Alas, poor Bailey...

Those who know me know that I'm generally not one prone to flights of sentimentality or things of that nature, but today's entry is going to be a bit of a departure from my usual fare.

My flatmate S's dog, Bailey, a three year old pale yellow lab pup (Not really a pup, I know, but I have this thing for calling all dogs pups) appears to have gotten into something and had been acting out of sorts over the weekend, just throwing up a lot and kind of hiding out around to the side of the house, which is weird, becasue he really never does either; definitely not an outdoorsy dog. I guess it's a well-known fact that labs love to chew on and potentially eat everything they can get their jaws around, and this guy was no different. He loved to run off with all manner of items, "no matter how personal", according to S. He had a couple boat bumpers that were all chewed to bits that you could play fetch with him with, or he'd be walking around woth something in his mouth, trying to keep it away from you if he got your attention; S's checkbook, his chew toys, the little bag thing I keep my condoms in, mail, literally anything. Otherwise, he'd go out to the recycling bin and pull out all kinds of things: 2-liter bottles, food cans, milk jugs, whatever.

I've always liked dogs, and Bailey was a fun pup, content to lounge around the house with me all day. He liked to get riled up and fetch things in the yard, but definitely not so much so as to be persistently annoying like many other dogs his age, esp labs. Probably his only shortcoming was that he liked to jump up on you from time to time, definitely nowhere near as frequently as some dogs, but a little bit. Tough with a hundred pound dog, even one time can be overwhelming if you're not expecting it. I'm sure it was all just youthful ebullience, though, and have no doubt he'd have given it up with a little encouragement. I'm definitely wary of getting a dog myself, now especially, primarily because (and many of these are similar to the "no kids" rationale,) 1) all the hassle and expense of having a dog, 2) emotional attachment and eventual separation pains, 3) the removal of spontaniety in planning, always having to make arrangements for care and such, in this case much more os than say cats or fish...I'm sure there are others, but you get my point.

So Sunday night, S says he's not doing well, and decides to take him to the emergency vet's. Several hours later, like 1am, he gets back and says that they want to do exploratory surgery; he doesn't seem like he's getting any better, and they can kinda feel something in there. S and I kinda talk about it, alternating between "yeah, definitely, operate if they think it'll help", and "dogs have been eating things they shouldn't for thousands of years, he'll be fine" mentalities. He decided to sleep on it and talk to the vet some more the next day.

Monday evening, S gives me the update that they did indeed operate, and that they found some sort of hard yellow plastic thing in two pieces, attached to a string or rope of some kind. It had somehow gotten caught up in his intestines, and bound up a 2-foot(?) section, which had to be removed. Things were touch-and-go for a while, and they needed to keep him until Thursday, but that he should be okay after the ordeal. What the hell could he have gotten into? Hard yellow plastic/rubber with a string attachment? What could that even be?

Imagine my surprise when I saw that S was home when I got up today, around noon. He tells me that Bailey's died, and that they've buried him in the backyard. I'm glad, and that seems to be the right place for him, he so loved romping around back there. S seems to be taking it well, but I'm still in shock. I just saw him and was playing with him a few days ago! He was the very picture of dog health! How can this be? I never even took any pictures of/with him! Never got to take him to the park or anything! We were going to pick up girls together! It's funny how attached we can get, sometimes without even knowing, to pets in such a short time. I first saw/met Bailey exactly a month ago today...it's still all very surreal, not having him running off with my socks all the time.

I suppose it's kind of morbid to note that today's April 4th, 4.4. The Chinese (a culture that tends to be fundamentally superstitious to begin with) have a belief that 4 is an unlucky number, because it's a homophone for death, or to die. Creepy.

It turned out to be a weird, weird, weird weekend; mildly rough times, to be sure. We'll miss you, Bales.

Holiday antic(s)...

Not much time to peruse April fools day sites this year, the only one I check religiously anyway is Google's, this year with Google Romance. Not their best work by a long shot, but it was halfway clever, with some funny aspects. I found it to be a little too obvious in other regards, like some of the verbiage. I mean by now everyone expects brilliance from them, or at least an outdoing of the previous year's antics, but eh. Ah well. A good effort nonetheless.

Some of their past endeavours can be found here, here, or here.

An eventful weekend, more to follow if I can pull myself away from all the avoidance of things I should be doing.

His Noodly Appendage...

Y'all have heard me joke about the FSM numerous times in the past, I'm sure. That was all well and good for its time, a portion of my life overcome with hedonistic pleasures and ever-increasingly obscene and despicable things, including the rejection of organized religion. I now still see the humour in it, but also realize that like all things childish in nature, we must discard such foolishness at the appropriate times, and embrace more mature behavioural patterns; Call it "becoming a man", if you will.

It all started on the long drive back from DC. When one is presented with long expanses of free time and introspection, especially performing mindless activities such as driving, the mind has the opportunity to flow to strange, seemingly unfamiliar places. This is probably the closest approximation I can think of to explain what happened to me. It was never a singular moment of clarity, cathartic, epiphanous, purgatory, or otherwise, but more of a gradual realization that while time on this planet may be short, and there's not much sense in frittering that away, there's even less rationale in mortaging one's time in eternity for a bit of sinful delight now. While there are those who would gladly "pay you for Tuesday for a hamburger today", so to speak, no one would argue that an eternity of Tuesdays wouldn't ever be worth a singular today, no matter how metaphorically succulent, tasty, or pleasurable.

There's inherent temptation in a world purview of carpe diem. It has a tendency to steer people in a direction of endless, banal justifications of "hey, life's too short," "you only live once," or "if not now, when?" To which I now can unequivocally respond (respectively), "yeah, compared to the afterlife," "you also only suffer through damnation once, it's just longer," and my new favourite, "indeed, you definitely won't be able to do it once you're already IN hell!" I could go on, but I'm sure it'll seem preachy to most of my sinner readership if I lay it on too thick now.

Oddly enough, part of my revelation came from the pompous, self-righteous, and unholy maw of someone I previously looked up to, Jon Stewart and the puppeteers that comprise Comedy Central and Viacom. How I was able to endure (and forgive me, even find remotely entertaining) the continuous slander of holy men such as Pat Robertson, the Pope, and the rest of the religious mouthpieces of the world, is slightly beyond me at the moment. I suppose Mr. Stewart feels falsely safe in his Judaic cocoon, but clearly, his sins are just as real as all of ours, and you don't have to be religious to feel eternal hellfire!

It seems strange, but the divine hand of the Lord seems to touch us just when we're at our darkest moments. In the last several days, nothing less than that has intercepted the collision course that has become my life of late. Without going into too much excruciating detail, suffice it to say that my eyes have finally been opened to the folly of my ways, and while it will take a lifetime of atonement and repentance, that thank the Lord that it happened now, while I'm still able to assuage the universal harm of my lifetime of actions and inactions.

For those of you who know me solely from the club, I regret that we won't have the opportunity to say my goodbyes in person, since I will no longer be attending. At least those of you who read this medium will have some closure. I ask that you pass along (discreetly; you should be able to handle that, right?) the news only to those who specifically inquire of me, and not idle gawkers interested solely in the baser pleasure of vile gossip.

Of course, at this juncture, I must ask, whether you, loyal reader, have accepted Jesus as your personal saviour? It's never too late! If there's hope for an habitual sinner like myself, literally everyone and anyone can be saved, you just have to want it. It is not my place to judge any of you, but I do know that there were those both more and less wicked than I; it is up to all of you to individually find yourselves, to find the Lord within, and seek salvation. The key is not in the ease in which you can ask for forgiveness, after all, ALL can be forgiven...but can any of us gamble with our eternal souls that we won't get hit by a bus, or otherwise perish in a way that prohibits us from accepting salvation at the last minute? Is that something you're comfortable with? Allowing a "whoops, didn't see that coming" to stand between you and the pearly gates? Choose wisely, my beloved bretheren. I am taking steps to bring myself closer to the possibility of eternal bliss at the feet of our Lord, and I hope to see each and every one of those who are dear to me in that paradise.

I'm still contemplating the width, breadth, and depth of my committment to this new life/calling, but should things go in the direction I'm thinking, I may have no further need for my worldly and material posessions. If any of you would like to have anything of mine in particular, please send me an email or note it in the comments here. I'll try to weigh conflicting requests against the basis, duration, nature, world benefit and sincerity of our relationships, and come up with what will hopefully be equitable divisions of disputed articles. I do ask, however, that in exchange for the consideration, that you accept my determination without dischord amongst yourselves; I wouldn't want my actions to create further strife and chaos in the world I inhabit with all of you, but rather, to bring you all closer together, and in a direction closer to the Heavenly Father.

I will try and maintain this blog moving forward, but am a little conflicted and unsure as to the proper way to handle my old postings. On the one hand, they are accounts of my sinful and heathenly ways, but by the same token, they also serve as a constant reminder of how low I'd sunk before truly finding my spirituality, and perhaps they can serve as a beacon or roadmap for someone else. Father, give me strength and clarity in seeing the proper path, and if necessary, the strength to part with all my hard work and it's spoils.

The best of luck, brothers and sisters.

Go with God, Blessed Be, and Godspeed,

-Gene the (newly and improvedly) pious