Seven

Today is Little Big Boy's birthday. Seven. Seven? Seven, indeed.

It was a happy day. Transformers, Go Diego Go, Speed Racer and Star Wars: The Clone Wars were all represented in one way or another. You can tell by the range of things represented that he is battling the battle of becoming a Little Big Man. Go Diego Go; Thomas the Tank Engine and the preschool gang are things that he isn't ready to part with. However, he is looking for "older" fun, too.

The Easter Bunny arrived at the local mall today. It was nice for Little Big Boy and Number One Daughter. They didn't sit with him or pose for pictures, but it was a pleasant outing.

I was reading a post of mine from 2005. He was three and stealing shrimp off of G's and my plates at dinner. It was nice to recall his little hands moving to our plates so quickly. It was a funny dinner. There is a part of me that would like to go back to that night and sit at that table again. Three is a very long time ago. I want to go back and bask in the joy of my three and six year olds' play. They are so grown up now...it goes too fast.

Today he turned seven. Today we laughed and sang the Happy Birthday song. Tonight I might get a little teary when I peek in on him...lying in his bed...he is growing up. Too fast. So cliche, but it is a cliche because it is true...

Moving on...

When I was a small child, my best friend lived right across the street. She had blonde curly hair. I don't remember her eye color, but I can "see" her in my mind. We played. Rode bikes. Ate boiled peanuts...how I miss boiled peanuts. Her mom's boiled peanuts were the best in the land! I think that I was four-years-old when she passed away. She had leukemia. Back then, that was a death sentence.
The reason that I think that I was four, is that I don't remember Theresa being around when I was in kindergarten. Before she passed away, she was hospitalized many, many times. She suffered so. I remember one time that we were riding bikes and she fell off of hers. She had cuts and scrapes all over. I can see myself running home to get her mother. A boy in high school carried her behind me as I ran. She had blood all over her body. Maybe it was hard to control bleeding when you had leukemia back then.
I am not trying to shock or be macabre. It was the way life was. The day that she died, my mother told me to get my brother and sister and come inside. I remember not knowing how to feel. I didn't know what to do. Then I remembered seeing someone react to death on one of my mother's soap operas. The actress repeated, "No. No it can't be true," several times. So I said that over and over again.
When I was in high school, I watched an episode of Room 222. One of the students died of leukemia. I burst into tears and literally couldn't stop crying for hours. That was the first time that I really dealt with Theresa's death. Whenever I hear of someone dying from leukemia, I get tears in my eyes. Sometimes I cry.
The last that I heard of her family is that they had moved away. A few years later, they had a baby girl. They named her after Theresa. I think that is sweet. Not that they wanted their daughter to become her namesake, but that they wanted her big sister to be remembered and honored.
I have been looking for a basset hound. I have been looking for one that looks like my Bessie. She didn't have breed standard long ears. They were lengthy, but not up to standard. I recently saw a deaf basset hound at a rescue. She is the one that I want, but I think that I am trying to get Bessie back. I want my girl back. I guess that I am trying to deal with her loss now, so that decades later it won't affect me. It is hard to live pain.
G brought home an Australian Cattle Dog, formerly known as a Blue or Red Tick Heeler. She is pretty. TOO ENERGETIC for me. I haven't opened my heart to her completely yet, but I know that I will. She is not good with our cats, so I am on the fence about this decision.
Yet, it is nice to have a dog in the house. If you are a dog person, you just can't stand the emptiness of a home without a faithful friend. Bessie was G's first dog. In a way it is cute that he had to get another dog first. He has become a dog person, but he doesn't spend time training her...that has fallen to me. It is therapy, I guess. She won't lay on Bessie's bed. She just lays her head on the edge. It is sweet. I get the feeling that my Bess is ever in her bed with us. Observing the goings on as always. Ever here. Ever near.

Ashes to ashes...

When I was looking through pictures on my Bess, I was stunned at how brown her head hair was. It is like all of a sudden the gray hair creaped up and I didn't realize it. In the end, her head was gray. She looks so pretty in this picture, but there is still that worry in her eyes. This was shortly before we adopted her.

I am laughing right now because I am thinking about Number One Daughter. When she was five, she thought that Bessie's teats were the noses of puppies that were ready to come out of her tummy. That gives me such a good and cleansing laugh. I have to be careful when I laugh at something Number One Daughter says or does. She has always been sensitive. I explain to her that I laugh because her thoughts are charming and that her actions are adorable. That makes it better.

Today marks one week since we put Bessie down. It was a hard week. On Tuesday, I received a sympathy card from our vet. Tucked inside the card was a mounted inking of Bessie's paw print. It was so unexpected and wonderful. The mounting is very simple, but it is one of the best gifts that I have ever received.

Yesterday afternoon, Greg picked up Bessie's ashes. Now if someone had ever told me that I would have ashes of anything or anyone, I would say that they were crazy. In my lifetime, we have said goodbye to many beloved pets, but they were buried in the yard or a field. If I had gotten ashes from our dog Chocolate Milk, they would have been spread in the river or the Pacific Ocean. He loved to swim. Pogen, a little beagle dachshund cross would have been spread in a field; how she loved to run!

But Bessie just liked to be near me. Always by my side or at the very least, within sight. She didn't act out, but she wanted to be near me. She hung out with the kids and Greg, don't get me wrong. She loved all of us. But when all was said and done, she wanted to be with me.

So we are going to make a shadow box and place her ashes in it with pictures and her paw inking. It just feels right. When Greg brought her ashes home ayer, I cried, but a peace also washed over me. So for me and my Bess, this just feels right. She is home.

Bessie

It is hard to know how to describe my friend. In this picture, she is perhaps ten years old, maybe 11. I adopted her from a rescue in Indiana five years ago. They weren't exactly sure how old she was. I adopted her based on her picture alone. It was a simple headshot, in which she looked beyond sad.

Granted, Basset Hounds as a breed look sad, but my first impression of Bessie was that she had given up on life. As I heard her story, I could see why.

Her original owners abused her unmercifully. She was beaten and left outside to fend for herself in all weather conditions. She escaped from that family several times and thankfully the last time that she escaped, she was found by an animal rescue.

Once at the rescue, a veterinarian healed her physically. Only to have her attacked at the shelter by three other dogs. She required stitches and more healing.

Then, I found her sad face on petfinder. It never occurred to me that she lived three states away from me, but it was too late: It was literally love at first sight! She was delivered to us in the parking lot of a strip mall about two weeks later.

At first, she would cower at the sound of a man's voice. Simply crumble in fear. A raised voice sent her into shivers. She was shy and certain that she was destined to be abused forever.

Armed with lots of cheese, which was her "chocolate", and a husband with the heart of an angel, I knew that we could help ease her pain. Soon she was lying on the floor next to Greg. They took long naps next to each other. She was bowled over by him and she deserved nothing less from a man.

Truth be told, though, she was my dog. She followed me every where like a little puppy who is expecting fun and excitement. She was calm and docile, really, but she was a good guard dog and defended me fearlessly.

She would dig up small moles and toss them around. She found a family of raccoons in our brush pile and went crazy, but mostly, Bessie was just content being where ever I was. At my side. Lying down. Begging for cheese or a pat on the head. Ever present. Deeply loved.

On Thanksgiving Day, we rushed her to a 24/7 emergency animal hospital. Her hindquarters were becoming paralyzed. With a little bit of medicine, she improved and we enjoyed about five weeks of good-healthy Bessie time.

Alas, on Friday, January 2nd, her hindquarters failed her. She lost control of her bodily functions. I was upstairs when it happened. Greg's urgent, "Your dog needs you!" brought immediate tears as I hit the stairs at a dead run. He put her on the bed so that I could pet her and calm her. Those trusting, heavy, deeply soulful eyes fixed on me. I knew that it was time.

I called the vet. An hour later, shortly after 5 p.m. I held her as they shaved her leg. The vet administered the euthanasia. I bawled like a baby as she looked at me. I told her how much I loved her and held her tightly. And then as swiftly as she stole my heart five years ago, she slipped away to Heaven.

To say that I am inconsolable is an understatement. I loved her so much. The love for an animal is beyond any love that I can describe. It is the kind of love that we strive to find in our lives with humans. I mean, the love for my children is the most precious love of all, but the love for an animal is deepened by the animal's intense dependence on us. It is the deepest unconditional love that exists.

There is not much that I wouldn't give to have her lying here next to me this moment. I miss the sound of her tags on her collar. I miss her under my feet as I try to walk ANY where. I miss her leaning against my legs as I sit here crying.

Bessie was my friend. I am beyond honored to have been the recipient of her love and devotion. I wish that I could have one more day with my 12-year-old friend...

Quickly. Hurry faster.

It seems that there is never enough time. And time flies by. All the cliches about time apply.

I see that Zach Bonner of the Little Red Wagon Foundation was one of three winners in the Volvo campaign! He won $25,000 and plans to build a school in Africa. You can visit Zach at:

http://www.littleredwagonfoundation.com I used to play with the display and settings and it would show his name and take you there, but our system crashed and I am not using my computer.

I met a lot of people on Blogger. I hope if you drop in that you will enter a hello in comments. For some reason all the links to my friends have disappeared!

Have a very happy day,
Renee

Vote for Zach Bonner

Would you take a moment to go to this link and vote for Zach Bonner at the Volvo awards? He is an amazing kid who does a lot of charity work through his Little Red Wagon Foundation. Just click on this link and it will take you to the voting page. He is the first listed entrant:

http://www.volvoforlifeawards.com/cgi-bin/iowa/english/vote/butterfly/index.html

Oh Holy Night

Fall on your knees.
Oh hear the angel voices.
Oh night divine.
Oh night, when Christ was born.

God willing, we will have peace in 2008. God bless our soldiers, airmen, seamen and Marines. God bless you and God bless America