Follow your own advice

Don't you hate it when you stop to listen to yourself talk and realize you aren't following your own advice?

I am a mom. I can't help but being a mom. I mom everyone. I always have, even years before I was ever really a mom to my own kid. So sometimes I tend to mom people without even really thinking about it. Chatting with a girlfriend of mine the other day I realized that I was completely momming her about her self image and realized that I should be momming myself.

She is 16 and lovely in the way that those of us who are no longer 16 spend a fortune on cosmetics to recapture. Shiny hair, beautiful youthful skin and a natural beauty that just glows from her. But being 16 she looks at the same pictures I do and points out all of the "flaws" that she sees. I told her that when she looks back on those shots she will realize how beautiful she is and regret wasting her time trying to fix those "flaws".

But you know what? I do the exact same thing. And I know better. Looking back at pictures of myself from high school I can see that I was really pretty cute in my own girl next door way. But what I wanted to be was tall and thin and not have brown hair and brown eyes. I felt like I was pretty plain and oh how I hated my smile. But I look back now and see that shiny hair and youthful skin and cute little figure and wish I had realized at the time that I was great the way I was, and that smile I hated? I wish now I had shown it in more pictures because I look so mad in all of them!



There is a picture of me in my early 20s that my mother took of me. I am goofing off, lifting my shirt to show my belly and sticking out my tongue. I look at that picture and can remember at the time wishing I was 5 pounds thinner and tan. But looking at it, I was healthy and muscular from time on the beach. What was I thinking?



So you would think that by now I would realize that I am going to look back on pictures of me now and wish that I had appreciated them more instead of picking them apart. But I pick. I wish I didn't look so tired. I wish my skin looked better, oh how I wish that. I had flawless skin in high school (wish I had appreciated it then) but in my mid 30s adult onset acne hit. And hit hard. So now I have scarring and discoloration that drives me nuts. I will see only that in any photo of my face that you show me. I can cover it up in natural lighting fairly well but you add a flash or bright sun and I can draw a line connecting every scar. But you know what other people see? My smile, my eyes, my hair, my neck...what ever feature they think is great and they will point it out. I will say thanks but...

Thanks but...what a horrible thing to do to myself! So after chatting with my girlfriend and realizing I needed to be chatting to myself I took out my trusty camera and did a series of pictures of myself. Me in my day that day. I took a couple shots in my living room. A couple shots on auto timer in the car driving. A couple shots of my shadow. A few shots of my reflection in a store window and in my car window. A completely posed shot of how I must look most days from the viewpoint of the car in front of me. And then I looked at those pictures and found positive things to say about each one of them. And not...I like the light in this picture either, but positive things about me. I figure it's a small step and it will take a lot of those to be able to really appreciate pictures of me when I see them, but I am willing to give it a try. The entire album is on my facebook account.



Sometimes you just have to suck it up and take your own advice. Yes, Mom...I hear you. :-)

New Challenge

Many of you know that I am doing the 365 Day Photo Challenge right now. A picture a day to capture something from my life. It's been fun, interesting, enlightening and really has been a challenge at times. But the one thing it has done is make me more disciplined about taking pictures and taking that camera with me and looking for opportunities to take a shot. Some days the pictures have been of activities I have done, some days people I am visiting with and there have been a lot of shots of the sky. I spend a lot of time looking at the clouds, sunrises, sunsets anything above me. Often I plan in the morning what I want to take a picture of and more than a few times I have scrambled at the end of the day to take of shot of something, anything, just to make sure I have that day covered.

Well, I have decided to extend the challenge idea to my blog. Not a blog a day for a year, I know myself too well to commit to that! But I am going to start with a blog a day for a month. So watch this space until March 4th for a new post daily. I can't promise they will all be profound bits of insight, they might be full of drivel and nonsense, but really, if you have been reading my sporadic postings in the past you know that's they way they go anyway! :-)

And for those of you reading, I do take requests. I know I often write in the middle of one blog that a side story is a blog for another day, if there are any of those stories you would like to hear feel free to ask. And if there is anything else you want to read, just let me know. As you all know I have an opinion on most everything and have never been afraid to share it!

So here we go...a month of blogs begins now!

Merry Christmas 2009!

So the last I wrote (Christmas 2008) we were looking forward to Ann’s Christmas visit and eagerly awaiting the holiday; what we didn’t know was that the snow was coming…and coming…and coming. We had a white Christmas last year and it was white enough for long enough that even Christopher was done with the snow by the time it was over, three weeks all together! Ann did end up finally making it to Portland on Christmas Day, three days later than she had intended! It was an adventure for sure but I for one am not Dreaming of a White Christmas this year!

Christopher has been busy with the college search this year. His list has slowly whittled down from everywhere, most everywhere, top 30 to top 15. We visited with the top 6 choices either on campus or through their outreach programs. Stanford, Champlain, Digipen and the University of Michigan got on campus visits and I believe the top two choices are U of M and Champlain. Now we wait and see where he is accepted and who gives him the most money to attend, though Brent is, of course, humming Hail to Victors under his breath daily! Christopher is in the school Jazz Orchestra along with the Portland Youth Jazz Orchestra this year. He did Funk and Groove and Salsa workshops this past summer and had a blast with those styles. He was also named a National Merit Scholar Semi-finalist and we couldn’t be more proud of him! Neither Brent nor I can believe this is our last full year with him in the house before he leaves for college. The time seems to have flown by!

For me this year has been Denise’s Taxi service as Christopher opted out of driving but opted in to a busy schedule with school, band practice and courses at the junior college. I tell everyone this is the year of the car. That’s where I am most days, sitting in the car either driving someone somewhere or waiting! But it’s been nice to get the bonus time with him. I also had the opportunity to take a trip to Toronto this past fall to meet with a group of friends I made through an online game. I know, it sounds just wacky, but it was a great time and so much fun to meet people face to face I had gotten to know through the virtual world for the past year.

Brent is looking forward to his Sabbatical this summer. Instead of using his time off to watch Christopher during summer vacation this time he will be taking him to college! Brent was also able to reconnect with his cousin Kim this year and on the campus visit to Michigan he and Christopher were able to spend time with Kim and her family and had just the best time. Kim is now actively campaigning for Christopher to attend U of M!

Ann was able to come for another visit in May and not only spent time with us but was able to drive north to spend time with a family friend in Washington for a bonus visit! We did a quick (and I mean quick!) trip to Disneyland over Spring Break and had a great time there as well.

My family in New Mexico had a more difficult time of it this year as my mother was diagnosed with lymphoma this past spring. She underwent chemo therapy and the doctors are keeping a close eye on her but she is doing so much better than she was and we are all hopeful for a full recovery within another year. I am extremely grateful for my brothers and sisters in New Mexico for keeping me informed and in the loop during all of her treatments. They really had a rough go of it during her treatment and I am so glad that they were there for each other and for her and Dad. We are planning a trip home this spring to see everyone, to celebrate Christopher’s graduation and to see our new Grand Nephew Liam.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a safe and Happy New Year!

In defense of the the Christmas letter

Some Christmas traditions seem to be universally despised. The two that top the list most often are Fruitcake and the Christmas Letter. I grew up in a house where Christmas morning always included Fruitcake's German cousin Stollen. My mother would make the annual trip to Zinn's Bakery to pick up the Stollen and I would hope and hope and hope that they would be out and she would have to pick up the Cherry Cheese Strudel instead...but no...every year the Stollen made it on the table. Every few years I would try a slice just to see if maybe I was remembering incorrectly and it was actually a yummy treat...and I can safely say that I am never going to be a fan of Stollen or Fruitcake.

Now the Christmas letter used to be met with the same level of disdain and even outright mocking. When Brent and I were first married I composed a Christmas letter putting our family 15 years in the future filled with all of the wonderful amazing things we were doing. Solving the world's problems, curing cancer, winning Nobel Prizes and I swore that would be the last Christmas letter I ever wrote. But then a funny thing happened...

Christmas would come and we would get cards from family and friends and I started to notice that my favorites were the ones that included the...you guessed it...Christmas Letter. Brent joined the Navy shortly after we got married so we spent the first few years of our life together moving around with the Navy. Then he went to work for Intel and we spent the next batch of years moving around with Intel. All of that moving means we have friends scattered across the country. And in the days before things like blogs and Facebook and MySpace and Email and free long distance it might be only once a year that you hear from people. That Christmas letter gave me a window into what was going on. How everyone was. Just for a minute I was back in their life sharing their world.

So I figured if I liked getting the annual missive, then others must as well. So the Christmas letter was revised. I started sending one out the year Christopher was born and I have every year since. It's pretty standard fare. I have friends who write letters that are really works of art. Even though we live in the same town, we chat on Facebook, I read her blog, and see her at least once a month I love getting my friend Raquel's annual letter. Each year it's a different theme and it's always funny and still covers the year they had. Brent's father used to write a letter (never quite made it out at Christmas, usually closer to New Year's) that was snarky and funny and reflective of his sense of humor. Megan's mother took the Christmas letter completely digital this year. She did a webpage and posted photos of events through the year with little blurbs about what was going on. It was beautiful and so sweet to see.

Now some years the letter is harder than others. When Brent's father died I wrote and rewrote the news. I put it at the beginning then moved it and put it at the end. I really struggled with how do you put that in a letter with the same news that we went to the beach that summer? But in the end I decided that it was our life. And there would be people who hadn't heard the news and so it went in the letter. The same thing with my mother's cancer this year. It's a big part of our lives.

I always forget something and wish I would have added it once the letter goes out. This year it was that Amanda Frost showed up unannounced on our doorstep last spring. Amanda is the daughter of Hoke and Margaret and we have known her since she was 11, she is now a young mother with a daughter of her own. Hoke died unexpectedly five years ago right before Thanksgiving. That was another really difficult Christmas letter to write; grieving and reflecting on the year at the same time makes for a maudlin letter. But seeing Amanda and "hearing" her dad talk through some of her attitudes was a real treat.

So the letter went out this week and it is posted on my Facebook page for those that have gone digital, and I will post it here in the blog as well. The Christmas Letter is now one of my traditions and I have grown to really appreciate the other families who send one as well. But as far as fruitcake is concerned? Nope...still just no.

Friendly advice...

A month ago at Sheila's wedding reception Megan and I were talking about "social networks". Love the formal name, "social networks". A friend of hers had told her that she didn't like things like MySpace and Facebook because it was leading to the decline of "real" social interaction. I hear this argument a lot. Usually it's delivered with a sniff of disdain and a "I prefer my REAL friend's company."

Megan and I talked about it for a little bit, both of us coming to the conclusion that people that feel this way are 1. Not from fields of work where it's common to work with people you might never meet face to face. and 2. Really limiting themselves and their world view down.

In both USA Boxing and in the advertising world I would work with people that I would either only see at tournaments or meetings or I might never interact with face to face. I have a group of friends in Kentucky that I love dearly that I have seen face to face fewer than half a dozen times. But it doesn't make them any less "real" to me. I think if you have a job that is done with people spread over the country it's easier to make the transition to making friends with people spread over the world. Just my theory.

But this brings us to Facebook. My experience with social networking started with MySpace. I joined just to be able to chat with my niece and nephew who seemed to be active on their MySpace pages and no place else! Brent was on Facebook but was using it mainly as a networking tool for work. Megan had Facebook and kept trying to convince me it was so much better, but I looked at it as more of a business space. Eventually Brent convinced me to give it a try and I was hooked. More people that I knew were on Facebook than on MySpace (most of them had set up pages in college and just continued them) and others were joining every day.

One of my friends from Kentucky sent me an invitation to play a silly little Facebook game. I started playing and for whatever reason it captured my imagination and I was hooked. I got Brent playing, Christopher set up a Facebook page just so he could play and then I started interacting with people on the forums for the game. During this stretch I was transitioning out of advertising so I was noticing that I could go from when Brent and Christopher left for school and work to when they came home and not talk to another person. Even if I had a client the work I do is mainly done with very little conversation. So basically I was lonely and a bit bored.

I noticed that I had gone from just reading posts that others made to throwing in a comment every once in awhile to looking forward to my morning "coffee" with Teri and Corrie and Ashley. Sometimes we would talk about the game but more often than not we would just chat. How are the kids? What did you do last night? What's the weather like where you are? Big plans for the weekend? The same sort of conversation you would have with your office mates. And as happens in life my social circle within the game grew. One day I realized that no matter what time I logged on, there would be someone online I knew. I had friends in Australia, India, Malaysia, Singapore, England, Ireland, Canada and all over the states. I have friends who are stay at home parents, lots of artists, authors, students and more variety of other jobs than you can even imagine.

Right now I am waiting in an airport getting ready to board a plane that will take me to Toronto to meet a few of these people face to face. I am so excited to be able to see people and hear their voices (it's odd, right now everyone has an American accent, I wonder after this weekend if I will "read" their words with their voice?) Some would say it's a little nuts to plan a trip to meet strangers, but I can tell you these people are no strangers. I know what their kids are doing in school, I know their struggles and their joys, I know who recently bought a house, who is still looking. I've read their stories and their poems, seen their artistic creations, celebrated the joys and cried over the sorrows. I also know we are all so excited to see each other we have been driving everyone around us crazy for the past few weeks.

More people couldn't make it than can make it,and I can tell you that the ones I won't meet won't be any less "real" to me. And I will have lots of pictures for them to see that will give them the feel that they were there as well. And they will be, in our conversation and on our laptops! We are all connected with a push of a button. And I like it that way.

If you told me you were drowning...

Twice in my adult life I have come close to dying. Or at least twice that I am aware of. Who knows how many close calls and near misses we have in our daily lives that we never even know about. But anyway...twice as an adult.

The odd thing about them is they both happened in October. Just a few years apart as well. The first time I didn't realize how close I was until it was over. I had run to the grocery store and when I grabbed the cart there was a bee on the handle. I put my thumb down square on the poor guy and he responded in a completely bee like manner by stinging me. The stinger went into the joint of the thumb on my right hand. Hurt like a big dog, but I am not allergic to bees so I wasn't overly worried about it. Scraped the stinger out with a credit card, washed my hands and finished shopping. Went home, showed my owie to Brent and put some antibiotic cream on it and that was that.

My thumb hurt a little all week but nothing too much. Saturday morning (it was right around Halloween) I woke up and discovered the meaning of "sticks out like a sore thumb." My thumb was swollen and hot and I couldn't bend it or pull it into my palm so it stuck straight out to the side of my hand. I put a cold compress on it and took some Advil to try and reduce the inflammation. By Sunday morning it wasn't any better so I went to Urgent Care. By that point I was running a slight fever as well as my thumb being warm and red. After a quick examination and another washing of the thumb I got one shot of antibiotics into my arm and another into my rear end. The needle they used on my tush was (I think, going by how it felt) the size of a drinking straw! Ouch! Then I was told to go straight into my doctor's office the next morning for a follow-up.

By the next day the swelling was gone and only a little redness remained, but being a good patient (and having told Brent I was supposed to follow-up with my doctor so he made sure I did) I went in to see my primary care physician. The Urgent Care had already faxed over the records from my Sunday visit so the Nurse Practitioner (we lived in C.S. for almost 3 years and think we saw the actual doctor once) reviewed the records, took my temperature again and casually let me know if I had waited one more day to come into the doctor the blood poisoning would have spread to the point it most likely would have killed me. Ummm, what? Seems that either the bee had some dirt on his stinger or I had some dirt on my thumb and when he stung me he buried that nastiness right in my thumb joint where it festered all week and then started to spread.

The first shot I had received in Urgent Care was a fast acting antibiotic that basically got the top end bugs that were spreading, the second one was the gold standard of wide spectrum antibiotics that wipes out everything. I was dumbfounded, they hadn't said anything like that in the Urgent Care, they had just given me the shots and stressed that I go to my primary care doc. But I took it in stride when the Nurse told me and I got my follow up care instructions and left. When I went out into the parking lot I called Brent from my cell. And broke out into hysterics. Full on ugly cry, uncontrollable shaking. Delayed panic attack. Once I got it under control I made sure to go over all of the paperwork she had given me and I kept an eye on my hand for any changes over the next few days.

But everything was fine from that point on. Took about 5 years for most of the nerve damage to the thumb to heal, seems the poison in my system broke down the pathways and though nerves do grow back, they do it at a VERY slow rate. I have one patch that is still semi-numb but most of the feeling came back. Took about the same amount of time for me to not have a panic attack every time I would see a bee. I have a picture from Halloween that year, I am standing next to another woman in my office and we are both in costume, and it amazes me to think at that point in time there was a poison running through my body that could have killed me and I felt perfectly fine.

The second time I knew it was happening and even thought to myself, well this is it. We were in Hawaii combining a business trip for me with a vacation for the family mixed in. Our last full day there I went down to the beach for one more dip in the ocean. I love the ocean. I love the vastness of it. I love to sit on the shore and look out at the waves as they crash in on the shore. I love to be in the water. One of my favorite things about living in San Diego was the easy access to the ocean all summer long. The water in Oregon never really warms up enough for swimming so I tried to get in the ocean at least once a day the entire time we were in Hawaii. Christopher preferred the pool and so Brent would stay with him while I went swimming. This day wasn't any different.

There were probably 25 people in the ocean along the stretch of beach by our hotel. There was a group with a bunch of little ones towards what would be the middle stretch of beach as you looked down from the hotel and they were having a hard time controlling their wave boards. Since I wasn't boogie boarding and would rather not risk getting smacked in the head with one of their boards while wave jumping I decided that going to the right of them would be a good idea. I spent some time jumping the waves and enjoying my last stretch in the water.

Then it was time to come back in. And I couldn't. While jumping the waves and swimming I had been carried out farther than I had intended and my feet were unable to touch the ocean floor anymore. I was swimming and not going anywhere. Just swimming and swimming and staying in the same place. I did the things you are supposed to do, swim parallel to the shore, use your strongest stroke, which for me is actually the back stroke, everything you are supposed to do and I wasn't breaking free of the rip tide I was caught in and I was getting exhausted.

Scott, a friend of mine(also a client) had come down to the beach to set up beach chairs for him and his wife to have a nice drink by the ocean before the final night festivities. He saw me in the ocean and waved hello. I waved back, but not in a friendly how's it going wave, but a Help! wave. I shouted "I NEED HELP!" and to this day he isn't exactly sure that he heard me over the crash of the waves, or just could see from how I wasn't moving right that I was in trouble. He dived into the ocean and came to help.

The problem we soon discovered is that to get to me, he had to break through the edge of the whirlpool I was stuck in. So as I was stuck inside and wearing out fast, he was stuck outside and soon doing the same. The next part of the story is choppy in my memory. Like an old film reel that was poorly edited. Scott remembers parts and I remember parts and they don't always match. Eventually Scott grabbed my arm and pulled me through the edge of the whirl pool area towards him, which was deeper into the ocean. At that point we were both exhausted. I can remember telling myself not to panic and grab him, and I really remember not doing it, though he swears I almost choked him. We were still caught on the trailing edge of the pool and I could feel it trying to pull us back towards the center. And we were both too tired to swim hard away from it. Right at that point I thought...this is it. This is how I am going to die. In the ocean. I thought of Brent and Christopher up at the pool not more than a football field away from me, but completely unaware of what was happening. I thought about Scott's family and hoped that if he let go of me he would have the strength get back to the shore.

While I was getting ready to give up, Scott was still figuring out how to get us out of the mess we were in. He came up with sinking to swim. He dropped down to the ocean floor and would stand there and throw me forward. Then come back up, get a breath and pull himself forward to where I was, holding onto my legs the whole time. Then back down to the ocean floor, toss me back up, pull forward. He did this all the way up to the beach. I had to tell him we were in inches of water and he could let go before he stopped. We got back up on to the shore and looked back out at the ocean, you could see the area I had been trapped in. It wasn't very big, but the water was just swirling around and around. It looked really superficial, like if you threw a rock into it it would break up. Hard to imagine how strong it really was just by looking at it.

While we were catching our breath and freaking out Scott noticed that the daughter of one of the other franchisees and her friend were stuck on the edge of the pool. He went crashing right back into the ocean and pulled them out as well. They weren't as far in so it wasn't as hard of a swim, but they were stuck in the rocky shore area so he came out of that encounter scraped and bloody.

Imagine Laura's surprise when she came down to the beach for her relaxing evening drink to find me doubled over on a lawn chair gasping for breath too weak to walk and Scott walking up the beach soaked and bleeding. When I was able to catch my breath and my legs stopped feeling like jello I went to the pool to see Brent and Christopher and tell them what happened. Brent took Scott and Laura a couple of Coronas on the beach. I joked that it seemed a good trade, my life for a couple of beers. I also know I went into shock somewhere in that time period and spent, as best I can guess the next two days there. I kept replaying everything over and over in my head.

That night at the final night dinner everyone had heard bits and pieces of the story and wanted to hear details. I don't know how many times I told the pieces I could remember. I told everyone the important part of the story was that I would never win another argument in a co-op meeting again. Scott held the ultimate trump card. "Yeah, well, I saved your life" Argument over. One of the wives who is sweeter than she is bright told me she was glad I hadn't died because it would have really put a damper on the meeting! Well, yes, I was glad they were all spared that as well!

When we all got back to Oregon Scott and I had coffee and told each other our stories and tried to piece the whole series together. There are still chunks missing for both of us. We have no idea how long it all took. Like I said, it's much like an old film reel that was poorly edited. Everything jumps around. My biggest regret is that I didn't go back out into the ocean the next morning before we left Hawaii. I hate that my last day in the ocean wasn't a peaceful one.

I will always be grateful that Scott didn't even hesitate for a second before coming out to save me, and impressed that as exhausted as he was he didn't hesitate to go in again after two more people. Every year on the anniversary of that date I call, text or email him and just say thanks. There are not words to really capture the gratitude I feel and the debt I owe him. When people ask how you know who your friends are I can say, I know, on October 25, 2005 he proved it.

Thanks, Scott.

Dogs and cats living together...

Today a friend of mine got bad news about the health of her beloved pet. He has renal cancer and they are not sure how much longer he has. She is, of course, heartbroken. As she told a group of us about her cat the reaction was immediate. We all felt so horrible for her and so helpless to do anything to make her feel better, and then we all remembered our similar experiences. Anytime I hear someone say, oh it's just a dog or it's just a cat I know that person has never had pets.

Growing up I had dogs and cats and birds and fish. Mitzi the Witzy Spitzi who was so smart she would whisper if you told her "Shhh, Daddy's sleeping." Sunshine the black fuzzy mutt who inspired a vet to tell us that dogs are like people, some are bright and some are well...not. Chris the Siamese cat who loved my dad the most (he is NOT a cat person), Jeremy a giant tiger cat who would come running when he heard my voice even after I moved out of the house. Petey who was a boy parakeet for the first 5 years of his life, then the blue band on his beak faded out and he started laying eggs. And more fish than we could have ever named. There were a few others but these were the core group of the menagerie I grew up with.

After Brent and I got married and moved away the first pet we bought together was a ferret. Redd Ferret, her parents were Bartles and Jaymes and Red was the newest flavor. Trust me this was very amusing in 1987! We had Redd for a few years until Brent was transferred to California. It's against the law to own a ferret in California so we had the option of sneaking her into the state and risking her being destroyed if she was ever found, or finding her a new home in Idaho before we moved. Loading her and her boxes and boxes of toys and supplies into a station wagon with a very happy 12 year old boy and an indulgent mom who really had no idea what she was getting into I held it together until they pulled away from the curb, then I stood in the yard and cried until Brent gently steered me back inside the house.

We didn't get another pet for a few years. We were moving too much and Brent was gone a lot. And then we had Christopher so we were too busy to think about adding a pet. But eventually we got Samson. Samson was the world's coolest cat. Not just my opinion, but everyone who met him agreed. He was a dog trapped in a cat's body. Extraordinarily social. Would play fetch. Come when he was called. Always wanted to be where the action was. He was also (to the vet's best guess) about half Maine Coon. Twenty pounds of Grey Tiger Striped Cat. Head the size of a soft ball. When he really wanted your attention he would take a running start at you and tackle you. Twenty pound wrecking ball to the back of the legs!

When Samson was about two years old he had a stretch where he started vomiting constantly. He couldn't keep any food or water down at all. The vet was able to give him some medication that stopped it but it was a rough week of him getting sicker and sicker and sicker. About a year later it started again. We had moved to Colorado Springs and it was the 4th of July. He spent a day in the vet's office, then to the emergency vet hospital. They couldn't get him to stop this time. He couldn't keep anything down and they couldn't figure out why. We had x-rays done, and blood work and day after day in the hospital. Then they called me to let me know he was getting better and that I would be able to bring him home that afternoon. I was so thrilled! Brent and I were working in the garden waiting to hear back that we could come get him when the vet called again. Something had changed and we needed to get there right away as he wasn't going to make it much longer. He had gotten so weak that one by one his internal organs were failing.

We got to the vet in time and we were sent back to see him. To this day I am not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was in a lot of pain and was terrified. When he saw us he started crying loudly. I still hear that cry in my head and it's been eight years since this happened. The vet gave us the option of staying in the room while they euthanized him. I couldn't do it. I said my goodbyes, pet him one last time and sobbed in the waiting room until it was all over. They performed an autopsy on him and discovered he had been born with multiple birth defects and we were just lucky we had him for a long as we did.

A month later to stop me from crying all the damn time we got George and Gracie from the pound. I called them the Replacements. Two to fill the space of one. And it's true, nothing helps grief like a kitten. It was too hard to be sad when you had two goofy balls of fluff tearing around the house. But it was a temporary fix and the grieving for Samson is still going on to this day. He was a part of the family and I still miss him and feel a little cheated that we only had him for a few years.

Today my thoughts are with my lovely friend. I hope she and her kitty have a peaceful weekend together and they find a way to keep him comfortable and as healthy as possible for a long time yet to come. And when the time comes to let him go, cherish the time you had with him and all that he has added to your life. Much love to you.

Peace.