Silent Sermon Sunday

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Has Homework To Do

I Couldn't Have Predicted

If you're a follower here at Your Mother Knows, you know it's my mission to share with you things I've learned regardless of the fact that it might not be something many talk about... I want to give you some advanced warning about some of these serious life questions.

The other day, my Best Friend Forever, Pam and I were talking about stuff and she said, "I just feel like I want to yell and scream!  I'm going to be 62 years old in a couple of months and I just did NOT think it was going to be like this!!"

Upon talking further, she was stressed over her daughter not realizing that the things she'd like Pam to do to make her life easier make Pam's life harder; things like watching her granddaughter 50 hours a week without being paid in order to help her daughter save money...

Or, her husband figuring that because she's home all day, she can deal with the house work and the gardening, the major home improvement projects, and the finances because, after all, he works all day and since she's home not doing anything important...! Pam's frustrated because doing everything she can for everyone else means that she doesn't have time or energy to do anything she likes to do for herSelf. And not doing anything for yourSelf leaves you worn out and cranky.

Really, it wasn't anything monumental that was so upsetting to her. Just the normal stuff of life being burdensome at times and everyone else thinking that they have it harder than you do, without stopping to consider how many demands they heap on your not-as-young-as-you-once-were head.

Pam uttered, "I feel like I blinked and my life is gone and now I'm this age and wondering how I got here so fast!! I don't have the physical stamina or mental determination to just go, go, go! Nor do I want to, I just want to say, 'Give me an effin' break!'"

Instead, she simply sucks it up and continues to soldier on. To a large extent, I think that's what most of us attempt to do.  We just keep going until we can't.  It helped when I explained that I feel the very same way.  Then I added, "I go to bed most nights and think to mySelf, 'Is this all there is?  Is there nothing more to life when you're older than getting up each morning, going through your daily routine, only to climb back into bed each night?'" While we age, does our scope and ability to influence or be relevant simply slip away?

I couldn't have predicted how fast it all flies by! How do you find the joy and passion in life when who you were is not who you are now?  You don't have the professional cache' you once had. You don't have the energy to attack the chores and interests you once loved. It seems you're more what you're not than what you are.  And, the critical question becomes, who are you when your face begins to show its age and your mind no longer has the elasticity and your Spirit seems to sigh a lot more than it used to?

When you're young, you have a curiosity about what comes next; the next acquisition; the next accomplishment; the next relationship.  When you grow older, the world seems to grow smaller and the thrill seems harder to find.  Why? Is it that way for everyone?

This is one of my favorite pictures of Pam and me, circa 1981. I'm sure you could tell thanks to big sunglasses and bags. Yes, that's me with curly, permed hair which was the rage in the Big Hair 80s! It's a candid that captures what she and I do best with each other- LAUGH!  A lot.  I mean, hysterical laughter over the simplest things. We are best friends even though she lives on the Left Coast and I am here in the east.  We don't get to see each other often, but that's not changed how close we are. We find comfort in our shared experiences because it always helps to not feel alone. I know I took comfort in our conversation because she confirmed a lot of what I feel and haven't said about this entire aging thing. If I feel as if I'm whining about something, I have a tendency to just not talk about it at all.  However, not talking about it sure doesn't help me to gain any clarity.

The fact is, no one tells us how to navigate this phase of life.  We spend way more time telling a young girl what's going to happen once she gets her period!  But, how to love life as your physical self slows down?  No, we don't talk about that at all.

This quote by Friedan is my hope about aging, but I'm not there yet.  I'm almost 62 and I know that by today's standards that's not old.  But it ain't young either.  I know I'm only 28 years old in my head where I live and it's sunny all the time.  While I also know that when someone looks at me driving down the road, they probably see an old or older woman driving.  How does one reconcile who they are in their Spirit with who they have become as a physical entity?  If you know, please tell me.

Friend, Sheena, gave me a missing piece to this big puzzle when we talked recently. She was explaining that her doctor suggested that she get a second opinion about a medical issue that they still have yet to nail down.  Sheena said, "I told the doctor that I would consider that, but not now.  Just now, I don't want to go chasing further; I simply want to take a breath and live life.  I'll give myself time to just be and not worry so much about every little thing."  And, that makes so much sense to me that I want to give her a huge hug.

Maybe the key to aging with joy and grace is to accept it as it comes without putting so much comparison of what used to be on it. Perhaps it's about managing expectations of yourSelf by doing what you can, walking away from what you can't, and being kinder to yourSelf.  Stop comparing who you used to be with who you are currently. When you're tired, stop. When you're fretting, take a breath and let it be. Focus on what you can do when you're sick of obsessing about all you can't do. Don't sweat the small stuff and remember most of it is small stuff.

And, realize that while aging takes a great many things away from your life, it also gives you moments of joy and a richness to cherish.  This picture is Pam and me, circa 2013.  We're at the wedding of that little girl who is sitting in the stroller in that first picture! Aging has given me the gift of some very deep and critically marvelous relationships.  If I can only help mySelf adjust to the day to day of it all, I'm sure I can find a lot more to be positive about, than fearful of, aging.

I sure hope Mr. Lewis is right. I know Pammy is equally hopeful.  I wish all of us the joy of deepening knowledge and understanding as we grow older. I hope we find far better things than those we had to leave behind. Finally, I hold fast to the adage, "Growing old is mandatory; growing up is not." If Peter Pan escaped the growing up bit, perhaps I can as well.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Knows It Goes By So Fast

Mirror, Mirror

It seems to me that if we have a wee bit of courage and an open mind and heart...

...if we develop enough fortitude to spend time with ourSelf; get comfortable with ourSelf; really take the time to examine what makes one singularly special and necessary; truly get to know who you are...

...if we fearlessly investigate what makes us happy and content.  If we learn what we want from life and expect of ourSelf... learn why we are here...  see what is possible and what we wish to accomplish...

...then maybe, just maybe...

...we can run through life with wonder, amazement and joy. Just like my beloved, intrepid Thoryn Peach whose mother, Alea, I have loved since she was that small.

I hope you find joy in your day and your life, just like Thoryn!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Still Learning About HerSelf

Only Four Questions of Value

This song continues to be my all-time favorite.  Can any of us really say why a song stands out so importantly?  Probably because of the time and place one first heard it.  Maybe it reminds us of a friend or lover and the poignant remembering of them.

Evan and I were talking one day about dating and how men and women are so different that it's hard to know what to do to make anyone happy.  I said, "If you want to know what women want, go listen, really listen to Bryan Adam's song, Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman?

He answered, "I wish I had money for every time a girl has said that to me..." then I countered, "If that many females have said it, then it's really simple to do your homework and listen.  It's a roadmap for what to do."

So why is this song so wonderful? For me, it's the Flamenco guitar played so fluidly by the great late, Paco de Lucia and the dreamy waltz quality of the music. And most certainly it's the intensely personal lyrics.  It's the passionate, intimate way that Adams sings this song.

I suppose I love it because it takes something so complex and boils it down to the essence of how to live when one is in love.

And for my readers who can't get enough of Johnny Depp, feast your eyes on this one while you listen to Chris Daughtry croon his version of this glorious song.

"There are only four questions of value in life...
 What is sacred?
 Of what is the spirit made?
 What is worth living for?
 And, what is worth dying for?
The answer to each is the same; only love."

Go through you day with love as your focus.  And know that women and men aren't that complicated. We simply hope for a love that we can see and feel every day expressed in the little things.  For, the little things are always the big things.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Loved and Grateful

It's All Good

Which ever day you are facing, live it.  And know it's all good.  Nothing is ever wasted.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Lives

A Hard One

I did say this.  A friend liked it and made a poster of it.  I said it because I work at this a lot.  It's a hard one for me.

I still have a tendency to attempt driving the car forward by using only the review mirror.  It can't be done. What is behind me is simply known to me, not what was best of my life.  Not the most amazing part of my life, certainly not always the happiest part of my life.  It's simply the part that is known to me.

I misdefine the quality of my life because I don't live in the present.  What's going on around me goes unappreciated.

Do I give up the joy of discovery and the happiness in the now by constantly looking at what is gone from my life?

Do I stop mySelf from making new relationships because I only have room for all of those people who are important to me but now gone?

Are the people I knew more fascinating than the people who are now here or may be coming along?

Do I define mySelf by what I have lost instead of by what I have gained?

I think, maybe too much, I do.Which is too bad because constantly looking back holds me stuck emotionally.  And mentally.

Looking at the now helps me to live, and hoping for what's to come can add the spark of hope that we all need.

Be diligent. The Human tendency to seek the known, the comfort of what was is so strong that we don't even realize when we're no longer living forward.  No longer looking forward.

Be diligent.  Focus Forward.  Nothing we have ever experienced is lost to us.  It's always a part of me, but only one part.  The other part is yet to come.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

Out of The Blue

Out of no conscious thought of mine, the blue Medicine Buddha has appeared and taken up a great deal of my mind.

Generally, I spend time with Green Tara and occasionally White Tara may visit.  Even though I am a Reiki Master Teacher, the Blue Buddha has never spoken to me before.  But, I suppose my chaotic mind, which is so different from how I generally operate, has attracted this Great Divine Healer.

I am humbled.

Like any new relationship, it takes time to develop.  I had to do some research on this beautiful being. It's fascinating to learn that this Master Healer doesn't simply work on the physical disabilities and diseases that trouble so many.  He also works on healing the spiritual and emotional bodies.

I was very sick through most of January.  Now I am feeling better physically but exceedingly tired. My energy has seeped out and seems lost.  I walk about doing my chores and tasks without enthusiasm.  My emotional and mental bodies are slow, like how one is upon first waking.  A slight disconnect, a fuzziness that keeps me from seeing the colors brightly or feeling my feelings sharply.  I hope the Divine Healer will help sweep away the dust that covers my third eye.

One quality of this Being of which I was not aware is that he works on removing fear, panic, and intractable thinking.  Medicine Buddha softens our thoughts and turns them toward what is true and compassionate.  The world sure can use this right now.

And, I feel that my recent treatment from others has so stunned me that I am like a beacon of need. True need. In this moment.  At this time.

The Medicine Buddha reminds me that just as a cart follows the horse, my body follows my thoughts so I must remember to think positively and realistically.  I must remember that I am neither horse nor cart, but both. I am both.

I can see the clear blue light that comes from him especially at night before I drift to sleep.  It is the beauty of a cobalt blue bottle sitting in a sunny window.  The fascinating deep blue light streams in, captivates, and brings peace.  A deep breath.  A sigh.  A moment of comfort.

The Medicine Buddha is the color of lapiz lazuli.  The miracle stone.  Interestingly, my thyroid has been on the fritz and my doctor and I are working to bring it back into its normal way of being. I think I will wear this stone for awhile.

There are no coincidences when it comes to The Divine.  The Creator of All That Is, knows me and loves me.  And, I have been reminded that what is needed is always provided.

"Dearest Healing Buddha, please show us the power which heals all beings, removes the ignorance and obscuration of all beings and empower us to perform the great work. Let the minds' timeless light be recognized inside of me."

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Grateful

Being Kinder Starts With...

...It's said it starts with yourSelf.  Whatever you want to push out into the world, if it's to be real and genuine it starts with really owning it and being it. The work starts from within and emanates.

I think that must be the hard part...it's always easier to see what's out in front of you.  Sometimes we forget the point of origin.  We forget to add ourSelf to the list of those who should get something good and meaningful.

This is my goal: To remember to give to me what I would so freely give to others.  To hone my kindness to what is real.  What is true.  What is of value.

If you feel I'm not giving as much to mySelf as I give to you, won't you be gentle and remind me? My spirit will love you for it.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Wishes To Be Truly Kind

FaceBook Killed My Blog, Then Politics Killed My FaceBook

It would seem that the immediate gratification of communicating with each other via social media platforms has really taken a bite out of blogging.  I guess the chance to reach more people is just too enticing.  But, when I think about the fact that I started Your Mother Knows as more or less a diary or repository for my thoughts, I'm not sure why I've drifted from it.

That's not correct- I drifted from it primarily because I have to invest more energy in my writing here versus the hit and run communication that I do on social media.  Hell, Twitter has been the best editor I've ever worked with because only having 146 characters at my disposal means get to the point.



So, I am back again because I absolutely, at this time, EFFIN' hate facebook.  Or more to the point, I hate the way people are being pre- and post election on facebook.  The amount of hysteria, hate, inflammation, craziness, panic, angst, fear is way beyond even what I experienced with Bush Derangement Syndrome. I'd even venture that if you asked any liberal if they'd take the current President Trump or have back President Bush, they would scream, "Bring George Back To The Oval Immediately!!!" That should give anyone perspective on the current level of crazy and backlash against the new 45th President of these UnUnited States.



As a PR person, I'm fully versed in how it feels to stand in front of a group and make a statement only to be blasted in response.  The ability to stand there, not react, and continue to try and discuss takes years to master.  It is very hard not to take it personally.  I'm proud to say for the most part of my career, I succeeded.  Not that I didn't go back to my office muttering, "ASSHATS!!!!," while slamming my office door.  Hell, I am only Human!

Yesterday I signed off of FB wishing everyone well.  I have had enough!  I am over seeing posts suggesting the end of the world and civilized society.  I'm done with reading things that would make one believe that I'm somehow a hideous Human because I voted for Trump. Or that I am somehow morally inferior to my friends on the left. I am finished with reading, "HAPPY NOW?!," every time someone at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue so much as picks up a pencil.

Here's what I can say to all my fellow facebook posters:

I can be somewhat concerned over some of the news coming from The White House without wishing they would start Impeachment Hearings for the new president.

I can be Pro-Choice and Anti-Abortion because of over-broad abortion policies. I can be Pro-Choice and strongly believe tax dollars should not be used to support clinics that provide these procedures.

I can be Pro-Access without having my taxes pay for your birth control. If you use it, pay for it yourself. I paid for mine.

I can be Pro-Birth and not Anti-Woman.

I can be Pro-Life and see the reasonable desire of some to be peacefully freed from the pain of their failed bodies.

I can be a champion of immigration and still believe it should be done within the legal limits the laws of this country have drawn. I can believe that if you are here illegally and have found yourself facing our legal system, you should be permanently deported.

I can be a conservative in regard to spending and rather socially liberal.

I can be a supporter of the Gay and Lesbian community without being a Democrat!

I can wonder about the complexities of Trans-Gender without judging the individual.

I can be white without being racist.  I can vote for a Republican candidate and support Human Rights.

I can multi-task and hold various opinions and like every other Human Being on this earth, I can be more than one-dimensional on any issue you might wish to discuss and debate.

What I am not willing to do is have every single thought or comment I post on my wall used as fodder for people who simply want to pick a fight.

What I am not willing to do is be judged by Liberals or Conservatives.

I am not willing to fill my day with people who want to live with the drama instead of looking at the facts. Or, shout at me if I attempt to respectfully post the facts.

I am not willing to fill my wall with people who do not want to listen to any opinion that varies from their own.

Or, with people who lecture me on my choices.

I am not willing to deal with people who think access to my page on social media means you can say whatever you want to me! I did not Friend you on facebook to fight!

STOP!  Just stop!!!!  I used to be paid to let people blast me for my comments, but I'm not getting paid any longer to listen to your shit!!!!  I call DONE!

I'm to the point of absolutely wanting to slap people, which is about me, not really them.  People are going to be who they are.  And as infuriating as it is to me right now, they have the right to do and say what they wish. If I don't like it, I have to go.  Exercise my options... vote with my feet.  So, here I am back to my blog once more. Why?  Because I'm a communicator and I have a deep desire to reach out and connect with others. Because I am a writer and the need to hone my craft is a niggling itch that never goes away. Because I am a Human Being and need someplace safe to process my thoughts.

Right now, we have a brand new President in the Oval Office.  Personally, do I like the man?  I DO NOT KNOW because I don't know him, personally.  News flash, neither do you!  Do I think I might not want to have him as a personal acquaintance?  Leaning very much toward, yes.  But, then again, if I knew the man personally, I might change my mind.



Because I voted for him, does it mean that I think him the perfect candidate?  NO.  However, as unorthodox as is his personal style of communicating, he didn't keep me up nights worried as much as the idea of Mrs. Clinton sitting in the Oval.  So, I voted my conscience from strictly a political point of view.

My pulling that lever on election day did not automatically turn me into a hater of Immigrants, LGBT, Muslims, Women, The Environment, Climate Change Theory, Little Children, Education, Social Programs, Those In Need, The Poor, and whatever else you might want to throw into the Shit Stew that is currently life in America.  I am the same person.  The very same person.  If you genuinely were my friend before I voted, you should respect me and understand that we don't have to agree on every single thing.

I am adult enough to understand that I do not have to like a person personally in order to understand they might be the best person for the job.  I may hate their personal style, but their resume of success is enough to prove why they are sitting in the seat.  And, even more, I trust in the Will of The American People and our process of government!

But, our world is not the same place.  Instead we now live in a world where the only thing of value is a person's feelings and their right to hurl them at others!  Their feelings are the only thing of paramount importance.  Their feelings; not yours.  We no longer understand the value of taking a measured stand on issues.  We no longer teach the importance of putting what's best for the majority ahead of what we might want as an individual.  We no longer view the world via a Servant's Heart. We do not know what it means to be a good citizen, instead we just want to be emoting bags of FEELINGS!

We have turned social media into a tool for acting out. We don't use it as a platform to learn from each other or where we share common ground.

I cannot abide the hysteria.  Can't abide the complete and total denigration of a man who has been on the job for about two weeks.  Most of us starting a new job are lucky to remember where the bathrooms are within the first two weeks, but can we give the guy whose office is in a complex as complicated as The White House a chance?!  Oh, HELL NO!  We can't be reasonable.  We can't take a wait and see position.  We can't act like Human Beings instead of a mob out to kill The Monster.

And, the war continues with this next chapter of the presidency with the Democrats and Republicans in Washington just as bad if not worse.  The Democrats are going to fight like fiends against any and everything because that's what their base demands.

We certainly can't be civil in our discourse.  We can't discuss with each other.  We cannot listen to each other.  We don't want to think, analyze, garner facts... we just want to react.

We want the toxic feeling of drama coursing through our hearts and minds- living as if our hair's on fire!

But, I don't.  I don't want it even for a few minutes much less Every. Single. Minute. Of. The. Day. as it is currently in Social Media.

I've lost friends, (by that I mean FB friends, which aren't really real.  It's not like the ones who unfriended me ever spent one real-time minute sitting and looking at me while we talk,) because of a man I don't know personally.  I've been unfriended over my civic duty of casting my vote. I've lost friends who got so mad reading comments made by others on my posts, that they decided I am not worthy of their time and energy. Sadly, I have had one or two people who have known me awhile in real time simply turn on me, too. Was it because I baited them or belittled them? Nope; it was because I had the audacity to give them my differing opinion on the posts on their walls.

Concurrently, I had several people message me off facebook basically asking why I tolerate people talking to me as they do.  And that's been my conflict; feeling personally savaged while still attempting to stay true to my core belief that dialogue is the only thing that can save us.  That being open is the only possible answer to our annihilation. But, when a young friend of mine, a guy whose take on the world is pretty solid and grounded, texted me to say that he found me way more tolerant and civil than he could ever be, it started my wheels turning...

Am I allowing mySelf to be abused by others simply because I believe so strongly in the importance of letting people express themselves?  The answer came back, "Sadly, yes."  Eventually I picked being kind to mySelf over the need for others to be crazy on something as inconsequential as a social media platform.

So be it. I'm done with it for now.  Eventually, I may go to see what people are posting about their dogs or their kids. I may want to see what new recipe someone has found and really likes.  But not until I can control mySelf and not want to bitch slap people who have been fucky with me simply because they can get away with it.

For believe me, I don't care how passionately you feel about things, I guarantee that you do not have the courage to be in the same space with me and talk like that.  You wouldn't have the nerve because you'd be looking into my eyes and you could not deny that I am a Human Being standing there being excoriated by you...

...over matters that neither YOU nor I have the power to control.  Over matters which, on the day to day, do not change how you live from the time you wake till you crawl back in bed at night.

...over people whom we will never know personally.  Instead, on a stupid social media platform, you'll lecture me from your moral high ground of superiority about how I should be tolerant of all social issues and people while you are completely intolerant of me or others having any opinion that varies from your own.

Hypocrite.  Let me give you a few minutes to yank that blank from your eye before you start searching for the splinter in mine. I want you to see clearly when you see me. As sad as it might be, I can live without you being kind, for which I've given up all hope. But, I cannot and will not abide people who refuse to be civil when I can simply stop your access to my space.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Done With facebook, For Now

How To Be The Son In A Life

This is my friend, Coke, as we all have called him most of his life.  His real name is Constantine.  He says he was almost in the third grade before he could write his name without errors.  You might have that problem, too, if you had to write Constantine Lee Hagepanos over and over with those big thick pencils.

We've been friends for a long while now.  We met in college; he was a photographer for the University's newspaper.  He captured one of my favorite images one morning during the dark ages of in-person student registration.  It's only one of the thousands of images he's captured with his camera. He probably doesn't even remember this one but it's special to me.  It was the start of a years long friendship.  In many ways our lives have paralleled.  We could be brother and sister from different mothers based on similar life experiences. Heck, we even have the same middle name!

Coke has always marched to the beat of his own drum and many times that's not been the easiest march.  He's a people rescuer.  He will do anything for someone that he likes, or admires, or loves, or just because he's encountered them and they need help that he can give.  Sometimes his willingness to help another has been at personal cost to himself.  Sometimes he's invested in someone who really didn't deserve all his help.  Sometimes they proved unworthy of his gift.  But, more often than not, anyone who has encountered Coke becomes better for his investment.  He is one of the best friends a person could have.

A recipient who is worthy of Coke's investment is his mother, Callie.  She is a wonderful spirit of quiet wit and wisdom.  She has not had an easy life.  She missed out on much of the joy one should expect from those around them. And as she has grown older, with significant health issues, Coke has been torn as to how to help her.  He has brothers and sisters, but as is often the case with family dynamics, it's generally one child who shoulders the burden of the many decisions of caring for and about an aging parent. Not that the other children couldn't or wouldn't take care of the parent, but generally there is one who the parent will allow to care for them.  For Callie, that child is Coke.

To wit, Coke, who had a very interesting life in Germany working as an Ex-pat for a major banking concern, decided to come home and move in with Callie.  Not that he felt he had to, but because he genuinely felt it to be his calling. He invested major personal wealth into clearing out and rehabbing the small bungalow he grew up in so life for Callie would be easier. He has centered his life on taking care of her physical needs.

Yesterday, peacefully, Callie shed this world of ours and has gone on to The Next Place.  Coke's tour of duty is now complete.  He has done for his mother what he has done for so many of us-- he has seen her safely home.

For any who have had the experience of taking care of a parent as the world around them slips slowly away, we understand what it can take out of a person.  But, I have never heard Coke utter more than a few casual complaints about it all.  Mostly, he just viewed it as a duty and necessity and shouldered on.

He always seems to find a sense of purpose or contentment with a day.  And now that Callie's part in his life is complete, I know he will find even more definition as a beloved Pop to his small grandson. He will continue his work as mentor and guardian for his nephew.  He will always be the father who loves his daughter through all the phases of her life.  And I will hold hope, thanks to Coke's example with his mom, that his daughter will understand what love in action looks like when Coke's time of need unfolds.  He will always be to the rest of us, one of the best friends we have.

I know Callie is at peace.  I hope for the same for my friend.  Because he deserves it.  He's earned it. And if I can ever return the favor of being his friend in anyway, I hope I can do so as well as he has always been a friend to me.

I know one thing for certain; there are thousands of sons in this world of ours.  But there are a rare few, like Coke, who work to be the sun in a parent's life.  A Son who views it as his duty, to return to that parent the gift of life and caring.  A son who instinctively knows how to be the joy that a parent deserves from life-- especially when the joy goes missing.



Coke is my Friend; he's become Michael's Friend.  He is Callie's Son.  And he is often the Sun in our lives especially during those times when the darkness is closing in and we are completely afraid that we'll never see the light again.

May Callie go forth shining.  And may all of us who call him friend be there to help Coke continue to find the joy in life now that this chapter closes and he looks forward to what comes next.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Coke's Friend

Over A Year In The Making

It's taken me over a year to write this post.  I'm still not sure I'm up for it, but at this point I know it won't ever be my best work, or the easiest to construct; certainly it won't be easy to read, ever.  But, there you have it.  Some of the most necessary writing is the worst to create.  On the steps together are Argyle, Rory, and Fiona.  It's one of the last times I was able to capture an image with the three of them.  On January 29, 2015 Michael and I said farewell to Rory and Fi and sent them together on their journey to The Rainbow Bridge.

For any pet parent, the decision to do this is the worst.  I call it the Hideous and Heroic Thing. Hideous because you are making the decision to end the pet's life.  Heroic because, in all cases, the decision comes when you can almost hear your beloved pet whisper, "Oh thank you for loving me enough to end my suffering."

We decided to do it this way because Rory & Fiona had spent every day of their lives together after being born 10 days apart.  Fiona was first and from the same sire different dam.  Rory always looked to Fiona to tell them what they should do.  I never once saw him question her authority.  As they got older, if he didn't agree with her, he'd simply ignore her, but he never once challenged her.

In the end, they were only nine years old and both were dealing with very unexpectedly serious issues.  With Rory, I tried for two years to get him well-- after all, it was just a skin issue!  With Fiona, her cancer showed up out of the blue and as there is no cure for Transitional Cell Carcinoma of The Bladder- TCC for short, well, I just hung my head, opened my hands, and yielded to The Creator with this defeated prayer, "I can't do this any longer.  My life is consumed with trying to keep them together body and soul.  And, I am failing.  They deserve better.  I love them too much to keep them here."  Her cancer was the final straw.

I think I now understand how a parent of several children, one of them with special needs or serious behavioral issues, must feel torn.  All the energy goes to keeping the child at risk or in need together. At some point, though, in a moment of calm, your attention is attracted by your good child who never makes demands on you, always does as you ask, tries to help you care for the sick child, and never ever has your time. You think, "Oh you beautiful child how unfair this all is for you..."

I looked at sweet Argyle and realized he was getting more than the short end of the stick. Rory and Fiona had never bonded with him.  They learned to live with him.  They accepted he is part of our pack, but they never really interacted with him. Toward the end, I would see Fiona cleaning Argyle's face and I'd often them see them laying near each other, but the same can't be said of Rory.  In fact, it was a couple of months after Argyle came that I noticed a quarter sized red, wet, raw spot on Rory's side.

And that took off like wild fire; Rory became beyond miserable with a skin issue that no one could identify and nothing helped.  I became like a Valkyrie trying to heal him.  Eventually, it got so that My Silly Boydog wanted nothing to do with me or anything around him.  He was that miserable and uncomfortable.  And THAT, that was the moment I felt my heart break.  My Beloved Boydog, my Silly Boydog avoided being near me.  Just because I was constantly trying through baths, and potions, and pills, and powders, and oils, and, and, and....he just couldn't stand it any longer and neither could I.

Fiona, my little die-hard was much different.  First, she developed Cushing's Disease which, for me, was no big deal to manage.  I'd had a Cairn Terrier with it so I knew what to expect. Her drug, while expensive, kept her symptoms well controlled.  At its start, Cushing's is really a quality of life issue before it actually begins to effect the organs enough to make it a life threatening disease.

So long as the Bossy Bess got her two square meals, treats, and her bonies to gnaw on, things were good.  Then one day, she began having trouble peeing and there was lots of blood. We thought it was a bladder stone, but when she got to surgery, well, it wasn't that.  My vet called from the OR to give me the news that he'd found cancer. And that moment is when I felt my heart and back break.

There's no cure for TCC.  And, although the scientists at Purdue University are working like Trojans to find answers, any answer wouldn't come in time for our girl.  There are a rare few Scotties who go through treatment and come out cancer free.  Most of the time, an owner only gets a few hard months with their dog before the dreaded day comes.  And, those months are far from quality.  Far from...

Michael and I talked it over.  I called some very close Scottie friends to tell them what we were facing and to ask for their input. And, like I said, I finally offered my prayer of defeat or maybe it was a prayer of final acceptance, and we made the decision.

My husband made the observation, "I think, even though Fiona still feels pretty good, we should send them journeying together.  Fiona would be fine without Rory here, but I honestly don't think Rory could cope with the leaving of Fiona on top of how physically miserable he is feeling."  I couldn't have agreed more with that assessment.  At the same time, I knew my mind would snap if I sent Rory on and in six months or less, was looking to take that final walk with Fiona.  Call me weak, but I just could not do it.  "I think we should send them together; they've spent every day with each other. Let's allow them to take this final walk with each other," whispered Michael. I nodded.

Mike called our vet; he immediately said he thought we were making the right decision.  He agreed to bring a tech with him to our home where we could let them go surrounded by the familiar and loved ones. I said to Dr. Roman, "I'm afraid I'm cheating Fiona out of time."  He answered, "Holly, I think you're doing the right thing here.  Most of the time, we euthanize an animal on the worst day of its life.  It makes it that much more terrible for the family and the pet.  Allowing them to go when they are still a bit happy with life is a blessing."  I won't ever forget him saying that.

The end was quiet and peaceful as these journeys are generally.  I held Rory in my arms and Michael held Fiona.  And all too soon, their time with us was done.  We had them cremated together and their ashes wait, with all my other beloved dogs, to be blended with my ashes when the time comes for my journey to The Bridge.

Why has it taken me so long to record this in a blog?  It's not as if it was my first experience taking that final walk with a dog.  It won't be my last.  I think it's because of the immense impact it's had on me spiritually.  I think the two years of struggling every day with them, most especially Rory, had imprinted me with some form of post traumatic stress.  I didn't want to talk about it, even though I knew there were many kind souls who would listen. I could not find the words to express my feelings and thoughts.  I could not find the way to tell the story without covering every, terrible, harrowing detail of the struggle we'd gone through.  And, if I can't tell a story in a way that is clear and succinct, well, I'm not going to tell it.

So, I didn't write about it here although my friends on Facebook knew what was happening and their outpouring of grief and prayers and good wishes was a true balm to our souls.  It was heart healing to hear how many people had come to love our Scotties through my writings and how we shared them in pictures.  It really, really made clear how people can help immensely while you grieve even though there is so very little they can do.

I didn't write about it, because things on this blog have great meaning for me.  I didn't write about it here because I was simply too heart sick to attempt telling the tale.  I didn't write about it here because I was emotionally exhausted.  I didn't write about it here because I needed a break from all the sadness.  I didn't write about it here because I simply wanted to dwell is some joy with the sweet boy still with us.  I wanted to concentrate on Argyle who so patiently and stoically never interfered or insisted on having his way.  I didn't write about Rory & Fiona's death because I needed to concentrate on living with Argyle and Michael.  I didn't write because I couldn't.

An entire year later, I realize that my not writing about their death has left a bit of business undone. I've not given Rory and Fiona their moment of final glory by articulating how much they meant to me and how much their going has altered me and, hopefully, deepened my ability to care and be a Human Being.

A year later, I find mySelf wanting to record this and thank them for being such a marvelous part of my life.  I write to say how lucky we were to have brought Argyle into our home.  He helped us through our sadness by being with us and loving us quietly without demands.  He adapted quite easily to being an Only Child.  His uncomplicated and sunny personality truly helped me to return to life. He bonded to Michael and has chosen him as His Person.  He loves us both, but he totally loves sitting in Mike's chair in the evenings.  It's been sweet to watch him bloom after the shade of illness, sadness, and sorrow was ended.



The thing about life is that it does go on.  Life does move on, even though many of us mourners resent that it does.  While I don't hate that life progresses, I now realize that grief is not something to get past...it's a process that changes who one is- how one identifies themselves.  Grief is the fire that can deepen our Spirit and expand our ability to be compassionate.  Grief is the price we pay for having been given the grand gift of love.  And, I wouldn't avoid the grief at the expense of not loving.

So life has moved on here at Casa de Frock.  Michael and I talk about Fi and Rory quite a lot and it doesn't hurt us now when we do.  Argyle continues to be a handsome, loving, funny Scottie. He's our sweet Brindle Boy, (Except when the mailman or the UPS guys have the nerve to breach the Scottie Perimeter of Hostility, e.g. come to the front door.)

 And to prove that life rolls on, well almost a year later...

Here is the newest member of our Pack...please say hello to our baby Sweetie Wheatie!  This is Rabbie Burns MacCelti.  He is full of life, energy, and play.  Happily he and Argyle are bonding together nicely.  Argyle is the perfect mentor to teach him manners and how things work.



Not quite four months old and he has a chipmunk kill to his credit.  Somehow, I just know Rory was purring, "Auck, Laddie, ah am sae verra prrrrroud of ye!" While Fiona is saying, "Move over, time to eat!  I just love me some fresh Munk."

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who is Mum to Argyle MacPiper & Rabbie Burns MacCelti

Silent Sermon Sunday

This week,

May you know that

Each new day holds

potential.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Hopes

The Many Faces of Love

This is the chair in my office.  As I sit here typing to you, it's directly behind me.  That's Argyle laying there taking a snooze.  I generally never know if he's there because he's very quiet and sneaks in to rest.  He's allowed in the chair, so it's not as if he's trying to pull one over on me, he's just very quiet in the house.  The only time he's acting The Wild Highlander is when he's outside being part of the Midnight Bark or returning salvos of information down the long country road to tell the farm dogs what's going on up here on his end of the road.

I notice as time goes on, he's been with us two years now, he's very often here in the office with me.  It makes me happy.  And, it makes me feel safe.  But, today as I sit here listening to Christmas songs, it occurred to me that it also makes me feel loved.

Now, you need to know something about terriers: they are not, let me repeat, are NOT lap dogs.  They aren't necessarily all that cuddly.  If you want a dog who needs, wants, demands to be with you all the time, you'd best consider a Pom or a Poodle, or any number of breeds, just not a terrier.

It's not that they aren't social or pack animals because terriers certainly are, it's just that they're not needy that way.  Let me see if I can tell you how it goes with them:  A terrier goes about its day and every once in awhile they realize they should check to see where you are and if you are where they left you.  Once they determine that all is the way they want it, they go about their business and allow you to do the same.

This part of the terrier personality is one of the reasons I've always been drawn to them.  But, I will admit, there are times when I wish that I had a snugly, lovey dog who just wants to curl up with me all the time.  Times like now, when Christmas is here, and sentimentality takes on a life of its own and can swamp me with emotions.  Just having a wee soul that thought of me as the center of its universe and that could take the place of those I wish I was with for the holidays but will only be with in spirit.

A dog to curl up on me when I'm sitting exhausted from all the doing that the holidays brings on the ribbons and bows trailing through our lives.  A quiet presence that makes me relax as we sit together and just rest. 

But, alas, I have terriers.  And, it's just not their way.

So, when I turn around and see Argyle, it occurs to me, that I feel loved when I spy him there.  Even though he's doing his thing, he's doing it in the same room.  And, it reminds me that he likes resting with me someplace close by.  He's deliberate in his choice of where to be...  he loves me in his way on his terms.

And, that's what I wanted to say today.  Love, comes in many different aspects and is presented to us in ways some subtle and some overt.  But, love, like most profound emotions generally doesn't shout; instead it slips in and fills us up.  Like Argyle quietly slipping up into the chair to rest as I work.

This holiday season, I hope you have the gift of awareness to discern and accept the aspects of love that are in your life, especially if you are struggling with feeling loved or are missing special folk.  I hope you can let go of the ideas you have about what love is and is not, and instead, open your hands and hearts to the love that is there, all around, subtle, quiet, waiting.  Love that is yours as a gift from The Creator who sends out the very best for all us, especially at this holy and profoundly moving time of the year.

Thank you, Argyle, for reminding me of the many faces and facets of  love.  We brought you home, two years ago for Christmas.  You continue to be a wonderful gift who makes me smile.  I love you, too. Yes, I understand you're trying to rest here.  I'll be quiet now.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Argyle's Mommer

He's Become So Important To Me

 It's funny how some people have a way of entering into you thoughts and even heart almost as soon as you meet them.  He's one of those.  I knew straight away during the first meeting that this is a man who has lived his life as fully as possible, holds few grudges, loves to laugh and make others laugh.  He is the sort who wants you to feel comfortable when you sit with him.

Oh, he is the consummate sales man; was a traveling salesman for years and years before being offered a big job with Hanover Shoes.  Many of the people in Hanover owe him for giving them their first and perhaps only job.  He's well known, and well respected.  He loves the ladies, likes to make them feel special, pretty, necessary.  Likes to flirt, but not in the smarmy, icky way.  He's just the sort of guy you want to give a hug even if you don't know him very well.

He is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. He's had his demons and issues with which to contend. And, as he has grown older, he's grown up and expanded his views on things.  He successfully raised eight children, survived the death of one of them way too early, and now listens to the stories of grand children and now the start of great grand children.

He's battled a significant battle with cancer that has ruined his jaw, stolen his eye, and marred that adorable face.  He's always been a bit vain about his looks; so now he doesn't like to go out much and he feels less than because his looks have been changed.  He is sad about all that he's lost through this fight. But most days, you can still easily see that twinkle in his good eye and he still loves to laugh.  Watching him go through all of this really has been an example of the tenacity of the Human spirit to thrive.  I have come to admire him a great deal through this long, hard ordeal.  And, my sister-in-love, Theresa who has been there every day for him truly gets my applause and admiration for all she's done to bring him this far.  It's been no easy feat for her and her family. 

He admits that he's becoming tired and ready to give up the fight.  He's all right if the Creator calls him home, and proud of all his children have done and become.  He classifies his life as a 'great one.'  And, I think he's proud of how he is still so very important to all of us.

Today, Michael is in Hanover with Dad while he undergoes a major cancer surgery.  This is a big one. It will require extensive removal of his scalp and perhaps part of his face. If we're lucky, the surgeon will be able to do the skin graft at the same time.  If she can remove all the cancerous tissue and get clean edges.  IF.  And, I am here praying and supporting from a distance.  The fact is, while he might be all right with leaving, I'm not.  I've come to think of him as Dad.  He's slipped into the void that was created when my beloved father left the world. 

I'm not usually a selfish person.  I try to put the needs of others ahead of mine.  But, today I can't do that.  Today, Dad, sorry to tell you, I'm going with my wants ahead of yours.  You need to come through this surgery.  You still have stories to tell me, and teases to make.  I need to hear you laugh again a thousand more times and watch that twinkle in your eye while you do.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Carroll Frock's Daughter-in-love

July Jots And Musings

It's finally July again.  It is a month with lots of moments that mean something to me.  I wish I liked it more, but it falls right in the middle of summer and is always blistering hot.  And, hot and me?  Not a good combination.  I hate to be hot.  Hate. To. Be. Hot.  But, it's such a big month.  Birthdays for certain.  Canada Day and Independence Day here...major celebrations, parades, picnics, fireworks, (which by the way, Rory absolutely is phobic about which is another reason that July can work on my nerves.)

My next door neighbor Allen and I share the same birthday which is fun.  We generally get together for drinks and a "Cheers to us and our new year!" 

Vacations are a big part of July...and one can always look forward to that.  This year My Lion and I are headed to the New York Finger Lakes area.  We'll stay in a bed and breakfast and tour around on The Spyder seeing a new part of the country.  I am sure it will be fun.

I turn 58 years old on the 12th.  I  try reading that number and not wonder how I can be 58 when I'm certain that I'm really only 28.  There's a 30 year disparity there.  30 years....30 YEARS.  I know by today's standards that's not 'old' but it's mind altering to realize how different reality can be from the image and vision one holds in their head.

58; it's not old, but pretty substantial.  And yet, older as I am, I still remember Julys most clearly from my days as a kid on Howard & 27th Street in Baltimore.  The heat from all the concrete and asphalt.  The people coming out of their homes to sit on their front porches under the yellow glow of the many street lights.  Sitting and rocking, hoping to catch an errant breeze, talking over the low walls or rails that separated their porch from their neighbor's porch.  Rails low enough that you could throw a leg over to drop something off to them or borrow a cup of sugar.  Easily chat over if both were inclined. Large enough to respect the need of the other to simply sit and not talk.  Not eavesdrop on conversations that might be easy enough to hear but had nothing, whatsoever, to do with you.  Short enough to be neighborly; tall enough to be respectful. Such is life in row-homes.

Flower boxes on wide porch walls growing petunias or other mundane flowers that could withstand the heat of high summer in a city.  Or, in the case of my pragmatic grandmother, basil and herbs grown in an aluminum wash tub.  The sound of conversations or laughter more easily heard after the roar of rush hour cars had faded away.  Kids standing on the street corners in groups, laughing and being kids.  Until their noise got too big and then an adult would yell at them and tell them to move off.  Sometimes they did; sometimes they'd stand there in defiance.  At least until the beat cop strolled by and then they'd scatter.

For me as a kid, the 4th of July was a prelude to the much more important date of July 12.  My birthday was always way more important to me.  But one year, the year I was to turn 9, the 4th of July changed everything for me.

My Grand Pop got up and started his day as he always did, except for some reason, he decided to put on one of his good suites.  And, Nanny The World's Meanest Woman, chuffed at him for putting on his good clothes.  She strongly suggested he go change into something else because we were having a family picnic later and he was sure to get food on it.  But, he waved her off and went to sit out on the front porch.  He sat and waited for the time to pass until it was time for all of us to leave.

Nanny was on her way down the steps to get something out of the cellar when she felt as though she really needed to go check on Nick.  She thought it silly and started down the steps again, only to feel as though something was pulling at the back of her house dress.  She'd felt that before, when one of her six children turned out to be in serious trouble, but not for years.  Following her instincts she went back up and through the long house out to the porch.  She stood next to Pop who looked up at her and said quietly, "Mom, I don't feel so good," and he slumped into her.

Across the street Uncle Joe, Nanny's brother, happened to be sitting on his porch, a rare day off.  It being a holiday, his green grocery located across the alley from the back of our home was closed.  All the beautiful produce normally out on the steps locked tight inside.

Joe, saw and rushed across the street after yelling for Aunt Rose who raced out of their house.  Neighbors gathered and someone called an ambulance.  It came quickly.  But it drove away slowly to Union Memorial Hospital; no lights, no siren, no need because Grand Pop was gone.  Just that quickly.  Gone.  And the world changed for all of us.

Typical of a kid who has the myopic vision of one who has only been alive for a short time, I was totally angry with Pop.  His dying certainly meant the end of my birthday plans!  And, I never said a word to anyone about how disappointed I was in him for ruining my birthday, not to mention what I would always remember about The 4th of July!

I couldn't stay mad at him long.  Very shortly, my sadness over his leaving overtook any other thought or feeling.  I loved him.  And, his death was the very first one that I had experienced.  I knew other people had died, but he was the first person whom I loved and cared about that I had to process.

Shortly after his death, the family decided it would be better for Nanny if Dad and I moved in with her.  I didn't want to do that.  I liked our apartment over the restaurant!  We were just across the street from her, why did we have to move in?  But, I was a kid and had no say so we moved.  I had been all right with visiting with Nanny and Pop whenever I felt like it.  It was good to have another home to visit, like visiting with Aunt Rose and Uncle Joe across the street.  Or visiting with Aunt Rose and Uncle John on the other corner.  But, I sure didn't want to give up my home to move in with Nanny! 

Life went on again.  It always does.  And so many more Julys and Independence Days have come and been celebrated in my life.  Along with many more birthdays.  Now I'm glad that Pop went out with a bang on the 4th because I never ever forget him on that holiday and always stop to give him a thought and I love you.

But, this year it occurs to me that one of the reasons I don't always like the coming of my own birthday is colored by that 4th of July so very long ago when Grand Pop changed the world for me.  And, while I'm no longer sad over his passing, having the wisdom and experience to process it correctly, somehow, my birthday has never been as joyful for me.  That, I've never really been able to change.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Nicholas Dituri/Dietor's grand daughter

No, I Don't Believe I Will

Not too long ago, My Lion had occasion to say to me, "Be the bigger person."  It was a situation where he sympathized with me completely and knew that I was really struggling.  Out of my deep love for him, I accepted his advise.  Because, there was so much I could have said, and done; up to and including cutting the other person's head off and handing it to them before they fell to the ground.

The natural warrior instinct in me was raging to be let loose!  And, the part of me who is the peace keeper just wanted to throw up her hands and say, "Let the pieces fall where they may."  But, for the sake of all of the others who were in the situation with us, I couldn't. So I shut my pie-hole and ate all the things I wanted to say.

But here's the thing, unlike usual, the passage of time hasn't cooled my temper.  I'm still angry. I don't want to be the bigger person any longer.  Not as it relates to this individual.  I'm not able to do it any more.  I'm tired of doing it.  There's no pay-off; nothing in it for me to keep doing it.

No, I don't believe I will be the bigger person any longer.  I don't think anyone should constantly be asked to take the high road in a relationship.  It's not equitable or reasonable.  It's not even a relationship; it's a time bomb.

So, I wonder, does it make me a bad person?  Have you ever come to the point when there was nothing left to say except, "I'm done.  I can't be the bigger person all the time.  I don't want to do it anymore with you.  You'll just have to go find other people who are willing to tolerate you and always be the bigger person when it comes to the way you treat people.  I'm out."

Is it all right for me to admit I'm a failure when it comes to being the bigger person?

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

I Wonder

worry n, 1 a : mental distress or agitation resulting from concern usually something impending or anticipated.

Do you suppose it is simply Human nature to worry?  No way to really avoid it, but simply to control it at times better than others?

Do you think that it is our nature and that we are here to learn to first control it, and then to shed it?  Do you think we are alive to learn to let go of it and then learn to be who we truly are?

Or is it just the way it is and just suck it up and deal?

Interestingly enough, when you look up the word in Webster's, (yes, I still use a paper dictionary; I'm old school like that,) that definition isn't the first one.  Nope, the first one is this:

worry vb, 1 a :   CHOKE, STRANGLE to harass by tearing, biting, or snapping especially at the throat.

I've seen that behavior when my three terriers are going after a vole.  It isn't pretty.

Know what's even less pretty?  The notion that I, we, do this to ourselves, freely.  All the time.

I need to rethink this whole thing.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Really Needs To Stop Worrying

Silent Sermon Sunday

When the storms of life are raging around you, remember that

 a rainbow 

greets those who endure.

Namaste' Till Next Time,

Holly

Ghostly Visits

There are many issues to confirm that I'm growing older.  One came in the mail the other day.  Tucked inside with the renewal form for my driver's license was a very 'helpful' pamphlet entitled, "Tips for The Mature Driver."  Kill me now.

Another also replays many nights; I hate it.  This inability to collapse into sleep without tossing and turning.  The worst is-- I fall asleep very quickly only to have my eyes flap open like a window shade snaps up without warning.

Last night was one of those.  It seemed it would go peacefully, seemed being the operative world.  I ran through the Distance Reiki list of all those animals and Humans who have requested Reiki to assist with their needs.  It's how I start and end my days.  At night, doing this work makes me relax and drift off.  Morpheus is waiting with arms extended, but some nights he plays me false and just as I enter his embrace, he closes his arms and evaporates.  Men...

But last night, tossing in bed as I watched the clock creep to 2AM, it felt different and a bit unsettling,  because I was visited by another circumstance that proves I've been alive for awhile now.  Last night I was visited by a chorus of faces that I have loved and who have died.  Unbidden they came.  Some I had not actively thought of in a long time; others are those few who I never not think on.

At first, I found all of them gathered in my consciousness more than a bit disconcerting.  I fretted about why they were all there of a sudden.  Did it mean something?  Was there a purpose?  What are you trying to tell me?!

Not my Dad, nor my Aunt Kat, nor any of my immediate family were there.  Instead, these were all dear friends.  People who had played a pivotal role, either in terms of my growth as a Real Human Being, or had died at points in my life to help me understand what it means to suffer loss.  Died and helped me experience what it means to lose someone I cared about and what life feels like after.

I slowly began to relax, realizing that they simply wished to visit to confirm that death doesn't change the truth of things.  Connections are still there.  Attachment still remains.  I sent Reiki blessings to each of them and thanked them for coming.  I confirmed that they are always with me and what a joy it is to see them again. They returned the same sentiments.

And, with spiritual hugs completed, I fell asleep. 

This morning, I still ponder why I would have had a party with Ghosts from my past...no answers yet.  I wonder how the brain works that it would conjure them unbidden like that.  Can a brain actually do that?  Or, is it that love is bigger than our brains and it can manifest all on its own, in images that we can recognize and understand?  No answers for these questions...

But, in the light of day, I'm able to realize that it is a blessing to have been reminded of all those who I have lived long enough to have loved and lost.  I suppose along with confirmation that I am aging, I am also slowly becoming a Real Human Being.  There is always a silver lining.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Loves Them, Still

Fiona & Argyle

Argyle has come home from the vet's office in fine shape after surgery.  Slow, a bit groggy and sore, but fine.  I've given him the love and quiet that I can.  Reiki has been flowing to him to help with the discomfort.  He's going to be fine.  I feel that neutering a pet dog is the best thing to do.  Research shows that from a health perspective it's absolutely the best thing.  And, from a personality point of view, it also helps.  After all, who needs a dog that feels, all the time, an itch it can't scratch?!  It has to have a negative effect!

Fiona checked him out closely when we brought him back home.  Inspection complete, she wagged her tail just the slightest bit to say, "Welcome home."  Rory seemed very concerned, in the morning, when we packed Argyle up solo.  It may have been that he knew he was going "riding in the truck," and he wasn't being invited to go along, but I sense it may have been more than that.  He definitely didn't like that we were taking the puppy away.  So, it seems that Argyle really and truly is one of the Frock Pack now.

The change happened in small increments.  Episode by episode.  In barely noticeable ways.  Every now and again, you'd see something to confirm that Rory & Fiona were beginning to accept the puppy, but then there were other moments when I was sure they were plotting his murder.

The thing I absolutely didn't predict was how Fiona would find her mothering nature thanks to Argyle.  Being 10 days older than Rory, she has always asserted her power over him; he has never argued her thinking and tolerates her bossy behavior.   She has always directed Rory, but never mothered him per se.  

I just didn't think she had it in her to be motherly.  I was wrong;  when it comes to this puppy, she has been very matronly in a stern and imperious way, for sure, but that's her nature as the Alpha.  But motherly, none the less.  She's actually been nicer to him than Rory has been, especially the first few weeks.  Rory was very snappy and rough with him.

When Argyle needs quiet time, or wants to know all is right with the world, you'll find him close to Fiona.  And, that's how I found him on the steps with her, patting her softly on the back.  People who do not live with animals, will tell you they have no deliberate thoughts or intentions as we understand Humans to have...

Those of us who live with animals understand what a load of crapola that thinking is...  I watched that puppy softly touch her on the back and stay that way for a few quiet moments before he put his head down and rested knowing she was close.

So I'm writing this one to acknowledge Fiona for being so uncharacteristically good to the puppy.  And, to say she surprised me in a good way by her ability to let another dimension of her true nature blossom.  It reminds me that the same is true for us when we rise to the occasion of sharing our virtues and growing parts that are resting dormant.

I have to go now and sit with my puppy patient who is still sore and wondering where parts of him have disappeared...Fiona is sitting next to him.  She's a good nurse.  I'm impressed.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Mommer