Grief, mourning and going on with life

My readers know I love animals, especially dogs and horses. My horse, Pretty Thing, lived to be 32 years old and was my darling. My poodle, Brandy, lived to be 19 years old. 

All of our pets except for one, lived to ripe old age. They were treated well, fed well and well-loved. We had the reputation of having pets that lived forever.

But, no matter how old they are, when it is time to let them pass on or when they die unexpectedly as our Nikki did, we grieve. We grieve as we would if any family member was gone. 

Over the years I have made a study of grief and why we grieve more over some and not so much over others although we loved them all.

The first person that I knew well and loved dearly, and who died suddenly in his fifties, was my brother-in-law, Stan. I was about six or seven years old when he burst into our family with his big smile, his boisterous nature, his laughter, and his hugs. I knew and loved him as much as I did any of my brothers for two decades and more. So I grieved and mourned his passing deeply. His presence in my life was far bigger than anyone knew. I think of him as the loving father I didn't have and the big brother who was not embarrassed to show his love for me. His passing left a place that can't be filled. 

Brandy, my black miniature poodle, was the first big loss in my animal family. You can find his shortened story in Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins, Family Pets and God's Other Creatures. This little fellow was a wedding gift to me from my husband, Barry. I liken living with Brandy to raising a wild, but precious boy-child. He was not obedient and was very destructive, causing us to have to move to the country when he demolished our first apartment.

Brandy lived on the edge. When he had the opportunity to take a risk, he did it. The cows grazed quietly in the pasture near our house. They were enclosed by a three-strand barbed-wire fence.  Of course the fence meant nothing to my dog. And the cows looked much to peaceful and content to him. If he was outside his pen, he didn't waste time scooting under the barbed wire and making a bee line for the herd. 

As I stood yelling and screaming at him to come back, Brandy circled the bovines barking at the top of his lungs. At first they ignored him, but, I suppose his noise-making got under their skin. Eventually one of the black and white milk cows had enough. She raised her head, looked at the yapping dog, and headed straight for him. That was the signal, it seemed, for the other cows to do the same. Big heads came up and the entire herd of forty started toward the little black dog.

Back in my yard, I continued to yell at Brandy. Now I was calling, "Brandy, come here" "Brandy run! Run, run, run!"

The mischievous little guy got just what he wanted. Every single cow was now after him, chasing him across the pasture. Brandy knew where he was going and they followed. At times I thought they were gaining and were going to trample him, but he stayed just about ten feet ahead of the lead cow, looking back from time to time, his red tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

He came home just as I wanted, but he brought an entourage of hoof beats from forty beasts pounding right behind him.

I stood rigid, holding my breath, scared senseless, and praying that my little buddy would make it. Afraid to look! I could not stand to see his body mangled by the sharp hooves. 

But Brandy was shrewd. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I am sure he was laughing in his own doggy way.

He slowed down just enough to let the cows think they were going to get him, and then he skittered under the bottom strand of wire with their hot breath on his curly coat. 

He ran around the yard, then jumped up on me. I knew what he was thinking. "See Momma, I didn't get hurt, and I had a lot of fun."

Brandy Beall lived to be nineteen years old, was nearly blind and totally deaf. I found him stretched out on the carpet in my bedroom one rainy afternoon. He didn't wake up.

My days and my nights were not the same without Brandy. I missed him so much I could not speak his name or talk about him to others for months. 

I believe we grieve most those whose lives are entwined with our own, those whose very existence is a part of who we are. Husbands and wives miss each other more because they have become almost one person over the years as my husband and I did. When everywhere you look, everything you see, touch or feel reminds you of your loss, the pain just grows deeper.

I know that Stan, my brother-in-law, made a giant impression on me from the earliest days of knowing him. What made him most special to me, when I was a kid, was he listened to me. I could tell him what vexed me and what made me happy. He knew what I loved and what I did not love, what I feared and what I was not scared of. He approved of me and let me know it. When he didn't approve, he let me know. His death left a hole in my life too big to ever be replaced. 

My little Brandy gave me memories I still cherish and always will. He loved me unconditionally, as our dogs usually do. He and I were so attached that I often think Barry was jealous of my attention to him.

For months I would forget he was gone. I looked for him around me, expecting him to be near me. Then the punch in the gut came, feeling the emptiness when it dawned on me that I had buried him out by the stable. 

They say that tears of grief are just ways of showing you loved someone, and I shed many when I lost my three brothers, my sister, my dear sister-in-law, my parents and my beloved husband.  I didn't think I could endure all those losses of people I love. But I have. What choice do I have?

I have lost my sweet, loving Samoyd, Kodi, and Rocky, the best dog ever.

I grieved more and more. So much sadness, and I still cry over those I loved, human and animal, who have gone on. But each day arrives with new possibilities. 

What will I learn today? What can I do, what will I do, today that might make a difference? I know I will mourn for the rest of my life, but somehow, I found a way to departmentalize grief while going on with living. I hurt for those who cannot do that. 

I hope your holidays will be happy and filled with fun and good memories. Make great memories this year. Don't let petty things from the past cause hurt feelings or sadness. I found that being thankful for my family, my friends and for still being alive on this earth to enjoy each sunrise and each sunset gives me peace. 

Sharing photos of animals with their own unique stories

For as long as I can remember, I have had a special feeling for most animals, especially horses and dogs. I also adore little kittens. When Gay and I were little girls, we played in the hay loft with the kittens that lived there. Although they were not tame, they were not so wild that they didn't let us hold them. 

My first experience with horses came when my father lifted me up to ride on the sweaty back of Charlie, the farm work horse. Charlie was a terror when he was first hitched up to a plow, and my daddy had his hands full as he tried to keep Charlie calm. The big white horse was known to run away with the plow flying in the air behind him. To keep Charlie in line, Daddy hitched a mule next to the big white horse. Together the two worked well and Charlie did not run away anymore.

One might wonder why a small child would be hoisted up on the back of such an animal, but by late in the afternoon, Charlie was tired and only looking to reaching the barn and his feed. Besides he was being led and no longer hitched to a heavy plow.

When I was older and learned to read, I found every book on horses that was available on the bookmobile or at the school library. The most popular horse book was the one I liked less, Black Beauty. 

Daddy liked dogs and our family always had a dog - that is until the family pet was run over by a car or lost its life someway. I heard a story about a bulldog who was important to our family. I was not born yet when this dog stepped between my brother, Rex, who was a little fellow, and a rattle snake. The dog was bitten and he later died. 

My brothers didn't seem to have the urge to pet and show affection for dogs like Daddy did. To some of them, dogs were livestock, like cows and hogs, that were put on earth for use, but not to love. 

Tiger, the bob tailed cat was Barry's loving, sweet pet.

Gay, on the left, in the middle, Dixie, and on the right is
Glenda. This pretty dog belonged to Aunt Judy. When Dixie died,
Aunt Judy never had another dog. "It hurts too bad when you lose them," she said. 

Ray, my oldest brother, had a small dog he adored in the later years of his life. None of my siblings cared about canines the way Gay and I did. We had dogs to play with when we were little and, although they were never allowed inside the house, we loved Fluffy, Turbo, a black English cocker spaniel given to my sister, June, and even Brit, the shepherd that was bought to drive cattle. Too bad none of my family had a clue about how to train the puppy. 

I vowed to myself that I would someday have my own little dog that would be with me all the time or as much time as possible. When I married a man who loved dogs, who gave me my own little bundle of fur, and I was in Heaven. I raised a miniature black poodle we named Brandy. We had him until he was nineteen years old. He died in his sleep. Losing one of them, no matter how old, is heartbreaking. It is like losing a member of the family.

At this link, you will find photos of some of the animals that touched my life. 

Do you have any stories about your pets, dogs, cats, rabbits, horses, goats, chickens, and domesticated wild animals? We would love for you to share them here on our blog.

My Life with My Animals

When I married, my husband, Barry gave me a miniature black poodle. We named him Brandy. We did not have children and Brandy became the third member of our family. We loved him dearly and enjoyed his playfulness and his outrageous behavior. Even my mother who never let a dog in her house, welcomed Brandy and even fed him buttered biscuits in her kitchen.

Here I am with Brandy, but he was so black Barry could
never get a good picture of him.

One day we went to the dairy barn and brought home a young cat. She was pretty and sweet, but covered in fleas. I almost poisoned her trying to de-flea her, but she survived and eventually brought into our house five kittens. They were born in a hollow tree in our yard on a weekend when we were out of town. To our surprise as soon as we pulled into our driveway and opened the car door, Mama Cat appeared with a kitten in her mouth. She followed us into the house. She headed straight to the guest room and carried her baby under the bed.She made the short trip five times as if she had planned all along that the guest room was where she was supposed to raise her little family.

We kept one of those kittens, a beautiful orange and white cat with a short little nose and long hair. Her name was Queenie. She was a small cat and we had her and her mother spayed so we had no more kittens for a long time.

One of my favorite animals was my horse, Pretty Thing. I got her when she was three years old, but I had been riding her since she was two years old and used on the farm to drive cattle. Our pets live long lives and Pretty Thing outlived all of them. I had to put her down when she was thirty-two years old, one of the saddest days of my life. 

She had been a major part of my life from the time I graduated from college. Pretty Thing was a chestnut with a milky blaze poured down her muzzle. She had three white stockings also. Her ancestry was quarter horse and she had been well trained to drive cattle. If she wanted one of them to move she would reach out and nip the bovine on the back. She could turn on a dime and I had to learn to sit tight and not fall off. The only time I had a bad fall from her back was when she fell on slippery wet leaves and my foot was caught under her weight. 

Brandy lived to be 19 years old. Losing him was not unexpected, but I grieved over him for months. I could not talk about him without crying. We had gotten our first Samoyed just before Brandy died. The new pup was named Nicki. In the book Paws, Claws, Hooves, Feathers and Fins; Family Pets and God's Other Creatures I write about Nicki and the day he was stolen from our farm. A Sammy puppy is the cutest and prettiest little thing in this world. A solid white furry mass of cute. You can see the second Samoyed puppy, Kodi, in the book. Kodi is also the gorgeous dog on the front of our book.

To see some photos of animals Barry and I loved and some I have wanted for my own, visit this page.

Selling Memories for Nickels and Dimes

Last weekend strangers entered my garage and carried away bits and pieces of my life with Barry, husband for forty-five years.

Golf clubs and a bag of practice balls, a thing to pick up balls, sold for pocket change because that is what we do at garage sales. Of course I could not put a price on those things. To me they were priceless because they had been his, because I pictured him swinging the clubs and hitting the balls. I saw a green course on a quiet summer eve and heard the crack when the club met the ball. I saw it soar over the grass, the hills, and I saw the smile on his face. He loved to play golf. Barry had many hobbies, but golf and music were there right up to the end.

Someone walked out with my rod and reel, the one thing I had kept when I sold our boat in 2010. That man did not know what stories he would hear if only that fishing pole could talk to him. It talked to me. It reminded me of the happy hours spent on the Majors Pond or the Magic Pond we came to call it. That little rod pulled in a twelve pound catfish on a cold, windy day when we fished from the bank. The fish wrapped my line around a branch in the water and Barry had to pull the limb out to reach the catfish. With that little rod and reel, I caught  many fine bream that made fine eating. It was the perfect weight and had the perfect feel in my hand.

When Barry and I fell in love with fishing, it was hook, line and sinker. In summer as the days grew longer, we headed to the pond as soon as Barry came home. We stayed until the moon came up and threw shadows on the pasture where the soft sound of horses' muffled grazing carried over the still water. A quiet I have not known since.

Barry and Glenda fishing on Majors Pond

Rocky, an unexpected gift

 

All of my large dog paraphernalia is gone now. I will not have another dog, certainly not a Kodi or Rocky. The large wire crate where the Samoyed puppy learned to live alone at night. The same crate where Rocky made his home until he quickly learned to use the pet door. The first rate ramp we bought for Kodi when, at thirteen, he could no longer jump into the car. They all left home along with two large beds for big dogs. Rocky often gave up his bed to our cat, Tiger or Smokie, the small Schnauzer pup who visited with my sister. Rock was the gentle fellow who never put up a fight. His food bowls are gone, too. He was generous to those he loved and he loved Tiger and Smokie. If they wanted his food, he let them have it. We don't need big dog food bowls now. Lexie has her own petite ones in the kitchen.

Smokie. Who could resist this face? Not Rocky.

My garage is much cleaner, more empty and open for me to find things I really need now. I can finally reach the boxes we put on the high shelves when we moved here in 1995. What will I find in them? Mostly papers that need to be shredded. I don't want to read what is on the papers, in the files and folders. They will just provoke more memories of when we were a unit, when we were a family, Barry and me and our beloved pets.

Clearing out and discarding the past is like picking at a healing sore. We uncover the raw and red beneath the scab. It hurts.

Dogs, Dogs, Dogs

I have spent this hot weekend indoors with three precious dogs. Yes, I am baby-sitting for Gay and Stu who are attending a wedding.

Dogs have different personalities. Sunny, the Maltese mix, is cute as can be, but she lets everyone know she is Alpha Dog. If Smokie, the sweet little miniature Schnauzer, comes near where she is sleeping, Sunny growls like she is going to have Smokie for lunch. 

Sweet Smokie

Alpha Dog, Sunny

Now throw Lexie in the mix. Lexie is not afraid of Sunny and challenges her for Alpha status. But Lexie is younger and is more interested in playing than in fighting to be top dog. While I sit at my computer they all sleep in their respective places. Lexie loves her crate and sleeps curled up in a ball. Sunny usually sleeps on a pink blanket on the floor of the dining room where I am working, but today she has taken over Smokie's bed just to my right. 

Smokie, who challenges no one for authority, sits on a mat and looks at me as if to say, "Can't you make her give me my bed?" 

I try to encourage Smokie to come past Sunny and take the pink blanket, but as soon as Smokie gets close to Sunny, the boss leaps up in her face and growls like a lion in a cage. So the schnauzer goes back to the mat and finally curls up there and sleeps. 

Last night as I was preparing for bed and getting ready to let all three of them stay with me, I heard the fiercest of battles begin behind me. I turned and Sunny and Lexie were on the bed going at each other. I yelled at them, but they did not stop. I then tried to reach and pull Sunny toward me so Lexie could jump off the bed, but no, Lexie had decided that no one was going to take her place on my bed next to me. I think it was all a bit of jealousy, but they really frightened me. Even after I held Sunny away from Lexie, my little one would not stop attacking Sunny. 

I never had a problem with my dogs and Gay's and Stu's dogs, but in the past I always had a male. My male dogs never challenged their female dogs for their food or attention. Rocky let Smokie chew on his legs and his neck when she was a puppy and he never even growled - not once. I think it is jealousy that upsets the apple cart with these girls. 

Rocky licked Smokie to show her how much he loved her

Lexie is used to having all my attention and not sharing me with anyone. Sunny is used to being the top dog and doesn't plan to give that position up anytime soon. Sweet Smokie just sits and looks at me with those pitiful eyes, and I feel guilty that I don't take her in my lap and hold her. I know her mom would do that. But I have been at my computer and cannot type and hold a pup.

Well it is time to feed them. They are good about eating together, but I have to watch Sunny. She will take Smokie's food if she gets a chance. And I will be sure she doesn't try to sneak any of Lexie's. I don't want another dog fight tonight.

Lexie likes to be near me even if she is  on the chair beside me. 

Finally Fall has come

The whisper of falling leaves proclaims Autumn is here in western North Carolina. Driving between Hayesville and Franklin, NC, recently, I imagined the Great Creator painting the sides of the highway with a giant brush, using gold, orange, yellow and all shades in between. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the winding road, but I did.

Lexie is a good traveler so I like to take her with me. She sits in her car seat so she can look out the windshield. The temperature was in the seventies and I had rather be outside than inside as long as I am not in direct sunshine. Lexie prefers direct sunshine. Right now she is lying on the deck soaking up the sun.

I have been exploring new places, new shops and stores. It is great to have free time like this.
At City Lights Books in Sylva, I could not resist purchasing three poetry books. One is Newt Smith's new book, Camino Poems, and I bought one by Catherine Carter, the memory of gills. Hotel Worthy by Valerie Neiman was published last year and I have wanted to read it for a long time. I will write more about them after I have had time to read them carefully and enjoy them slowly.

I hope you are having a wonderful fall season. I know some have been affected by storms and floods, and I sincerely hope you are safe and will soon be back to normal. Fire has hit our region due to the drought we've been enduring. I am not going outside today because of the smoke.

What is fall like in your area?

De-Stressing, taking off a few of my hats

I wear too many hats I've decided. Can't keep up with everything these days. So, what to do?

Saturday we will have our last class at Writers Circle for this season. I will concentrate on changes I want to make in the studio and downstairs. I will have all winter to get things done.

My last class at TCCC ends in October and I will not teach again until next year. As much as I love teaching senior adults to write about their lives, I need time for myself now. 

When those two hats are hung up until next year, I will still have another hat on - working with individual writers and poets to help them complete goals for their writing. 

But this winter I will put in place a new schedule for the coming year. I will work more from home, in my studio, and will not be hosting as many out of town writers as I have done in the past. 

I have been asked to teach more at my studio instead of the college. I have also been told by several people that I don't charge enough for my classes. I know that, compared to other writers and teachers, my fees are very low, but hesitate to charge what I should. However, I must. The cost of living has increased and my fixed income has not. 

Lexie loves to ride in her car seat where she can see everything.

Plus--I have a second mouth to feed. Lexie eats like a small horse even though she is only 8 pounds. But the biggest expense of having Lexie is making my house and yard escape-proof. I  had a new gate built for my upper deck because she jumped the other one any time I left her out. I have to replace the carpet on my stairs and upstairs office because she thought the carpet was her special place to potty. All of this has been costly. But when she cuddles up with me and looks at me with those sweet eyes, I know I will work as long as I have to if it helps me keep this lovely little thing safe and happy, and keeps me from being angry at her for soiling my floors. She is a year old now and she is good about going outside but it is too late for my carpet. 

My goal is to make my life more stress-free and to spend more time with those I love. That will mean taking off some of my hats, I think. At least I am realizing that I need to take more time for me - to rest, to sit on my deck and enjoy my garden, to read some of the many books I've stacked up and never get to, and to watch my little dog play. Time passes way to fast. I have books to write and publish and the days grow short when you reach September. 

Do you own a dog? Have you ever had a dog for a pet?

My love for dogs goes way back to childhood when our family usually had a family pet. The dog belonged to no one in particular, but to all of us. Mother said she didn't care for dogs or cats. Her family was not one that embraced pets for the children. But my father was very fond of dogs. So they had a stand off when he or the kids wanted a dog. Mother ended up feeding the pet most of the time, but we all loved and played with it. But animals stayed outside.

This is Kodi, our beloved Samoyed, who grew old in NC after we moved here.

Our dog stories go back to Daddy's bulldog who saved my brother Rex from a snake bite. The dog attacked the reptile that was about to strike the child, took the bite and died. I was not born at that time, but I've heard the story all my life.

We have all heard of the many benefits of a companion dog. Research shows that petting a dog brings down our blood pressure. We see in restaurants and stores now, dogs with special harnesses that say Service Dog. We have dogs that help diabetes patients, epilepsy patients, deaf and blind people, cancer patients and now I hear Dr. Weill tell us more.

Having a dog for a pet reduces our stress. When we look into a dog's eyes and they look into ours, both have an increase in oxytocin, a substance our body makes that helps us to stay calm. 

"Widely referred to as the love hormone, oxytocin has also been dubbed the hug hormone, cuddle chemical, moral molecule, and the bliss hormone due to its effects on behavior, including its role in love and in female reproductive biological functions in reproduction."

http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/275795.php

Since I have had my new puppy, I have been much calmer. I realized I am less anxious, and feel less stressed. That was before I knew anything about the oxytocin effect of having a dog.

Last night I told someone that I never get mad at Lexie, and  I always feel warm and tender toward her. I described my feelings lately as "almost like being in love."  I felt similar to when Barry and I were young and in love. Our oxytocin levels must have been soaring then because I loved everything about him and he felt the same way. 

Oxytocin appears to play a role in protecting the intestine from damage, with potential for use in treatment of irritable bowel disease.

Wow!

So many people suffer with this ailment and doctors have very little success treating it.

There is now promise of using this hormone to prevent the vomiting and intestinal distress of  chemo patients. 

Research shows that pet owners have less illness, recover faster from serious health conditions, and tend to be more content than people who do not own pets.

I am lucky as are most dog lovers. I can look into Lexie's intense gaze for a long time. Our social behavior is amazingly affected. We are both more loving, and she jumps into my arms and we cuddle and I tell her how much I love her. I leave her at home, go out to see friends or go to a store, and my mood is still good because of the oxytocin level. I speak to strangers, smile and invite their smiles. Who would have thought seven pounds of lively fur covered personality could reach out and touch so many.

This is Lexie, my present little companion, who has changed my life in the past three months. 

Christmas Gift - Mine is already here.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, I hear them ringing constantly. No, I’m not riding in a one-horse open sleigh. I am hearing Lexie’s bell on her collar. It never stops ringing unless she has finally worn herself out playing non-stop.

Lexie at 3 months and five pounds 

I could not find a collar with a bell on it among the fancy and plain ones on the rack for dogs, extra small or large.  But cat collars often have attached bells to signal the birds when the cat tries to creep up on them. My tiny little Lexie now sports a red collar with a jingle bell as well as a blue collar, the only one she has not yet taken off.  

The bell drives us crazy, and I suppose I should take it off, but I don’t trust my baby girl just  yet. She is quick and moves as silently as a  sunbeam. She often grabs things in her mouth that she should not have, so I stay alert to her ringing in hopes of knowing exactly where she is at all times.

Like a human child at two years old, my four month old puppy is curious, easily distracted or attracted to a voice, a laugh, a movement and anything on the floor. Today she found a frozen green bean that had escaped the pot. It kept her busy for a time. I try to keep her plied with toys and puzzles. She loves a challenge – like managing to thwart my efforts to fence her off the stairs, or keep her in a play pen those times I can’t  watch her.

Play Pen for pups - light weight, with zip cover

I think my sister Gay found a way to contain a busy, energetic little dog. She bought a puppy pen with a cover. Now Lexie can’t jump out. But when we first put her in it, we howled with laughter. She jumped up on the sides and her weight pushed the pen over – and over and  over as she rolled down the hall and into the  kitchen where we had gone. We might put her in a pen and leave her, but Lexie doesn’t give up. She just rolled the pen to where we had gone.

Finally we figured out that we needed to add weight to the canvas and mesh container. Eighteen pounds of hand weights on the floor of the pen keeps it in place and she cannot roll it over. She actually learned to like it, at least for an hour at the time.

I’m so  happy that  she has not bothered the Christmas tree or the presents. But I don’t think any doggie gifts have yet been placed there.

Lexie has already taught me many things. First, I can now type with a seven pound dog lying across my forearms. I can get up early and take her outside when I am not yet awake. I can carry seven pounds up and down my stairs. Although I had said I would never make the mistake of having a little dog sleep in my bed, I learned I actually enjoy a small cuddly pup curling up against me when I sleep, waking me with  puppy kisses and playing in my hair.

I had forgotten the delight of scooping into my arms a puppy who cries with excitement and anticipation when I come home. 

Without love, life would not be worth living, whether  the love of one person, a family, traditional or not, or a little furry creature who adores you and you go daft over. We human beings seem to never learn that to love is to risk losing that love. If we learn, we forget and love again and again when the time is right, when we can’t stand the quiet or stillness of our lives another minute.

I gave my heart away to four special dogs in the past and bore the pain of their deaths. I had told myself that I would never again let myself in for that grief. Like my aunt Judy after she lost Dixie, her beloved Eskimo Spitz, years ago, I felt I could not deliberately open my heart for more hurt. But here I am again in love with a dear little bundle of fur with alert eyes that look deep into my being. I almost see her brain turning  over and over the diverse options she has before she charges with direct decision into her next play.  

She befuddles me  with her eager actions and her confidence that all who come into  her  world will turn into babbling fools. They will hug and  kiss her, talk in strange tongue, and want to take her home. 

Gay, Dixie, Glenda on the right

Of course it is likely she will outlive me since little dogs of her sort can live 15 or more years. But I think we will grow old together, side by side, through tough times and during the times when skies are blue. Already my family is smitten with Lexie, and so are my friends. They tell me she has made a difference in me, and we have only been together for about two months.

I have already received  my best gift this year, and I plan to enjoy it for many Christmases to come.

Other posts you might like:

Holiday Memories 

Is there anything more fun than a new puppy?

Is there anything more fun than a new puppy?

I have now had a darling little baby, Lexie, for about three weeks, and she is controlling my life to a certain extent although I am determined not to spoil her.

She weighs only five pounds

How could anyone resist that little face?

Lexie is a Chi-Weenie, a mix of Chihuahua and dachshund. She has long ears that stand up like a jackrabbit's and a long body like a weenie dog. We think she is about three months old.

She is not the prettiest dog I've ever had, but she is loved. Barry and I always had dogs in our family for as long as we had a home, 45 years. A couple of years after Barry died, our sweet Rocky had to be put down. He had a terrible illness that I believe was a brain tumor.

I decided I would not get another dog. After all, they die on you. I wanted to be done with grief. I had lost my husband, three of my brothers, my parents, and a sister. I grieve over the loss of my pets just as I do a family member. Well, they are family members. At least all of our dogs were loved like a member of the family. They lived in our homes and were our constant companions. 

Brandy, the miniature poodle was our first. Barry gave him to me a week after we were married. Brandy soon owned us and we obeyed his every wish for nineteen years. Poodles are such people-dogs, that it is hard to leave them, even with someone they love. He mourned when we were away. After all, he didn't know if we were coming back. 

Our next dogs were Samoyeds, the most beautiful dogs in the world to me. Nicki died when he was only two years old from a mysterious malady the vet could not explain. Barry could hardly stand it until we found another snow white puppy and that was Kodi who lived to be fourteen. He was my shadow and I adored him. While I was grieving over having to put him down on Christmas Day, Barry found Rocky who had been put out on the road by the Chatuge Dam. And so began another love affair with a wonderful dog. He and Barry were inseparable until Barry passed away. Then Rocky realized he had only me and we were best friends going back and forth to Roswell where we visited family. I'll always remember Rocky as the most gentle, loving dog who let other dogs he liked, take his bed or eat his food. He would even let the cat have his bed.

Now after time has eased the pain of losing Rocky, little Lexie has come into my life like a bright star that had been waiting until the right time to fall into my lap. She is smart, too smart at times, and is going to be a great dog when she is house trained. She snuggles with me and sleeps nestled up beside me until I put her in her own bed. She sleeps there without making a sound until I wake up in the morning. 

There is more to Lexie's story and I'll tell it soon, but this is enough for now.

Poodle on a Noodle Reminds me of Brandy, my first dog

Recently at a writers’ conference, I met a delightful new author, Laura Parker, who stole my heart. She has written a picture book for children starring her ten pound black poodle, Casey. 

Casey

My husband gave me, for my wedding gift, a little bundle of black fur, a black miniature poodle we named Brandy, who ran my life, captured my love, and grew to be an important part of my family. Brandy sometimes ran away from home in the morning when I let him outside, but he never went too far. He trotted down the farm road to see my mother who let him into the kitchen and fed him hot buttered biscuits from her breakfast table. Why was that so unusual? Mother never let us have a dog in the house when we were growing up. Dogs belong in the yard, she told us.

Knowing how precocious and charming a poodle can be, I was intrigued when I learned about Casey and the book he inspired. Laura, the author and mama of Casey, is a cancer survivor and this book is the direct result of Laura's personal experience. A portion of proceeds is donated to help eradicate childhood cancer and other childhood diseases.

She and Casey live in Woodstock, Georgia, where my good friends, Jeff and Wanda live, and where Jeff is fighting cancer at this time.

Please visit Casey’s website and also read Laura’s blog.

And if you are inclined, purchase a copy of Poodle on aNoodle for some child in your life. They will love it and you will be helping to fund more research for childhood cancer.

Love Myself Week Continues

As loving myself week continues, I have been loved also by others.

                           Smokie, so tiny and adorable
 Keeping two precious little dogs for my sister, Gay, has given me the great opportunity to give lots and lots of love and get tons back. Smokie, the miniature schnauzer steals my heart when she looks at me and gets so excited simply because I am there.

Sunny is a Maltese mix, about three years old

Sunny, the larger fuzzy one loves to be in someone's lap all the time. I realized being with the two of them how much I miss my Rocky, and my Kodi, and Nicki and my first born, Brandy.

Sunny taking a breather from wrestling with Smokie

I can measure the life of my marriage with the life spans of these four dogs. Brandy, a small black bundle of curly fur, came into my life the week after our honeymoon, and he was with me almost twenty years. 

He was the mischievous and humanistic dog that won over the heart of my own dear mother. We say Brandy was Mother's favorite grandchild. 

I didn't search for Nicki and had no idea I wanted him in my life until a foxy friend asked me to keep him, a snow-white bundle of fur only a couple of months old, and before she came home, we had bought a dog house and a crate for him. She laughed later and said she knew she had hooked us and we would never think of returning him.

We lost Nicki before he was three years old to some malady the veterinarian never explained. I think we lost him because I was caught up in caring for my mother who was very ill at the time. I did not notice the signs of Nicki's illness until it was too late.

Kodi Beall more beautiful than my azaleas in south Georgia

Because of Nicki and how adorable he was, we soon found another Samoyd pup who was meant to be with us. Kodi gave us both such joy. One day while I was gone to work, he pulled a 100 foot water hose into the house through the pet door. It must have kept him busy for hours. He seemed quite proud of himself as he sat in the midst of it smiling as Sammys do. Kodi was my shadow and a good traveler. Already a decade old when we moved to the mountains, he had to learn to climb stairs for the first time in our house in Hayesville. But he did it and managed getting to the pet door and outside to his fenced yard then back up again.

Kodi developed corneal ulcers on his shiny black eyes and I had to drive him down to Athens Georgia to a dog ophthalmologist. The doctor scraped off the ulcers and inserted contact lenses for my dog to wear. We found out quickly that the only way to keep the lenses in was to put a bell collar on his neck. Poor baby. He hated that thing. And I hated it because he couldn't go out through the pet door. I had to let him in and out. 

While Barry and I loved our mountain house, the stairs became Kodi's nemesis and in time his hips began to fail him. He was thirteen years old when we set him free of his pain. I grieved so over that sweet dog that I thought I could never love another one. I didn't want another one and I said so loud and clear.

But, as my friend Debbie told me, God knew more about what I needed than I did. On a cold January day as we walked over near the Hiawassee River dam, we saw a handsome pup, black and tan, with a cropped tail, under a tree -- waiting. It was obvious to me he was waiting for whoever dropped him off there to come back and get him. He would have nothing to do with Barry who tried to pet him.

We talked about how awful it was for someone to abandon a young dog like that, but we came on home. Later, my kind-hearted husband couldn't stand it. Concerned about the pup, he took dog food over for him. About an hour later he arrived home with the mut.

I tried as hard as I could to find his owner, but he was certainly meant to be with us. Barry named him Rocky and the two of them were constantly together. While I don't compare my dogs, Barry said Rocky was the best dog we ever had. He was the only mixed breed, the only rescue, and he was indeed a wonderful dog. Hardly any trouble from the time he arrived. He loved to travel and we could take him anywhere as long as we took his bed. He was so gentle, he never bothered another dog or cat. When Tiger the cat moved in, Rocky came to love her so much he licked her like she was his puppy. She rolled over on her back and basked in his attention. He fell for Smokie, the miniature schnauzer when she came along and put up with her puppy bites even in his old age. 

He mourned Barry but consoled me during those difficult days and nights. At the age of fourteen, he became ill with something the docs could not diagnose. I believe he had a brain tumor. It almost killed me to have to put him down, but it was the only way to stop his pain. 

Rocky loved to ride in the convertible with Barry 

Now I have no dog of my own and I'm not sure I want to go through losing another loved one like that. I think I will continue to dog sit for Gay and Stu and get my puppy love from Smokie and Sunny.

My life has been enriched by my four legged friends. I can't imagine how much I'd have missed had I not had them. I can think of any one of them and smile. Some of my memories make me laugh out loud. Someday I want to write a book about each of them and how they made our lives so rich.

Rocky waiting on the deck for his master to come home

Do you have beloved pets? Want to tell us about them?

Cat stories - Tiger is a special Cat

I am passionate about animals, especially dogs and cats and horses. Today I met a lady at an assisted living facility. Beside her on the pristine sofa sat a black weiner dog, so well behaved I was amazed.

She said dogs were allowed in this lovely place and I was happy to hear that. I hope if I am ever living in such a place that I will be able to have a little dog with me.


I lost my beloved Rocky to a terrible illness that seemed like a brain tumor. Tiger my cat now rules the roost at this house. She follows me around the house and sleeps in the room I settle in. At night she likes to be on my bed. Although she has a pet door, she has trained me to get up and let her in and out. I think cats have extra powers that humans and dogs don't have.
I read a wonderful story by Gary Carden about his cat, Booger.
You can read it here. http://hollernotes.blogspot.com/2012/03/saga-of-booger-my-cat.html?showComment=1332909690609#c4432190223459307634http://hollernotes.blogspot.com/2012/03/saga-of-booger-my-cat.html?showComment=1332909690609#c4432190223459307634




Below are some photos of Tiger, resident cat at Writers Circle.

Coat looks lovely since she began eating chicken tartar

Tiger slept on top of a cassette player with a makeup bag on top of it. She found this a refuge from the visiting dogs