"Our House"

Trey Smith

Today I am going back to "our house" in South Bend for what [I hope] will be the last time. There are a few odds and ends to take care of plus a small amount of belongings that still remain to be brought back to Ocean Shores. Once these tasks are completed, I will lock up "our house" one last time and that will be that. Within two weeks, we will turn over our keys to the government and -- barring some miracle -- we will never again be homeowners.

I have come a long way in the past month. My firsts trips back to "our house" were very emotional for me. It still felt like "our house." At this point, I'm feeling very ambivalent. I'm not sure how I will feel when I walk through the front door this morning. The house is almost empty and all the utilities were turned off weeks ago. I think it will be like staring at the sun-bleached skeleton of someone you once knew intimately.

Another thing different about this last trip is that I'm not really looking forward to it. I know it is something I have to do, so I'm doing it, but I'm doing it rather unenthusiastically. As much as I miss the old house and my routine -- I miss both more than I can express -- it is over and done with. All I will be doing today is hammering the last nail in that coffin.

I suppose that explains my lack of enthusiasm. I realize that today marks the final goodbye.

TRNN - US Student Homelessness Up 10% Since Last Year

All Squared Away (I Think)

Trey Smith

I have spent far more time than I expected away from posting on this blog. Part of the reason simply has to do with the moving (unpacking) process. The other part, however, had to do with a slew of unexpected encumbrances.

For starters, we had a bit of trouble setting up our new home wireless network. The USB wifi adapter we have isn't configured to work with Linux -- no surprise there! Usually Linux Mint is really good at working out a configuration set-up on its own, but not this time. So, I had to pull a PCI wifi adapter from another computer to get the network up and running.

Once this problem was solved, I planned to post something early Sunday evening before another problem cropped up, one I have not encountered before: the main computer cord shorted out. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem at all. I simply would have grabbed one of several such cords we keep around and my computer would have been up and running again in no time.

One of the potential pitfalls of a major downsizing is that, as soon as you "downsize" a particular item, you need it! That's what happened. We had donated almost all of our spare computer components and accessories. So, I had to wait until Monday morning to trek down to Ocean Shore's thrift shop to buy another cord!

Yesterday morning with two major hurdles dealt with, I had one more to tackle. I couldn't set up my new email account. I followed all the various instructions, but nothing worked. I called tech support and followed all of their instructions and it still wouldn't work. The tech people tried a number of things and they couldn't get it to work either. Finally, someone up the chain of command made some sort of change to my account -- I have no idea whatsoever what it was -- and all the things that didn't work previously miraculously worked like a charm.

So, "I think" I'm finally all squared away. After making my last cleaning trip back to South Bend today, I hopefully can start setting up my new routine here in Ocean Shores which will include more regular posts to this blog.

Buck Naked

Trey Smith

For the past three days, I have gone without TV and the internet as I finished up the major aspects of the move north. I thought it might leave me feeling buck naked, but it really hasn't been so bad. By the end of each day, I have been so exhausted that I've simply collapsed into the nearest bed. Writing a blog post was the furthest thing from my mind!

I'm still a day or so away from resuming regular posting. While most everything has now been moved here to Ocean Shores, we are now knee-deep in the second phase of any move: unpacking. We are still trying to figure out where everything goes or if, maybe, we brought a little too much with us. Sprinkled in with this activity is a new constant in our lives: walking the dogs. No longer can they run down the steps into a fenced backyard to do their business -- now one of us must take them out!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Trey Smith

One aspect of this move that I haven't touched on is the issue of friends. In my own strange way, I have made many "friends" during my time in South Bend. However, only 2 of these many people could be termed close friends and that may be stretching it a tad. In all honesty, I really have only one close friend -- Della.

Most of the people I've met are workers at various businesses. Whenever I go into their store or we see each other in town, we converse. But with only a very few exceptions, I have never been to their homes or they to mine and we don't go out to do things together. I don't know their spouses/partners and, for the most part, I don't know their children. Though a stranger hearing our banter might think we are the best of friends, almost all of these people truly fall into the category of acquaintances.

As it stands, there are three guys I will miss: Paul, Dan and Steve. Of these three, I have only been to Paul's abode. I have only gone out to eat with Paul and Dan. But these three are the ones I would truly call friends.

And yet, I won't grieve leaving them behind. My contact with them has been limited because my forays into the social world are limited. I suppose this is one of the benefits of being an autistic introvert. While others can become distraught at leaving solid friendships behind, I don't make very many solid friendships, so that's not much of a problem. Besides, once I settle into my new normal, I will forget the old normal. That may sound sad to many of you, but that's just the way I operate.

One Last Time, Part 3

Trey Smith

This is it: my last night in this house that has been home for 6+ years. Though I will return a few times more, those will be rather brief day trips. The only residence in which Della and I lived in for a longer time period was our home in Salem. It was difficult saying goodbye to it too, though the decision to move then was our own choice.

You know, this situation has turned out both to be more painful and less painful than I imagined. It has been more painful because it has been so drawn out. With Della unable to help much due to her health issues and my health not being great, it has taken me nearly two months of steady work to accomplish what an able-bodied person probably could have finished off in 2 or 3 weeks! The slow pace of watching my routinized world taken down piece by piece has been excruciating -- like dying a thousand deaths. I have been in a funk the whole time.

And yet, as I prepare for the final move, there is a sense of relief that it is drawing to a close. While I expect I will be teary-eyed as I pull away from the house tomorrow, I don't think I will sob profusely (that may or may not come later tonight). While I am very nervous about moving into the small space that is our apartment in Ocean Shores, I am ready for it to happen.

As I have previously noted, this house no longer feels like home. The things that made it home -- Della, Jaz, Lily and our possessions -- are not here. In between all my work, I still putter around as usual, but I'm puttering around in a shell of a former self. Though I am anxious about my new "home", I am ready to see what the future holds.

Later tonight I will build one last fire in the fireplace and sit in an almost empty living room staring at the flames. I will talk to the house and tell it how much it has meant to me. As I drift off to sleep, I will dream about what it's been like to live here and then, when I awaken on Thursday morning, I will pack up the car to head for my new home...where the woman I love and who loves me awaits.

One Last Time, Part 2

Trey Smith

I am back in South Bend for my last overnight stays. I will pull out of here tomorrow or Thursday and any future return trips will be day trips only. I sold our refrigerator yesterday, so I am having to my make due with a small cooler. Our washer and dryer may be leaving today.

While there is no question that this whole process has wreaked havoc with my emotional state, I have utilized one coping mechanism that -- to this point -- has minimized the anguish: I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the predicament itself. Because I am a very task-oriented type of person, I consciously have focused almost all of my mental energies on all the tasks before me. As I check one off my list, my attention immediately focuses on the next one.

At some point, however, I will finish these tasks and it is then that enormity of the situation really will hit me. I am very close to that point now. I started to get a bit weepy last night, but I was so exhausted that I basically collapsed in bed. When I awoke this morning, I had more tasks to focus on, so the maudlin feelings will have to wait a day or so before they can overwhelm me.

Almost Gone

Trey Smith

Hopefully, when you read this, I will have delivered our last load of furniture to Ocean Shores. Yesterday, I took down my bedroom and moved my desk out of my computer room -- my computer now sits on a wobbly card table. The computer won't make the move up north until the end of this week or the start of next week. By our current plans, I will make one or two overnight trips back here to continue the work on clean-up duty before we have the utilities shutoff.

At that juncture, all that will be left is to take whatever is left over to the dump. I may wait until my buddy Dan gets back to South Bend in three weeks because, unlike me, he has a pickup. (He's in Oregon on a job.) Once the final dump run (or runs) is complete, I will lock up the house for the final time and, in short order, turn over the keys to USDA.

As I ferry between Ocean Shores and South Bend this week, I may or may not post as much as usual. We'll just have to see how things flush out.

Big Number Means Next Too Nothing

Trey Smith

The US government has urged that Bank of America Corp pay $863.6m in damages after a federal jury found it liable for fraud over defective mortgages sold by its Countrywide unit.

In a filing late Friday in the US district court in Manhattan, the government also asked for penalties against Rebecca Mairone, a former mid-level executive at the bank's Countrywide unit who the jury also found liable, "commensurate with her ability to pay".

The government said the penalties were necessary to punish the bank and Mairone "and to send a clear and unambiguous message that mortgage fraud for profit will not be tolerated".

Bank of America and Mairone were each found liable for defrauding government-controlled mortgage companies Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac through the sale of shoddy loans purchased from Countrywide in 2007 and 2008. The case centered on a mortgage lending process at Countrywide, which Bank of America bought in July 2008, known as the "High Speed Swim Lane," or alternatively "HSSL" or "Hustle". (my emphasis)
~ from US Seeks $864 Million From Bank of America After Mortgage Fraud Verdict via Reuters ~

Here we have yet another example of a big number that isn't nearly as big as it seems. According to Wikipedia, around the time that this fraud was committed, Bank of America (BoFA) controlled "20–25% of the home loan market." That is a staggering percentage and it means they were pulling in a staggering amount of money. We're not talking about millions of dollars either. Try over $100 billion per year.

Let's take a look at the proposed fine from another angle. In 2012 alone, BoFA had $83.33 billion in revenue. They held $236.95 billion in equity and had total assets of $2.209 trillion. As a percentage of these vast assets, $863.6 million represents 0.000425628. That's not even one-tenth of one percent!

As I have done before, let's bring down these high brow numbers to something most of us can get a handle on. If you or I was fined $1,000 for some offense and we only had to pay at the rate of 0.000425628, the actual fine would be...drum roll please...43 cents. Not even one measly dollar! Do you think this would dissuade you from committing a similar offense again?

The point here is that the real message the government is sending is the OPPOSITE of what they say. A fine of such a miniscule amount sends a clear and unambiguous message that mortgage fraud for profit WILL BE tolerated, if not encouraged. It is saying, as Cenk Uygur likes to say, "Have at it, Hoss!"

Piece By Piece

Trey Smith

When I try to explain to people that I like a certain order, a lot of these folks get a completely wrong idea. They think I must be some sort of neat freak! You know, the kind of person who blows a gasket if one stick of furniture is accidentally moved askance or goes ballistic if a wisp of dust is allowed to settle anywhere in sight.

That does not describe me in the least. I am a very cluttered person -- someone famous for making piles of who knows what. But though I am cluttered, I still crave order.

When we moved into this house in August 2007, I arranged the furniture in my computer room and bedroom just so. In all this time, NOTHING has moved. Unlike my wife, who has periodically rearranged her bedroom, once I decide where something goes, it stays put.

Now, unfortunately, I am at the stage of moving whereby I am compelled to move these items from their assigned spots. I have moved out the two bookcases from my computer room plus a shelf and chair from my bedroom. Each time I remove a piece of furniture from its "permanent" placement, it aggrieves me terribly. The room no longer looks "normal". As I sit here pecking out this post, I feel as if I am doing so in someone else's house!

And it's only going to get worse. By Sunday evening, I will completely dismantle these two rooms and move the combined furniture as well as my computer to the front bedroom downstairs. Sunday night will be weirder than weird as I [try to] sleep in a totally different room. The next morning I will load up the remaining furniture in the rental truck and head to Ocean Shores.

On Monday night, not only will my bed and computer be in yet another room, but they will be in a totally different structure in a different town. My sincere hope is that I will be so exhausted from the day's events that I will collapse in my new bedroom before the feelings of complete disorientation set in. My first few days up north will be fraught with overwhelming anxiety as I come to grips with my new normal. Yet, I know that, in short amount of time, I will forget the feel of my set-up here in South Bend and the new normal will no longer feel new.

The hard part is getting from where I am right now to there.

In the Grip of Melancholy

Trey Smith

I've still got a lot of work to do, but I'm having a great deal of trouble in trying to motivate myself to do it! I just find myself in the grip of melancholy. While I have had the luxury of a countdown of months or weeks, I now find myself at a countdown numbered in days.

At the end of the coming weekend, I must move out the furnishings and other items from my computer room and bedroom. As I have noted before, I have kept these two rooms basically intact, so that I have places in this house I can retreat to for a sense of routine and normalcy. But that comes to an end on Sunday morning. I have reserved a U-Haul that I will pick up in Ocean Shores Sunday afternoon after I have returned Della and the dogs back to our new home.

It is at that point that this move away from our beloved house in South Bend will hit me front and center (though I'm already feeling it now). I will make the solitary drive back to a fairly empty house to load up the last vestiges of our belongings that we will keep. On Monday, I will drive to Ocean Shores in the rental truck and stay until Wednesday or Thursday morning.

At that juncture, I will make my final trip to our house in South Bend. I'm not sure how long I will stay. It all depends on how long it will take me to dispose of (donate to our two local thrift stores plus one or more trips to the dump) the items left over from this week's moving sale. I'll probably do a bit more cleaning and then that's it.

Before I lock the doors for the final time, I expect that I will have a long talk with this old house. It has been a good friend. I'm fairly sure I will bawl my eyes out. Knowing the way I am, I'll probably linger for quite a while, not wanting to let go. Just sitting there alone on the back steps of the deck or standing in an empty room.

At some point, I will realize that I must move forward. I'll lock the doors and drive away. I probably will be bawling then too -- I am not ashamed to admit it.

One Last Time, Part 1

Trey Smith

Yesterday I drove to Ocean Shores and brought back Della and Lily to South Bend. Today and tomorrow we will hold our personal liquidation sale. These 2 or 3 days will be the last time our little family occupies this house.

Della won't be sleeping here, though. Her bed is in Ocean Shores. So, owing to the gracious invitation of our next door neighbor, Della will be snoozing close by.

A woman has contacted us about adopting Dylan the cat. She told us that she will be by today which means that our little family may be minus one by nightfall...or Dylan could go run and hide. It will be interesting to see where Dylan is as of tomorrow morning.

If all goes well, our house will be greatly emptied out by late Saturday afternoon. While that will certainly help the last phase of this process -- intense cleaning -- it will be very hard on me emotionally. I get very attached to things -- a lot more so than people -- and most or all of those things should be headed out the door in other people's possession. My hope is that I can hold it together and not get all weepy like I did years ago at my maternal grandparent's estate sale.

Most likely, I will take Della, Jaz and Lily back to Ocean Shores on Sunday morning. I will return to South Bend that afternoon. My last few days in this house will be very strange indeed. No wife. No pets. Few belongings. I am not looking forward to it at all, but...it is what it is.

As The Picture Crumbles

Trey Smith

Those of you who have gone through a major move -- especially one that involves a drastic downsizing -- know what I'm going through right now. I diligently have been working on this project for the entire month and, as November moves closer, we are less than one week away from our moving sale. Almost all of the culling and packing is complete. My focus this week is to sort and prepare the items we hope to sell as well as to begin the major cleaning phase (which will go into full gear AFTER the sale).

I liken this project to a jigsaw puzzle in a frame. At the beginning, all the pieces were in place and the picture was that of our home in South Bend. Little by little, I have removed bits of the overall picture. At first, those parts removed were around the fringes. The picture of home still predominated. As I have progressed, that picture has become very fuzzy. For quite some time, the picture sort of resembled home, but it was obvious that something was seriously amiss.

Now that I am within 2 weeks of vacating the premises, the frame (the house itself) remains much the same. The picture (home), however, is missing almost all of its pieces! I putter around as always, but I am increasingly puttering around in place that looks and feels foreign to me. The only space left in the house that closely resembles its former self is my office -- the computer room. Every other room has been stripped of its hominess.

I will take a day trip to Ocean Shores today or tomorrow to ferry more of our belongings up north. Jaz and the vacuum cleaner will return to South Bend with me. On Thursday, I will go fetch Della and Lily. From Thursday afternoon through Saturday night, our little family will be back in our house for the moving sale. Though we all will be here, it will no longer feel like home. For one last time, we will be embracing the frame...that now lacks the picture that once went with it.

Society Is Tough On Old Geezers

Trey Smith

Society makes it tough on each of us as we age. While advanced years often equate to greater maturity and wisdom, our culture is enamored with youth. In most aspects of modern society, we are told that to be valued, loved, desired and catered to, we must be young or, at least, young at heart.

Popular culture drives home this message so forcefully that many people spend untold amounts of time and money trying to turn back the years. Seniors and even those of middle age get tummy tucks, facelifts, boob jobs, botox and hair transplants in an attempt to look younger than they actually are. They buy snazzy sports cars in an effort to tell others that they still have the ol' get up and go. They try to keep up with the latest fashions to show they know where it's at. The very notion of accepting one's age for what it is seems like a repugnant concept.

It's not just this way for humans either. When people go looking for a pet, they want cuddly puppies and fuzzy kittens. Old geezers don't get as much as a second look!

We're learning this lesson the hard way as we try desperately to find a home for our 13 year old cat, Dylan. Della has called ALL of the pet shelters in our two county region and none of them will accept such an old cat. With limited budgets, they want animals that have a high chance of adoption and a 13 year old cat doesn't meet that definition. We've talked to countless friends and acquaintances. So far, there has been no interest. Della has posted notices on several websites and Facebook -- no one has contacted her.

Animal advocates say that the worst thing that people can do is to "dump" their pets in the community. Some locales have laws against such things. But what is one to do if no one will take your cat and you can't take him with you? Someone suggested that we simply should euthanize him, but he's healthy! I'm sorry, but that seems to us to be the most inhumane thing a person could do: Kill a healthy animal because he's no longer "convenient" or doesn't fit into the current situation.

This circumstance with Dylan has Della and I both completely demoralized. What are we to do when it comes time for me to make the final move to Ocean Shores and we still haven't found a home for Dylan? What are we to do?

This Is Even Harder Than I Thought

Trey Smith

I realized going into this situation -- of foreclosure and moving -- that it would be very hard on my psyche, but it is proving to be much harder than I thought. It can't be helped, though. Somebody has to do all this culling and cleaning -- Della's health precludes her from being that person. By default, that leaves me.

For the last two decades or so, it has always worked out this way. Each time we've moved, I've had the major responsibility for culling, packing, moving and cleaning. As our chief breadwinner, Della had to focus on work. Since even when I worked, my schedule has tended to be more flexible, these duties have fallen to me.

This time around, however, it is a heavy burden to shoulder. Unlike times in the past, we are going through a severe downsizing. In basic terms, this means that we will take to Ocean Shores about one-third of our current possessions. For the most part, it is left to me to decide which two-thirds of our possessions we will try to sell or donate.

Mind you, the letting go of "stuff" isn't as difficult as it used to be. As you get older, you realize that a lot of the stuff you've been carting around from move to move just isn't all that damn important...even for a person like me! So, if that isn't the problem, what is?

As an autistic individual who relishes having things in their proper places, I am slowly and methodically removing those proper places from the mix. It is not so much that the getting rid of specific items is what is weighing me down; it is more the fact that those specific items occupied a particular space and, when the items are moved to Ocean Shores, boxed up or thrown away, the spaces themselves change or disappear altogether. And so, I find myself living in a house that each day feels more and more foreign.

Despite the fact I have made a good deal of progress, there remains a lot to do. Culling and sorting stuff in the basement looks like a week-long project. Culling and sorting items in the rest of house will take an additional week or two. I'm guessing it will take 7 - 10 days to prepare, clean and mark items for our big moving sale and I haven't even begun the process of major cleaning (which I can't really start to tackle until the other aforementioned tasks are near completion).

I now realize it is wholly unrealistic that I will be done by my birthday (Oct. 25). In fact, it is not even realistic to think I can be done and out of here by November 1. My new goal is to be in Ocean Shores full-time by Thanksgiving Day. All the while, I am battling anxiety and depression as I slowly dismantle the spaces that have meant so much to me these past 6+ years.

Torn Between Two Lovers

Trey Smith

Back in the 70s, there was this incredibly sappy song -- Torn Between Two Lovers -- that somehow was a #1 hit. (Can you tell I wasn't a fan of it?) It's about a woman who loves two men and can't seem to choose between them. I sort of understand that sentiment today as I'm torn between my future home in Ocean Shores and my current home in South Bend.

Jaz and I traveled north on Friday to spend the night with Della and Lily. We both enjoyed the visit immensely, though both of us felt a little out of place. When it was time to leave late yesterday afternoon, there were hugs, kisses and more than a few licks. Upon returning to South Bend, Jaz bounded from the car to run around both our yard and our next door neighbor's yard. I walked into the house glad to be home, but it no longer feels completely like home anymore.

The majority of the furniture is in Ocean Shores. So too is my beloved and Lily. I still enjoy the space of this house, but, without most of the furniture and two important members of the family, it seems a lot larger than it use to.

And so, I'm torn between not wanting to let go of this house, but wanting our little family to be reunited in one place.

After doing a fair share of work here, Jaz and I will travel back to Ocean Shores next Friday morning to return to South Bend Saturday early-evening. This process will repeat itself another 3 or 4 times before Jaz and I are ready to make the final move. Between now and then, I will relish my time in this structure, while concurrently missing Della and Lily. It is sort of like being torn between two lovers.

Over the Rivers and Through the Woods

Trey Smith

At the time of this writing (mid-day Friday), I am preparing to go to Ocean Shores for my first overnight in our new apartment. I am undertaking this trip with excitement and trepidation.

On the positive side of the ledger, I miss my wife and my little doggie. Though it has only been 3 days since I saw them last, it seems much longer. It will be good to get up there to help Della with the unpacking process and to cheer up both our dogs who miss each other terribly.

But there is much trepidation as well. I will sleep in a strange place and that tends to mean almost no sleep for me. But I realize I need to get my feet wet in this area because, in a month or so, that strange place will be my everyday reality! So, I might as well get the first night over with.

Pulling a Switcheroo

Trey Smith

When I spoke to Della by phone on Monday night, she was both alarmed and concerned. Our dog, Jaz, wasn't adapting well to being at the apartment in Ocean Shores. She missed her sister, Lily, and I think she missed the big goofy guy -- that's me (for those of you keeping score at home) -- as well. Not only was this typically energetic dog acting depressed and droopy, but it was something that she wasn't doing that really had Della worried.

And what was she not doing? Pooping and peeing!

When a lot of domesticated animals are placed in unfamiliar circumstances and settings, many have a tendency to poop and pee a lot, often in locations you would prefer them not to. I suppose it is their way of dealing with the stress and anxiety. In other cases, they simply may be marking their new territory.

Della had taken Jaz out to walk 5 times during the late afternoon and evening to do her "business." But Jaz wasn't cooperating. Jaz was so nervous about this new setting that she wouldn't move more than a foot or two away from Della. When we spoke again on Tuesday morning, Della reported that, after two morning walks, Jaz still hadn't relieved herself. Not even a smidge! And there was no evidence that Jaz had had an accident IN the apartment overnight.

By this point, Della was worried that poor Jaz's bladder must be ready to explode. After a brief discussion on this matter, we decided to pull a switcheroo. I would drive back to Ocean Shores with Lily and Lily would stay behind with Della and Jaz would come back to South Bend with me. (There were also some items Della really needed that I either forgot to purchase for her on Monday or we forgot to bring.)

So, for the third time in 4 days, I made the trip north to Ocean Shores. Because I am far more mobile than my wife, I was able to take Jaz on a longer walk and, during this walk, Jaz pooped AND peed. Lily wasn't very happy with the new arrangement as Della said she whimpered and barked for nearly 30 minutes after we left, but Lily is far more adaptable than Jaz, As Della pointed out, Jaz seems to be a bit autistic like me!

Once we arrived back home in South Bend, Jaz bounded out of the car. Here she can run around the block and in our fenced back yard unleashed. She immediately ran next door to see her canine friend, Cashew and loudly barked, "I'm back!" 

We will put off Jaz's adjustment to apartment living until the time that the big goofy guy has to experience the same adjustment as well.  Maybe things will go better when they both have to adjust at the same time.

The Thing We Haven't Talked About

Trey Smith

In the back of our minds, we know the clock is ticking for our 13 year old cat, Dylan. One of the painful choices we had to make for this move was that only 2 of our 3 animal companions could go with us. One had to be the odd man out and that one is Dylan. He would have made the cut IF he was not so psychotic (Jaz then would have been the one), but he is simply too destructive to take to a rental situation.

At some point in the next 3 - 6 weeks, we need to find him a new living situation. It probably won't be with a new family owing to his advanced age. It is more likely that we will be forced to take him to a no-kill shelter. How do you say goodbye to a 13 year old cat you've had since he was only 3 or 4 weeks old?

While we know that the day is coming soon that we must have a tearful goodbye, we haven't really talked about it all that much. We made this fateful decision weeks ago, but we haven't gotten around to talking about the particulars. Silly as it is, I think both Della and I have thought that, if we don't talk about it, maybe it won't happen. But it is going to happen sooner as opposed to later.

As long as there are belongings to cull through and cleaning to be done here in South Bend, Dylan will continue to have his home. That said, in about one month's time, I hopefully will be nearing the end of this arduous process. When the end is but a few days away, we will have to talk about this issue that we've been avoiding like the plague.

And so, I find myself in an odd situation. On the one hand, I can't wait to join Della in Ocean Shores so that our little family is intact once again. On the other hand, I don't want to be too quick in my culling and cleaning because that will mean that it's time for Dylan to go. I want to maintain his home in South Bend for as long as I can and yet I want to shift my home up north.

As you can see, I'm torn.

It's even worse for Della. She understandably wants me to finish my duties here as soon as I can so that I can join her in our new life as apartment dwellers, but she concurrently understands that the sooner I join her means the final parting with her baby, Dylan. So, she's really torn too.

On Our Own Again

Trey Smith

Della is now in Ocean Shores beginning the process of putting away all the stuff we spent the last ten days packing. So, she's there and I'm here in South Bend -- both of us are on our own again (temporarily). But this post is not a lament about the current situation we face; it's about the situation our two dogs face.

Ever since Lily (the hairless dachshund) came to live with us, she and Jaz have been inseparable. Generally speaking, where one goes, the other goes. Now, however, they are separated by more than 50 miles and both of them are a bit discombobulated.

When we arrived home yesterday evening from the trip to Ocean Shores, Lily scampered into the house and checked every single room for her sister. When that search proved fruitless, she ran down the steps of the deck into the back yard and again there was no Jaz. When she made her way back into the kitchen, she looked at me as if to say, "What in the hell is going on here? Where is my buddy?"

Della phoned to say that Jaz is behaving in much the same way. She keeps going from room to room to room looking for Lily. Each time her search comes up empty, she plops down in front of the couch looking dejected.

Moving -- regardless of the reason or circumstances -- is stressful. Whether human or dog, we get used to the familiarity of where we are and become a bit out of sorts when that familiarity is gone. Most of the time, we learn to adapt, but the learning period is often fraught with varying degrees of anxiety.