My Boo is 19!!

My Boo is 19!!

This isn’t so much an in depth deeply moving post as much as it is a celebration of life for my girl Bailey. She’s made it to the ripe old age of 19, which is roughly 92 in human years. She’s the best cat we’ve had and when I think back on my life before it’s really hard to remember it all. She’s been here since 2002 and I pray that she remains healthy for as long as she can.

I feel selfish asking for more time with her, but the thought of her not being here after 19 years is just something I can’t fathom in my life. As a semi-religious person, I know that I will see her one day. She’s going to join my other cats in the big litter box in the sky.

So, join me in celebrating Bailey aka Boo for the time she has left with me.



Sitting here reading advice from a Mystery writer mentor while perusing the site and advice of a different author whose work I admire, about rewriting and revising and showing versus telling. It’s all too much for my brain at almost 8:30 am on a Monday morning.

So, instead I come here and write. Where I’m not being judged. Where no one is determining if my plot or arc are working together. I don’t even know how to break all this down.

I have a wonderful lady editing my work currently and will give out her information if someone should ask for it. I’m waiting to hear back from her before I make all the changes all at once. I want to hear her opinion and her corrections before I do my major overhaul.

Trying to talk myself back from tears at this entire process. If only writing were as easy as simply putting words out on paper and everyone liked it, agents included. 🙂

Ah, if only.

The other reason the tears are near the surface is because my Bailey has been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and her kidney’s are a bit quirky. She’s now on special food, medication, and I have to give her fluids 2-3 times a week. She’s due for a recheck in a couple of weeks.

It’s hard to see her, knowing her life is winding down, and there’s not anything I can do about it. Excuse me while I go find the tissues again.

She doesn’t hear a thing going on around her.
It’s Finally Here!

It’s Finally Here!

We woke this morning with beauty outside our doors.

“It’s snowing!!”

I heard the excitement coming from my six year old as she saw the snow coming down outside her window.

She’s been anticipating the snow for months as her older sister has been bemoaning the fact that we haven’t seen any this far this year or even last.

In a normal winter season we usually have it by November, as we did in 2019, but of course 2020 hasn’t been typical in any other sense so why should this be any different. Ha

I’m off to corral the six year old back to class. See you later.

Bailey absolutely loves the snow. She’s already been out in it a few times this morning. Here she is sitting and enjoying the heat vent after her excursion.
Must Love Cats

Must Love Cats

I didn’t know it, but my entire life was leading up to this moment, but first, a little back story.

My life was relatively normal, just your run of the mill middle class family. My dad worked for the US government, and we spent four years living in Europe. I didn’t appreciate those years until later, when I would return to live with my own family. This time I would live in Italy with my husband and our daughter, courtesy of the US Air Force. 

We were fortunate that we spent our three years living in an Italian village. We spent our first year getting used to the Italian way of life, with my daughter in Italian Scuola, and the family spending time traveling. 

With our little house came our own little colony of cats. At one point over the next three years, we would be feeding nine cats altogether, including the three we had brought to Italy with us. We had names for them, and they each had their own personalities. I was ready to jump in and take care of these guys, but my husband was more reserved. It didn’t take long before he was on board, and we were making them ours, which meant spaying and neutering.

Six veterinarian visits later, and everyone was all set. There would be no more kittens to find homes for because, at this point, we had already rehomed approximately four kittens. It was unfortunate that there were, in our area, people who didn’t love cats as much as my family did. 

We lost three male cats throughout our time at the house. We lost one to a disease that he probably got before he was neutered. Another one became ensnared in a trap that he ripped his little body out of; by the time he got to me, the muscles in his arms had been shredded. You could see his muscles and tendons where the trap had ripped him open. It was my job to get a sedative from our amazing vet and get it into the cat. Once he was sedated, I brought him to our vet, who humanely euthanized the little boy. It was an eye-opening experience, and it broke my heart. I hope he felt he was loved.

The third little guy just disappeared, and we never saw him again. In my heart, I know what happened to him, but I hope that he lived to a ripe old age and was loved.

When we moved away after three years in Italy, I had found homes for as many cats as I could. We left the original two females where we found them, minus their uteruses. Above all the experiences we had while living abroad, this is the one I keep with me.

Cats have shaped my life. Except for the three and a half years of college, I have always had at least one cat. Growing up, we had two cats and a dog. After owning a dog, I have determined that I’m not a dog person; too high maintenance. I love other people’s dogs, but I choose not to own one.

We lost my beloved Andy while we lived in Italy. He was the first one that was mine, all mine, as well as my first grown-up responsibility. I picked him up off the road while I was in college, where he was hit by a car. He lived with me another 14 years before his heart just gave out.

He had endured so much in his little life. If you’re ever given the choice of a male cat or a female, my personal opinion is, take the male. They love unconditionally, they are exceptionally tolerant, and they have more patience than most people. Andy lived and loved us through two dogs, two sisters added to his harem, a toddler, the six Italian cats, and five moves, including one that was International.

It was in Santorini where I experienced the wild cats of Greece for the first time. They inhabited the alleys and doorways. The famous blue rooves were a static backdrop for the beauty of the cats. In Istanbul, I visited with cats outside the Blue Mosque and the Aya Sofia. They aren’t afraid, and they will keep you in your place. In Paris, they are ornamental in the doorways of the fromageries and boulangeries.

Of the three cats that returned with us from Italy, Bailey is the only one we still have. She is 18 years old and every day with her is special and sacred. I know my time with her is short and even thinking about her last days brings me to tears, and I ugly cry. She has endured six moves, including an international move and quite possibly another one this coming summer. My heart is heavy as I spend my days watching and monitoring her to make sure she’s okay.

Who is the third cat, you may ask? That’s Callie. She was the runt of the litter. My, soon to be husband picked her up from a coworker back in 1998. She was a farm cat, and they considered her the ugliest of the bunch, but to me, she was beauty personified. Her fur was a beautiful mottled black, white, and orange. Yes, she was a calico, and she never failed to let us know that she was the queen of the house.

From the beginning, Callie let us know she was special. She kept everyone else in line, and that included our first-born daughter. The morning we brought our daughter home, Callie informed us that she did not like this noisy intruder. Our job as new parents was to ensure that Callie’s poor eardrums weren’t disturbed by the wailing of a new body in the house. 

Callie was tough. As she aged, her hips gave out on her, and her legs would pop out of their sockets. In the beginning, we could gently press them back into place, but as arthritis and age caught up with her, the joints just wouldn’t go back in place.

She was approaching 16 years old, the year we returned to the United States from Italy. The cats had spent their journey in the belly of a plane where it’s loud and dark and cold. 

We had a family member pick us up from the airport when we landed in Baltimore, Maryland, and he was ready with a little box and wet cat food to spoil the kitties. We unloaded them into the hotel room and let them get settled. Soon they were happily eating their dinner and finding places to settle for the night. 

We all headed to bed that night so we could be up bright and early the next morning for an early flight. 

Our lay-over for the day was in Atlanta. We carried Callie in her travel kennel as part of our carry-on luggage. She was small enough that she wasn’t too uncomfortable in her temporary living quarters. 

Having a child and being seven-and-a-half months pregnant means that we would be among the first to board the plane. We had gotten everything in its place and were sitting in our chairs talking as others loaded up as well. Callie seemed to be doing okay despite being a bit more vocal about her cramped quarters. I held her on my lap for a little while, trying to calm her down.

After I’d placed her back on the floor and under the seat in front of me, we suddenly smell something awful… and I do mean a paint peeling rotten egg kind of smell. We thought it was our daughter as she had mentioned something about a hardboiled egg smell.

The flight attendant was passing by and inquired as to what that smell was- I quickly told the attendant, “It’s her!!!” excitedly pointing at my daughter. We were in stitches, all of us laughing and covering our noses and just waiting for it to pass. Only it didn’t pass, but it did change into another smell. A cat pooping in her kennel kind of smell. Oh, sweet merciful heavens, it was Callie. 

We decided that Jeromy would have the task of taking her, in her kennel, back to the bathroom to clean her up. You know, those teeny tiny 2 1/2 foot square bathrooms? 

He came back from the bathroom and regaled us with the following story. It turns out there was a mound of cat diarrhea in the kennel. Remember back to those delicious cans of wet cat food that were a treat for those poor cats?

Well, Callie somehow ended up wearing some of it. While Jeromy was tackling the cleaning, he tried to put her on the toilet with no lid. Well, she falls in, and then when he put her on the floor- she slips on the poop covering her paws. Next, he tried to put the kennel up on the teeny tiny 5” sink, and it proceeds to fall on the floor. 

Callie has poop on her tail, and while swishing it, she ends up wiping it on the walls as she “stumbles” past. Next, he picks her up, and she clings to him with her claws, further transferring the poop to his jeans and shirt. He’s trying to clean off the floor and walls and is having to stuff all the paper towels in the bathroom trashcan- the teeny tiny one that’s in proportion to the rest of the bathroom. 

He exits the bathroom to come back to his seat. At this point, the plane is rapidly filling up with other passengers, which means he has to lift Callie and her carrier over the heads of everyone he walks by- as everyone tries to find their seats. 

Immediately upon sitting down, he recounts his tale of daring adventure, and you can see it on his face-he is not happy. Try as I might, I can’t contain myself, and soon I start laughing, but it only gets worse as he keeps talking. Oh, merciful heavens, I can’t breathe, I’m laughing so hard. At this point, all three of us can’t contain the laughter anymore. 

Before the airplane taxis out of the terminal, the airline workers come and “gave us the talk” about how messy the bathroom was. They indicate that they will bring us something to continue cleaning the bathroom, but they never did. 

Callie spent the remainder of the plane ride buried under the seat in front of me with a sweatshirt draped over her kennel to try and contain the smell. 

Immediately upon landing in San Antonio, I take Callie and her carrier into the nearest restroom to assess the situation and clean her off some more. She walks around a little bit and settles into the corner after I cleaned her some more. She waited patiently as I did what I could with her kennel.

For me, it’s the quintessential travel story. The one all other travel stories try to live up to but fail even to come close to. Upon moving a year later, Callie is firmly placed in a different kennel where she has the freedom to move around the car. That’s right; no more plane rides for her. 

Three years later, will find us with that tough decision no pet owner ever wants to make. At 19 years, Callie’s arthritis has taken over her little body, and she’s suffering renal failure. She still attacks Bailey and lets us know she’s queen, but her coat that was once glossy and soft is now a shadow of its former self. My baby girl, who topped off at 12 pounds, is down to a mere eight. I look in her eyes, but the spark I always used to see has dulled swiftly. I see she is tired, and every day is a struggle. Still, I wonder if she can make it a little longer, but the veterinarian assures me her quality of life is dwindling, and she’s not going to recover.

The month was November, and I spent the day on the back porch with her knowing it would be her last day on this earth. Bailey seemed to know something was different, so she came out and laid with us. 

No one prepares you for the loss of a pet. You can think you’re ready and that it will be better for the animal but when that moment arrives you will second guess yourself. Even after your beloved is ashes in a box beside your bed, you’ll wonder if you did the right thing.

Life is strange, isn’t it? We tell ourselves we’ll never go through this again, but the first time we find a stray cat, we immediately bring her home, call her Daisy, and lavish our love on her. 

I firmly believe I will see Andy and Bailey and Callie again one day. Not on this side of my life but in the next. I believe that somewhere they’re waiting for Bailey, as they’ll be waiting for me when it’s my time.

Happiest of New Years

Happiest of New Years

Does anyone do New Years resolutions anymore? The thought occurred to me sometime this weekend and I honestly can’t remember the last time I made one. I also can’t remember the last time I heard someone else make one.

I know I need to exercise more but to me that falls under, ADHD problems, not New Years resolutions

I eat pretty healthy already, at least I think I do but then soda happens and I lose all over again.

(Do you use the term soda or pop out cola or coke?)

See, my ADHD is showing. Anyhow, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Looks like Boo partied too much on NYE and crashed before the party was over.
Feeling Overwhelmed

Feeling Overwhelmed

I decided to work on my research for getting published tonight. To say I was in over my head is the understatement of the year. There’s so much information out there that I can’t even begin to sort it out. I found several sites that were helpful in helping me see through the fog. I’m learning just what it is I’ve gotten myself into. I will persevere though. I’m determined to see this through.

I’m cautiously optimistic that Giving Cheek will be published and hopefully the ones to follow. It’s the dream I never dared to dream. The dream I never knew I even wanted. The dream that was just that, a dream. Now that I’m making strides and going for what I want it’s daunting and scary and exciting and nerve-wracking. If I had any fingernails left to bite off they would be gone, but they came off when I began telling Analee’s story a couple months ago. 😉

I’m so excited about this whole thing. I can’t believe it’s me doing this. I signed up for a Writer’s Digest class on the whole publishing thing and hoping it will give me insight on where to go next. I’m hoping it will guide me in the right direction to begin the querying process. I’m simply waiting for the last Beta reader as well as my editor to come back to me. It’s hard because I know this is a busy time of the year, but I’m so ready to move on and make that leap.

She’s always beside me, her 18 years are showing in that, I’ve become her anchor. She feels safest when she’s next to me. I’m her ears since she’s losing her hearing. She’s my baby.
I Am Able

I Am Able

I am able to give thanks this year for many things. I’m thankful for my girls. I’m thankful my family is healthy and my girls are learning every day in school. I’m thankful for the myriad of learning opportunities that engulfed all of us this year.

I’m thankful for you who read this. For taking the time to find out what I have to say. I have lots of stories, both funny and sad, and everything in between that I’ll share here in this space.

It’s been a year of personal growth for me. I’m not who I was in January and I’m curious to see what happens as 2020 closes and 2021 opens.

The holidays are here and, I for one, am looking forward to Santa coming. I will be peaking through the blinds on Christmas Eve scanning the night sky looking for Rudolph’s red nose.

Yes. She fell asleep this way.
Editing: Take Two

Editing: Take Two

Began my second round of editing yesterday. I’m trying to get it done while also juggling remote learning for my youngest as well as running to the ice rink for my oldest. Fixing lunch and running errands also fits in there as well. Did I mention I’m also running to answer the doorbell every few minutes because the playmate for the youngest keeps coming back asking if she can play yet.

I need to include this in a future novel. Ha! Until then I’ll just sit here and edit with my buddy, Boo.

What I’m seeing now as I write. She goes wherever I go. I love her so much.
These Nights Are Late

These Nights Are Late

Two nights in a row I’ve been up after midnight rewriting. With two girls at home during the day it’s tough to find the quiet to be able to think clearly. I love having them home but momma needs to figure something else out.

Is anyone else having challenges with their writing right now? How have you had to adjust?

Have I mentioned I’m a photographer also? I used to do it as a part time time job. I thoroughly enjoy it. You’ll see evidence of my work here. I try to add a bit every day.