"Is Your Older Dog Becoming Indifferent To Meals? Perhaps THIS Might Help!"

“Is Your Older Dog Becoming Indifferent To Meals?  Perhaps THIS might help!”

 

 

12/02/12

 

 

To my very, dearest friends, and always, kind readers,

 

Sometime, about five months ago, now, my dear canine companion—“Daisy”—began to evidence a particular indifference to her food.

 

For the past thirteen years since she adopted my late mother and me, Daisy has always been finicky about her food, and was, in fact, what I would like to refer to as a, ‘nibbler’.  Rarely did she approach her food to gulp it down (as many dogs seem to do; it is actually a, ‘natural’, behavior of dogs to eat rapidly and large, as they never know when their next meal will be, or so they think!).

 

Oh, when she first, ‘found’, us, she was as a starving and lost little waif, having been on the, ‘run’, for so long before, whenever I first put food down for her, she could not inhale it fast-enough.

 

But, my dearest friends, as she found a way into our hearts, and into our home, she soon settled-into what I can only liken to, ‘wedding-reception eating’, a bite here, a taste there; and over the course of the day and evening, would almost casually stop by her food dish to sample the contents therein.

 

I understand—fully—that both dogs and cats can be fairly particular about their food, and so, over those thirteen years (and how quickly they did pass!), I must have tried at least ten, different brands and flavors of canned dog food; and probably fifteen or more various kinds of dry kibble for her.

 

On occasion, it really was quite maddening to see what I thought of as perfectly good dog food picked at, or ignored completely, until the food had become a dried, dark, and hardened mass no one would eat; and I cannot add-up the amount of untouched dog food that went into the garbage can.

 

Further, Daisy seemed to require a lot of persuasion, cosseting, and almost begging—even—to convince her to try her food.

 

Perhaps my late mother and I were more than partially to blame by supplementing the, ‘Dais’s’, food with human food, AND a lot of treats.

 

After years of experimenting, I finally settled on, “Alpo, Select Cuts: ‘beef, and gravy’, and, ‘lamb with rice’.  I finally abandoned all attempts to give her dry kibble, as she would not eat them.

 

In fact, whenever Daisy was given something she did not like, she was more than apt to place her nose under the dish…and…flip it, sending food everywhere and— in general—making a royal mess in the kitchen.

 

So finicky was she that, while she would turn her pretty, little nose up at regular, “Milkbones for Dogs”, she WOULD descend to chew upon the miniature version of Milkbones that came in assorted flavors.

 

And, now, she will not even nibble at them.

 

I have noticed that—as she has gotten older, and is now in declining health, and in some pain, besides—meal times have become a battle, with her often refusing to eat ANYTHING, while I tear-out my hair, trying to find some little something that she WILL eat.

 

Now that I have become older, ill, and am very nearly always in great pain, I know my own approach to food has changed; many times, I simply do not feel as if I can even stomach food, or the smell of it, or the taste.

 

When I am particularly ill—as I am at present—I hardly want to have to, ‘cook’, anything, and so have become sort of a nibbler myself!

 

However, some months ago, Daisy began ignoring her food, sometimes for a day or two at a time; while I know that Daisy is ill, and in pain, too, still, her not eating for two or three days at a time scares and alarms me.

 

When I asked Dr. Weston (Daisy’s wonderful Vet.), if there—by chance—might be a medication that might actually stimulate Daisy’s appetite, she first said no, but that there was such a medication for cats.

 

About a week or so later—after some research, and careful reconsideration—Dr. Weston told me that there—indeed—was a medication that would help improve Daisy’s appetite.  And, that is what I would like to share with you today!

 

While I may have mentioned it in a diary entry before, the name of the medication is, “Cyproheptadine” (in Daisy’s case, for weight), 4 mg. tablets, that I now give Daisy once or twice a day with her other medications.

 

Cyproheptadine is an unusual medication; in humans, it is used as an antihistamine, for sinus congestion.

 

In dogs, the very same medication somehow triggers a dormant appetite!  My Primary had prescribed it for me—at 4 mgs, once, at bedtime to help me to breathe better at night.  Dr. Weston ordered for Daisy, 4 mgs, taken TWICE a day.

 

My dearest friends, I have to tell you that while I am still in some despair about Daisy’s nutrition, the Cyproheptadine is absolutely amazing, and helped to turn Daisy’s appetite around.

 

Instead of indifferent, ‘nibbling’, or ignoring her food altogether, I have found that about an hour-and-a-half after I’ve given Daisy the Cyproheptadine, her interest in food perks right up, and she seems to eat better and longer, much more so than she did without the medication.

 

Of course, if you are fortunate, you will have a dog that will eat almost anything, and take medications without fighting like a dozen, wild alligators!

 

For my Daisy, I have to break her medications up with a, ‘pill-splitter’, and then render them into a powder with a pill-crusher I bought.

 

Dr. Weston sent me a number of large, 65cc syringes (without needles!), and into one I put her liquid arthritis medication, and her fish oil; I have discovered that if I use a little beef gravy (that can be purchased, already made in a small jar), and put it all most carefully into the syringe, by holding the syringe upside-down, with my finger over the front hole, so that nothing will escape. 

 

I always mix the gravy up with a little water, and then heat it in the micro wave, so that when I have re-inserted the plunger end, the powdered medications will be dissolved, and absorbed into the solution, so as to disguise the awful, bitter taste of the medications after they’ve been ground to powder.

 

Careful—then—to hold the front capped, I shake the contents up, until they are dissolved, and will more easily pass through the end of the syringe.

 

Then—oh boy!—I have to somehow sneak-up on Daisy, hold her collar, while almost sitting on her like a horse to keep her from jumping round.

 

Even so, I have to first remove my oxygen cannula, and empty my shirt pockets, and grab a few damp paper towels, as Daisy—in struggling-about—will invariably, ‘chuff’, some of the liquid on her face, my face, my eyes, my glasses, my shirt, and the rug under her, and I use the dampened, paper towels to mop her off, and, myself as well!

 

Believe me, dearest friends, I do not like to have to have her struggle so, as she can’t understand what, ‘Daddy’, is trying to do for her.  And so, because it does seem to disturb her so (making me feel like, ”King Shit”, in the process), I try—now—to medicate her only once a day, with slightly more pain medications, and some tranquillizer, unless—of course—she is in particularly, demonstrable pain.

 

And—dearest friends—I now focus a lot less on the canned, dog food, and a lot more on finding food that I hope she will eat more of.

 

Please forgive my silliness, but—even when I am strapped for cash—I will get a, ‘Lemon Pepper, rotisserie chicken from the grocery store’s deli for Daisy; of course, I—too—have a few bite, myself.  But—otherwise—it all belongs to Daisy.

 

Just yesterday, my neighbor went grocery shopping for me, and I had her buy just such a chicken, and prepared a large plate of it for Daisy.

 

At first, she ate only about a fifth of it; but, later in the evening, she circled-back, to leave an empty plate!

 

When—later—I happened to make for myself a small, deli roast beef sandwich, I fixed-up for my dear Daisy TWO, large paper plates of deli roast beef, which I tore in bite-size pieces, and then warmed—slightly—in the microwave oven so the meat wouldn’t be cold when I gave it to her.

 

And while I was sitting at the counter of the kitchen, still very much ill, and in pain, and trying to manage to eat a little something, Daisy ate BOTH plates of roast beef.!

 

And…when all the deli roast beef is gone, I have a pound of deli, sliced ham that I will at least share with my dearest Daisy.

 

Now I realize, dear friends, that I am without doubt spoiling Daisy to ruination, with such, ‘treats’, as to make regular dog food quite unattractive to her, but—frankly—I no longer particularly care.  As it makes my heart so very happy to just see her eat!

 

As it is, anyway, although I practically live on beef and chicken pot pies (the, “Marie Callender”, brand—while more expensive—is certainly worth it), I always pick out most if not all of the pieces of beef or chicken to give Daisy as a treat.

 

Sometimes, whenever I have occasion to cook-up a pound of ground beef, I save at least half of it to give to her.

 

Am I shamelessly spoiling her?

 

My thoughts—however skewed are this:  Daisy has been my most loyal companion, and (except for the brief times during which she is, ‘pissed’, at me, especially after medication times!) has—I hoped—loved me unconditionally—considering ALL my faults—for over thirteen years, now. She has always been, ‘my little buddy, and my pal’.

 

She may—as they say—‘cop attitude’, from time to time, sometimes ignoring me when I call her; but she does keep track of me wherever I may be in the house.  Wherever I happen to be, more than likely, Daisy will be there, nearby, coiled-up, and sleeping on the rug beside me.

 

I realize that she has long since outlived three out of four, breed-specific genes she carries, and is—somehow—coasting-along on the 10% or less of poodle D.N.A., as poodles are generally the longest-lived dogs.

 

The three, other specific breeds that constitute Daisy’s D.N.A., usually only live for 8-11 years.

 

So that Daisy—who might well be fourteen or fifteen years old, now—has managed to somehow, ‘outlive’, over 85% of her D.N.A. frankly astounds and amazes me.  And makes me ever so grateful for that 10% or less of Daisy’s ‘Poodle D.N.A.’!

 

And, it manages—quite clearly—to make the time I do have left with Daisy even more special and precious!  And, dear friends, anything that I can do to make Daisy more comfortable, satisfied, and—subsequently—more, ‘happy’, is more than worth the while.  At least my heart says so, anyway.

 

Both Daisy and I hope that this information may prove to be of help to you, and to your loving, older pet!  It is our hope that you AND them will be able to enjoy so many, many more years of delightful, faithful companionship!

 

I ever wish for you wonderfully, ‘pain-free’, or of much lessened pain days; in full surrounded by those (on, ‘two legs’, and well as ‘four’!) who utterly love you for who you are.  Blessed by plenty, secure, and kept safe.

 

And especially now—during this holiday season—and, really, all the year, wishes for all the happiness that your kind hearts can hold!

 

Please know that I think about you so very often.  And—my dearest friends—please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

"Some Hoped For, Gladsome Wish I Have For You"

“Some Hoped For, Gladsome Wish I have For You”

 

 

12/01/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and always patient, loyal readers,

 

I cannot say—with any sense of truth—that today, Saturday, December 1, 2012 is in any way, ‘special’…excepting that, this morning, I awoke, finding myself to be still alive.

 

Each day is largely mirror’d twin to the one before, and to the ones that follow.  After yet another lost and uncertain night, quite remarked by foul and fetid dreams that served only to disorient and dismay.

 

In addition—as has well be evidenced these past three days, now—I find myself again in some near-consuming illness (could it be the flu?), which adds its own debilitating pain to all the other pain; as when from some apparent, ‘masking effect’, I can no longer distinguish between the natural pain of illness, and the quite unnatural pain of Lupus, Fibro, and R.A., except to know that—I can hardly draw a decent breath, and suffer agonies of endless waves of pain.  And that—in some dreadful combination—I have no taste for food, nor any disturbing stimuli, such as loud noises, sudden shocks, even standing up too soon…I am made uncertain on my feet, and—really—what I want most, my very dearest friends (frankly) is to drift to a place of peaceful, ‘nothingness’.  And there allow-fully all my,’ evil’, atoms--in some retrograde conjugate--to find absolute anonymity, lost among the countless particles of the universe.

 

When hope—at last—is fully fled, as are dreams, desires, and all thoughts of a guaranteed, steady sense of, ‘pleasantness’, it is so very easy to think myself a, ‘victim’, of some monstrous Irony, rather than try to assume some responsibility for a much less than satisfactory existence.

 

Although I detest the inevitable, ‘limiting’, that illnesses, and constant pain confer, I think I most regret the greater loss of Self, and mental acuity as a consequent effect of the medications I MUST take (and—in fact—cannot, ‘live’, without!).

 

So bereft of strength, energy, and wit am I, that—for example—even though I try to go to my computer every day, it has taken me four days (thus far), to compose, and write this diary entry to you.  For which I ask for you most kind forgiveness.

 

The times I spend at my computer are used—for the most part—in deleting sale’s ads, obnoxious, ‘pop ups’, and unbidden, and unwanted, blaring video ads that simply put my nerves on edge.

 

I receive very little personal e-mail.  And have subscribed to many videos I had hoped might provide me with some small humor, some little diversion, and something to somehow while-away the empty hours, and the necessary spaces of time between times to take so much assembled medication that, often, I feel as if I’m, ‘full’, of pills, with no room left, or want for food.

 

However—my very, dearest friends—the planets must align, or else, a passing angel visits long-enough, so that I—on most rare of occasions—find something on the computer, a video that is so remarkable, so compelling in its honesty, so, ‘uplifting’, as to make the heart sing in synchrony.

 

And it was to such a fascinating video—several days ago, now-- that I actually accidentally, ‘stumbled’, across.  I would never have found it otherwise.

 

It is precisely this ten-minute video that I most wish to share with you, my wonderfully caring, constant friends.

 

Sometimes we NEED to hear another’s story; sometimes we NEED something quite outside our own, ‘situations’.  Sometimes, we NEED a careful brush with wonderment, and…joy!

 

I cannot urge you enough, dear friends, to cut and paste the video’s address into your browser window, if that’s what it is called, so that you—too—may hear and incredible story, incredibly presented.

 

It is a story of horror, of sadness, of despair.  Yes, all that.  But it is also a story that sings, and makes glad, and moves the heart, mind, and…soul.

 

And, my dearest friends, should you experience a, ‘lump’, in your throat, or taste the minute saltiness of tears upon your face, they will be honest tears, shed honestly, sufficient (with their endorphins) to wash-away some measure of your pain or your despair.

 

There is much, ‘gladness’, here in triumph, and gladness-full enough to experience, and to share.

 

I hope with all my heart that you—too—be so affected.

 

And so—without further ado—this is the link to the video that I so very much hope you will watch.

 

http://youtu.be/_ltDJynTduY

 

I would most kindly ask that—in having watched it—you would please, in your consideration, please leave comment down below.

 

Please know that I think about you so very often, and wish you to feel wonderfully better.  For days of, ‘no pain’, or, certainly, much lessened pain, distress, or despair.

 

I wish for you pleasant, happy days, surrounded by those who love you for who you are; I wish for you quiet afternoons of pleasing contemplation, free from need, want, or care.

 

I wish you be fully blessed, protected, and kept safe.  And nights of blissful repose, free from interruption, and—as always—watched over by gentle angels.

 

And please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

"It Seems We Are Not Much Changed, After All"

“It Seems We Are Not Much Changed, After All”

 

 

11/24/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and always constant, kind readers,

 

Less than forty-eight hours ago, we were as a grateful Nation, in some piety foregathered in our homes; surrounded by family members and dearest friends whom we would hold ever-close.  To join together—briefly—as members of a contented, ‘tribe’, sheltered, safe, secure; to share with them a special meal, symbolic of a time so long ago; but really, even further in the past, when Man dwelt in caves.

 

It was—for that one, particular day—a time to welcome, and to share, and to see that all were fed enough to make them want to stay and fall asleep!  How glad we were too see our loved ones thus happily satisfied.

 

Although we live in times of unparalleled immediacy, and luxury beyond the dreams of those brave men who wrote our Constitution (though, through their vision, hopes, and sense of unequalled, ‘rightness’, it was thought that—with freedom—God and Science would elevate the common man to a more civilized and reasoned state), our day of, ‘Thanksgiving’, harks to ages ancient and past.

 

Within us—still—are trace elements of a Puritan piety.  Though—in, ‘thanking’, God (on this, particular day!) for all we have—we could as effortlessly offer up our prayers to Gaia, the, ‘three-faced, Earth Mother’, guarantor of the harvest, and a time of plenty.

 

For a short while, many of us were happy, content to relax within the companionship of the collected and reassembled tribe; a time of laughter, of sharing abundant food and drink (always of paramount importance to primitive Man!).

 

And further—while thus gathered—to eat and drink, and eat, and drink to point of sleepy stupefaction.  That—too—is necessary in any tribal celebration (as for them…the next, uncertain, ‘filling’, meal might be days away!).

 

Oh to be sure, there were the inevitable clashes of temper, of food spilled and scattered; of trying to accommodate—perhaps—too many within a confined space; the discord of children and pets running underfoot and everywhere; of hungry people, waiting with some ill-humor should the meal—somehow—be delayed.

 

Of course, there were opposing views on politics, religion, and, the economy.  With not nearly enough seating room for everyone.

 

And then to add to the din, the clattering of pots and pans, of dishes and glasses hastily brought out; the dropping of utensils, and a kind of planned for/unplanned chaos.  Where to put the food, the napkins, and the elbow-jostling of trying to serve nearly everyone at once!

 

The period of groggy senescence that always follows when one has over-eaten into oblivion, and now merely wants to find somewhere to, ‘lie down’, speaks eloquently—as well—to a more primitive past.

 

There then has to be a usually disgruntled few who have to try to clean up the messes, and to, put, everything away, AND, wash all the plates, utensils, pots, pans, and assorted serving pieces left—not forgotten—but intentionally, ‘unacknowledged’, by those now readying to leave for home, or, those who are more that half-asleep, trying to watch football on TeeVee.

 

At day’s end, all should be satisfied, and happy fed. It is axiomatic, though, that in more than one household, more than one or two plangent sighs of relief are uttered that the, ‘holiday’, is now officially over again until next year!  “Next year, its your sister’s turn to cook!”

 

 

Directly following this time of pleasant (for the most part!) sharing, is a most strange phenomenon that is, “Black Friday”.

 

 

The, ‘day of Thanksgiving’, amiable, and almost tolerable (at worst), is—in less than twenty-four hours—given over the worst in Man, where greed, selfishness, anger, lack of patience, a complete disregard for any civility, temper surge to the fore, fuelled by an uncertain economy.

 

 

How awful can, “Black Friday”, be?

 

 

Think of five a.m. lines that stretch behind a store for a good five hundred yards.  Think of pushing.  Tempers. Persons suffering assault and arrest for attempting to, ‘break line’.

 

Think about an onrushing mob of people, shoving at each other to get through the store’s front doors when they open.  Think of people being knocked down, trampled, injured.

 

Think of armed police, throwing am alleged, ‘shoplifter’, to the ground with such force as to make him bloody and unconscious.

 

Think of crates and boxes of merchandise being attacked full on, by a screaming, pushing mob.

 

Think—perhaps—of chaos one would think more befitting the end of the world.  Think of battles over parking.  Battles at the check-out line.  Fist fights, even.

 

Think of goods being thrown like weapons.  Children knocked to the ground by shove of cart.

 

Think of the reckless greed. Of impulse over-spending. Think of hands AND fist raised into the air, screamed signals to, ‘smash-and-grab’, whatever may be (on sale) to hand.

 

These giant stores—in minutes—had been reduced to nothing so much than, ‘retail’, war zones.

 

While I quite naively never would have thought it even remotely possible, yet—yesterday, on my computer—I saw a number of videos that were nothing more than variations on a theme regarding the, ‘Duality’, of Man; capable—simultaneously—of great beauty AND utter bestiality.

 

Since mere words can hardly seek to adequately illustrate this mass, ‘flight from reason’, I will attempt to provide for you—my very, dearest friends, and loyal readers—with a clickable link to a short video that—shamefully—speaks for itself; and…there are other videos, should you choose to stare at them in rapt horror.

 

 

 

 

Strangely—to me, anyway—was that amid all the confusion and violence, were people laughing and smiling, either amused at the antics of the mob, OR, laughing, eager to willingly join the fight.

 

This is almost like some kind of, ‘Jungian, Collective Unconscious’, primitive behavior that—indeed—seems to have its roots in the survival of earliest Man: that which attends to the thrill of the hunt, and the joy of the kill.

 

And the notion that ALL this is in some kind of preparation for gift-giving during—perhaps— considered THE most holy, religious time of the year…’Christmas’, ‘Hanukkah’, or, ‘Kwanza’, simply beggars my credulity.

 

 

But, perhaps I should not be so surprised after all.

 

 

Some ten years ago—now—when I was still employed, I had a co-worker who had a spouse, three young children, and, a rather large, extended family to have to shop for, for the Christmas Holiday.

 

We both worked the night shift, from 11:45 p.m., until the next morning at 8:15.

 

While she never requested to take, ‘Thanksgiving’, off, she always took the night of, ‘Black Friday’, off, and further, always arranged to leave work before 6:00 a.m. Friday morning, so that she and a cousin could, ‘hit’, the mall as early as possible.

 

Now mind you, she and her cousin had prepared (in advance!), and elaborate, ‘game plan’, to be able to get as much shopping as was possible done within a very specific time frame.

 

My dear friends, I knew how much she earned on the job as we were all paid about the same amount, and so—well knew—why she had to try to save as much money as possible, to enable her to buy the most gifts.

 

But sometime before she left work that Friday morning, I began to detect a certain nervous energy about her, impatient, and rather easily annoyed.  You could see it in her eyes, and in the involuntary movements of her arms and hands.

 

The pupils in her eyes would become larger, and, about her was a faint sheen of sweat, a clear indicator that her adrenaline and cortisol levels were rising.

 

Once—before she was ready to leave work one Friday--we happened to have a quiet space, sufficient so that we could go out to the front porch to smoke a couple of cigarettes.

 

When, in conversation, I happened to remark something to the effect that, ‘herds of wild, insane horses’, would not be able to drag me to the mall; to maddeningly try to find someplace to park the car; to join the rush at the doors; to fight with the crowd, pushing and shoving; to run—in general—amok, here and there, to sift-through upended and untended piles of merchandise; and further, to have to deal with exhausted, snotty, and mean-spirited salespersons.  And THEN, to try to somehow find where I had parked the car (while—easily—there would always seem to be ten, other rushed, and angry drivers verbally coveting my parking space!).

 

While I was saying this to her, I could see that she was getting somehow, ‘pumped up’, for the morning’s shopping, and her smile became actually quite feral.

 

She told me that, while—basically—she HAD to go shopping on, “Black Friday”, to save money, she went because she, ‘loved’, the fight!  She liked pushing people about, in the frenzy to buy a particular thing; even, to get into, ‘tugs-of-war’, with other shoppers (especially in the toy stores!).  She actually relished the name-calling, the shoving and pushing to get through the doors.

 

Simply speaking, she was not satisfied unless—in getting what she wanted—to, ‘figuratively’, come-away with the taste of blood in her mouth!  In these, ‘battles’, often, merchandise would be broken, ripped-apart, thrown carelessly in a wide arc to the side, discarded in the search for more!

 

Personally, my very, dearest friends, as I have aged, become ill, am usually in great pain, and am anxious and agoraphobic, besides, ‘I’, could never be moved to visit the mall (or, any really large store!) ANY time of the year.

 

I don’t imagine I could now go to the mall during the holidays even if they were giving everyone new cars!  Or, paying-off all my indebtedness.  Or, offering me a monthly stipend sufficient for me to live in utter security and comfort the rest of my days. (Well, o-kay…maybe then!).  But then again, can you imagine the absolute carnage of people and cars.  I am sure—in that case—that there would be many, serious injuries, and probably a number of actual fatalities!

 

No, my dear friends, what holiday, ‘shopping’, that I might do (provided—of course—that I even HAD the money for it!) would be done online, from the relative comfort, security and safety of my own home.

 

 

And I should know.

 

One year—about fifteen years ago, now—despite having taken a major fall at work earlier, I thought I would go holiday shopping (for the next year!), on December 26^th., the morning AFTER Christmas. I believe I managed to, ‘hit’, three, different stores on my way home.

 

Yes, everything was incredibly cheap, having been marked down again, and again.

Yes, I bought about a metric TON of shit.  And—in the process, somehow—completely and utterly overspent myself.

 

But, by then, the stores looked like nuclear test sites; merchandise was scatter all over the shelves, and, all over the floor, blocking the aisles.

 

The customers were animals in human guise; I cannot remember just how many times someone ran their shopping cart into me.  The salespersons were beyond caring, and more than a number of both shoppers and salespersons were argumentative, rude, and verbally abusive.

 

Shopping became a sort of, ‘smash-and-grab’; items were actually thrown into near-distant carts, and even over the top of shelves!  People (and I hesitate to even grave them with any, ‘humanness’) kicked merchandise out of the way; displays were toppled-over.  Children were crying.  There was no use to even ask for assistance, as most of the employees had retreated to the relative safety of the enclosed manager’s office.

 

Out in the parking lot, I saw a few, ‘fender-benders’, and a LOT of very near misses.  On the way to my car, drivers, ‘stalked’, me like sharks, to be the first one to get to my parking space.

 

When I happened to cross a row of cars (as I had quite forgotten where—exactly—I had parked), I was treated to a barrage of invectives that would make sailors blush.

 

 

And all for what?

 

 

Everything I bought languished in stacked grocery bags that lined my bedroom walls, proceeding to get extremely dusty, annoying, and always in-the-way. Finally, I couldn’t stand it, and began to wrap gifts sometime around the end of July; somehow, I had forgotten that when you buy a ton of stuff, you later have to wrap a ton of stuff! (a thing I never liked, anyway).

 

It amounted to nothing less than a, ‘mercy killing’, when—at last—I finally managed to box everything up, and mailed it all out the last week of November.

 

Of course, the Post Office was another story.

 

 

The question remains, my most precious friends: will I EVER do that again?

 

 

I believe that I can now say without fear of contradiction, not just, “NO!”, but, ‘double-Hell-no!’. Even if I did have the money.  “No, times ten to the hundredth power!”

 

For the most part, the, ‘things’, that I would like for the holidays cannot be bought or found in any store, or in any mall.

 

Further…there is absolutely nothing. ‘out there’, that I want, even remotely sufficient for me to don body armor, down enough coffee, or medications to be able to even reasonably hope to cope with the pure Hell that is, ”Black Friday!”

 

 

But…what do ‘I’ know?

 

 

Your needs, habits and preferences may well be starkly different from mine.  Perhaps you may not mind the melee.  Perhaps you enjoy the bargains.  I could be wrong, you know.

 

My question to you—my dearest, kindest friends, and ever-loyal readers—is: if you DO shop for the holidays, how do you do it?  What are your strategies?  What are your, ’game plans’?  How do you manage?

 

Please respond in the comment section, below.  I make no judgements, and am, ‘open’, to suggestions.  And, very much look forward to your replies!

 

Meanwhile, my friends, if you do go out holiday shopping, please, oh please do be careful!

 

I wish for you no pain, or, ’lessened’, pain; a respite from depression or despair.  I wish you freedom from want or need.  And to be in full, surrounded by family members, good friends, and pets who love you for the wonderful person that you are!

 

I wish you quiet and peaceful days, free from hardship, or calamity.  I wish you be comfortably warm-enough, or cool.  I wish for you balmy afternoons, and that you be better able to relax, and to enjoy what life has to offer!  And at day’s end, I wish you sound and restorative sleep, watched-over by gentle angels.

 

And…I wish for you and yours a most peaceful, happy, pleasant and enjoyable holiday season!

 

And—as always—please, please know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles