the four right chords can make me cry

my dog is depressed. (and so am i.)

i've been hiding the pills in sausages. he wolfs them down without so much as a blink before the expectant look returns to his eyes, "next!".
perhaps it's the cone-wearing that's been getting to him. at least that's what this call to consumerism seems to suggest. i think he'd like the camo-print one, v. fetching.
the official line (the vet) says its seborrhia. fluffbutt goes on anti-inflammatory drugs and hormone tablets for the rest of his life, though i'm concerned about the long term effects of the prednisolone. if i were rich, i'd buy some of this, i'd try anything to get him better.
the vet didn't seem very bothered, afterall, he seemed to insinuate, he's already 11, and the average lifespan is 12 to 13. well duh i know that. my dad too, seemed to want me to accept the fact that ... nevermind. obviously, i can count ok, and i know how old my dog is. i just don't like thinking about it, ok? just cos my grandma is old, must i think to myself, "gosh, she's gonna die soon." everytime i look at her? that's really morbid.
i'm just really bad at saying goodbye. today i sort of said goodbye to willie, my cheeky big little ACS boy. it went like this:
b: so, when's your exam ah?
w: tomorrow.
b: hah? tomorrow? then you not going to have tuition after that right?
w: *rolls eyes* yah
b: oh... well... then i guess this is the last time, sort of. i might be going for exchange so i can't teach you next year.
this is not very rational, but i dunno, i just wanted to hug him and tell him to be a good boy and that he's a cheeky little bugger. but couldn't manage it. would have freaked both him and myself out.
i felt awful when clair (another tution kid) said: "hah, so that means i won't see you again?" when i was talking to her about post-O levels.
you know, i've never stopped giving tuition to any of my kids before. every kid i've ever had, i'm still teaching them now. i can't bear to part with them. behind all the reasons that i give people, to make myself sound reasonable for taking up 5 tuition kids, lurks this big reason.
i couldn't say goodbye when enai went to the states either. and even now she's back, i don't think i have fully recovered from the departure.
i found it hard to stop taekwondo at the cc cos i'd have to leave the community of people there, though they were small kids and aunties, i liked them.
i found it so hard to end JC. people like mandy and fadz, i still see them, but we're not with each other the whole week like we used to be, we don't go through the same things like we used to.
i think about my ah mah sometimes and a short stab goes through my heart. i haven't really said goodbye.
what a nostalgic nutcase i am.

One Art
Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

posted by beckyboo @ 10:20 PM