52 Notes

At the end of 2024 when I was (and many of us were) still reeling from what had just happened in our United States of America (the November election) I read somewhere on social media about an idea that gave me hope.

Write one note a week about something positive and/or happy that happened to you that week, fold the note and put it in a jar. At the end of the year read the weekly notes – all 52 of them; you might be surprised what you learn.

I’m big on projects and little on follow thru. But I did it. I wrote a note about something positive that I experienced every week. Some weeks it was a stretch to find something; some weeks I noted more than one thing.

Today I opened all the notes and read them. Some were surprising. Some were touching. Some made me laugh. They all brought back memories.

I broke them down into categories.

#1 Not surprisingly over 52 weeks I enjoyed time with friends and family (some from afar) 26 times. Lunches and brunches and many art shows and concerts and holidays. And laughter – lots of laughter.

#2 Again, not surprisingly was time spent with and devoted to my “Many Paws” – Sugar, Teddi, Kobie, Kona, Kazz, Hana, Hilo and Kukki. There were many Vet visits, many pharmacy runs intermingled with cuddles and laughter and the very sweetness of them just being. Of course the year ended with the devastating loss of Teddi but even in that I found gratitude for the compassion of the medical professionals and the comfort of friends and family all of whom were so supportive. 

#3 was time spent outdoors, often enjoying the beautiful weather in my beautiful Colorado. Walks listening to books. Walks with Sugar in her stroller. Walks with my camera. Walks with a friend when I was grieving. Sitting on the deck in the early hours of a summer morning reading and listening to birds, watching the squirrels, rabbit and the occasional little mouse scatter about.

#4 centered around my volunteer days as a shelter photographer and the time spent with the cats there who became so dear to me and gave me purpose. And time spent with colleagues there who have become dear to me as well.

#5 was the health issues I encountered and being ever so grateful for good doctors who guided me back to health. The health I do not take for granted and am extremely grateful for. As I age I am aware of the things I need to do and things I need not to do.

#6 was my home life ~ simple things like cooking a warm soup on a chilly night, making a fresh salad on a summer day, baking cookies for friends (and for me). Organizing my home and feeling good about slowly but surely purging and decluttering. Nesting as the winter approached.

#7 coming in as a last positive note was writing again. I started a new blog which, in retrospect, I didn’t need to do. I had a pretty good one going here so I’ll probably merge them at some point this year.

It was a really good exercise and one that I will continue in 2026. I am also adding that, me the photographer who forgets to take pictures of anything other than flowers and cats, am going to up my game on photographing more memories, more people in my life and the things we share.

What this experience has shown me is what a blessed life I am living and the importance of gratitude.

Life is a series of thousands of tiny miracles. Take notice of them. 

Waves

 Those waves are back. Those damn waves.

 They aren’t always gut punch I’m-going-to die-sobbing waves.  Sometimes something will remind me of a time with Teddi that I had forgotten. A happier wave if you will.

Truth be told I had a hard time bonding with Teddi. At times she tested my boundaries and certainly my patience ~ for which I am notoriously not good at.

But we did have moments. Moments when she would sit close to me on the couch and help me write or snuggle down into my blanket. 

She even stayed in bed with me when I had COVID one Christmas.

Times when we were in the car, she in her comfy car bed strapped in, buckled in the front seat next to me. She would shake and pant and look to me for reassurance. I would talk to her and she would calm down. A couple of times she almost fell asleep.

But it was Vet visits (of which there were many) when I could see that she loved me, that she trusted me. Although she was often poked and prodded, they all loved her there and she them. She trusted them and she trusted me to put her in their hands. 

And when she returned to me in the lobby and recognized me the little tail would wag and she couldn’t wait to be back in my arms.

One particular Vet visit memory came to me last night and gave me some comfort. Maybe you sent that memory, Ted? The Doctor had a concern about Teddi’s gall bladder and needed to do an ultrasound.

“Will she feel more comfortable sitting on your lap during the procedure? Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes and yes.” 

So the procedure began. Teddi had high blood pressure (she was on medication for that) and certain situations could stress her out and raise her BP. As a human with a similar malady I could relate…

At one point the Doctor said, “Her blood pressure is rising. Talk to her.”

So I offered some words of love, some words of encouragement.

Doctor – “Her blood pressure has dropped ten points, within normal range now. Good job!” 

That was the moment I knew Teddi and I had a bond.

Thank you, Teddi ~ wherever you are ~ for bringing me that memory. You were not just any dog. You were, indeed, incredibly special.

We did have a bond. Thank you for reminding me that in between hello and goodbye there was love. So much love. 

The Life of the Party

In mid March of 2020 it was becoming obvious that the world as we knew it was about to change drastically. This deadly thing called COVID 19 was spreading across the globe like wildfire. It seemed the only safe place to be was home.

At the same time we found our home without the dogs we had so loved. Our puppy duo of Kizzie and Koko had just passed within three weeks of each other. Grieving their loss and knowing that things were changing rapidly as shelters began to close down, erring on the side of caution due to the spreading virus, we had a decision to make.

Should we adopt another dog? Right now? Quickly? 

Yes.

I reached out to an all volunteer, all foster rescue PawsCo with an inquiry about a pup I saw on their website. A darling little pup, but his history with cats was unknown. We had six cats and we were really looking for a girl.

Long story short we were introduced to a pair of, if not sisters, at least half sisters who had been found wrapped in a blanket in a ditch. We were in the market for just one dog; but after hearing that story there wasn’t a question that we wouldn’t keep them together.

The smaller one seemed to have some neurological problems. She was wobbly on her feet and was possibly blind. She seemed to rely on the larger one. So all the more reason to keep them together.

Teddi was the smaller one. She was adorable. She seemed rather stoic and quiet. Once home she preferred to be close to the larger one, who we named Sugar. She slept a lot usually on a soft blanket on one corner of the couch.

She found comfort in being near one of us as well. Often she would be on my lap as I sat at my desk.

Or on the couch with me or the chair with Charlie. 

She didn’t seem interested in going for walks. I tried so hard to interest her in walking, enticing her with treats. The treats were great but the walking part – there was no interest. 

And try as I might she didn’t comprehend the difference between peeing outside and peeing inside. Eventually I conceded and just lined the house with washable pee pads. It was what it was. Later on realizing that yes, she really had suffered a traumatic brain injury, it was understandable that certain things just wouldn’t click for her.

Early on in her life with us I did the same things I had always done with dogs. I gave her little puzzles to do and games to play – naively thinking it would be fun for her. It ended up just being frustrating for her. I stuffed a Kong toy with treats and kibble. She liked that (she was always very treat driven). When she was finished and I picked up the toy, she bit me. That was a surprise. In retrospect, knowing she had been abused, it made sense. But at the time I was stunned.

I was beginning to get the message that Teddi was going to be a bit of a challenge. As time went on I realized that even more than a challenge she was different than any dog I had ever known. Car rides gave her great anxiety, often resulting in losing her lunch. 

As the years went on I put my perfectionism on the shelf and just let Teddi be Teddi. I joked that she was basically a cat disguised in dog’s fur. Charlie babied her and carried her to the door each morning and evening to go outside. (We still tried to maintain somewhat of a routine with her.)

Her job was to hold down the far end of the couch, often dozing off, sometimes observing the rest of the furries go about their day. For some reason she had it in for Kona the cat. Only Kona. She would stare him down before launching a fervent chase.

Over the years she softened. Even her little face softened. But what brought her to life in the funniest, cutest way was meal time. She danced around the kitchen, howling and yipping. I called it her baby elephant dance. She was so excited for her meals. Later when she was restricted to prescription food for her high blood pressure and hypothyroidism she would take one bite and walk away, eagerly awaiting her after dinner dental treat. She had me wrapped around her little paws.

Sometimes we would take her for a stroll in the dog stroller, thinking she would enjoy the fresh air. I honestly don’t think she cared one way or the other. She really was quite content to settle into her corner of the couch.

Despite her distaste for the outdoors, she would occasionally join us on the summer time deck. For a short time... It was always on her time...

I never thought she would be the first to go. So when her breathing became labored on that December day I expected there would be tests, new medication and we would be back home in a couple of hours.

I was wrong.

The house is more quiet now, especially at meal time. Charlie remarked one day that she really was the life of the party. Because as gentle as she could be, when the spicy, feisty chihuahua made it’s presence known, she was, indeed, a party girl.

Grief is the price we pay for love. And dammit it comes in waves and I know it will continue to come in waves for years. The point is not to drown, but learn to swim.

That’s the thing about loving animals. When you bring them into your life you know that some day you will say goodbye. We have no choice in the manner of their leaving, the timing of their leaving. That is out of our control.

My head knows that. I just wish it would tell my heart.