Author: pegnear

Normally I’m a fairly positive person, but the past few months, I have noticed that I have been a tad on the cranky side. I don’t like being cranky. So eight days ago, I decided to get to the bottom of this and do a bit of self examination.

I started keeping conscious track of the weather, sleep patterns, conversations I have, what I eat, what I do, basically everything in my life.

I have come to the startling conclusion that it is Facebook that has been making me cranky! Well, not Facebook per se, but some of the things people are writing that I read. Those people, my Facebook ‘friends’, are often real life friends. Others are people I know, perhaps not well…..but as I look through my ‘friend’ list, I have a lot of people on there that I knew as a kid, or young adult. I really don’t know them now. Nor do they know me. They did, at one point in my life, but they really don’t know much about me now, (although if they are following this blog, that will change)….or anything about my journey. The same is true in the reverse.

Some have made a effort …as have I…to stay in touch over the years. Others have reconnected through Facebook, one of the benefits of social networking.

It’s a blessing and a curse, this Facebook phenomenon. I am not weak minded and tend not to follow the crowd. I consider myself well informed; I value other people’s opinions even if I don’t agree; and am a huge proponent of free speech. I enjoy a good debate, when it is based on fact, not emotion or speculation…..which brings me to the crankiness I have been experiencing lately.

Let me say, right up front, that I do not expect everyone to agree with me, or my opinions. I also know it is unrealistic to be continually upbeat and positive all the time. Living doesn’t allow for that. Living, really living, has ups, downs, bright spots and great darkness. We cannot appreciate the calm if there are never any storms.

I have had a couple of people mention that I am on Facebook ‘a lot’…..I call them “lurkers”. They are also on a lot but like many soap opera fans, they don’t want people to know they are there…watching, so they lurk, but seldom contribute. If you know how often I am on Facebook, the conclusion is that you are too…otherwise how do you know how often I am on? You are only fooling yourselves lurkers!

I enjoy Facebook. I like seeing pictures of your family, knowing your likes and dislikes, and what makes your life interesting. I also only have one person on my list of Facebook friends that I have never met in person. That’s the way I want it. I don’t want friends of friends unless I know you. I also don’t add people that ignore me, or are rude to me in real life, so stop sending me requests. I don’t want you ‘peeking in my windows’ , at least not without leaving the comfort of your home.

I digress.

There is so much negativity in the world already. Listen to the radio, watch TV, read a newspaper or news magazine and it’s there. For me, Facebook is an escape from the negativity for awhile each day. It’s like a coffee club that meets each morning just for the sheer enjoyment and pleasure of each others company .  Most of us enjoy the friendly banter that goes on from ‘wall’ to ‘wall’. That doesn’t mean I don’t discuss current events, including the bad stuff. I am a sucker for a good political debate and am quick to offer my opinion on the latest human tragedy happening in our world.

What is making me cranky are the constant negative posts I see. The “gossip” type things. I try hard not to gossip, even though it is human nature and I am not always successful. I truly believe that I wasn’t placed here on earth to judge anyone and I try to live by that every day. Having said that, let’s be clear. I don’t live my life wearing rose coloured glasses.

However,  here it comes…. not everything evil or bad that happens in the world is a conspiracy. Before you post something as fact, check to make sure it is true. Your opinion, as mine, is not fact. It is an opinion. There is a huge difference. We have to struggle everyday to figure out what is fact and what is opinion when watching the news. The lines have blurred and journalism has become reporting and between those two things is also a difference, sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant.

It’s not what gets posted as much as how it is posted….sort of like the “It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it” argument. I don’t care if you agree or disagree with my opinion. I do care when you try to convince people that your opinion is fact.

I was called to the principal’s office in high school once because I had challenged the teacher on the mark she had given me…and others…. on an assignment. We were asked to give our opinion on what we thought the author had meant with a certain part of a book.

When I got my paper back, I was stunned to see a ‘C’. Respectfully, I stated that everyone in class should have gotten an “A”. The teacher responded that I was out of line…and way off base concerning what the author had meant. I argued that our assignment was not to determine what the author meant, but that we had been specifically asked for our opinion on what the author meant. Two totally separate assignments from where I sat.

My point is , that since I discovered what…or who… is making me cranky, I have considered deleting those people, or leaving Facebook altogether.

However, now that I know the facts, I can deal with them. I, from this day on, will ignore the negative energy generated. It doesn’t mean anything about them or their posts will change, but I can. I won’t give voice to the negativity because I will no longer comment on those types of posts.

I am responsible for the energy I bring into my own space as well as what I bring to yours. I alone can control my mood and I alone can chose whether or not to participate in putting negative energy into a world that needs all the positivity it can get.

By the way, I know that none of you ‘lurkers’ read my blog either.

Her head in my lap, I sat on the floor sobbing, trying make sure she understood how much I had grown to love her.

It hadn’t always been so.

Bailey Conta Near. She was a gift for my husband almost four years after we had to say good bye to our handsome Golden Retriever Chevy.  Our granddaughter named her…”She looks like a Bailey” she said, and that was it. Conta was an invisible playmate and, we thought, a fitting middle name for the newest member of our family.

From the get go, Bailey was, what some would say, full of ‘piss and vinegar’.  She never stopped…..inside or outside, it didn’t matter, she went full tilt until she collapsed.  Knocking things over; challenging everyone, whether of the canine or human species, she didn’t seem to understand her role in the pack that was our family.

The only retriever we’d ever had, and she was number four, that chewed anything. She chewed shoes, toys, furniture, railings, steps, carpets…it didn’t seem to matter. We tried everything from hot sauce painted on things, cayenne pepper sprinkled on rugs, scolding, water spritz….you name it, we tried it….all unsuccessfully.

Nipping and snapping were also unfamiliar territory for us with Retrievers. That ended the day she snapped at out granddaughter and the Mama, faster than the speed of light, had the cheeky, snappy pup by the throat and flipped upside down on the floor. Admonishing Bailey to NEVER do that again, the pup came to understand forced submission.

We needed to get this pup under control…and fast. Using a choke collar, she was leashed each evening and had toys and treats given and taken away until she finally understood that she had to defer to even the tiniest of fingers taking that milk bone from her.

Throughout this time, I had gone beyond indifference to outright dislike of the dog. This was very unlike me as I am a dog lover. I have had dogs as long as I can remember and trained them all successfully. She knew how I felt as every time she tried to come near me I shooed her away. She had, after all, chewed up MY shoes.

I was working 12 hours a day at our new business, seven days  most weeks, and was on City Council at the time, and from that, on several committees. To say I was busy is an understatement.

Time passed, and one day…truthfully, one day out of the blue….I suddenly noticed that Bailey had calmed down and in fact, had turned into a beautiful, mature, obedient dog. She was nearly four, and in spite of me, had become the dog I wanted when I first picked that puppy up from the plane all those years ago.

That evening, I put her collar on her, clipped her leash on and we went for a very long walk. She was excellent on lead, obeying each command, heeling when told, matching her pace to mine. We stopped at the ball field and I lead her over to the bleachers where we sat quietly for a few moments.

Suddenly, and without any suggestion or words from me, she reached her head up and laid it in my lap. This dog, that I had basically ignored for all these years was forgiving me. I knew it as surely as I write this. She was offering us both a fresh start with that simple small, yet powerful, gesture. Perhaps she sensed that this was the first walk I had taken her on because I wanted to, not out a a sense of duty or necessity. Or, perhaps, she knew that I was ready to once again open my heart to love a dog. Whatever the reason, that was a turning point in both our lives.

Maybe I hadn’t really gotten over the loss of Chevy. Maybe I was just so consumed with making a business successful that  I hadn’t given her the time I should. All I know for sure is that I had never given up on a dog before, but this was the first time I ever felt that a dog hadn’t given up on me.

We had five more years together…wonderful, fun years. We walked, we swam, we snowshoed, and we just hung out.

Then Bailey got sick. We still don’t know what it was. We did every test available, sent her blood work to the veterinary college in Prince Edward Island, and still got no answers.  We spent thousands of dollars trying to find out what was wrong. Everyday I took her to the vets where for an hour she lay hooked up to an IV drip. This went on for weeks. She wasn’t in pain that the vet could tell. She just seemed tired. She was only nine.

Ron was away working and I called and told him he had to come home. The day he arrived was the first time she had wagged her tail in almost two months. She ran to meet him. Then she laid down beside the couch and didn’t move again. He stayed on the couch that night with his hand touching her, but with more tears than sleep. The next day we took her back to the vet knowing what we had to do. The pain  of that decision is still palpable.

Her ashes are spread on the bluff at our cabin which was named for her….the place, that like me, she loved more than anywhere on earth. A cross with her name, and her family’s  memories of her, mark her final resting place.

Today, a young male Golden Retriever named Huddy, keeps watch over Bailey’s Bluff. In one short year, he has come to love it like she did.  Often, I will look and find him standing beside her cross, looking down over the cabin and our little cove…..and often,  the soft melodic sound of the small wind chimes hung in the tree above that cross can be heard, and I know that Bailey approves.