The Tears Rolled into My Ears, Darlin'

Its been a hauntingly quiet day here in the studio. The Mister has been gone helping his parents with some minor flooding in their basement. I'm missing Boo snoring on her bed... I've made such a comfortable, cozy nook for A-choo downstairs she no longer keeps me company here.  I took a break from work and put together a little photo-history of my Mom and her life for her 95th birthday next week.  

Mom's natural environment is the kitchen.

She's had quite a life that Mom of mine... She has done everything from pumping gas at the Conoco station she and my Dad ran when they were first married to butchering her own chickens and planting huge gardens to rocking babies to sleep in the hospital nursery where she was a night nurse. And somewhere in all that, raised five kids.

She makes THE best cinnamon rolls - omg - hot out of the oven with some butter - to die for. Her homemade noodles are thick and soft and delicious. I grew up in a Norwegian community (although I am 1/4 Dane and for some reason the Norwegians rank higher...). So I grew up with kumla (a sort of potato dumpling best when smothered in butter) and kringla (a kind of Norwegian shortbread - again best hot out of the oven smothered in butter). Gez, I never realized how much butter we used... explains why I'm allergic to dairy now.

She sews every day of her life - even now. She has an active social life with friends in her retirement complex and her church. I joke that I have a really nice relationship with her answering machine; she's never home!

She lost her husband of 62 years back in 2002 and I know she misses him to this day. But her response to what The Universe threw her back then was to stay busy.  Just stay busy.

I think that is where I learned to block sad things from my mind. Its why I may sometimes appear stoic or reserved. It's just how I deal. Until the other day when I had an acupuncture treatment and for some inexplicable reason two minutes after the acupuncturist left the room - tears began to flow. I started thinking about Simba and more tears. I thought about some other things that have transpired in this sucky year of 2013 - it has been a year of much loss - and more tears flowed. Lying there with needles in my arms and hands I couldn't move. So the tears ran into my ears. (Sounds like a country song, doesn't it?  The tears rolled into my ears, darlin'.) So at least then I could think about something else. Like how it was driving me crazy to have tears just pooling up there in my ears and I couldn't move to wipe them out.

Finally she re-enters the room and I ask, "Is this treatment supposed to make you cry?"

"It can."

"Well, it did."

We talked for a bit and she said, "I don't know you that well, but it seems like maybe you hold your emotions captive. That's not good. You need to let things out or the stress and the sadness and the anger will literally affect your health."  (Hmmm... high blood pressure.)

So rather than actually express my emotions I booked another treatment. Yup, that's me. I'd rather lie on a bed with needles in me than confront my emotions.

Until We Meet Again, Sweet Girl...

This is the post I have been dreading ~ but knew the day would come...

We said goodbye to our girl yesterday.  She made it to her sweet 16, but didn't last much beyond that.

In birthdays past she chomped on homemade peanut butter dog cookies

and homemade Pupcakes

She was a traveling dog from her early days and quickly adapted to long drives.

She made several trips to Iowa and was a good little hotel guest.  She traveled to the Bay Area in California and enjoyed a stop in Las Vegas on the way home.  She went to her first (and only) funeral in Peoria, Illinois and she loved downtown Chicago and the Omni Hotel and the North Shore.  On little "staycations" in Denver she was an honored guest at the Hotel Monaco (a blackboard in the lobby welcomed her) and she was a favorite at "Second Home" bar in the JW Marriott in Cherry Creek North.

She loved her Grandma

And visited Grandpa when she could.

Her neck would get tired - from holding up her big heavy brain - when she was "driving" (such a back seat driver) so we instinctively took turns helping her out.

And she was always happiest when we were on our way home.

She liked the mountains a lot.

And she liked being near the water

But not so much in the water.

And bridges - particularly swinging bridges  umm... nope.

She loved the park and knew every inch of our favorite trails.

She loved her Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Dick's Iowa farm because she could run wild and free off-leash.

She wasn't a fan of cold and snow ~ probably because I dressed her in warm coats.  I told her she was a fashionista.  Her Dad told her she looked ridiculous.

Her Aunt Christine (who she loved very much - and she showed this love by snarling at Christine every chance she got) gave her winter boots to protect her little toes.  She hated them.

It may have been why she snarled at her. 

She didn't like the rain much either.

She was half basenji and half blue heeler.  That translates to a feisty, whip-smart dog who sheds (basenjies don't shed), barks (basenjies don't bark) and yodels (basenjies do yodel).  

She liked the holidays and thought every present was for her.

And she loved her Grandpa and Gram - who were like second parents to her.

She tolerated her feline sister

And even liked her sometimes...

From the very start, she loved her Dad most of all.

And it was a love affair that would last her whole life.

She was funny

and beautiful

and full of surprises.

She was curious

and sniffed every blade of grass.

She was my every morning walking partner, my supportive studio mate, my sweet, sweet girl, my buddy. On September 11, 2001 while I sobbed watching the World Trade Center Towers fall, she sat right next to my feet all day to comfort me.  She didn't leave my side. Every day after Dad took her out for her morning tinkle she would bound up the stairs to my studio for her morning treat. The box sits next to my desk still. I don't want to move it. If I leave it maybe it means it didn't really happen. If I leave her bed in my studio maybe I'll wake up and this was all just a really bad dream.

She and I spent just about every day of her life together. We understood each other and loved each other. Very much. Saying goodbye to her is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. I miss her. I will always miss her.

The world is a little colder today and there are big holes in our hearts. She took a piece of both of ours with her...  Whatever will we do without our girl?

I like to think that she is wandering in lovely meadows chasing after bunnies and squirrels ~ free of pain and full of joy.  

I love you, Boo. Until we meet again...

Boda's Gift

Some things in life are so heart-wrenching it takes time to realize what has happened. There are, of course, the five stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  Some days I think I'm nearing acceptance; but then I find myself slipping back into denial and then all dressed in black here comes Mr. Depression again.

Because what happened two weeks ago just seems still so surreal that I'm stuck on... surreal.

My son was in the process of relocating and was not able to take his beloved cat. Long story short it was decided that 9 year old Boda cat would probably be better off staying in Denver with me, the Mister and our Senior Citizens

So Boda came to live with us

She was a shy kitty so we let her have her own space and observe the other four-legged furry people from a distance

Just as a matter of course we set up an appointment with our Veterinarian for a check-up for Boda later in the week.  After a couple of days we were concerned that she wasn't eating, so we moved the appointment up.

I won't go into great detail because dredging up all the facts is painful. Hell, looking at photos of her is painful.  Writing this (thru tears) is painful. Even thinking about all this is painful. Suffice it to say after many tests and examinations by two Vets, we learned the sweet girl had cancer and it was advanced.  We made the tough decision to say goodbye to her.

If anything can make that awful time less painful, our Vet did all she could.  She gave us as much time as we wanted with Boda ~ before, during and after.  We held her throughout and loved her beyond the end. The room was quiet and peaceful and reverent.  Oh and there were tears - lots of them. I remember at one point looking up thru my tears and seeing tears in the eyes of Dr. E.  That touched me so... 

But the pain didn't end there.Telling our son what had transpired was excruciating.

In the midst of all the despair, I had an epiphany, though. As I held that sweet girl and said goodbye, as I stroked her shiny black fur (that was another thing - she looked fine from the outside ~ made it all the harder); as I was saying goodbye I felt almost as though something from her came into me. A light bulb went off and I just knew. But I didn't say anything at the time; this was Boda's time.

Later that evening as we were driving thru the park on the way home from a business dinner (one that we had wanted to cancel but felt we couldn't) we were, of course, talking of Boda.  Out of the blue the Mister says, "I think we should adopt a cat. Not a kitten, an older cat like Boda."  

I almost cried. I probably did a little.  And I said, "I can't believe you just said that. Because I had that exact thought as I was holding Boda this morning and saying goodbye."

Things happen for a reason. We truly believe that Boda came into our lives for a reason. She opened our hearts and our minds to the possibility of welcoming another soul into our family. Our time with her was far too short. We had been so excited about having her with us. She was going to help us thru the transition ~ when 15.5 year old Simba and 20 year old A-choo passed on, Boda would be here for us. So the way it worked out was not the way it was supposed to go.

But she gave us a gift. In the months to come (or who knows - years?) ~ when we finally say goodbye to the one and only A-choo

the Mister and I are going to The Denver Dumb Friends League and adopt two adult cats. We really wanted to do it right away but out of respect for sweet ol' lady A-choo ~  we didn't want to stress her out in her final years.

But it is because of Boda and because of her gift that I knew I had to share her story ~ to honor her ~ to pay tribute to her. I hope she knows what an impact she had on us. 

I think this says it all ~ for dogs and cats

Thank you, Boda.  We love you forever and always.