The Sonia Show

Writer. Podcaster. Beer drinker. Movie watcher. Mother. Goober.



Yeah, so, Homer passed away today.

As you know, Homer went to the vet a few weeks ago for a variety of ailments. He did his best to put on a brave face, but the truth is he was not OK. He was having a lot of trouble walking, and he had stopped eating his food and was barely drinking enough water. We were able to get him to eat some people food, but after a while he even started turning that down. He started pooping blood. I don’t mean there was blood in his stool. I mean, there were puddles of blood. It was awful. That’s when we rushed him to the vet. The doctor gave us a couple of options, but the truth is he was not happy, and he was not healthy. He was suffering. We could have done all the medical things and maybe bought him a few more days, a few more weeks, but his quality of life would be terrible.

We love Homer too much for that.

We didn’t want him to keep suffering just because we didn’t want to let him go. My mighty, mighty good man David and I wrapped him a cozy blanket, and we kissed and snuggled him as he passed. “Thank you for being my dog, Homer,” I said. “I love you, and I’ll miss you.” After he drifted away, I crumpled into a sobbing mess on top of him.

Making that decision was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, and I had breast cancer twice. Our love for our pets is not complicated, and they love us unconditionally. We wanted to do right by Homer, but our hearts were breaking to do it. There was a battle between my heart and my mind, and it was tearing me up inside. Ultimately, I feel we did the right thing for Homer. We would never let him suffer. Of course, the knowledge that we did the right thing doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I just can’t believe he’s gone. There’s a little place in my heart that is empty, and it hurts.

I got Homer almost 15 years ago as a Christmas present from my Mom. Before I got Homer, I was so lonely. I wasn’t alone. I had friends and family, but I was lonely. After Homer, I wasn’t lonely anymore. He was my main guy.

We went through a lot together. I got Homer right when Michelle found out she was pregnant with Lorelei. Homer and Lorelei grew up together. Homer and I moved five times. I met David and got married. Homer was in the wedding ceremony. He wore a bowtie and walked down the aisle with Lorelei. He stayed by my side as I recovered from countless breast cancer surgeries and last year’s chemotherapy. He used to sit in the doorway of Calvin’s bedroom, like he was guarding it. He was a great fur-brother to Calvin. They loved each other.

We had all kinds of adventures. I took him on a houseboat trip to Shasta. I used to bring him to parties. Homer was the best ice breaker ever. I brought him into the office on Sundays when I worked at The Examiner. One day he jumped up on the managing editor’s desk and ate his lunch. True story. It was so embarrassing … and awesome, because I hated that guy anyway. David and I took him to wine country. We went to Palm Springs. We used to walk for hours on the Iron Horse Trail in the East Bay, and we used to walk all over Golden Gate Park when I lived in the Haight. Once I entered him in a wiener dog race. Good buddy Kate tried to put Homer in the starting box, and I waited at the finish line with a corn dog. Homer was so fast, but not that day. He didn’t even finish. He just wandered into the crowd to get some pets from the bystanders.

There are a million Homer stories I could tell. He was such a character. David always did this really funny voice for Homer. He sounded kinda like the creepy guy on “Family Guy.” I am going to miss Homer’s “voice.” I’m going to miss how happy he was to see me when I got home from work or if I just got back from going to get the mail. I’ll miss how he always wanted to be close to us, and sometimes when he was feeling really needy he would walk to the head of the bed and try to sleep with his head on a pillow like he’s people. I’ll miss how he would sit under Calvin’s chair at the table and wait for food to start raining down. I’ll miss the sound of him snoring in the middle of the night. David works from home, and I know how much he is going to miss his office buddy. I’ll miss seeing him contort his body to perfectly fit a sunny spot. But mostly, I’m going to miss how much he loved me; how much he loved us.

We are mourning the loss of an important member of our family. And he was family. We have very heavy hearts in our house. Little things remind us of Homer, and then we cry, and then we tell a funny Homer story and laugh.

I am going to miss my Homer. Rest in peace, my mighty, mighty good dog.










I'm totally healthy!






1 Comment

Doggone it

Yeah, so, my buddy Homer is getting old. It’s sad.

He’s going to be 15 years old in October. It’s a bummer to watch your pets get old. He’s really starting to show his age, and he’s having all kinds of issues.


“I’m old. Give me that cracker.”

We took him to the vet for an eye infection, but it turned out he had a slew of other issues.

Like a lot of older dachshunds, Homer has back problems now. This is very common for wiener dogs. Two of his vertebra in his lower back are kinda rubbing together, and it can be painful. We had no idea he was in pain. He wasn’t acting like he was in pain; however, he is walking stiffly and slowly. Occasionally, he would lose his footing and fall over, or his legs would slide out from under him. But there was never any whining or crying. We really had no idea. Thankfully, he has some doggy ibuprofen that he is taking now, and he seems much happier.

So, we got drops for his eye infection and pills for his back. Oh, and he’s got diabetes. I know, right? Poor Homer. Getting old fuckin’ sucks. He’s getting insulin shots twice a day now. After giving myself shots last summer during chemo, giving Homer shots isn’t that big of a deal. I just put some Cheerios on the ground, and while he is stuffing his face I grab some skin around his scruff and poke him. He doesn’t even notice. Still, it’s not our idea of a good time.

We’re keeping a close eye on him, and we plan to make him as comfortable as we can for as long as we can. He’s been a good boy (most of the time), and we’ve been through a lot together. Almost 15 years I’ve had this dog. My niece Lorelei wasn’t even born yet. We’ve moved five times. I met David, got married and pushed out a kid. I got breast cancer (twice). Homer sat on the couch with me while I recovered from multiple surgeries and last year’s chemotherapy. My life has changed a lot in 15 years, but the one constant was my Homer. He comforted me when I needed it. We looked out for each other.

And now, David and I are taking excellent care of Homer, and probably spoiling him too much.

I’ll end this post with a really cute story.

After Homer’s vet appointment, we went to pick up Calvin from preschool. One of the teachers told me that this is what happened: Calvin saw me first, and said, “Mommy’s here!” Then he saw David. “Daddy’s here!” And then he saw Homer, and he started jumping up and down, “They’re all here!”

He ran to the door to meet us, and when we opened the door he said, “Thank you for coming, Homer!” And then Calvin proudly showed Homer off to his teachers and classmates. It was ADORABLE!



The old man and the pee

Yeah, so, my mighty, mighty good dog Homer is getting old.


You’re not writing about me, are you? If you are will you link to my blog, The Homer Show?

He’s 14. He’s moving slower, and he needs help getting up on the couch or the bed. We have to carry him up and down the front stairs. Back in the day, Homer and I used to go on long walks – sometimes for hours. Now, he is so over walking after a few minutes, and he’s ready to go home. I get it. I’m the same way.

He also doesn’t hear very well anymore. He used to greet us at the door when we got home, but now we can be home for 15 minutes or longer before he realizes we’re back.


I’m sleeping, psycho. Stop taking my photo.

He’s not in pain. He’s just old. The biggest indicator that he’s old is he is starting to have more and more accidents in the house. It’s not uncommon for Homer for go outside and pee, only to pee again in the house 15 minutes later.

The other morning was a first, though.

I woke up around 5:45 a.m., because I’m in chemo-induced menopause, and I sleep like crap. I woke up and thought, “Oh, Homer is sleeping right next to my legs and he’s so warm. Wait a second … It’s wet. He’s wet!” I hopped out of bed.


Homer had peed the bed, and he didn’t even know it. My legs were wet. Homer was wet. The comforter was wet. Ugh.

Mighty, mighty good boy Calvin had crawled into bed with us around 3 a.m., but luckily he and my mighty, mighty good man David were spared. It was all on my side of the bed. Lucky me! #blessed

I stripped the bed and got fresh blankets for the boys. Then I scooped up Homer and gave him a bath. I wrapped him up in a towel, and we snuggled on the couch. I feel asleep rubbing Homer’s ears and telling him that I know it’s not his fault.

I hate that he’s getting old. He is such a good dog, and we’ve been through a lot together. He’s not just some animal. He’s part of our family, and we’re a little worried about him. We’re watching him closely and making sure that he is comfortable.

He might be moving slower and his eyesight isn’t super awesome, but his nose still works great. He manages to steal food from Calvin on a daily basis. The other night, good buddy Beegs was over. We were sitting on the couch and eating, and he stole food right off her plate – twice.

I was pissed that he did that, but at the same time I was thinking, “He’s still got it.”


Are you going to eat that? I can help you finish it, if you want.


Rack ’em up

Yeah, so, here’s the latest update from Recovery Island: I’m all good.

I’m good, you guys. The surgery on Thursday went really well. There were no problems at all. I didn’t have a panic attack. I didn’t start crying. I didn’t have an allergic reaction to anything. The nurse even found a vein easily for my IV. I was at the hospital at 5:30 a.m., and I think I was home on the couch by 1 p.m.

Mighty, mighty good man David came to see after surgery in the recovery room and snapped a photo. He said this was the best I’ve looked in the recovery room after all my various surgeries. I was alert, not in pain and munching on a snack of graham crackers and apple juice boxes, which I’m pretty sure is the same snack my 4-year-old son gets every day at preschool.

Thumbs up to new boobs!

Thumbs up to new boobs!

I took the pain meds for a few days, but I’m off the good stuff now. Interestingly enough, the boobs were kinda sore, but the incision where they removed the port seemed to be the most painful. I suspect the boobs are used to surgeries, but the area where they port was is not used to it.

But, most importantly, the new boobs look pretty good.


Nice rack, and by “nice” I mean “even.”

I got the bandages off today, and my boobs are even. They are still swollen, but they are the same size. No more tissue expander on the right side that’s as hard as a rock. No more uncomfortable port on the left. I’m living the dream. And while it sucks that I had a second mastectomy, and it sucks that I have two fake knockers, I am stoked to have two boobs that are even and the same size. I haven’t had that since I got knocked up in January 2011.

I’m so happy to have this last surgery over with. Now I just need to rest, heal and take all the antibiotics they give me to fight off any chance of infection. And when I’m ready, I’ve got a ton of tops and dresses that are ready to be worn after a long hiatus.

While I was on Recovery Island, mighty, mighty good boy Calvin stayed with my mom. He had an amazing time as always. He LOVES his Grandma. She’s his best friend.

Lining up rocks is fun!

Lining up rocks is fun!

Actually, one day he had too much fun, and he fell asleep between the living room and the kitchen.

This is the perfect spot for a nap.

This is the perfect spot for a nap.

While The Kid  was at Grandma’s place, I was chillin’ on the couch watching movies. David and I watched “The Avengers: Age of Ultron” and, well … it was fine. It’s a big ol’ entertaining mess. I didn’t love it. Coincidentally, I had rewatched “Guardians of the Galaxy” earlier that day, and it’s so great that “Ultron” kinda pales by comparison. I liked the first “Avengers” movie. I thought it was fun. I love the “Captain America” movies, and I’m looking forward to the next one. So, just in case you are keeping track at home, I love the “Captain America” movies and “Guardians of the Galaxy.” The rest of the Marvel movies are just fine.

So anyway, Monday was mighty, mighty good dog Homer’s birthday.


He’s 14. I know, right? He’s an elder statesman. To celebrate David made a burger just for Homer. Spoiled dog. Homer is such a good dog. He’s starting to show his age. He can’t see or hear as well as he used to. Homer crawls into our bed when we leave the house, and sometimes we’re home for more than an hour before he realizes we’re home. He’s having trouble going up and down the stairs in front of the house. David carries him down the stairs before taking him on his little walks. Homer has also been having accidents in the house without realizing that he’s doing it. Between Homer and trying potty train Calvin, we’re constantly cleaning up pee. Jealous?


We are keeping a close eye on Homer. We don’t want him to be in any pain or suffering. And I don’t want him doing anything in which he can hurt himself, such as trying to jump up on the couch, etc. But he seems to be doing pretty good. He still gets frisky and asks us to throw around a toy for him. His nose still works great, because he is constantly stealing food from Calvin.

And that’s pretty much the update for now. I’m kickin’ it on Recovery Island for the rest of the week. I am almost through the third season of “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries,” so I am taking suggestions for movies or TV shows to watch while I’m still recovering. Have you watched any of the new TV shows? I don’t think I’ve watch one new show.


Mine: Learning to share with the Spawn and Homer

Yeah, so, the Spawn and Homer haven’t really learned to share with each other.

Well, actually it’s really the Spawn hasn’t learned the share.

Even though The Boy has a million toys, he wants the few toys that belong to Homer. He takes them from Homer every chance he gets, which signals to Homer that The Boy wants to play with him, so he tries to take back the toy. Unbeknownst to Homer, the Spawn is not playing with Homer. He’s taking from Homer, and Homer is not cooperating. If Homer somehow manages to get a toy away from the kid and run off with it, The Boy loses his shit because he is almost 2 years old, and he’s a huge drama queen. I thought all my years of experience of dealing with drama queens (i.e. me and all my friends in our 20s) would prepare me for handling the terrible twos. Not so much. But that’s for another post.

So, after breaking up a few arguments between The Boy and his fur brother, we finally had to take Homer’s toys and put them away when Calvin is around. When Calvin isn’t around (like if he’s at nannyshare or he’s sleeping), we take Homer’s toys out for him.

A few weeks ago, mighty, mighty good man David brought home a new toy for Homer. It’s a big, squeaky pink doughnut. Get it? The dog’s name is Homer. (wink wink)

Immediately, Calvin tried to take it from Homer, so we had to keep it from Homer for a bit. I finally gave it back to him, and Homer did the same thing he always does when we give him a new toy: He hides it.

Here’s a Vine of Homer trying to find the perfect hiding spot for his doughnut.

He always hides his new toys. Sometimes we never see those toys again; sometimes we find those toys when we pack up and move, or do some serious housecleaning. I think we move more often than do serious housecleaning, though.

And sometimes those toys show up when you least expect them, like when you are trying to work from home.


Time for a doughnut break, lady.


Cupcakes and Cheezburger

Yeah, so, a few random things today …

I made cupcakes . I really love to bake. I find it fun and relaxing, but I don’t do it very often because baking = fattening.

For the first time, I tried using a piping bag for the frosting. Well, not a real piping bag. I got all crafty and shit and used a Ziploc bag. I think for a first attempt at using a piping bag, the cupcakes turned out pretty OK. I definitely need more practice, which is fine by mighty, mighty good man David, because that means more cupcakes for him. I will probably buy myself a proper piping bag since I’m planning on baking more often because baking = fun + delicious. Plus, since the Spawn is allergic to eggs, I should probably learn to bake him tasty egg-free treats.

Homer really enjoyed watching me frost the cupcakes. Look at him … He’s got lust in his heart.



So, we’ve been doing some testing at work of our new shopping cart on the website that will launch soon. I was one of several people asked to place a few orders to see how cart flows, report bugs, blah blah blah “high level” blah blah blah “wheelhouse” whatever.

When filling out the order fields, it asked for my title. I typed in “Jedi.” Duh. I also put my address as Electric Avenue, and my phone number as 867-5309. I’m a little disappointed that no one said anything. My true talents are obviously wasted in that place.

Oh, so, a photo from my wedding as popped up on, featuring buddies Roger and Michael in a pretty cool photobomb. I’m so proud.

Isn't it romantic?

Isn’t it romantic? (Photo by good buddy Beegs)

Leave a comment

Sick as a dog

Yeah, so, Homer is doing great.

He has recovered and adapted pretty quickly considering he had 14 teeth extracted on Wednesday. Animals are pretty amazing like that. I know if I had a bunch of teeth removed I’d be whining like a little bitch. He’s been running around the house like nothing happened. And, he’s loving the soft food diet. He got mashed potatoes Wednesday and Thursday. This morning I scrambled him an egg. Seriously. I cooked for him.


So, yeah, Homer is awesome. Me, on the other hand, not so much.

I woke up Thursday with the worst stomach flu: body aches, nausea, vomiting – you know, the works. It was awful.

Here are a few telltale signs that I’m really, really sick:

1) I bitch about it nonstop.

2) I don’t turn on the TV.

3) My hair gets wild.

Usually, my hair looks like this:


But when I’m sick, it looks like this:


I am feeling much better today. Still not 100 percent, though. I’m sore all over. However, I have eaten without vomiting so I’ve got that going for me. Yeah, I know. You’re welcome for the imagery. Have a good weekend, everyone!


Do they make dentures for dogs?

Yeah, so, remember how I didn’t go to the dentist for a long time, and now I have to get all this dental work? Well, it turns out I’m not on the only one in this house with a jacked up set of teeth that require expensive dental work.

A few months ago Homer started making this strange sound, kinda like he was coughing up a hairball, but after a few seconds it was over, and he would act like nothing ever happened, and we didn’t want to be rude so we humored him.

We finally decided to get it looked at. Homer’s vet is in Concord, so we hauled our asses out there for the appointment. Why is Homer’s vet in Concord, when I live in San Francisco? Good question. Homer’s vet is in Concord, because, well, that’s where his vet is. We like this vet and trust that this vet won’t rip us off, and my brother takes his dogs to this vet, and go to hell, that’s why! Gawd! Stop judging me!

So anyway, the vet told us that Homer had some abscessed teeth and that was causing the weird coughing fits. We scheduled a cleaning, but the only appointment we could get was Wednesday. What the hell, I thought, I’ll make a day of it. I took the day off from work. Calvin took the day off from baby work. And, we headed into Concord. We dropped Homer off at the vet, and The Boy and I spent the day with my parents. We went to the park and strolled around the neighborhood. I also took the car into get serviced, and made my parents shuttle me around.

In the afternoon, the vet called me to tell me that they have Homer “under” right now, and his mouth is worse than they thought. He had — wait for it — 14 (!) teeth that were infected/rotten/abscessed and they needed to be removed.

I started freaking out. “Will he be able to eat? 14?! Are you sure?!” The vet assured me that Homer would still be able to eat, and that this was the best thing for Homer. His teeth were rotten, so I said go ahead.

Immediately after the call I googled, “dachshund number of teeth.” It turns out they have 42 teeth. Who knew?

As the day progressed, my anxiety about Homer increased. I started panicking, feeling maybe he wasn’t going to be OK. Homer is 11 years old. Maybe he won’t recover from oral surgery. What if he doesn’t wake up for the anesthesia? Oh, and yeah, I was feeling like a horrible dog owner, because my dog basically has a rotten, infected mouth, because I never brushed his teeth. I mentioned this to my dad.

The Man: “Sonia, how many dogs have we had? Have we EVER brushed their teeth? That’s some bullshit right there. Dogs get older, and they lose their teeth. It happens.”

I still feel guilty, but when I look at the situation logically, The Man is right. I’ve never been told to brush my dog’s teeth. I give him Greenies and Milk Bones, which I have been told are great for their teeth. False! Don’t believe me? Come over some night and let Homer tell you about his teeth over a bowl of soup.

At 5:30, Homer was ready to be picked up. And, even though they had called me and told me that Homer was fine, I was freaking out in the waiting area. Every time a nurse walked through the doors, I was convinced she was there to tell me that Homer didn’t wake up.

Then they brought us into a back room. Anxiety levels were really high at this point. Finally, a nurse brought Homer in, and I almost started crying.

Me: “Oh, Homer! I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

And then Homer sneezed blood all over my face.

I know, right?

Some of the infected teeth were right under the nasal cavity, so Homer’s nose might get a little bloody from time to time for a few weeks. The more you know. You’re welcome.

So, if anyone is looking for good pain meds, Homer can hook you up. He’s got a stash of the good stuff for the next 14 days. He’s also going to get a steady diet of canned food instead of kibble. Oh la la. I’m thinking about making Homer’s food for him while he recovers. I mean, I’m already making Calvin’s food. I can mush up a little more and cut up food into little pieces for the both of them. Ain’t no thang.

Right now, he is sleeping at the foot of my bed, after eating a bowl of mashed potatoes, I haven’t gotten a good look into Homer’s mouth. Just a few glimpses here and there. He’s obviously going to have a jack-o-lantern smile, though. Poor little guy. But he’s been in a really good spirits for someone who had 14 teeth extracted. It must be the pain meds, right?



Wiener in a box

Yeah, so, Homer used to have a crate for traveling in the car. I say “used to” because it’s broken, and we threw it away.

He loved that crate. I got it for him when he was a little puppy, when he was way too small for it. He knew that getting in the crate meant we were going somewhere, and Homer loves to go somewhere. I would put the crate on the ground and he would just run right in it.

Usually, I just kept it in the car, but sometimes to make room in the car I would keep the crate in the apartment. I would be getting ready to go out, and Homer would run and get in his crate. It was adorable and sad. He was communicating with me: “I know you are going somewhere, and I want to go with you.” It always made me feel terrible about leaving when he did that.

Well, now that crate is no more. We put it in a pile of boxes to be taken down to the trash, but Homer wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

Don’t feel too bad for Homer. Since we haven’t bought a new crate yet, he gets to ride on our laps in the car. Eventually, we will get a new crate for him, but I wonder if he will love it as much as his original crate.

Leave a comment

Jesus Squeaks

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David likes to go PetSmart and buy holiday-related chew toys for Homer after the holiday because they are so cheap.

He’s smart. Homer doesn’t give a shit if you give him a Santa toy after Christmas, so why not? Today, David went to PetSmart to get Homer some Easter-related toy, which resulted in the following IM conversation:

David: I got Homer an Easter bunny. Sadly, no Jesus dog toys.
Me: Oh well. Try Etsy.
David: No luck. There is a great financial opportunity here being missed.
Me: There is.
David: You could call it Jesus Squeaks.
Me: Holy shit! That’s genius. You need to trademark that shit right now. And if people are offended, well, they have to forgive you, right?