Our Dog Maya

This story I wrote the day after Maya died.  I didn’t post it because I wasn’t sure.  I hope you enjoy it.  If not… I don’t really care.  It needed to be told.  Thank you.

Our dog died Sunday, 28 October, 2018.

She was twelve and a half.

Even though she had recently been diagnosed with heart disease and a heart murmur she was going strong until the final day. In fact, she and I had just completed our nightly walk when the pain hit her like a cannonball to the stomach. I won’t soon forget, watching her go for a drink of water as I was briefing my wife, her mother, on the details of our walk, when she nearly collapsed. I raced to her and helped her to the ground. The pain was obviously debilitating because our dog could take pain. Water on the lungs? No problem. Ruptured knee tendons? 2 in a calendar year. No problem. Battle wounds from doggy daycare? She must have had 40 stitches in her life, all from “playing” at daycare. They never bothered her or deterred her from going back. She loved her time at daycare. No, this pain she couldn’t handle and so she laid down, augured in and in true Maya fashion, she took the pain.

It only took a minute or two to realize this was serious. Lisa and I started combing the Internet for things to relieve the pain. You see, it was a Saturday night so we didn’t think we had many options. Finally, struggling to find options, we called our animal clinic and via outgoing message, I was told that if it were an emergency I could call the doctor direct, so I did. He was on his anniversary dinner so he gave me a quick remedy and told me that if we couldn’t find any emergency care call him back. Bottom line, we ended up driving to him after his meal. He took great care to find out what was ailing our baby, but after a couple tests and x-rays, he couldn’t determine anything. The look on his face said it all. He was scared and he had no idea what could cause this kind of pain this fast. He gave her a shot of pain killer that he said would “probably knock her out” and it did. We returned home only to watch her struggle with the pain. The vet had told us that if the shot didn’t relieve some of the pain to give her a huge dose of more pain meds, which we did. It was the saddest night of my life, rivaling only the last night I was with my father, but this was different because my father had been slowly dying for years and when the end came there was relief. This was sudden. Abrupt. It was horrible.

She was finally able to fall asleep so the next morning we headed to Louisville, Kentucky, determined to help her. It was not to be.

Our vet had called ahead so the team at Blue Pearl was ready. They ran a battery of tests, ranging from simple blood work to x-rays and ultrasounds. It was the ultrasound that finally revealed what had been hiding from view. Our dog Maya had tumors in her liver. Not on her liver… in her liver. One for sure and a possible second. The doctor also said she had fluid in her stomach which looked like blood so it was at this time I thought the worst and Lisa asked, “wait! Are we not going home with our dog?” The doctor suggested that her issues had been developing for some time and that something on her last walk must have triggered things to get worse. They ran a few more test to determine if there were tumors in her lungs, which they didn’t find but the damage had been done. The issue, in the end, became the blood in her stomach, potential complications of surgery and her age. Our choices came down to a final three.

One, have surgery. Open her up and try to remove the tumor but first they had to determine if the blood was old or new which would, if new, meant potential internal bleeding. If internal bleeding was present they would have to stop the bleeding before or during surgery. The doctor also said that, very often, when they open up dogs with similar symptoms it may be worse than the ultrasound showed in which case the doctor would be forced to euthanize on the operating table. It wasn’t a pleasant prognosis. Two, take her home on palliative care. Manage the pain and try to let her enjoy her final days at home but Lisa and I both thought that sounded selfish and was only benefiting our grieving while Maya suffered, so that option was quickly eliminated. As stated earlier, she already had other health issues that may have made surgery harder. We couldn’t let her suffer so we went with the final option. Three, euthanasia.

It was an easy choice but the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, and I know Lisa would agree. To make matters worse, they brought her in to see us so we could say goodbye and she seemed like she might be OK. Of course, that was because of the host of drugs in her system, which you could clearly see in her eyes. She was in the room with us but she wasn’t “there”. She was like a zombie. I mean, she was all over the room and even ate a little food that had been brought in for her but her eyes were already gone. We laid her on the floor with me on one side and Lisa on the other and the doctor came in to finally relieve her pain. As the doctor injected her with the drug that would put her to sleep before stopping her heart, Maya turned and looked at me, straight in my eyes and I can only hope she was looking to reassure me that this was the right decision and that she was thanking us for getting rid of her pain. I will not forget that look as long as I live. In that instant I saw our life together. It was just a flash but I saw it all.

Maya was given to me, already named and a bit high strung to put it mildly. A family had found her tethered to a tree. They were a young family so when the hyper pup came home she was a bit more than they could handle. She was a jumper and a biter. Not a vicious biter, she would naw on arms as a way to determine who you were. She did it her entire life but only to those she really knew, like me and Lisa and even my brother-in-law, Josh. Anyway, the first year went fast. I had just moved into a new home and so we spent our time exploring our new neighborhood and getting to know each other. We had our fights. She was as stubborn as I was but we learned each other and a bond was formed. Things were really good. We spent all of our free time together. That second year things didn’t go so well, for me. I received the call to go to war so Maya had her world shaken again when she was forced to live with my parents, which turned out to be the best thing for her.

I say “forced” which is true but my parents’ house is a fantastic place for a dog. Ranch style home so there was only one step to climb. A big backyard with a chain-link fence for 365 degrees of sight-line. She loved that. She could see everything yet she was safe behind the wire. They also had a pool which she hated but that pool brought visitors and visitors she loved, and they loved her. It was that pool, while I was deployed, that really began the socialization of Maya. By the end, Maya was one of the most social dogs I’ve ever known. She wanted to say “hi” to everyone but then she would be on her way to the next thing. Other dogs never were of much interest. I mean, there was an initial interest, a quick sniff, but then it was on to the next thing. Maya was the perfect dog.

I eventually came home and Maya and I were back together, only now she was more relaxed, which after a deployment was amazingly soothing for me. She knew when I was anxious and she knew when I was calm. She would sleep in bed with me when I struggled but she would sleep on her own bed on the nights that I slept well. Looking back now, I hadn’t realized what she was doing. She was my compassion dog. She was my friend. She was my “everything” and she knew it before I did. We spent the next three years in relative peace and harmony, living life. The “ups” and the “downs” all the while becoming a dynamic team, although I often worried about her solitude. I’d hurry home after work. I’d stay in on the weekends. Not every night, I wasn’t a saint but I was very aware that she was home alone. Often I would send her down the street to stay with my sisters. She loved that and developed very special bonds with our nieces and nephews. They meant the world to her and I know that she would have loved to say goodbye. I’m sure of it. She loved those kids. No matter how many times she had to stay somewhere else or no matter what time I would come home at night she would be just as excited to see me as the previous time. That trait never faltered and never failed to bring a smile to my face. It’s an amazing thing, a dog. They don’t ask for anything, really. All they want is to be appreciated. They don’t hold grudges. They don’t judge. Their love is unconditional and Maya was the best at all of it. She was soon to take on her most important role.

In 2012 we met Lisa, me in November and Maya in December. That was the game changer. Maya and I went from a bachelor and his dog to a family, almost overnight. Where I had saved Maya, Maya had saved me and Lisa, she saved us all. She probably wouldn’t agree with that statement but it’s true. Maya now had another friend. Someone to go to when she wasn’t sure of my mood. Someone else to love because she had love to give and Lisa and I both needed it. Again, Maya had taken care of us before we even knew we needed it. Lisa told me when we met that she wasn’t a dog person and she still isn’t. What she will tell you is that she’s not a dog person, she’s a Maya person. I always liked that statement. Maya didn’t do anything special, she was simply herself and that was enough.

For the next 6 years we were one happy family. Well, when it came to Maya, we were one happy family. Lisa and I have been and will continue to learn how to live together but there was rarely a dispute when it was about Maya. She was central to our universe. After all, we don’t have any children so Maya was it and she loved her role as “queen”. We both spoiled her. We had to. As she aged we changed her diet several times and by the time she passed she was eating better than any dog I’ve ever heard of and better than most people. She deserved it all. During her last six years, Maya was everywhere we were. It was just assumed in our family that if you invited us to an event, we were bringing our “plus one” every time.

Maya was so good at reading us and our personalities, she knew how we felt before we did. She was integral in helping Lisa through several “events” and constantly helped me with my anxiety, without me even realizing. She just made everything better.

Last Sunday, lying on that floor with her, we couldn’t make anything better and it hurt. We felt like we had been punched in the gut. We were helpless to help her and that’s an awful feeling.

When her eyes met mine in that final moment I hope she saw our life together with the same happiness and joy that I saw when I look back now. I loved that dog. Lisa loved that dog. She helped me live life the best I could during a time of struggle. She helped my wife not only deal with me but also enjoy a part of life that she hadn’t experienced before.

I’ve been thinking, since she passed, does the pain I feel now make me regret any decisions I made with Maya or does the pain of her passing change anything about our time with her? Would I do it again? Would I take in a young dog who was too aggressive for the rest of the world?   Would we buy an eleven year old dog two new knees within the same calendar year? Would we pay hundreds of dollars a month to keep her healthy as she was aging? Would we walk hundreds of miles in all manner of weather just so she could get her exercise? Would we drive hundreds of miles just to ensure she wouldn’t be alone when we had to leave for a day or a month? Would we spend thousands of dollars for tests in an attempt to ease the pain?

YOU BET YOUR ASS! All of it. I would do it all again. Hopefully I would do it a little better but I would absolutely do it again. Was her last 24 hours miserable and painful to watch? Yes. I’ve cried many times over the last couple days. I can only hope that her last vision wasn’t just of me, but of all the fun times we all had together and I hope…I hope she enjoyed her time in this world. She made my life better. She made Lisa’s life better. She brought a little joy to every life she encountered along her journey. I am going to do my best to take part of her memory and wear it daily. Everything she did was to make us happy. We should all be so lucky to live that kind of life, making others happy.

In the end, she took the pain, just like she always had and she went out like she came in, fighting to survive. As a pup I was able to take her in and ease her pain, her sense of abandonment. At the end, Lisa and I were finally able to ease the pain coursing through her and send her on her final journey, to that big field in the sky.

I can see it now, a wide open field with plenty of other critters to chase, a creek to cool off in and the sun, eternally frozen just above the horizon, as it sets. I hope that every time she looks over her shoulder she sees the silhouette of a tall, goofy guy in a fedora holding the hand of a beautiful woman with a long scarf blowing in the breeze, waiting for her to come home. We love you Maya. Thanks for everything. God bless you.

Forever, your parents

Matt & Lisa

Just Calm Down

At some point every day, I check the news ticker provided to me at the bottom of Bing’s homepage and it always disappoints.
Not because of the horrible events that happen all around the world every day, that’s to be expected. No, what disappoints me is what society seems to deem as “news worthy.” Today, for example, right after news about Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s lung cancer and the murder of two tourists in Morocco, there is a story about how Miley Cyrus sang “Santa Baby” on “The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.” Yup, that seems important.
That story is followed up by a story about a Canadian held in China and how he can’t turn off the lights, which is valid in the grand scheme of world diplomacy. Then a story about a highway being named after Obama, followed by a plane crash in Atlanta. All of these stories seem relevant with one glaring exception, maybe two. Perhaps it’s a slow news day but if you read each of the stories, it’s not a slow news day. There’s world diplomacy, as I stated above, being tested in Syria, China and several other places around the globe. There’s a plane crash that killed 4 (on a global scale that barely makes the news, if at all). A Supreme Court Justice who’s dealing with cancer, which is a great human interest story. Not to mention an arrest in Japan of the former chairman of Nissan Motor Company.
It seems the world is melting down, ever so slowly and the info-savvy people of this country are as equally concerned with the United States’ standing on the global stage as they seem to be about Miley Cyrus’ rendition of a bad Christmas song… wait! Am I even allowed to say “Christmas”? Santa Baby is about Santa Claus, who traditionally represents the holiday of Christmas but, heaven forbid, I offend anyone by using that term.
This country is so PC and so worried about offending, not only other countries but also the citizens of this country, that it’s begun to lose much more than its moral compass. I would argue that sometimes things need to be done that will offend. The United States should ruffle some feathers, when needed. If other country’s get upset, that’s OK and actually healthy in the grand scheme of world politics. The same should be said for the government’s relationship with its citizens. The government should act in the best interest of the country. It can’t worry about upsetting people. Every move made in government will offend somebody. Unfortunately the United States seems as if it’s starting to worry about offending everyone. That’s not healthy for the government of a World power.
Above, I talked about the government’s relationship with its citizens, not illegal aliens, not refugees seeking asylum. Sorry. It’s not show-friends, it’s show-business and if you’re willing to take the steps to gain legal entry into the United States, under the current rules, then I say “welcome”. I’m sorry you weren’t born here, I truly am, but the United States can’t just have open borders with no procedures for entry. It can’t. Other country’s don’t. The world’s a dangerous place, just look at the news ticker at the bottom of Bing. Nestled in, between Miley Cyrus and Obama’s cameo in the remix of “Hamilton”, which I’m sure is delightful, you’ll see it. Murder, Mother Nature’s wrath, Catholic sex cover-ups, wars, crimes of passion and all the other sins of the world. It’s a dangerous time, in a dangerous world. The United States needs to protect itself, and if someone takes offense to that, then perhaps they should run for a public office and fight to make a change, the proper way, instead of sharp shooting the way things are being done now.
Some of you might say that I sound like a Trump Supporter. You couldn’t be further from the truth. I think Donald Trump was a horrible choice for Commander in Chief but there wasn’t a better option. Hillary? Ha! I didn’t vote. I tried to figure out who to vote for but in the end, I didn’t feel that either of them made sense. Am I a bad American because I didn’t vote? Maybe. I did serve for 25 years in the Military so I hope that’s sufficient evidence to show how I feel about my country. Trump’s barely qualified to run his company’s let alone the United States. Prior to running for President he ducked his last opportunity to serve, a couple of times. It seems to me, he’s like a person who never quite fit in but who was able to gain a little power and now he thinks he matters. I saw it all the time in the Army. He’s like a little boy trapped in grandpa’s body. He should be banned from all social media until he eats all of his vegetables.
My point is, the country needs to put on its big kid pants (not big boy or big girl. See, I can be PC), buckle down and re-gain its hold as a global super-power and not worry who it pisses off, so long as the country remains fair and consistent, when it comes to protecting itself and its citizens. I, for one, could care less about what Miley Cyrus has to say and more about what the country is doing to make itself a better place.
Make America Great Again???? That would infer that it once was great and now it’s not. That’s wrong. “Greatness” is a tough thing. There is always something that can be better. For example, race relations within our country. It’s never been good, so when The Donald says, “make America great again,” he totally ignores the fact that America, while “good,” has never been truly great and probably never will. That being said, there’s nowhere else I’d rather live and based on the number of people trying to get in, the rest of the world thinks so too.

Dinner With Friends

Tonight, the wife and I had dinner with some dear friends.  I have just retired from the military after a quarter of a century.  Wow, saying it like that makes it seem like a eternity and in truth, it has been.  I joined the Army in 1993 and finished yesterday.  My final duty station has been in Jasper, Indiana and to be honest, I had no idea what to expect.  Tonight’s dinner was a celebration of my military career and a celebration of new friendships.

Southern Indiana was a mystery to me and certainly to my Canadian wife.  We didn’t know what to expect.  One of the most pleasant things that has happened to us has been developing a relationship with new friends.  Without question Peter and George have become our dearest friends and without them we wouldn’t have been able to assimilate into the small community of French Lick.

Let me explain, I worked in Jasper, Indiana but my wife found us a beautiful home in the small resort town of French Lick.  Look it up on the inter-webs and you’ll soon see why French Lick is a resort town.  It’s a gem nestled in the Hoosier National Forest and well worth the trip.  So, that’s why we’re here.  Now, how did we meet Peter and George?  In an attempt to immerse into the community my wife volunteered at the local museum in addition to managing events at the resort, and it just so happened our friends Peter and George are pretty big deal at the museum and the rest is developing into a great friendship.  Who are these two wonderful gentlemen?  Well, let me explain.

Peter and George are partners and have been sharing life experiences for a long time.  They have stories that could easily become Hollywood blockbusters (I mean, Shirley McClaine would be jealous of their stories).  They have seen and done it all.  Peter actually went to college with my father and they knew each other, which I think is amazing.  I love that part of our story with these two.  My favorite part of our friendship with these fantastic guys is that, we’re just friends.  That’s it.  They are successful retired guys who don’t want for anything and simply want to be friends.  We are equally interested in finding friends who only want to be friends.  No pretense.  No agenda.  Just people who enjoy each others company.  We have other friends like this but many of them live far away.  Of course, they treat us like their children which makes it hard to pay bill.  Every meal is a fight to determine who pays but they are incredibly creative in getting their credit cards to the waitress before we can.  It’s like dealing with Gandalf which isn’t easy.  We love these two and are lucky to consider ourselves their friends.

Now, back to dinner.  Ballard’s at the West Baden Resort is a great place to dine mid-week. It’s casual with a hint of sophistication and it provides a great opportunity to enjoy the atrium of this world-class resort.  Peter and I had the steak and frites while my wife enjoyed the salmon salad and George chose the airline chicken, worst name for a meal ever.  I mean, who associates good food with air travel and George was sure to let the server know, as well as the risotto.  Risotto in the Midwest can’t compare to the dish served in Italy and since George lived there for years as a model (I’m telling you, these guys have some amazing stories which I may get into in future blog posts, with their permission, of course). The evening was fantastic.  The food was very good and the desserts, decadent.  There were stories told, laughs had and plans for future travel, discussed.  Personally, I haven’t laughed and enjoyed my time that much in quite some time and I think my wife would agree.  Honestly and a bit selfishly, we needed this night.

Thank you to our friends and we look forward to many more nights like this and we hope to add some adventure to our story with these two great men.

I’m a lucky guy.  I have a fantastic wife and some really good friends.  Raise a glass and toast the future.  It’s going to be fun.

The Struggle is Real

Haven’t had a day off in quite some time and I’m beginning to feel the anxiety associated with transitioning out of the army.  Non-military folks don’t get it.  All of my civilian friends talk about “job placement” and how easy it’s going to be to find a new job when I retire, but the truth is, it isn’t.  Nothing about retirement from the army is easy.  Sure I’ll receive a check every month for the rest of my life and sure that’ll cover a home and some expenses associated with a home but it won’t keep me where I’m at, financially speaking.  That’s the scary part.  I have no idea how to proceed and because I’m retiring from the Indiana National Guard all of my retirement/transition help is located about an hour and half away at Fort Knox, Kentucky.

Fort Knox is responsible for assisting separating soldiers in every aspect, from medical to transportation and they do a good, efficient job but if you live far away they’re not much help.  In their defense, it’s not their job to find me a new life.  I learned long ago. No one cares about you in this world.  I mean, your family, hopefully cares, but in the grand scheme of life you’re on your own and I think, that’s the scary part.  My entire adult life has been taken care of by Uncle Sam.  All I had to do was, wake up in the morning and my day was laid out for me.  I’d accomplish my daily task and leave.  Everyday has been the same.  The tasks are almost always different and sometimes the “leave” part may be several days or months a part, but the format is the same.  Without this structure, I’m not sure which way I’m supposed to proceed.  I feel a bit like Brooks, the librarian in “Shawshank Redemption”, although my mental state is a lot better than his turned out to be.  That being said, I do feel the anxiety that he seemed to have upon his release from the big house.

A little dramatic?  Yes. But, I made a promise to myself that when I retired, my family wouldn’t have to go through any sort of financial lull while I tried to get my civilian footing.  This is proving harder than I thought.

Working on my resume is ridiculously brutal, in that, everything I write looks bad and/or poorly written even though I’ve done some pretty substantial work in my time with the army.  Every time I think it looks good, I re-read it and it’s pure shit.  I’ve sent it out to friends that have provided great input and I’ve adjusted accordingly but it still doesn’t read the way I want it to and the clock is ticking.

This entire process would be a lot easier if I had any idea of what I wanted to be when I grow up.  My friends that have retired from the army recently all have a plan.  Either they just want something slow and easy that gets them back to their “break even” number financially or they have a passion that they will enjoy upon retirement.  I don’t have any obvious passions and I’d still like to make some money in my life.  Funny thing about that last comment is that, yes, I want to make some money in my life but at the end of the day, I’d like to have the money in order to give it away.

Seeing people genuinely happy is something I love to see.  Unfortunately, because of the way I deal with things, I outwardly project that I am always disgruntled and mean.  That’s a shame because I’m usually in pretty good mood although I struggle with “dumb.”  When I see people doing dumb things just because they aren’t paying attention or are so self-involved that they fail to realize that there are other people affected by their actions, I become frustrated.  I often have to explain to my wife, who I love dearly, that I’m not mad or frustrated with her but I am mad and frustrated with a situation, usually caused by some outlying variable.

That came out wrong.  My wife is brilliant.  She is an aggressive go-getter and the only reason she is struggling now is because she blindly followed me down to Southern Indiana because she’s an amazing person , that only wants the people around her to be happy.  Something I desperately need to be more in tune with.  She’s my rock and I owe it to her to have something lined up in order to support her and to ensure she doesn’t notice a financial dip in our lifestyle.  And so, the struggle is real.


About Last Night

Living in a small town should be delightful.  Less crime, a tighter sense of community and a comfortable respite from the over-crowding of big cities.  Unfortunately, French Lick, Indiana is not that and not what I thought it would be.

My wife an I moved to French Lick due to Military obligations, in the winter of 2016 after ten years in Indianapolis’ inner-city.  We were expecting to get away from the issues that come with living in an urban environment, like drug trafficking, gang-related violence and all of the petty crimes.  Downtown Indianapolis wasn’t a hot-bed of gang violence, it had some but it did have it’s share of petty crime, to include, theft, burglary and domestic disputes almost every night.  In all of our time in Indianapolis, we only called the police twice and that was for suspicious cars parked on the block.  When the Indiana National Guard promoted me and stationed me in Jasper, Indiana, we thought we’d find a small community, grow some roots and start a family.  Boy, were we wrong.

Eighteen months after moving into our new city and establishing ourselves as productive people in the community, our world changed.  Directly across the street in, what had previously been a rental property, a family of degenerate dirt bags moved in and no one’s sure how.  One day there are “renters” quietly living in the home and the next a multi-racial, multi-generational family moved in with no discernable leader amongst them and providing no value to our adopted city.  I immediately contacted my friends that are local realtors to find out how this could happen.  The house was never officially put on the market so how did this “family” get the inside track?  No one can explain to me how this happened.  I spoke to the local police department. Nothing.  I spoke to the local town hall and they acted surprised that this had happened, however, they did know the family and this is how we found out that we are, now, screwed.

Some time before we moved to the little community of French Lick, the local police gunned down one of this families “uncles”.  Shot him dead in the street which, of course, upset the family.  I can’t imagine why, because from  all the reports the uncle was resisting and threatening, either way the family vowed to get revenge.  They have, of course, not gotten revenge but because of this situation the local police are “apprehensive” to confront this family.  ANNND that’s just magical.  I suppose, by being a scourge of humanity, they have gotten revenge on the police and the entire city.

I say all of that to get to last night.  The police were called several times and I didn’t even pick up the phone.  Someone else was calling the police because the family was sitting on the front porch blasting music and carrying on like it was Mardi Gras, which isn’t a huge problem except the fact that it was midnight, on a Wednesday in a small town in Southern Indiana.  The police finally stopped and spoke to the family and after a fifteen minute discussion, which I couldn’t hear because I was watching from inside my home, a few feet away, the police drove away.  During that fifteen minutes a young lady wearing a very skimpy outfit approached the cruiser and talked to the officer as she leaned quite invitingly into the vehicle.  From my angle it appeared as if she was offering the officer a “hand” but I can’t confirm that so I may have to delete that part later.  Nevertheless, after speaking to the neighbors, this morning, it took five phone calls over a four hour period before the police would do anything about this family, which is unacceptable.

The sad part is that last nights debacle was minor compared to some of the other calls to the police because of this family and to some of the things my wife and I have seen.  A short list would include; an unconscious body being carried into the home the morning of Christmas Eve, fist fights in the street directly in front of our home on several occasion, scantly clad teenage girls dancing to loud music at midnight, suspected drug deals at all hours and drugs and alcohol being consumed in broad daylight by young people that may or may not be legal drinking age.  On each occasion the police were called or showed up on their own accord and on each occasion zero arrests were made and in one instance, high-fives were given to the family by the police.  What the fuck?  I call the police for a disturbance, the police arrived and start high-fiving the very same people that played NWA’s infamous song, “Fuck The Police” as the police pulled up.  This city is pathetic!

I’m supposed to be slipping into retirement from the Army and starting a new career, while my wife continues her climb through the ranks of the nearby resort.  We’re supposed to be starting a family but instead we’re dealing with a bunch of trash that no one will do anything about.  I feel like my only option at this point is to call them out on my own, get physically injured by them and then, maybe, just maybe, enough attention will be churned up that the city will have to make a move.  Unfortunately, I’m to old for that sort of behavior so if it comes to that, it’s really going to hurt.

It’s a ticking time-bomb and everyone is turning a blind eye.  I’ve written this post to capture this time in our lives so that when the bomb goes off, there will be proof that people were warned and chose to do nothing.


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