Wednesday, September 7, 2011


Feeding this morning was like feeding in a mild winter. It's amazing how the weather has changed, and the weather forecast say's that we have a cold front coming in. I simply despair.
Quite late last night the swelling on Gracie's face broke open, minutes after I truly thought I had a dying dog on my hands. My grand-daughter phoned worried and the prognosis was very bleak. I couldn't even find a soft enough spot to lance. Within an hour period the infection had moved into Gracie's eyes, ear and throat. The constant heat packs didn't seem to want to move the infection, the antibiotic didn't seem to be working.. nothing seemed to stop it from going from bad to critical.
I had no sooner put the phone down after talking to my grand-daughter when the skin broke and allowed the infection to drain.
She was one happy camper when I phoned to tell her that Gracie was now on the mend.

This morning the puppy is full of vim and vigor. Her face is still swollen, but nothing compared to what it was, and it's draining on a continual basis.

Today was one of those days when being homeless became so overwhelming it caused an avalanche of emotions, none good.

I couldn't find my keys when I needed to run errands. Everyone loses their keys, but when you are homeless "where" you could have lost them becomes a disaster in the making.

While looking for the keys the puppy walked away and I couldn't find her. I turned the place upside down looking for a 16 wk old puppy getting more and more upset. I ran around the neighborhood for over an hour shouting a small puppy.

By the time I found the keys I was in tears. I started the truck to go look for the puppy and the "gas" light came on warning me that I didn't have any gas.

So I drove to TR's store in tears. I bumped into a sheriff's deputy at TR's and explained to him that I had lost my grand-daughters sick puppy, and asked him to phone me if someone called the department and reported a straying pup. Inside the store I was an emotional wreck.

Coming back to look for the puppy I stopped at the post office and asked David to check his yard and see if the puppy was hidden there, but I was so distraught I phoned Jan and asked her to pray for me because today I was breaking down. As we were talking I drove by Davids home and sure enough Gracie was huddled in the corner, thoroughly confused at what direction she should go. A total of three hours had gone by since I first realized that I had misplaced BOTH sets of keys.

It wasn't the keys, or the pup that sent me into an anxiety attack.. it was having no home, no stability. It was living in a dirty shed in total chaos unable to find anything. My life shattered into a million pieces, not being able to work in my own career field and see my mother. It was not even being able to offer an honest days pay for an honest days work just to get electricity to the land. It was the physical pain and the emotional torment of homelessness. It literally snowballed today.. and all it took to get the avalanche started was a missing set of keys.

Someone related to Robert & Sylve Huckins must have some means to reach them, if it be Michael Huckins, Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie ( Diana Huckins? Dominic Huckins? Malcolm Huckins? ) or Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins and get them to return ALL of the money they stole from us. I, like those victims who came before me, have been dragged through a living hell and I simply beg for your mercy.

I can't obtain a home until Robert Huckins retu
rns the money he stole from us that was to buy a home, and I can't remain homeless.

Had he given the money back when he promised the white collar crime investigators I wouldn't be making this plea today. Had he never stolen our building fund I wouldn't be making this plea today.

But he pushes the abuse and torment to an extent where no alternatives are offered.

Today Robert Huckins has his own home...
He also has OUR home.....
He also has a lot of people's money...
And his freedom.

No women should be abused to this degree. I am homeless and I want to see my mum and return to my career, so I won't stop asking if I have to ask every single day until I die. Robert Huckins gave no-one an alternative, so I plead with sincerity for your mercy and intervention.

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone. ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe