LET’S START the year with some truths.
So I can keep the tradition of truth telling.
So I can continue to be the best writer “because truthful”.
***
I wrote most of my December columns in the beginning of December.
Did this because I wanted to free myself of column deadlines in the Christmastime.
Also, I was anticipating myself to be busy attending to parties, invitations, meet & greets, things official and not-so official.
***
Of course, my foresight was most correct.
Accurate to the bone.
I was as busy as Mary and Joseph looking for an inn at Christmas.
And if I haven’t written my columns in advance, I would have gone crazy with pressure and pressure cookers.
***
So it happened that my columns were pleasantly happy, pleasantly grateful for all good things that happened to me in 2022.
I was quick to declare that 2022 was one of my best years.
(In so many ways, it still is!)
***
The death anniversary of my husband eight years ago (he died on December 8, 2014) wasn’t so painful anymore.
There was a pang of missing him, but that was all.
If I remain single, it’s not really because I’m dedicated to him.
It’s just that I intimidate most men with my money, my smarts, and my big personality.
***
Anyway, my friend Daniella so believes in my kindness and generosity of heart.
She thinks that if there is someone who can afford to rescue and take care of two puppies it would be me.
Daniella knows the bitch-dog.
How the bitch gets pregnant by istambays and askals every so often.
***
Daniella knows that the bitch recently got four puppies.
Two of which have already been run over by reckless (and I suppose remorseless) food delivery drivers on motorcycles.
Would I please rescue the last two remaining puppies?
Against my better instincts, I picked up the doggies.
Best Dog Daddy 2023 doesn’t sound like a bad idea.
***
In fact, I wanted to document the lives of the puppies with me.
I was so ready to start a vlog with them.
I got dreams of Famous Dogs of a Famous Person, The Series.
How the dogs get to Bora for holidays.
Or even how the dogs get to inherit my estate when I die.
But dying sooner was not meant for me.
***
I posted photos and videos of the dogs from the day I got them.
Of course, they got scabies and worms.
They were askals!
Do I really want to touch and hug them while they haven’t been treated of their parasites yet?
***
I was bullied to go to the vet.
I thought it was unnecessary expense for the askal breed.
But what to do with my millions if I can’t spend for my dogs?
I didn’t know any better so I went to the vet on Day 3, only because I couldn’t get an appointment on Day 2.
***
I told the vet the puppies’ history as much as I can reconstruct, with details supplied by Daniella.
I also asked the vet to give everything that can be given to treat the dogs as best possible.
Or as much as my money can buy.
Yeah, daddy feels! Haha.
***
The puppies got Ivermectin injections.
The following day, I cleaned up after them like The Suffering Servant.
Even if we have 20 helpers at home, I wouldn’t assign the pet care, and the cleaning of their deworming shits to anyone.
And that’s what I mean when I say Great Respect for all parents.
***
When you still love your children after all their disgusting, stomach-churning crazy shits, you are admirable.
When you are rich like I am, and you still do the cleaning of crazy shits, you are a Saint!
Two days of this stuff, and you are a Most Venerable Saint, maybe just a rank lower than the Virgin Mother.
***
The puppies die anyway.
Oh, Madre Dolorosa!
Oh, Virgin Mother Mary at the foot cross.
Oh, pain.
Oh, memory of loss of a husband running wild again./PN
