The People's Princess

I've made a lot of mistakes in my parenting years. Too many to count. While I don't particularly want to list them all right here, I will confess my most recent faux pas. In my defense, I didn't maim anyone or destroy their psyche. All I did was laugh. Loudly.

It was a Sunday evening and I was sitting outside on the sidewalk watching the lunar eclipse drape the moon in a dark red hue. They call it a blood moon, although frankly, if I saw someone with blood that color, I'd be pretty concerned.  Nevertheless, it was a beautiful evening. Anna had texted me a couple of times and I had responded with truly stupid comments such as, "What? There is a lunar eclipse in Nebraska too??" and, "Tell me what happens next since your eclipse is an hour ahead." These were done for comedic effect and because I often forget to take life seriously. I'd say I'd try harder to approach life more soberly, but let's face it, I won't. 

Anyway, just about the time the entire moon was shrouded in darkness, my cell phone rang. It was Anna telling me she had just found out, by being sprayed with Silly String, she was nominated for college homecoming royalty. I laughed. She says I cackled but that is such an unattractive word. I prefer to think of it as a melodic and charming lilt.

Alright fine. I cackled.

The whole thing seemed uproariously funny. It had never occurred to me that she would be nominated for homecoming royalty. I associate such things with popularity contests, and being popular has never been something Anna aspired to. She desires to be well liked, a good leader, to learn new things, and expand her horizons, but being the popular girl has never much mattered. The irony of it made me....cackle, I guess.

Anna relentlessly drives herself to achieve. This is the girl who, in third grade, having been in home school up to that point, calmly requested that she go to public school because she didn't think I was teaching her enough. When she started public school she wouldn't be content unless enrolled in advanced courses. This is the girl who, at the end of middle school insisted on applying for the IB program in high school despite her parent's recommendation that she relax and enjoy herself. And the girl who, upon turning 16, went out and got a job even though we told her we thought her courses were challenging enough she didn't need an outside job. She worked 20-hours a week, completed the IB program, and made it all look quite breezy. We never worried about her going out and being wild. She didn't rebel that way. She just quietly went about doing what she wanted; none of which involved being popular or the center of attention.

But there she was. Covered in Silly String.

It probably goes without saying that for a young woman who is relatively shy, being homecoming royalty felt a little uneasy. Nevertheless, Anna handled it with typical poise and aplomb. When, at the Friday evening dinner she was crowned Homecoming Princess I tried very hard not to cackle. 

Wearing the cute little crown would have been funny enough, but shortly after the coronation came the realization that she was going to have to be in the homecoming parade the following morning, riding in a convertible and undoubtedly having to do that weird waving thing. This was followed by the realization that the homecoming prince had football warm ups and wouldn't be able to join her.  

Riding in a convertible. By herself. Doing the princess wave. This was definitely not her thing.

To make the parade easier and more fun for her, Parker agreed to help out in typical Griggs fashion by holding the prince's head on a stick and standing in. 

More grace fell on the reluctant princess when, just as it was time for the royalty motorcade to commence, the battery on the shiny red Jaguar died and Anna and Parker were left to walk, providing a much more 'down to earth' style, far more suited to this particular royal couple than regally riding. 

Following the outgoing, stiletto heeled homecoming queen and the equally heeled incoming homecoming queen, both in convertible chariots, came the People's Princess, walking in flat boots and handing out candy.

I'm extraordinarily proud of what Anna has quietly and steadfastly accomplished thus far in life. Going to another state for college wasn't easy for her homebody self, but her soul knew it was where she belonged. While there she has bravely embraced new experiences and relationships and academics, but I believe it is her quiet, compassionate, and dedicated leadership that most prompted her peers to vote for her to wear a sparkly sash and tiara. 

It turns out being voted homecoming royalty wasn't about popularity. It was about leadership. And for that Anna deserved every vote.

I probably shouldn't have cackled.

Our Lady of Perpetual Winking

I'm not trying to brag, but my sweet little cattle dog knows how to wink. I don't think this is a typical dog trick. I mean, I don't know that many dogs who can wink on command. I'm pretty proud of her. She's come a long way from homeless and pregnant puppy on death row, to rescue dog, to being put under house arrest, to trained winker.

Look at my cute wink!

Unless I'm lying.

Which I might be.

Okay fine. She winks. But it isn't exactly by choice.

A couple of months ago I was getting ready for work on a Friday morning and noticed that Sadie's right eye looked odd. It appeared cloudy and swollen but it was dark in the house and I just thought it was one of those weird glowing animal eye things. I wasn't concerned. A while later Anna mentioned it and after looking carefully at Sadie's eye and seeing that it was in fact cloudy and swollen, I asked Steve if he could take her to the veterinarian to get it checked. Later that day they came home with an eye infection diagnosis and some antibiotic salve. The next morning Sadie's eye looked better. I thought that was the end of it.

By Tuesday, though, her eye looked odd again and she started acting like she felt poorly. Thinking she must have a nasty eye infection, I took her back to the veterinarian expecting to get a different, more powerful antibiotic ointment. What I got, however, was a diagnosis of rapid onset glaucoma. The veterinarian declared her left eye blind and said her right eye wasn't far behind. Unbeknown to me, glaucoma is excruciatingly painful and his next statement took my breath away. The only way to eliminate her suffering was to remove her beautiful, albeit now swollen, cloudy, and blind, brown eye. 

Remove her eye? Is that called that an 'eyeectomy? My dog has to have her EYE removed??

Despite her teen pregnancy and brushes with death and the law, I do love this little dog. Nevertheless, I brokenheartedly asked the vet if it would be more merciful to put her down. I didn't want to do it, but I also didn't want her to suffer. Without hesitation he said, "Oh no, dogs have no vanity. They use their sense of smell and hearing much more than sight anyway. She'll be fine." He then instructed me to drive across town to a dog opthamologist. And to get there as soon as I could. I didn't even know such a specialty existed but apparently rapid onset glaucoma takes the rapid part of its name seriously, so I loaded my suffering dog into the car and weaved my way through rush hour traffic to the dog opthomologist. There I met a kind and gentle spirited doctor who confirmed the veterinarian's diagnosis and instructed me to have Sadie's blind eye removed as soon as possible.

The next morning I dropped my sweet little half-blind puppy off for surgery.

My poor puppy.

Unable to fathom what post-surgery would look like (pun intended, I guess) I picked her up after work with some trepidation. I was surprised, however. Except for her rather gruesome appearance and the large plastic cone around her neck, she seemed just fine. She was excited to see me, at least with her one remaining eye, and greeted me with tail wagging and excited dancing. To my amazement, her healing and recovery were swift and speedy. Sadie didn't seem to care about how she looked. I'm fairly certain if I had to have my eye removed I'd be far less gracious about the whole thing.

The opthamologist assures us that Sadie will go blind in the remaining eye, although we are hoping to avoid having to remove it. We give her eye drops twice a day to slow the progression of glaucoma. She's pretty compliant with the whole routine, knowing she gets a treat after each drop. I made up a little song and dance we perform before each treatment. It pretty much involves her jumping around the kitchen while I dance and sing. The words are:

Do the one-eyed doggy dance.
Do the one-eyed doggy dance.
Do the one-eyed doggy dance.
Do the one-eyed doggy dance.
Do the one.....

...well, you get the idea. Now that I type it, I guess it isn't the most creative thing I've ever come up with. The tune is catchy, though. You'll have to trust me.

Anyway, our one-eyed doggy doesn't seem to know she only has one eye. Life for her is just wrestling with cats, sleeping on the couch, going for walks, and getting lavished with love.

Which I guess is her purpose.

Adopting Sweet Sadie feels a lot like a marriage. For better, for worse. In sickness and health. 'Till death do us part. We had no idea what we were getting into but we are in it for the long haul.

Because she's not just our dog. She's our family.