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Telling that there wasn't one for Germany. DoneMark is very close to how it's actually pronounced natively (in Norwegian and Swedish, at any rate; Danish has been referred to as a throat disease rather than a language).
If, a few years back, you told me I'd be listening to Chopin I'd tell you you're crazy.
I didn't care much for the many piano notes that don't always seem to have a head or tails.
But I heard this on the radio on my way to piano lessons.
It sounded familiar, but I don't know from where.
The first bars are the same as Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, but it's the bars after that that sounded familiar.
Well, it's one of Chopin's most famous pieces so I probably just heard it here and there.
Funny thing is that it was published after Chopin's death even though Chopin explicitly stated he didn't want anything published after he passed.
So this is my first SOTW of 2020.
Chopin would be proud
In a previous post I said my cat either has an inflammation or a tumor.
Well, it's an inflammation... On a tumor
They're going to see if they can cut the cancer away, but most likely, they can't.
Cancer in cats is usually very aggressive so it has probably spread already.
She's about 11 years old.
F*** this sh*t...
Anything that is unrelated to elephants is irrelephant Anonymous - The problem with quotes on the internet is that you can never tell if they're genuine Winston Churchill, 1944 - Never argue with a fool. Onlookers may not be able to tell the difference. Mark Twain
Here's hoping they can do something to give her quality of life, if not a good length - as you say, they are usually aggressive and because cats hide symptoms until they really can't cope any longer metastasising has usually taken place long before the tumour itself is diagnosed.
We'll be thinking of you both ...
Cancer really sucks arse big time.
"I have no idea what I did, but I'm taking full credit for it." - ThisOldTony
AntiTwitter: @DalekDave is now a follower!
I love big dogs - preferably huge. So I got my family a St.Bernhard, not a huge one, just 75 kg. (The winner of most prizes in Norway that year was a St.B of 130 kg.) The breeder warned me: Those big dogs do not live very long. You can't expect more than 7 years for a male, 8 years for a female.
When he turned seven, he was visibly getting old. To make sure we wouldn't suddenly be without someone to drag us out on a walk (no matter the weather), we bought a little puppy (for half a year going by the name Micro-soft). So how did that turn out?
You have probably seen grown men becoming granddaddies. You know which effect it can have on them. He loved the little one more than he loved himself, and the puppy adored his Big Hero. So the oldie didn't die - he lived on and on; the two of them being best buddies for well above three years.
The oldie was getting close to eleven years of age, which is quite a lot for a male St.B, but still he enjoyed 3-4 km long walk in the woods. Until one day, coming down from the woods, he started staggering, and had to lay down in the shadow of the grocery store while I filled my backpack with foodstuff. He wouldn't raise again; I had to walk home to get my car for bringing him home. He had fresh water in his bowl, he drank and wagged his tail without getting onto his feet, and said goodbye.
Well, that didn't come unexpected to me. The next morning I was going to take the youngster, three and a half years old, in his prime, on that same 4 km walk. He simply refused to walk past the spot where the oldie had been laying when he died. I had to use the choke collar and drag him by force past that spot. When we had made our walk, on our way home passed the grocery store, the youngster started staggering just like the old one the previous day. Again I had to go to get the car, and drag him into it. Again, I brought fresh water, he slurped some, bumped his tail on the floor while I was petting him, before he went to wherever his Big Hero had gone.
By that time, I no longer had a family, but was alone with the dogs. That set me thinking: Even before the youngster came into the family, there was lots of activity in the house: Several to pet the dog, people preparing meals, eating with the dog next to the table (even if he knew he wouldn't get any of our food!), chatting and all sorts of social life. When the youngster arrived, for three and a half years, the two had had each other 24/7, never alone, always someone to play with.
It is not realistic to actively spend more than 3-4 hours a day with your dog - walking him, petting, feeding. If there are 6-8 additional hours of social activity, the dog is happy. Being alone, I do not talk that much to myself; it is quiet. There is no reading books with the kids. No discussions. Meals are simplified; they are not social events as they used to be with a family. Essentially the youngster would go from 24/7 together with his best buddy, to at least 20 hours daily of total loneliness. He knew that. He didn't want it.
So I made a firm decision: As long as I do not get myself a new family (and the chances of that are epsilon squared), I will not get myself a new dog to be left to twenty daily hours of complete loneliness. If you have a family, or a rich social life with more or less daily visitors to your home, then the dog won't be alone; he will be one of the pack, even if noone is petting him at the moment. That is fine. I very rarely have visitors, my social activities is outside the home. So I do my walks without a dog nowadays.
I am always pushing my view on someone dying: Don't be sad because they are dead. Be happy that they have lived! I will not focus on "missing the dogs", but on all the nice stories I can tell about them. All the pleasures I had with them. I am happy to have been a dog owner for eleven years.