The State Of The Shelter Address.

December 24, 2016

Hello everyone. It is me, your dean of fuckery, Dr. of Doctoring, dog lactation expert, honorary DVM, newborn puppy resuscitation expert, horse whisperer (we will get to that) and Queen of all I survey.

I thought since it has been a while I would break my own rule and let you all know what has been going on with me in the great not so white north.

This has been a particularly bad year for me pain wise but it has also been the year of behold all the fucks I have to give. I decided that I am no longer being ruled by how much pain I am physically in. Just no longer going to happen. I decided that if I let physical pain dictate whether or not I am going to be able to do things, I might as well just as well ask to be put out of my misery now. Actually, funny story, I did but not for the physical pain reasons and my doctors all said they were conscientious objectors to assisted dying. Does anyone besides me find that strange.

Mentally, I think I am getting better. At least the blackness no longer lasts as long and I have been able to go out where there are people a bit more. I’ve had panic attacks a half dozen times. I had a very, very bad couple of days last week but again, behold all the fucks I have to give because eventually they went away and I came back out the other side.

I have started horse therapy. I used to be quite the equestrian. A million or so years ago. My invisible psychiatrist thought it was a wonderful idea and supports me whole heartedly. Mostly I am mucking stalls and washing horses. Since my Orthopod said riding ever again in this lifetime or any other was not going to be possible I was content with just being around them. Until I wasn’t. I just got it into my head one day that doctors can be wrong and next thing I knew I was cantering a big old mare named star around the arena. I felt like Leonardo Dicaprio on the front of the titanic yelling about being the king of the world. I rode for about 20 minutes or so and was on cloud nine for days. The owners have been very kind and allow me at the barn whenever I want. They don’t care if I want to roll up there at midnight if that is when I need to hang with the horses for a while. They have caught me with my head buried in a horses neck bawling my face off because I needed to do that and have been so kind about it all. Such nice people. Of course, I guess they get something out of it too. The horses help me, and I help the horses which helps them. Mrs. horse farm owner has offered to talk if I ever need to, yet understood that maybe me crying on a horse was better for me than all the talking in the world. They have even offered me a yearling and said they would allow me to make affordable payments on it if I wanted. I do, but I could never afford it and why do I need my own horse when I have a whole barn full of them at my disposal. I have stayed away from horses because I thought it would hurt me to much to be around them. I was so very wrong. Wrong on a magnificent scale.

My invisible Caucasian Shepherd is going to be the biggest dog I have ever had by far. He is now 14 weeks old and is as big as Starsky. I think he may have been exposed to radiation or something. I would not even be remotely surprised if he sprouted wings. I will repost the invisible picture in case you missed it.

My son turned 16 yesterday. He has already picked out the college he will be attending, continues to work hard at school and he makes me proud every day.

I have developed some very serious tendonitis in my elbows, or maybe they are finally just disintegrating. Whichever. I’ll find out in January. My invisible orthopod keeps bugging about replacing the knees, but I’ve been there and done that and have an awesome video so I’m good. I’ll put up with the pain like I said until I no longer can. I realize I sound flippant and I probably shouldn’t because that day is coming fast, but there are so many people in the world that are in such worse shape than me, who the fuck am I to complain. And more importantly, who wants to listen to me bitch. I even get sick of myself.

Dahlia Dipshit got a mistrial and so there is another trial coming up for her and since my new years resolution is to stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with it, I will be writing again.

This would normally be where I would probably apologize for my extended AWOLS but I can’t control depression or how long it lasts. That being said, I seem to be in a pretty good place mentally as far as the depression goes right now. So please do expect your resident sarcasm expert back in form in the new year.

I am hoping I get what I want for Christmas and the zombie apocalypse starts tomorrow or anytime before your president elect takes the oath of office. I actually hope Obama is the first one to get it and he bites Drumpf. Since the four horsemen of the apocalypse have already appeared and seem to have taken up residence at the white house, or are at least poised to, maybe my wish will come true. Just think what it would do for our overpopulation problem as well. If that actually happens I have a really good plan so just come here and we can all fight zombies together. It will be sick.

I miss all of you in case you were wondering. I hope each of you are thriving, or at least hanging in and counting on the fact that eventually it does get better. Something I would not have believed myself a year ago. But, it does.
Twister, thank you, you know why.

I’d like roll call please. We haven’t had one in a while so I want the whole shelter to sound off.

I love you all and I would not have made the progress I have without you. Take that to the bank.

I hope all of your Christmas’s or Hanukahs or whatever are exactly what you want them to be.

Expect me back soon.

From My Countrymen and I

Much love
RBMD peacing the fuck out.


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