Next stop: Rock Bottom

Lads I'm in a bad way. Everything is gone wrong all at the same time and I'm up in some heap (pronounced haype).

First off the house situation:

Meseff and himseff were supposed to be getting an apartment together to save ourselves a few bob (and to have a buzz). This was all fine and dandy, we were picking out apartments and buzzin off our heads at the thought of having our own fridge, of going out and not walking a half an hour home and of having deadly parties and more money to do mental things and having general good times 'n' shit.

Everything was peachy until....

Three weeks before we were due to move out, Big Brown Mamma calls.

First she pretended she wanted him to stay in the hovel for financial reasons. BBB explained that we were saving money by getting an apartment. Then she said if he moved out she wouldn't pay his rent. Then she said she would come up in September and help him find a place. He said "I thought you said if I moved out you wouldn't pay for me?"

The it all came out.

She just didn't want him to live with me.

Then his aunty had to get her two cents in - apparently BBB should only be going out with his friends and should have a "little girlfriend" that he sees twice a week or at weekends, and should "be free to find himself another girlfriend"

Colour me enraged.

Deep breaths.

We live together now for fuck sake!

I mean it's all fine and dandy that he lives with me now, his first year away from home, and I am after teaching him how to cook and look after himself and how to be independant and according to him "the importance of hard work"; now that I have already taught him all that stuff and I am no longer of service, it would seem that I can go and fuck myself.

Now obviously, because I am a nice girl, I completely understand that she is trying to "protect" her son. That is completely understandable and grand, even if she is most likely doing it because she is a bit jealous. However, because I am such a nice girl, I simply cannot understand why you would do this to me THREE WEEKS before we move out, thus effectively leaving me thoroughly fucked.

That was two weeks ago, and I am still grinding my teeth about it, because I have answered a squillion ads for rooms and nothing has come through for me. All the contracts are for students only and those that aren't are for disgusting houses that require a squillion euro deposit which reeks of scam to me. Now I am thoroughly screwed, because I have to be out of here by next Tuesday. Of course BBB is fine because he is flying home to BBM, who clearly couldnt give a flying fuck if I end up living in a cardboard box.

Christ like, a bit of common courtesy please! If you don't want us living together, grand - just open your mouth and say it straight away! Don't leave us make plans and then dump me in the shitter at the last minute!

Me nerves!

Next up, work:

It would seem that I have fallen foul to a cleverly worded work contract and instead of the figure I thought I would be coming out with every month, I will be coming out with approximately half that amount.

Wondrous.

And finally, the general morale situation.

I'm not going to lie lads. Morale is low. I think it might actually have reached an all-time low, in fact. As in WORSE than Luxembourg. And that was BAD.

I'm not taking Fionn's death very well. I'm not very good at death anyway but this is hard lads.

When I looked at his face I didn't only see his little face; I saw Mammy and Daddy and my brother and my sisters and my whole family. I saw our house and my room and all my friends. He was like a symbol of home and all the things that tie me to it. When I looked at his picture on my phone I used to get a warm feeling in my tummy cos seeing him made me think of all those things. Now that link is gone and I don't know my arse from my elbow.

But just with everything together I just feel so sad. It's like an unbearable weight on me. I don't think I've ever been so lonely in my life. Poor BBB can't help me because every time I look at him I think of how his mother fucked me over. Anyway, how could I ever expect to be helped by someone who has never even heard of The Goonies?

Next Tuesday BBB is leaving for home for two months. All my other friends are already gone home for the summer, because Pavia shuts down for August. I am the only stupid fucker left here, forlornly taking the train to Milan every day to a job that earns me significantly less than I need.

I could handle any of the above three crises with ease if they had come individually, or even two together, but everything all at once is so hard, especially when I am all alone far away from home. I don't know how I am going to pull myself out of this one lads.

No dirty jokes about that last line.

We interrupt your regular programming...

...to bring you some terrible news altogether.

There is another dog in Heaven.

This one, to be precise.

My little Fionnzy Bunzy. Or, as I affectionately called him "Shithead". Mammy told me not to call him that though, cos she claimed he knew what I was saying. If he really knew what I was saying though, he would know that it was an expression of love. I also called him "Snooklepop", but that was mostly on Tuesdays.

Fionn was the best dog you could ever find in your long legged life. In fact, he was scientifically proven (by me) to be The Best Boy in Ireland.

Ten years ago my Nanny died (shout out to Nanny Alice in Heaven - best nanny ever!) and Mammy sent Daddy out to get a little dog for Grandad to keep him company in the house, since his own dog had died a bit before Nanny. Daddy went down to rescue a dog, and that's when he saw little Fionn. He couldn't believe his luck and brought the dog home to show Mammy.

Now before Fionn came onto the scene, we always had big dogs, and Mammy was terrified of them. They weren't allowed even look at the house, never mind come into it. Whenever they came within a three mile radius of Mammy she ran screeching into the house, so when she reached out and gingerly brushed the tip of her finger off the top of Fionn's head, we knew this dog was special.

"He's too lively for your Grandad!", she said, "but we can keep him, the poor little fella. From now on his name is Fionn."

I still remember that day, Daddy came to collect me from school. I believe I was going through my grunge phase at that time.

"There is a surprise in the house," he said.

"Is there?", I said, wondering what it was, since the last "surprise" there was at the house for me was an excercise trampoline.

We got home and when he opened the door this little red streak of madness came out to greet me. I couldn't believe it! After our last big dog went to the big farm in the sky Mammy said we weren't to have any more dogs.

Straight away he became one of the family. He was stone mad alright, and he was always up for a mess, but he would also sit down and watch the telly with you of an evening.

He went for weekend retreats to Grandad's house, and he would come home Sunday nights worn out after the two of them had been tormenting the living daylights out of each other for two days straight.

As he got older he mellowed out a lot. Every time you would sit down, he would plant his arse right on your foot. And if you were sitting cross-legged, shaking your foot, he would come over and put his back up against your shaking foot, thus receiving a nice relaxing back massage.

He also loved blankets. You could be sitting on the couch eating a prime rib and he wouldn't look at you even out of his side eye, but the mnute you whipped out a blanket, by god, he was up on your lap before the blanket was even over you!

He really was like my little brother. Mammy is fairly sure she gave birth to him anyway. He was her little buddy in the house. He followed her around every day as she was doing her bit of pottering. She used to sing him a special song and he used to love it. Once or twice when my parents went away I stayed there to mind Fionn and he would take to padding around after me. It's a nice feeling, having another little person who wants to follow you around and be with you while you are doing mundane things such as ironing.

In the evenings though, he was all about Daddy. Himself and Daddy would disappear into the spare room to watch the match. Daddy would have a bag of crisps and then Fionn would lick the paper. Or one time, Daddy had two small bags of crisps and he ate the first one and gave Fionn the paper. Daddy was wondering in the back of his mind how Fionn was making so much noise with the paper, but he was watching the match so he didn't take any notice. A while later he put his hand out for the other bag of crisps only to find that Fionn was after opening them and eating them and that's what all the noise was about!

Then yesterday, Daddy called me and said

"I have a bit of bad news for you Jen."

"Is it Fionn?"

Nausea.

"It is girl."

He had a tumor on his liver and while the vet was operating he had a heart attack and died. It was better he went that way anyway because otherwise he would have had to be put down.

Poor little Fionn. He was such a good boy.

After I hung up the phone I went into BBB's room where he was studying with his friend. Obviously I was hysterical.

His friend said "Don't worry - you can get another little puppy and raise it"

I wanted to stab him in the face.

You can shove your fucking puppy up your arse!

I know he was trying to be helpful, but for your information readers, when someone's dog dies, the last thing they want is for you to suggest that their little buddy is replaceable.

I am balling and roaring because it hurts SO bad, but at the same time I expect him to be there waiting for me the next time I fly home. That's when it'll really hit me.

At the end of the day though, I just have to think that Fionn was lucky to be rescued by us and that we were lucky to find him. He was the best boy and one of the family and we had a great ten years together.

R.I.P. Fionn, much loved little brother and The Best Boy in Ireland.