I took to the airport last Thurs, (a self-described "spiritual being," who rarely looks outside her own narrow life and probably has no idea that a hurricane even devasted the gulf coast) left us her car. Since I have to go get her tonight, I still have to find some gas to put in her car. I'm not looking forward to that

Ok, I'm done now (how's that for anti-climactic?)