Killing My Dog

I have thought about killing my dog for two years.

At least that is what it felt like.

Euthanizing?

It still felt like killing him.

My dog. My baby. My Baxter.

They say you know the value of something in your life depending on how many different names it has. Baxter had 11 (that I can think of right now): Baxter, Boo, The Boo, Boobaloo, Buddy Boy, Boo Boo Guy, Little Boy, Baxie, Baxie Boy, My Puppy, and Buddy Boo. If you add in the bad names I called him when he tore up the garage on 4^th of July, pissed on my pillow when I boarded him for two days (one and only time), or whined 10 minutes in to a road trip because he was so excited he had to get out and take a shit, there would be more. But let’s focus on the positive.

11 names. I cared a lot.

I got him with my sister when I was 21. I was a senior in college at UCSD. Now I’m 36. He was the oldest dog I had ever met, especially considering he was a 90 pounder. Big dogs don’t last that long. 

Boo did.

They were just about to euthanize him when I got him 15 years ago. He was covered in ticks when he came in, he was anemic, and they had to put down his brother. As soon as I saw him I knew he was “the one.” Little tiny guy with a shaved butt barking at some dog twice his size. I took him out, he cuddled up right away in my lap. He was a hell of a salesman.

We went everywhere together. He would sit on my lap when I drove. When he got too big to do that 

he would sit in the backseat, but with his elbows on the center console and his butt on the seat. He thought he was a human.

He saw everything. College, graduate school, friends, girlfriends, everything. We lived in San Diego, San Jose, Newark, Saratoga, and back to San Jose. He saw me married to a horrible woman, then an amazing one. Babies, jobs, deaths, no yard houses, big yard houses, sneaking in hotel rooms, camping, hiking, running on the beach, swimming laps in my parent’s pool, and probably 10,000 miles of walks. He was such an amazing dog. Every time we tried to play a board game on the living room floor he would lie down right in the middle of the damn board. Who doesn’t love attention?

Today I had to decide it was time for him to lay his head down and rest. For good.

I knew it was time.

He couldn’t get up on his own anymore. Because I work from home, I was able to go out and pick him up every couple of hours. He would walk around for a little bit, then lay back down, usually in the sun. Every afternoon I would open the garage door while I worked out and he would walk around the front yard. Two dudes, hanging out. He would scare the shit out of the mailman and everyone that walked by, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly, even when he was younger. I would wash him every couple of days because he would piddle on himself. I felt like I was running a convalescent home for dogs. All I needed was a catheter.

He was my buddy. I was happy to do it.

I was not happy today. Not happy I had to put my buddy down. It hurt, and deep.

I promised myself that as soon as he didn’t have it in his eyes anymore that I would take him in. My biggest fear was that I would take him at the wrong time. Too early? Too late?

If I couldn’t get up would I want to die? Not if I had some dude come out and pick me up all day. I was content with that. His eyes told me he was cool with it too. So that’s what we did.

He didn’t eat yesterday. He puked. He didn’t eat this morning. He puked some more. The fire was gone. He couldn’t do it anymore. At the vets they said, “He was tired.”

Of all the things I taught him (and he was smart as hell, knew all kinds of tricks), there was one thing I wish I had taught him. I know it will be obvious to you, but it wasn’t to me. I wish I had taught him English. That way we could have been dialoguing about where he was the last few weeks. Just two old friends, discussing life and death. Maybe he wanted to go before? He could have said, “Hey Dad, it’s time.” But no, I had to guess what he was thinking. We were pretty close. I think I guessed right. 

He didn’t have to say anything.

My buddy.

I couldn’t have asked for a better dog.

You were amazing.

I am going to go read Tim Ferriss’s posts about his new dog and reminisce about when Boo was younger.  

I will miss you so much.

Good-bye My Boo.     

Amazon FireTV Stick SUCKS!

If you are “unplugging” from cable and trying to decide which streaming device to go for, I highly recommend that you look no further…… at the Amazon Fire TV Stick.

We unplugged from DirecTV (which will then offer you huge discounts and packages to stay, and it almost worked) and started looking at streaming device options. We needed one that could connect to Sling TV, but wanted to pick the product that would go the furthest in the future. We decided on two, Roku and Amazon Fire TV.

Amazon is such a great company, you can combine everything through your different devices, it seemed like it would be the one that would be most versatile, most innovative, etc. I didn’t want it to be 1988 and I had a drawer full of BETAmax tapes.

Too young?

How about Laserdisks?

Too young still?

Hmmmmm?

CDs?

Ok. I didn’t want it to be …….well……today with a drawer full of CDs (which I still have and love).

We also went with Roku, the OG in the streaming world. It seemed to offer all of the apps and streaming channels we wanted, it was still around after 8 years, so it must be ok at least.

We got the fastest internet we could (obviously we had to switch from AT&T), and thought we would be having the same experience on both TVs. It was a perfect side-by-side comparison. ESPN on Roku, ESPN on FireTV. Same channel, same WI-FI, VERY different experience.

Fire TV drops the stream ALL THE TIME. We get kicked out of whatever we are watching 95% on the time.

Middle of Anthony Bourdain on Netflix?

Drop.

Middle of Game Of Thrones on HBOGO?

Drop.

Middle of the college football playoffs? Drop.

I almost lost my mind!

How am I supposed to watch those horrible semi-final college football games with it dropping all the time? (Please go 6 teams with a bi, or 8. Please!). How am I supposed to watch my Warriors “splash” all over everyone every night if I can’t keep the damn game on the fricken screen!?!?!

I go in the other room, Room Roku, and the streaming is fine. No drops, no delays, no rebooting, nothing. Just whatever I am watching, with no interruptions.

I love you Roku. I equally dislike you (hate is such a strong word) Amazon Fire TV Stick.  

Happy hunting. Hope this helped!     

Why I Didn't Kill Myself

Nothing like your life falling apart to get yourself asking the question, should I?

You can come up with some great reasons why not to, but the truth is you are hurting, maybe worse than you ever have in your life, and you just want to escape.

You want the pain to be over.

The pain you caused all by yourself.

If it is all over there is no more pain (depending on your religious beliefs). 

If it is all over you can’t fuck up anymore. 

Man, not being a screw up sure sounds good. 

You mean I don’t have to be a loser the rest of my life? 

This hole I dug myself? 

You mean I can just pull the dirt down over me and rest?

My Story

Who wants to be in pain?

Stupid question.

No one.  

It didn’t help that at the epicenter of this mess was me, holding a wrecking ball.

I hated myself. I still do some days. When everything first happened I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I was disgusted with myself. I came straight home from posting bail and shaved my head and face. I wasn’t trying to hide from the public, I wasn’t planning on ever leaving my house again anyways. I was doing everything I could to hide from myself. I didn’t want to look in the mirror at that fucking idiot. That piece of shit that is all over the news, all over the newspapers. That horrible husband. That piece of shit dad. That awful son. Fuck that guy. I never wanted to see that person again. I still don’t. I still hate seeing pictures of myself from a few years ago. I know what a sack of shit that guy was. That fat, fucking idiot. Everyone knows he cheated on his wife. Everyone knows he made out with a senior in high school. What a fucking idiot. Who does shit like that? What kind of retard would do something so awful? Who can be so self-destructive? That piece of shit in the mirror, that’s who. I would have ripped my face off if I could. I would rather look at nerves, and blood, and bones than my stupid face. I HATED myself. I was losing my mind. I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like my heart was going to explode. I couldn’t eat or sleep, and there was no relief. There was no way out. I was in a well looking 200 ft. up and couldn’t see any light. It has to be up there somewhere, right? I had no idea what to do.

I was so lost, in so much pain, and it was all my fault.

There is nothing like being at the center of your own mess.

But isn’t that usually where we find ourselves when disaster strikes? Dead center?

It isn’t anyone else’s fault but our own.

Sure we have accomplices along the way, but we are big boys and girls, no one forced us to destroy ourselves. We were begging for it.

So why am I still here?

If I had killed myself I could have avoided: an insane amount of negative publicity, an 18 month trial, a prison sentence, and having to rebuild my whole life (except for my amazing family, something I thank God for every day).

Why would anyone want to do that?

It sounds awful.

It is, trust me.

So why not take the easy way out? I mean, it looked like there were only two options: suffering or suicide.

Why suffer?

Two reasons: my daughter and my faith.

Over and over again, asking myself, “should I?” I thought about my little girl. If I kill myself I am giving her that option later in life when she has an obstacle to overcome.

“If things get too tough I will just go out like Daddy, nice and easy.”

We have no idea how influential we are on our kids. Everything we do, good and bad, is a seed that gets planted. You plant the wrong seeds and pretty soon their garden is full of weeds. It is much easier to keep them out altogether then to have to clean them out later.

Thinking about my daughter committing suicide terrified me more than the nightmare I was in. I had already been a bad enough father as it was, showing her that giving up was an option was too much for me. I needed to see this through, deal with whatever happened and show her how to fight, how to overcome obstacles, how to get the hell out of your own way. Not only was I going to get through this, I was going to thrive on the other side.

But I had no idea how I was going to do it.

And I had no plan.  

All I had was the willingness to take on everything I brought on myself, the openness to learn about myself, and the desire to be better than I had ever been in my life.

The other thing that got me through the dark times was my faith. Crazy huh?

I know you are thinking, “How is this jerkoff going to say he had faith? Where was his faith when he was being a piece of shit?”

Good question!

I was baptized about a month before I got arrested. The incident I was arrested for was from 8 months earlier. What brought everything out 8 months after-the-fact? Too much to write about here. This blog is going to be long enough as it is. Besides that, it doesn’t have anything to do with not killing yourself.

So we move on!

So how did faith help me? A few months before I started going to church I started praying. “Please help me.” “Please show me something.” “Fix me.” I started going to therapy and church because I was already tired of myself. I wanted to clean out my closet, step out in to the light, blah, blah, blah. Because of all this, I knew when I got arrested that it was for a reason. It was a cleansing. Unfortunately, everyone got to see it. Not the best way. Would have been much easier to have a little private implosion, but that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Have you ever admitted to something you had been holding on to for a long time? Something that was there with you, day and night, just sitting in the shadows, trying to hide? When you release that, no matter how shitty it is, it feels amazing. It is a total release. I remember being questioned by the cops and hearing a voice in my head, “let it go.” And I did.

Then……..

KABLAMO!!!!    

It was terrifying, but there was a release. I knew I was supposed to go through whatever came my way. I knew it riding, handcuffed in the police mini van (funny huh? Not at the time). It felt purposeful. I had no idea what the hell that purpose was, but it was out there, somewhere.

You don’t get more than you can handle.

Did I feel like I wanted to crawl in a hole and die? Yes. Did depression grip me so tight I thought I was going to become a diamond? Yes. Did I feel like my heart was going to explode at any time all the time? Yes. But I could handle it, as much as it felt like there was no way in hell I could, I could handle it. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to say that unless I was here on the other side writing it. There were many times where it felt like I could absolutely NOT handle it. But here I am. There you are. We did it. We are still here.  

I would go back and forth between my daughter and my faith. I had to show her how to overcome, and I had the faith to endure the journey. It didn’t keep the suicide birdies from flying around my head, but I am still here.

The Truth

The release of the truth is amazing. It can heal. It’s not healthy to lie. It’s not healthy to keep secrets.

Think about a deep dark secret you have. Whatever comes to mind first is the thing you need to let out the most. You can’t deal with it unless it is out in the open. Not only are you lying to others about your secret, you are lying to yourself. The only way to deal with your secret is to be real with it, with yourself, with everyone. Let them all see it so there is no way you can deny it. That way you have to deal with it. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe it’s horrible, but how does it feel to hold on to it? Carrying it around with you everywhere you go? It feels awful. It eats at you. It will eventually eat it’s way out. Like in Alien, or the end of Spaceballs.

Why Am I Sharing This?

Who cares about some dumbass (me) that ruined his life?

I don’t know.

But if you are one of the people out there that has messed up, and by messed up I mean royally fucked yourself, and you are contemplating taking the easy way out, this could be for you. Maybe it’s not. Maybe you will read this and kill yourself anyways. Who knows? But if you made it all the way down to the bottom. If you read this whole long ass blog to this point, you want to know there is a silver lining. There is. Tell yourself that. There is a silver lining. You don’t have to be that person anymore. You don’t have to be the loser, the asshole, the fuckup. You never have to be that person again. There is a new you out there waiting to show you everything you are supposed to be. Find them!!

It starts with truth. Then you learn. Figure out why you do what you do. Go to a psychologist, go to AA, go to NA, read, read, read. Find the answers that explain why you do what you do. Don’t blame anyone. You can’t blame your mom or your dad, or some guy that called you fat when you were 12. You are you and they are not. YOU are the one that needs to change the way you look at things, the way you act, the way you react. No one can fix that except you. Your life depends on it.

It Is Bigger Than You

You need to stop living in the dark. To sound like a hippy: you are a flower, and flowers don’t grow in the dark, right? SO get out in to the light so you can grow and be oxygen for someone else. BAM! Hippy alert! Hippy alert! I know.

There are 113,000 inmates in California alone that have messed up, but they don’t have to be that person anymore. Show them how. There are MILLIONS of people who have messed up in a major way that are not in prison, that think it has to be like this forever. Show them how to overcome. Be that story, that person they can turn to.

It is never easy, but nothing that is ever worth it is.  

I don’t know why you are going through what you are going through. Or I don’t know why you are about to go through what you are about to go through. What I do know is it is your fault (at least partially). As soon as you can admit that, you release the truth. As soon as you release the truth, you are out in the open and ready to deal with it appropriately and effectively. From this point forward it is just work. You have your Northern Star now. You have your direction, start taking the steps. You don’t know who is watching you: friends, family, or strangers. It’s not just about you. It’s about everyone. Your story may help someone else, it will definitely help your friends and family, they don’t have to be around an asshole anymore, but you have to be here to do it. It gets better. It always does. If you are at the bottom, there is good news, there is nowhere to go but up.

Be a positive example.

Be resilient.

Be here tomorrow.

Be the best you can. A little bit better every day.

Take the time.

Take the steps.

You will look back in a few years and see just how far you have come. It will amaze you.

You overcame the greatest obstacle. Yourself.

Talk to you soon,

Love – Joey

Some books to help you begin:

Radical Acceptance, by Tara Brach

Choose Yourself, by James Altucher

Driven To Distraction, by John Ratey

Success Principals, By Jack Canfield

Unlimited Power, Tony Robbins  

Order Prison Diary(a): A San Quentin Comedy, Kinda TODAY!!!

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