To you bunch of dear folks playing along at home with the Mama Dog game:
She's certainly taking her time about her mobility issues. After having to be carried up and down the stairs for two days, she's managed for herself today.
If her appetite, lucidity and wagging tail weren't all in top shape, this would be a whole lot easier to decide. So I won't be the pet owner who cried wolf, I'll just write when it's Time. Until then, many blessings for the empathy.
I definitely know I'm not alone now or at any other time and thank you all for reminding me of that. Someone else has to care for her for the next couple of days while I work; She'll appreciate your long distance belly scratches.
In the golden light of goodbyes.
Their mama isn't usually this slow on the uptake. The leaving has been happening for some time now. The various pills are failing her and this big boy will not leave her side. She's very old. And she hasn't wanted to leave me, either. She knows.
Tonight she tumbled down ten steps. And peed when she reached the bottom.
I carried her down the other six but it's more than this. It's her dignity. And I'm not anthropomorphizing to insist that animals definitely possess it.
She's been more of a friend than my silly words can express. And no shortcut around these tears looks feasible. Going right through them, dammit, is just what's on the map.
I need some of her courage. And to remember that thing I believe: That we're all more than these bodies we carry around. And that I'll see her again.
It's probably risky writing something this personal only because - ah tenderness in human form! - there will always be that person who assumes something that's beyond their scope of knowing and I'm just petty enough to resent it in the beautiful tide of far more understanding than I could possibly expect to receive if I DIDN'T post this...
Thank you for just knowing. For not writing much other than you're simply thinking of us, that you're kind enough to hold us - strangers afar - in your good thoughts. Because. Really. What else is there to say?
If we're lucky: We outlive the ones we love. And that's the good bounce in this life. That's why holding onto the whatever things that bind us in the unseen - besides hugs and big ones at that - is the only real work before us. Laughter, encouragement, invisible applause for the victories of the young and the sheer grace of the ancient ones.
And because of all the marble urns and bottles and jars of dogs and cats who have crossed the bridge that are here now: In this one's name, will I find a creek, better yet - that big thirsty Pacific Ocean near me and empty them all into it, thanking the Maker for such companions along the way. And not forgetting the precious ones who are still here.
Hey everybody... Some dog heroes back in Georgia asked us to post this and we're asking, in turn, that you'll post it forward.
Thanking you big time for being such a responsive bunch of FB folks.
Crossing fingers, hitting 'send' or vice versa...
Here we go!
"Jasper is a wonderful soul. He sits so quietly and calmly stretched out in his kennel. Every once in a while, he gently shivers, simply wondering where he is and why he is here. He was picked up at Rabbit Farm Park tied to a pole at 10 o’clock at night. Having no idea how he got there, we can sadly only assume the worst, having seen so many others abandoned as well. Each morning I kneel at his kennel door and say, “What’s up Boo? How you feeling today?” His tail gently pats the ground and he comes forward, relieving his tension with a gentle lick of my fingers that grip the chain link gate. Out for a quick walk, he’s a much happier guy; perhaps he thinks I’m walking him back to his home… but I have no idea where that home may have been. So let’s give him a new one where he’ll always be wanted."
LISA WILL DONATE $25 TO THE RESCUE THAT SAVES JASPER! LANE WILLDONATE $75! JANE WILL DONATE $100! ALICE WILL DONATE $25!
HOLD EXPIRED 7/25/16! AVAILABLE NOW!
NO PENDING APPLICATIONS OR RESCUE INQUIRIES!
VACCINATED & DEWORMED! FLEA/TICK TREATMENT!
Shelter ID#: 2016 1289
Sex: male, not neutered
Age: approx. 8 years
Weight: approx. 55-65 lbs.
Meds: 7/25/16 heartworm positive, distemper parvo vaccine, pyrantal deworm, Vectra flea treatment
Note: impounded 7/21/16 at 10:00 PM tied to a pole in Rabbit Farm Park; owner unknown. He is a quiet, calm and gentle dog; sits on command.
Mandatory hold: EXPIRED 7/25/16
PLEASE SEE WWW.WALTONPETS.NET FOR THE FULL BIO AND CURRENT STATUS! ADOPTION AND RESCUE PROCEDURES FOUND ON THE SITE AS WELL!
Limbs worth going out on...
A few years ago, I met Annie and Ethan and completely fell in love with both of them. Ethan is the reason I became interested in craniofacial deformity advocacy - frankly one of those things in life you'd just as soon not know about much less behold in a precious, innocent child. But reality...
This link contains some strong words and I'm fully aware of what I'm posting. I know the family's situation and this is flat out what's going down.
So. I believe that Ethan is probably an angel. (Maybe you're thinking so if he's an angel, he doesn't need our help. If you are thinking that, I consider that vastly more deformiing that what Ethan was born with: His deformity is merely external.)
Like I said. Strong words.
I'm posting this for those of you who see the value of this one mission. Let's see if justice can prevail.
I'm grateful to you on behalf of Annie and her folks who are awesome people.
And to those of you who even know $5 adds up. To those who press this towards the Light with your heart: Prayers are much appreciated.
Come on. Group hug.
With love and thanks,
Hey. You guys. I'm reckoning that some of you may have an inkling of times people in the public eye are asked to help. It's not a complaint. It's the opposite, really. With rare exception, I tend to advocate for things that don't affect me. It feels cleaner that way somehow.
Yet, the flip side to that is, at times, quite hideous to behold. Because cowards and bullies hide behind the glow of their monitors and memories of whatever it is that they didn't get enough of at a time so long ago only dying or getting over it will fix it, they try full frontal assaults in ways that make grown men shudder.
Because, this time, I know the folks involved, it feels like the stakes are close to home ..
When I was walking away from Ethan and his Mom about two hours after meeting them - that's how long our happenstance meeting was - he called out for me by name. That in itself was extraordinary because he was TWO at the time and had heard my name at the beginning of the meeting and only once. I turned back to see what he wanted and he pulled my face down to his and put his forehead on mine and said one thing.
"It's just love, right?"
It doesn't happen often but I was speechless. There might have been something in my eye, too, now that I recall.
To those of you who feel like gambling on whether a champion can arise from this scary circumstance, my thanks are deeper than I can possibly convey. But here they are just the same.
Let's do this.
If you read the news...
How is anyone anti-Semitic "by mistake"?
Granted. Hatred does seem to be a mistake - even when it's an understandable one. This kind doesn't strike us as that particular kind. The kind folks feel towards someone who kills, for example. No. This hate was directed toward an entire population of people who are as diverse as any. It was a mindless, awful recitation of the worst mankind serves back to itself.
Maybe praying for the temporary nature of it - of hatred - can make us closer to that impossible, flawless ideal. Maybe.
Too, perhaps Lt. Gen. Flynn misspoke. Not in the way he professes. We think the sentiment is there and that, perhaps, the "mistake" was the foolish thought that only people of like minds would read what he wrote. People who require imported hate.
Apropos of this and completely not...
A long time ago, when fame curled its sinewy arms first around our neck, we tried to describe its ugliness, the shock of it to our Mother.
"But, Mama!", we cried out naively, "They go through our trash!"
She paused before her studied reply.
"Well, honey, make 'em think you've got cats."
It's an Avatar
It's a Bird...
It's a Plane...
No, it's YOU...
The phrase "leap of faith" sounds heroic. Generally, I'm not given to leaping unless something pretty fierce is chasing me. And where faith is a consideration, I'll be honest: I've usually only chosen it when the status quo was killing me. Even then, plain old tiptoeing suited was fine.
But sometimes, a word - spoken or written - can propel us farther on the path than we'd intended on going. Especially when the words are as revolutionary as concepts get...
It's difficult to estimate how much of this life would change if fear of dying left the building. Think of it.
What do we yearn for, avoid, wish to create but postpone ? How much of our days are carved into slivers and chunks of accumulating or discarding those things that, in the end, don't matter?
Perhaps in that asking, the dirt atop the answers is scraped away bit by bit. What Grimes has written here caused a bit of a rumble in an otherwise placid day. This leads me to think, to continue an odd metaphor, I'd better get a shovel.