I will remember you ...

Last Saturday was, perhaps, the most awful day of my life.

Always an early riser, I had scheduled an 8 AM appointment for my sweet boy, Toes. We had been dealing with kidney failure for nearly three months, and twice a week I took him in for fluid replenishment, a sort of kitty dialysis. Except, this morning, I was there to see the doctor.

He wasn't eating, and in my ignorance, I thought there was something wrong with his mouth and that's why he wasn't eating. Maybe he had a toothache or something.

When his condition was first diagnosed in early May, I asked the veterinarian how I would know when we had reached "the end." I didn't want him to suffer. I just wanted to give him the best quality of life possible for as long as Nature permitted. The vet responded with a simple statement. "He will stop eating." And, there I was on a steamy Saturday morning in July thinking he had a toothache. How could I have forgotten?

It's been five days since then, and, in retrospect, it was denial. I didn't "forget." I didn't want to remember. I wanted there to be another answer. A simple solution. Even a complicated solution would have been more acceptable that no solution. But. There was no solution.

Upon arrival at the vet, the technician took Toes out of the exam room for the doctor to look at his mouth. I had insisted that something was wrong, perhaps with his teeth. I sat down, scrolled through my email and played a game of Dots. Then the veterinarian came in wearing her white lab coat, holding a sheet of paper with red marks on it. She said things like "kidney failure" and "danger zones" and "seizure." My brain fell down into my stomach causing a great pain. My heart was hurting. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, splashing on the paper she showed me with the red marks on it.

How could this be?

The vet was sympathetic and kind as all veterinarians should be, so, I asked her: "If it was your cat, what would you do?" She had mentioned her own cat earlier, when we first began the exam.

She paused. Then she said the words I didn't want to hear. I wanted to put my hand over her mouth. I wanted to take the question back.

In her gentle, quiet voice with the tiniest Scottish brogue she said, "I would let him go."

Even now, as my fingers dance across the keyboard, I have a knot in my stomach remembering the sick feeling in my chest, the knot in my gut, a sense of reeling as though I was losing my balance. But, I wasn't falling. My heart was breaking.

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Toes came to me through my younger brother. Never married, ever the loner, my brother is a cat whisperer. Since we were children, he always had a thing for cats. He loved them.  And, Toes came from that environment, raised from a kitten, knowing only love and pats on the butt and treats. In 2009, the recession cost my brother his job and, eventually, his home. When he prepared to vacate the premises, he asked me to take one of his three cats. I told him I would. "Pick one," I said.

Whenever I visited him, Toes would be the one to sprawl across the coffee table, pawing at my hand to pet him. He was friendly and affectionate, so, I was glad he was the chosen one to come to my house. He arrived by car, sitting in my brother's lap, no kitty carrier visible. Once we were inside the house, we hung out, allowing the cat to get a handle on his surroundings, including our two female cats, Minka and Minipussy.

After about an hour, my brother left, and, in the blink of an eye, Toes disappeared. It took me an hour to find him, hiding between the full length winter coats tucked away in the doll room closet, where he would spend most of the next month of his life.

The thing about cats is that they don't all adapt easily. Toes had known only one home, only one master, and now he was in a strange place with strange people. It was sad to see him hiding, but, every day when I got home from work, I would coax him out to eat and be brushed. He had a thick coat of glossy black fur adorned with a white chest, white paws and white whiskers. The ultimate tuxedo cat. And, he was a big boy, weighing in at 18 pounds. My brother said his father was a Maine Coon and he thought that accounted for his girth. My husband called him Bozo, because, when he ran after the other cats, he seemed clumsy.

He was a lap cat. And, a foot cat. And, he insisted on sleeping in the bed with me. Early on, he would scratch on the bedroom door throughout the night in his attempts to gain admittance, and after a couple of months battling with my husband, Toes won. He became a bed buddy cat as well.

He followed me around the house, from room to room, sitting on my feet when I sat, standing guard nearby when I was on my feet. He was nearly always at the front door to greet me when I came home from where I had been, whether I was gone eight hours or eight minutes. I had never experienced this kind of affection from a cat and his behavior lead to my husband and daughter referring to him as "Mom's dog."

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You might wonder what the symptoms of kidney failure are in a cat. Toes ate mostly dry food. Back around Christmas time, we began to notice that occasionally, within 15 minutes after he would eat, he would throw up. We changed foods, offered wet food, and most of the time, things would return to normal. Until springtime.

That's when I noticed he was losing weight.

I would often pick him up and carry him from one room to another just to get him out from under my feet. One day, I picked him up and he felt different. I called the vet and made an appointment the next day.

You'll never know how much I wish I taken him sooner, that maybe he would still be here. The vet said, "No." It's a part of the aging process in cats, he said. Maybe he was saying that to make me feel better. Maybe it's true. I don't know.

I never knew a love like that with a cat. I've loved dogs in my life. And, more than a few cats. But, this one was different. He was a soul mate. And, I will miss him for a long, long time to come ... maybe always.

I hope it's true what they say ... that when you get to Heaven, all the cats and dogs you've loved will be there to greet you. I sure do hope that's true.

Jacey & Trent: a real life fairytale

One Saturday night last summer, my darling husband and I were watching the evening news on Channel 10, the Miami ABC affiliate, and Jacey Birch was the weekend anchor. When the weather guy, Trent Aric came on, there was some joking going on between the two of them, and we both commented on their chemistry! It was fun to watch!

I remembered seeing a picture on Facebook that they were "dating," and, then, for who knows what reason, it popped into my head ... Barbie and Ken!

I rooted around in the Barbie room for a redheaded Barbie (I have several in my collection) and found Suite Retreat™ Barbie®, one of the Silkstone dolls from 2005. Her hair seemed to be a very close match to Jacey's, so she was to become the chosen one. I had a beautiful hand knit red dress made by my doll friend, Vince Nowell, and it was exactly the same shade as her lips, so it seemed perfect for this little beauty! It was definitely something Jacey would wear!

Now, for that Ken doll! Where was he? I had purchased the first Silkstone Ken, but, I couldn't recall ever taking him out of the box. Hmmm ...

Sure enough! There he was! Still in the box at the top of the closet! The Fashion Insider™ Ken® Giftset from 2003!  His dark hair was like Trent's, and they both had that great athletic build. The suit and tie would definitely give him the air of a TV meteorologist, so ... it was done.

After dressing and combing and primping, (although I never did get that tie to look right!) I took a picture of the Trent & Jacey Barbie and Ken dolls with my camera phone and tweeted it, tagging Jacey & Trent. I hoped they wouldn't be insulted or think it weird.

They weren't insulted and they didn't think it was weird! As a matter of fact, Jacey tweeted this picture back!  These were my people, a couple with a great sense of humor! What fun!

It wasn't too long after that weekend watching them on the evening news that they went off together on an adventure to Thailand. They posted pictures of the places they visited, and it was clear from the photos they shared on Facebook that their relationship was something special ... it was clearly grounded in friendship and fun ... and, for all of us paying attention, we were so  hoping they would fall in love with each other. We would be rewarded!

Before Thanksgiving last year, Trent accomplished a feat of magic! He proposed to Jacey on television. Or, rather, in the television studio where it could be filmed for the whole world to see. You can watch the proposal here, and grab a tissue! You'll tear up!

Their fairytale romance took on new meaning for so many of us! We had a wedding to look forward to! We had our own "royal couple" to watch, and we knew these people. They had been in our living rooms and kitchens, talking to us about news and weather and traffic. They were part of our family.

 On April 12th, Jacey and Trent were married on an island in French Polynesia. It was just Jacey and Trent and their officiant and, to be perfectly honest, that seemed like the perfect way to do it. So much of their romance had been shared with us, their adoring fans, and it was only good and proper that the most intimate moments should be between just the two of them. I applaud their choice.

They will be headed home soon. It's been joyful to watch their antics as well as their romance. That Trent Aric is quite a jokester! And, Jacey? She's just sweet and lovely and a formidable animal advocate, which is why so many of us love her! She's a voice for those who cannot speak for themselves, and that's what makes her a noble princess to us.

Thank you Jacey and Trent for letting us in on the magic of love! We wish you happily ever after!

Let the wild rumpus begin!

When I get older
Losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine?
Birthday greetings?
Bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me?
Will you still feed me?
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older, too,
And, if you say the word,
I could stay with you ....

First verse of the song by the Beatles 


Some people make resolutions for the New Year. I'm not one of those people. I make resolutions on my birthday, which is a very good day to have a birthday, by the way. It's just far enough past Christmas that I never got cheated on gifts. And, it's far enough before Lent and Easter, so I never got cheated on gifts. (I still feel bad for those folks whose birthdays fall between December 24 and January 2.)

This year the theme is "When I'm sixty-four."
So, here is a list of the things I will accomplish while I'm sixty-four:

1. Print a book filled with 64 photographs by me. I will title it, "When I'm sixty-four." I hope it will be mostly portraits of people I know, but a few cat and dog photos will probably sneak in there.

2. Whittle my voluminous doll collection down. I have too many, my collecting habits have changed, and it's time to sell and give away at least 64 of them, sending them off to adventures with others.

3. Write 64 blog entries. Sounds easy, doesn't it? There are 365 days in the year, which breaks down to one blog entry every 5.7 days. That's more often than once a week, you know. Sometimes I have weeks go by when I can't think of anything to write about, so this one will be a real challenge. I need a good challenge though, so let's have at it, shall we?

Three things is enough, I think.
Besides, I still have three more days until my birthday!

Let the wild rumpus begin!

My Parents Were Born on the Cusp ...

The Cusp for Gemini/Cancer is June 19 to June 23. My mother's birthday was June 19. My dad's was June 21. My dad was nine years older than my mother and he had been married once before. He was in the U.S. Army when they met at Fort Lee, Virginia when my mother was 23-years-old.

My mother on her wedding day.

My mother used to say she met my dad on the dance floor. My Aunt Evelyn had danced with him first, then he asked my mother for a dance. My Aunt Evelyn said he never danced with another woman again that she knew about.

Their marriage was full of passion. I'm sure about that. My brother and I often observed the knock-down-drag-out brawls from a distance and, somehow, we knew it wasn't about us. It was about them. My mother was a social butterfly if one ever existed, and very opinionated! My dad was introverted and thoughtful and very, very smart. That made for some great arguments about politics at the dinner table, too!

After their brawls, they would make up, and we didn't get to see that. They would tell us they were going to have a private conversation and they would go in their bedroom, close the door and turn on the radio. We usually took that for a sign to go outside and play. We didn't care what they were doing. We were kids. We were just glad they weren't fighting anymore.

My dad on his wedding day.

Being born on the cusp must mix things up. That's the only thing I've been able to figure out after all these years. I'm not sure how much influence the position of the sun and moon and stars has on us as human beings, but, I have long believed that was why my mom and dad had such a turbulent relationship. The generations weren't so different back then (1949) as they are today. Where they had seen World Wars and a new prosperity arrive in America during my parents' lifetimes, ten years between a man and woman can mean a lot more in these modern times. Depending on when we were born, we would have listed to different music, used different technologies, watched different movies and TV shows ... these experiences, as shared by each generation, create a bond between the people who lived through it. To have an intimate relationship with someone who didn't listen to, say, the Beatles, or who didn't see the movie, "The Graduate," might mean they won't understand the perspective of those of us who did. All of these experiences have an impact on our thinking and our expectations and are a part of us and who we become. I think that's why a lot of May-December marriages don't work out nowadays.

But, then, that's just my opinion.

Happy Birthday, Mom and Daddy, wherever you are. I'm hoping that you're together in heaven. You're buried next to each other here on Earth! 

Saying "Goodbye" ...

Almost 24 hours ago, I said goodbye to my best friend, my terrier, Buddy. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do.

Buddy came to me from the Broward County Animal Control Center which is located next to the airport. I went there with a friend who was looking for a dog. He wanted a puppy, and it was in the midst of a batch of labrador puppies that my guy was discovered. There were eight puppies, all from the same litter, and they were all over the chain link fence gate that separated us and there was no room for the little terrier to get close. He sat for a couple of minutes as the puppies rushed the fence and when I clucked my tongue and said, "Hey, little guy!" he stood on his hind legs and did a perfect pirouette.

There went my heart.

I said, "That one. He's coming home with me."

And, he did.

That was in 2003.

Animal Control said he had been found wandering in Lauderhill. He was one day away from euthanasia. I paid the 60 bucks to have him neutered and tattooed and the next day I picked him up and brought him home with me.

I don't know who owned him before me, but whoever it was, they trained him exceedingly well. I would soon learn that he responded to hand signals. Sit. Stay. Come. Down. Fetch. Twirl. There was nothing this dog wouldn't do if you gave him the right hand signal. And, he was totally a lap dog. He loved to be in my lap or, if I was on the sofa stretched out, between my legs. He slept with me, he followed me wherever I went and for several years, it was just the two of us.

I did eventually marry again and my darling husband has stories about Buddy that he could share. About how he loved beer. And, cat food. And, playing ball. He would run himself ragged fetching that tennis ball, no matter how many times you threw it. He loved to play.

He also liked to lay in the grass in the sunshine. As he aged, that became one of his favorite pastimes.

He began losing his vision about two years ago. We began to notice a change in his behavior and the vet confirmed that he was going blind. I did learn through the vet and various internet sources that dogs adapt to blindness when they lose their sight gradually. Sudden blindness, as in the case of our friend, Hallie, is a different story, although, Hallie has done well thanks to her wonderful mom!

My heart is broken and I have been surprised at the grief I feel. It washes over me in waves and the tears flow. I can't seem to stop it. It passes, but, I think it's going to be a while before I feel normal again.

I read "A Dog's Purpose" after I read "The Art of Racing in the Rain." I learned one thing from both books. When a dog loves you, he loves YOU just as you are and his sole purpose in life is to be there for you. There's no greater gift than that.

Now I truly understand why they call them "man's best friend." I'm sure going to miss mine ...