I spent a month or so figuring out this stuff for my blog this summer, too, but I didn't figure out this site! I'm so glad you've put it out there. There is an image mapping plug-in for WordPress that I found. But it's not half so user friendly as this.

One second beside you, gone the next moment. All of these families sought help quickly, and there was no such thing as fast enough. They need love, sympathy, and support right now. Nobody has any right to judge them. Nobody.

Thank you for organizing the link-up. I can't think of another word to say. Deaths like these rip heart to shreds.

Yes! It's a wonderful quality, and it's the kind of determination that helps you carry on.

What a painful thing for you to have to carry all the way home. I'm glad he didn't have to find it out by proxy, and I'm glad his Dad wanted him to enjoy a rare moment of vacation before the grief hit home.

Oh no! I'm sorry the insomnia bug won't turn you loose!
My recent post What the Cat Saw

I'd say that if the OTHER side looked that way, there'd be nothing to worry about, but since the other side looks different, it's worth seeing if you can tape the ouchie one back into submission.
My recent post Sam Says / Caroline Says

Erin, you're one of the most awesome writers I don't know. Which is to say that I only know you online. Pick a feature you love about yourself and start there. And every time you start to think "I don't have enough ___" or "I have too much ___", then force yourself to think instead, "I have kickass ___". Hokey? Yes. But eerily effective. You deserve to love how you look and to love it NOT because it conforms to some fake standards. People often see the best things about you first, not the worst (because they're all too busy finding their own damned flaws), and you are entitled to see yourself in that way, too.

I just went back and read the whole saga. Wow. I'm glad you did not go quietly, and I'm even more glad that this organization stepped in to help you. Sam was a runner from the ages of 3 - just-turned-five. We lost him once for twenty minutes in the woods on a family bike ride. (Because we were stupid enough to go.) Another time, we lost him for forty minutes in a crowded aquarium. He jumped out of my car just before his fifth birthday. My moving car. He's still infamous for opening the doors that we have fastidiously locked.

But just before we were going to install the alarms and locks that he would surely have foiled, he stopped. Not completely. He still lets himself into the backyard half (and sometimes completely) naked. But he stays with us in public. He doesn't deliberately run away when he's heading for a meltdown. Part of it is that, in our case, antipsychotic meds were helpful. (Note - this is not some backhanded way to say do this or that for Caleb - I'm just relating our experience. I know far too well that every kid is unique, and I have absolute certainty that you are doing the right things for yours!) But I got bone chilled reading your experiences. I thought "there but for happenstance go I". And I thought, "I'm so very damned glad you're getting a service dog." You need it. And I hope the next fifty three days fly by for you.
My recent post Dead Rock Stars

That's so completely exciting!! Our last dog, who was not service trained, was this giant chocolate lab. (The picture in the video above reminded me of him.) He came to us before Caroline had a diagnosis, but she bonded with him instantly. Our current dog is much different in temperment. (Still a very good dog, just not the same.) Caroline adores the current dog, but still obviously misses chewie.