In which refgoddess discovers she's a lousy mom

So, we're getting ready to move to New Mexico.  We have 9 days to decide what comes with us and what stays.  We have no money for a real move, and we want to figure out neighborhoods and jobs before we totally uproot.  The original idea was to rent a furnished apartment and take enough dishes and clothing to last for 6 months while we located a more permanent dwelling.  Sadly, we were unable to find a furnished apartment within our budget.   Of course, there are plenty of vacation rentals, and if I were an executive I could find some dandy places..... for $3.5k a month....which is more than I'll be making.

Instead, we are renting an unfurnished 2-bedroom apartment, loading up the truck (cue Beverly Hillbillies theme song) and the Honda, and looking for drivers to spell us on the 3-day drive.  There is everything to be done:  finding boxes, packing things for storage or transport; finalizing rentals here and there, setting up utilities, filling prescriptions; finishing up taxes and other business transactions; saying goodbye to friends for the nonce.

Fortunately the most difficult and important job was taken off our hands by H and S:  they offered a home to Carbon and Simone.  I will not dwell on their kindness in taking on a geriatric dog, right after losing their beloved Louie.  Nor will I dwell on how it feels to leave the furry side of our family behind.  I know it's in their best interests to not uproot or separate them, and there's no way Carbon can manage the trip with her laryngeal paralysis.  But I will miss them so much.

Monday night, H and S came over with knitting and notebook and ice cream to discuss the logistics of the hand off.  Who's the vet?  How do they behave at the vet?  What sorts of meds do they take?  What do they eat?  Are they allowed people food? Do they have accidents in the house?  Can I predict the causes?  etc.

I fumbled on so many of the answers, most of them Carbon-centric.  Ummm....yeah those meds, well, they're supposed to be given every 12 hours, but she's lucky if she gets them once a day.  The ulcer on her gums has been there for over a year, there's an ointment but I don't put it on her regularly because it's a 2-person job.  No biting,  just a lot of head-burrowing and head-shaking.  (Simone still has stitches from her last abscess and I can feel another bump.)  No walks for Carbon, now that her ailment has kicked in.  (Yes, it's a good idea to keep Simone in for the first week, but good luck making that stick.)  Food, umm....she's allowed to lick the plates, and I usually just set the plate on the floor when I'm done although I know she should eat in the kitchen, mumble mumble.... Commands?  "Sit, go lie down, moven sie."  Stay, sorta.  She comes when I call her name, because that usually means food or walk.  She does not come if there's a squirrel in sight.

They nod and take notes and at no time do they say I'm a lousy mom, although at one point S informs Carbon that she will be moving in with a martinet.  I'm guessing she'll be learning a few more commands.  I'm pretty sure you can teach this old dog a few new tricks:  she's both smart and amenable.

We finish up the list, talk about our respective travels, eat some smooth and creamy vanilla ice cream, sans chocolate sauce.  Simone cuddles up next to me and I get a bit teary:  usually cuddling is reserved for the cold months, but I think she knows I'm getting ready to abandon her.  Carbon lies at our feet and gets up now and then to put her head on a knee.   H and S tell me that they are so looking forward to having a biological kitchen cleaner again:  they are tired of picking up dropped food, and the soap usage has risen since Louie stopped licking the grease off the plates.

I am grateful to have trustworthy and loving friends who want to take on my responsibilities.  And, although I am the light of Carbon's life, I think they'll be better moms, too.  But oh, I'll miss them.  All of them.