Ready to Cry "Uncle"

 Mark had to run into Houston today, and he wanted me to ride along.  I did not want to ride along, because what I really wanted was to stay home and be sad.  

I decided I should ride along.

And I am SO GLAD I did.

Somewhere around 11ish o'clock, we both got a "ding" on our phones alerting us that our PIN on our phone carrier had been changed.

I knew it wasn't me, and because we were together, I also knew it was not Mark.

I call Cricket.

Gentleman on the line informs me someone has changed our PIN and has added a line.  I assure him exactly how many accounts we have, what our phones are and what our phone numbers are.  He is quite helpful.  He "cleans up" the account.  We get a new PIN, new security question, new password.  

Thank you very much.

Not ten minutes later, we get another text alerting us that our PIN has been changed.

What the heckity heck??

I call Cricket back.

This time the call is not as good.  He wants a lot more details about Mark's phone.  

(Somewhere in the discussion we did figure out it was Mark's phone that they were now controlling.  Mark did not lose his phone.  Mark did not misplace his phone.  Mark physically had his phone, but these hackers were completely taking over control of his phone number.)

Me, being the wonderful techie that I am, cannot give the gentleman on the phone exactly all the information he wants.

Fine.

Fine.

FINE.

I may or may not have hung up on him.

We find a Cricket store.

We go through our entire morning explaining what has been happening.  The PIN. password and security question have all been changed again.

Are you kidding me??

At this point I am ready to shut down the account and just start over.  But, if we go that route, we don't get to keep our numbers.  And Mark has had his number forever.  He wants to keep it.

This guy, again, cleans up our mess.  Gets rid of anything that isn't ours.  Wipes it all clean.  New password, PIN and security question.

We were hoping this time would work.

Of course not.

We are now headed home.  Both in a bad mood.  One of us is at least handling themselves pretty calmly.  The other of us is pretty snippy and snappy. (I'll let y'all guess on that one.)

On our way home, we get yet ANOTHER text informing us, of course, the PIN has been changed.

We stop at ANOTHER Cricket store.

"Uncle."

"Uncle!"

"UNCLE!!!!"

We get a brand new account with brand new phones and brand new phone numbers. The people at Cricket suggest we also get brand new emails as well.  We agreed, as much of a pain as that will be, it is probably a good idea.

Get home.

Now I know I need to call the credit card people, the banks, etc. etc. to change our information.  Get rid of our old numbers on all our accounts;  give them the new.

And, of course, the first place I attempt to log into doesn't recognize my username, because, OF COURSE, it has been changed.

OF COURSE.

Now, I'll keep this part relatively short, because I don't want to give out too much information, but Mark and I both got to spend quite a bit of time talking with the credit card people, and , OF COURSE, whilst talking with the credit card people, we get a call from the bank.  Because why wouldn't they also try to hack into our bank account??

And, the best part, is that, while these accounts have now been flagged and marked as "fraudulent", we still cannot get into our own accounts until we show up in person with two forms of ID.

I have said it over and over, but how the heck these people can get into MY accounts, when I can't even get into MY accounts.

Grrr.

Grrrr.

Grrr.

Anyway, I was so mad today, I almost didn't have time to be sad, so there's that.

I didn't take any pictures of my wonderful day, so here are a couple cat pictures for you to enjoy.

I Never Even Wanted a Small Dog

 She wasn't supposed to be mine.

She was supposed to be for my ex-husband.

He didn't want her.

He IS a huge animal lover, but he was not ready for a dog.  He had a dog.  She was absolutely HIS dog.  She loved him.  He was her entire world.  And he loved her too.

And then ...he watched as she was in a horrific accident.  He held her as she took her last breath.  It gutted him.  

He did NOT want another dog.

However, my ex has an aunt with a big heart.  

She decided what he needed was another dog.  Right away.  And she just so happened to have a puppy.  

For some reason, I was the "go between".

She kept telling me to tell him she was bringing the puppy.  

He kept telling me to tell her, "no!"

She was adamant. She was bringing the puppy.

He was adamant.  He was not ready for another dog.  He did not want it.

I get it;  she really wanted to help him get over his grief.

I get it;  he was hurting.

She brought the puppy.

He didn't want the puppy.

The puppy became mine. 

And I will forever be thankful.  

I'm Getting Better ... not really, but whatever

 Three things that happened recently:

I told Mark I would work on Saturday.  He asked if I was sure.  I was.  He said he would be ready to come in any minute if/when I felt I needed to come home.  

I decided I can be sad at different times every day,  and I can be sad all day on certain days, but I cannot be sad all day every day.  

My head has been pounding from all the grief;  my eyes feel like sandpaper from all the crying.

I also knew, at work, chances were good that no one I saw throughout the day would know anything about my Dolce, so I could "busy" myself without thinking about her too much.  

I knew I would still be sad, but I also knew I could put it on the "back burner" when needed.

Off I went.

And oh how sad I was. 

The store does not open until 10:00am.  I go in around 8:00am to do the books and get the store ready.  

When Mark recently was out of town for a week in December, Dolce went to work with me.  

I work 8:00am - 5:00pm, and, at this point in her life, Dolce could not be left alone that long without being checked on.  Because she slept most of the day, we decided she could simply go to work with me.

Before he left, Mark took a nice big dog kennel up to the store, placed a nice big dog bed in the kennel, and we were in business.

Each morning, when I did have to work all day, she would go in with me. Before the store opened, I would let her walk around the store.  

Some mornings she would walk, walk, walk around the store.  Sniffing around and checking it all out.  As I went about my business, I would hear the click, click, click of her little claws as she scoped everything out.  

Other mornings she would simply lie on the rug in front of the front door in the warmth of the sunbeam.  This was fun, because when she chose this spot, the door chime would continuously go off. Which did not bother her in the least.  I would laugh, roll my eyes and try to ignore it.

Just before opening, I would place her in the kennel.  She would sleep, and I would go about my day.

It wasn't perfect, but it would work while Mark was out of town.

So yesterday, when I told Mark I could go into work, I did not factor any of that in.  And those two hours before the store opened just wrenched me.

I was alone, getting things ready, and I kept remembering her walking around.  Click, click, click.  I remembered how she slept in her huge kennel (the only size we had) while I worked, and I remembered her beloved sunbeam, because there it was again.  Showing me.  Taunting me.  Hurting me.

I was not ok.  I talked to God a LOT yesterday.  I informed Him that He had to help me get through the day, because no way was I doing this alone.

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The second thing that happened:  As my Dolce died, a good friend was going through much the same.  Her little doggie was nearing the end of her life as well, and my friend was in much the same situation.  What do I do?  Is it time?  What is "the right" thing? ....and then God took her doggie.  In the end, she did not have to make the decision;  it was made for her.

Her doggie is SO CUTE!!  And she and I are hoping that our two babies met and made fast friends.  I told Mark maybe Dolce introduced Pippin to Georgia.  Georgia would make friends with ANYONE!  It's fun to think so.  It helps to think so.

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Lastly, I am so NOT a computer geek.  It saddens me because I know over the years I have lost many photos.  Between both phones and apps changing over time, as much as I try to back everything up and save things, I know I have still lost things.  And I hate it.  Even though I know I have those memories, I hate losing the tangible evidence.

Yesterday whilst just being my regular OCD self, I noticed a box.  "What's in that box", I wondered.

OLD PHOTOS!!!

Old photos.  A few of my grandkids, but mainly (MOSTLY!) old photos of all my beloved babies throughout the years.

Oh how happy I was.  

I spent the next few hours going through my box of photos.  Laughing.  Crying.  Remembering.