The Dog That Never Stopped Barking

The day they come into our lives is the happiest. And the day they leave us, as all things do, eventually, is the saddest. Today is one of these sad days. 

I speak, of course, of our pets. Our creatures. Our friends. Our family members. Our companions. Our worry. Our ball and chain. And our ultimate happiness, joy, and sometimes even single reason for getting out of bed in the morning. 

Our family has had cats that we all shared. They were our cats. Maybe only Bella, the half-siamese stray kitty (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2018/12/good-night-sweet-princess.html) was half a stray and half my dad’s cat. But the rest of them were ours. 

The dogs, though, the two dogs my family ever had, were without a question my dad’s dogs. No one disputed this! They were both named Bobby, both pure-bred German Shepherds. And were absolutely 180-degrees diametrically opposed! They were massive, scary-looking dogs, all chest and muscle, all head. But temperamentally, they could not have been more different!

Bobby #1 (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2010/06/cainele-care-latra-numai-la-pisici.html) was quiet, and patient. He used to put his large head on your knee as you sat down and just sit there, looking at you with begging eyes, just to be close to you. Not Bobby #2. 

Bobby #2 came into dad’s life mere months after Bobby #1 died. Dad got his first Bobby the year my sister got married (2000) and when he died, the year I got married (2010), dad got Bobby #2. The second Bobby was all voice! You could hear him from two neighborhoods down the street! He would bark at cars, people, birds, cats - a loud, aggressive, piercing bark and howl. All lungs. All power. You’d wish you died a decent, painless death before you came face-to-face with that dog. He seemed to be a menace and he was after you till you were over, for sure - the very last breath of you.  

Dad loved it, though, because he wanted people to fear him so they’d never think of approaching his house! It worked. I am sure of it. 

The first thing he did when he grew up tall enough to not be a puppy anymore was to pull down all of mom’s laundry off the clotheslines and bury it in the yard! Freshly clean white sheets - buried in the yard’s muck. Deep. It was the day I thought for sure mom would kill dad! 

Then, my aunt went to feed him one day, and he shredded off her pants! Never bit into her flesh at all, but tore up her pants. And she is the kindest, most caring people you’d meet! And she was, after all, the hand that fed him. No matter! 

My parents knew pretty early on that this was no dog to be let loose in the yard, like the first Bobby. Dad immediately built a separate yard enclosure for him, where he was free to roam and as loud as he wanted to be (and boy, was he loud!), but where he could not get in trouble with people. Mom and dad went in there to feed him. Dad had his meat-smoking and wine-making equipment in there, so he went in there quite often. He played with him every time he went into his "territory". He also had a clear view of the rest of the yard and who came and went. He never seemed alone nor lonely because he spoke with every breath he took. You could say he was the perfect dog for our chatty family! Finally we met our match! He'd wag his whole body and pull at the fences and gate around him to tear them down if you ever so much as made eye contact with him! You would never be able to ignore him. Ever. It was a thing to watch!

For years - 10 or so - I believed Bobby #2 was just an aggressive, angry dog that was so defensive of my dad and the house that he was willing to tear anyone or anything up that, to his perception, came between dad and his security. But later on people started debating whether  he was truly just angry and hateful towards people (he was raised from birth by people, always with a family, always cared for), or just lonely and asking to play ... A dog that should have never been a yard dog, but rather a family, living room kinda dog?! We will never know, because all he ever was was a yard dog ... 

It was not till last year, when we went back to bury dad and when he was over 12 years old, that I finally got the courage to pet him! It took 12 whole years for me to build up the courage to approach him. And for mom to feel safe enough to let him out of his enclosure and around people. 

Bobby #2 died today, June 1, 2023. Ironically enough, like the big kid looking for play that he was all his life, he died today, on International Kids’ Day! 

Six months, one week and three days after dad left us, Bobby finally crossed the rainbow bridge to be with him. They are both in Heaven now, Bobby waking up the dead, quite probably, and dad trying to catch up with his shenanigans. They are probably both looking for Bobby #1 and all our kitties to have a good ol' family reunion and dad is surely smoking some yummy ribs and sausages and sharing them all around. I'd like to think of this, rather than spend some time just crying and letting my heart bleed ...

Our house back in Romania is probably dead-quiet. Our streets have found a silence and a peace that they have not known for 13 years now. As much as the neighbors will enjoy the silence, they will also probably miss the bucolic flair of the barking dog in the night... 

My heart goes out to my grieving mom who had to muster the courage and the force to put him down after he had been suffering for months from a tumor and a frail back. 

Rest in peace, sweet fellow! Our lives are richer and kinder because you were in them! 

Bobby #2 in 2018 and last year (2022) when he finally came out of his enclosure. He was a handsome guy, for sure.

Thoughts, Travels, Pictures of 2019

I reckon this is just as good a year as any to close out a decade. A decade of us being together. A decade of fortune, loss, sickness, birth, happiness, and sadness, too. A decade of all the things human, fortunes we don’t dare talk about out loud for fear we might jinx ourselves, and a decade of learning so much about each other, our families, our worlds that sometimes it hurts. Mostly it hurts with pleasure.

This past year had everything. Love, hatred, bounty, loss, much of that, work changes. Heck, we even saw a ghost! It continued a streak of bad news started a few years ago, but God and life have also been merciful and giving, peppering our journey with friends, loving family, love, in general, good news here and there. And as always, it gave us travels. Many beautiful trails to pick from and journeys that we’ll cherish for a lifetime. 

From the bald peaks of The Rockies, through deserts and through the dark green Smokies all the way to the emerald Atlantic and beyond, we hiked, we listened to music, we met new people and tightened the bonds with old friends, we saw family and somewhere in there we found time for work, too … But as important as work might be, this is not what we’re taking with us to our deathbed. All the other stuff is what …

This is about remembering this old year… 

…. we started out the year learning about the passing of a dear aunt of mine. She lost her battle with some rotten form of leukemia because of a stupid cold. She was always a fighter and had such a spirit! The year continued with much loss of people – not close to me, but close to people I knew. Lots of sickness, too, from people close and far from us physically and otherwise … There is just so much pain in this world …

We also learned about my mom’s cancer coming back and we stood by her side, from far and close, with bated breath, through her chemo treatments which lasted most of the year. It was not easy, to say the very least. My sister and I went together for the first time in 10 years to see her, to touch her, to learn … As hard as this was, it was also good. For us. For mom. For taking it all in and building some perspective. But this was not till May-June, so I skip ahead...

Before then, we visited Richmond, VA, met family in Chesapeake, VA, we spent a weekend tasting good foods and bonding with old and new friends in Kinston, NC in early spring. There are so many corners of magic and wonder all around us, if you only open the door to let them peek in … 

Come April, we wandered about Charleston, SC. We stayed downtown and walked pretty much everywhere. We walked the lush grounds of the Magnolia Plantation and the marshes of Sullivans Island. We ate every seafood seen on this planet and came back full of Southern history and amazing pictures. April is just a perfect month for Charleston. 

We spent probably the coldest May on record while we explored New Mexico and Colorado. We visited Taos, NM, and Denver, Colorado Springs, and Breckenridge in Colorado. We tried to drive up Pike’s Peak in Colorado Springs, which was on my bucket list since I was a teenager back in Romania with no prospects of ever seeing it. Who would have expected a thick snow storm in mid-May?! That prevented us to go past the 10,000 ft mark. We got lost in the desert in Taos, NM amazed by art, old Native culture, delicious Southwestern cuisine, and even more art … If I were to pick one trip that we took this year to do it again soon, this would definitely be it. 

Back to my trip to Romania, my sister and I also saw The Pope come to our Romanian hometown while we were there … Now, that is not something we planned for, but more of being in the right place at the right time sort of luck … The skies opened up with glorious sunshine when he started speaking, after several days of gruesome rain and hail storms … Maybe a sign of hope for us all ... 

We spent a couple of weekends in the North Carolina mountains, around Blowing Rock, Grandfather Mountain, Boone, and Banner Elk. 

We spent the summer months taking in all the foods and events around our area – Durham, Raleigh, Chapel Hill, Pittsboro. There is just so much to see and do around here … Food halls, wine, beer, and even mead festivals, rooftop bars, lots of live music, small and big ticket concerts, lots of farms. Everything … If only we had all the time to do and see it all.. 

We camped on the shores of Smith Mountain Lake in VA and rounded up our winery visits for the year in that area, too, towards the end of summer. 

We visited Highlands, NC in early fall to see what the fuss was all about in that sweet mountain town. I swear there is not one issue of Our State magazine that doesn’t mention it. It’s like a fantasy village, complete with cobblestone streets and a trickling stream that runs through it. 

We walked the streets of Greensboro, NC for two days listening to the music of The Folk Festival and sampling the local food, and again bonding with old friends … Greensboro will forever feel like my one of many homes to me … I always love going back … 

We took in the history and charm of Atlanta in October, and learned many new things at the FH Summit down there. 

We closed out the year of travel in The Bahamas. We took home memories of learning about a new culture as well as the painful memory of having lost our dear kitty while stuck on a boat somewhere in The Bermuda Triangle … We came back home to rest our tired bones and mourn our sweet boy for a while … 

Most of us, close family and friends, are still here, on the right side of the dirt. And for that, and that alone, I am immensely grateful … The rest is the cherry on top.

We have built new friendships this year, and like always let old ones drift away, as life would naturally have it in its constant shifting … We are older and probably none-the-wiser, but happy we made it to almost the end of this year and decade now … I am wishing for us all to know more beauty and less pain in the new year. More acceptance and less fright. More understanding and less hatred … I wish this to us all close by and to everyone out there … 

Happy Old Year and Happy New One, too! May you always keep an open heart! 

Click the video to view our year in the rearview mirror. Many thanks to Emily Scott Robinson for the amazing background music. When all else hurts and fails, we are forever grateful for our mobility to take in the travelling mercies … 

Good Night, Sweet Princess

I don't remember when she wandered into my parents' yard. Could have been 18 years ago, when they got their first dog, or could have been later. She was a stray, although she never looked like one. Dad always said she belonged to the neighbor, but I am not sure: she spent more time in my parents' yard than in any other place on the street.

She was smart, as cats go, and she was sassy, as they go, too. But less so than any other cat, she was quiet. She was unobtrusively inserting in the life of our family, and mostly in our hearts forever, without as much as a meow. She never begged per se, but she always sat on the outside window sill of the kitchen waiting for food.

More than any other cats, she was gorgeous. I am yet to meet an ugly cat, really, but she was exquisite. She had the markings of a Siamese cat, with piercing blue eyes, but maybe not with the same body style – more short and dense and less athletic, less tall. I truly thing she was a mutt, but not less beautiful for it.

My first ever Instagram picture was that of Bella

Bella was never officially my parents' cat, but they treated her always like she was. Their first dog never barked at a human, but he barked at Bella (and all the other cats of the neighborhood). He, even, knew she did not belong there. But she came there every day, religiously to nibble at food from her bowl which dad put on the kitchen window sill so the dog won't bother it. She spent many winters in my parents' laundry room, because mom would have no pets anywhere else in the house, otherwise.

I did talk about her as “my parents' cat”, but she was really my dad's. He is the animal lover in our midst and he infected both me and my sister with the love for cats. Mom could take pets or leave them, but mostly leave them.

She spent an errant life, really, of a stray cat. She would perch on top of roofs and jump from yard to yard, to avoid the busy street filled with crazy drivers, and naughty kids who would surely torment her. This made her smart.

She hoped from yard to yard, but I think she was fed only at our house. My parents were probably the only ones on the street going to the pet store for Bella. She scavenged what she could off the other neighbors, from trash and dropped food. But she had her designated food and water bowls at our house.

I never heard the neighbor ever looking for her when she was gone from their yard.

When we were there, she came and snuggled and said 'hello' in a quiet, shy voice. She loved to be petted and loved on. She did like humans, to some extent, after all, but never expected anything from you. She purred in content when you paid her any amount of attention. She was tame. She was a stray but definitely never feral.

This fall, she disappeared for a few days. Dad was besides himself with worry. We knew she was old, but I don't think we ever knew exactly how old. Dad thought for sure it was “her time” and she would probably never come back. But she did. Dad said she came back “fatter.” Well, they only found out recently that she was actually sick: her abdomen started swelling up with fluid and this past week she was the “fattest” she had ever been although she all but stopped eating or drinking.

Today, they found her on the floor of the bathroom, motionless. She was breathing, but that's about all. It was time. And she knew it. She had come back home, for the final stop. Like the owner that he acted as all these years, it was dad's “job” (the hardest job in the world) to help her through her final hours.

She was such a big presence in the landscape of my parents' house. She had, like all pets do, the superpower of really inserting themselves deeply into our hearts, right where our softest, most delicate, and most vulnerable spot lives.

She leaves a big hole in our hearts. My heart cries mostly for my dad, but for all of us who knew and loved her, over the years. I hope she is now truly free to roam, without cars, naughty neighborhood kids and dogs to chase her. And I hope she tells all our other furry friends that we miss and love them, too.

Rest, sweet girl. No more worries where to spend the winter. You will always be part of our family.

This is the last picture I took of her, this past May. It looks like she prophetically is waving us 'good bye.' Sweet girl! 

Eastward Bound: UT to NC – Day Four– Little Rock, AR. Trees! Trees! Trees!

This is the fifth entry of a multi-entry series.

• First installment: On the Road Again: Going East Intro (http://wander-world.blogspot.com/2017/10/on-road-again-going-east-intro.html)
• Second installment: Eastward Bound: UT to NC – Day One – Moab, UT. Red Rocks (http://wander-world.blogspot.com/2017/10/eastward-bound-ut-to-nc-day-one-moab-ut.html)
• Third installment: Eastward Bound: UT to NC – Day Two – Albuquerque, NM. High and Winding Roads (http://wander-world.blogspot.com/2017/10/eastward-bound-ut-to-nc-day-two.html) 
• Fourth installment: Eastward Bound: UT to NC – Day Three – Elk City, OK. Get Your Kicks on ... the Windy High Plains (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2017/10/eastward-bound-ut-to-nc-day-three-elk.html) 

If Western Oklahoma is windy and red-yellow-sandy, Western Oklahoma is lush green and full of trees! Almost no wind, either. I suppose because of the trees. One of the reasons we're moving back to The South is vegetation. We both love the desert, and we agree it has its beauty. However, the stark nakedness of it makes you miss the green after a while. 

After several days of driving through the mountainous deserts of Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico, and the semi-desert of Western Oklahoma, we finally saw much longed trees today, almost the entire way into Arkansas, except for the first couple of hours of driving through Oklahoma. 

While in the dry, naked Oklahoma, we saw skies of menace which reminded us of Kansas seven years ago, when driving towards Utah. Tornado skies are something else - menacing is an understatement. They are a universe all of their own selves. The little lady at a gas station, sporting a Michigan sweatshirt, congratulated us for getting out of there "before the storm and the gusts start". We were grateful, too. A car is an evil thing to manage when the wind pulls it all directions. 

Like a patchwork of American history, Oklahoma is home to many Native tribes. Today we passed through the homes of many Native Nations: Chickasaw, Kickapoo, Seminole, Muskogee (Creek). This is always a rare treat to me, as this, to me, is the real America. It makes me respectful and so grateful that they share their land with us. 

As we approached the Eastern states, even starting yesterday, the weather has gotten warmer and warmer and more and more humid. It's strange that most of the trees in Arkansas and for the most part in Oklahoma, too, have not even turned colors yet – it's past the middle of October. When is the fall starting here?!

Today, for the first time, I heard cicadas when we pulled in for the night in the Little Rock, AR KOA campground. Such a familiar and long missed sound. So soothing to me … For the first time today, we also turned on the A/C in the camper, instead of the heater. Yay – we're in the South! Not our South yet, but it counts.

Driving today was harder than any other day, and not sure why. The altitude has gotten lower and lower and the wind died down eventually towards the end of the day, but the day seemed longer and dragging …

I was so excited to come through Arkansas, the home state of one of my favorite US Presidents (and he is not Republican!). And I was so shocked that even after being through Texas, Arkansas was the first state on this trip to sport a bigger than life "Trump - Make America Great Again" billboard. I was so disappointed, I did not even take a picture. Some things are better to remain uncaptured. 

I always thought Arkansas is a poor state. But looking at the lush green highways that remind you of the Rhine Valley, you would not know it. Stepping inside of one of the communities, with broken roads, and missing street signs, with poor gas stations almost cracking from age and humidity, with leaky appliances and toothless attendants remind you that you thought right. People are ever so nice, though, and such nice, yielding drivers, too

Some camping notes: we see people from all over the country in all these KOAs we're staying at. Seems like mostly older, retired people and all states are represented. KOA campgrounds are magical places – you have running water and electricity just like you would at home. It's such a treat. Thus, the A/C tonight. Hot shower in our own private shower, every morning, night lights and a place to charge all our electronics are some of the luxuries. I sometimes (only sometimes) I get how people can be into the whole tiny living thing. We really are missing very little. Well, besides space, of course.

Gypsy-the-Cat has gotten to have his own routine. He sleeps during our drive in his kennel in my car, and he comes out to the camper for lunch (midway during the day), then goes back to snoozing for the remainder of the drive. He mostly sleeps and eats at night. We found out that even if the litter doesn't smell to us at all, the ammonia in the litter can set off the carbon monoxide sensor in the camper (which is 2 feet away from his litter box). Who knew?!

We also found out that although KOAs may say "full hookups", sometimes, they run out of water. But we have had our emergency supply handy, so we were good. Our neighbors, not so much. 

We're two full days away from our final destination, but having gotten four of the days behind us feels great, albeit incredibly tiring. I do believe we will take the first day we get to North Carolina to just sleep it off … But who knows … “miles to go before I sleep” yet. 

The dark skies before the Oklahoma storm 

On the Western (windy and barren) side of Oklahoma, all trees have this shape, because the winds twists them so 

If I had a dollar for every truck, billboard, sign I have seen through Oklahoma announcing that this is the land of American beef ... I would make it out OK, I think ... 

Oklahoma City skyline. All I could think about driving by it was "The Oklahoma City bomber" 

After a looonggg drive for days through the desert of many states we came to this, largest body of water we had seen for a while. I chuckled when I saw the name of the road right past it: it was Lotawatah Road. And this is a true story! 

Arkansas is like a perpetual park: I have never seen so many National Parks, National Monuments, State Parks one after another within a short distance like in Arkansas

I could not get enough of these trees! 

I never understood this American staple: this is a water park with a giant water slide. They are always, no matter what state, right over the very busy highways! Why some architects deem them picturesque and delightful right next to rush hour traffic is beyond my understanding! 

Bridge over the highway in Oklahoma City

What is the first sandwich I make when I get to my camp site in Little Rock, AR with cicadas chanting outside and dripping sweat from too much humidity?! Why, a tomato sandwich, of course. Yes, I am home. Let The South begin! 

The Hardest Trip

“When you go through hell, keep going”. (Churchill)

14 years. I have been through losing a home, and gaining several others, marriage, and divorce, long relationships and short, loss of a job, another marriage, losing relatives I adored, watching my friend die of cancer, having two nephews, happiness beyond belief and sadness beyond words, too … But the one single thing that ripped my chest open, yanked my heart out, and threw it against the ground, reducing me to a big pile of nothing had to be a 5 pound cat.

But this is not about me and my grief. It is about the most loved and adored cat there was – my buddy cat, Fero.

I adopted him when he was 3 months old, when my former husband wanted a cat that behaves more like a dog. My husband was adamant about an Abyssinian. I didn’t care. I just wanted a cat. And a dog Fero was. But he was also a human, and a cat. And so much more. An angel, a total pig when it came to eating, and a motorboat, too.

Fero died this morning, after a long time of fighting whatever reduced him to 5 lbs (from 14) and about a month of fighting kidney failure. The way out was not his choice entirely, and I hope that one day I can forgive myself for making that choice. And I really wish dearly that people would stop telling me that I did the right thing!

I don’t think there ever was a person that ever, in 14 years, met him, even for one minute, that doesn’t remember him! His favorite thing in the whole world besides food was the doorbell. He loved to greet everyone when there was ever any movement at the door, and that included us, and the plumber, too. He talked to everyone. He asked them how they were, in his sweet growl and told them about his day, in his soft voice too. Someone who would only see him once, like an electrician or a contractor, would say, over years “oh, you have that cool cat”. They would not remember his name, or my name for that matter, but they would remember “that cool cat”. I have a coworker who only saw him once, but his son  picked him up and could not believe the friendliness. He calls him “the purple cat”, although he was not purple. But he was that unique.

Even when he was sicker than sick, the nurses would greet me at the door with “Oh, Ms. Wilson, he has been a chatter box. He has told us all about his life, and about how much he hates that IV, and he’s asking us about our days, too. He must be feeling better”. Yes, he was that friendly!

He had ticked brown hair, beautiful, clear, almond shaped eyes, gorgeous to the very end. He had a smile on his face and a happy outlook about him. A louder than loud purr, and a beautiful, kingly allure. He was royal, and he was what you call “a presence”. You were never not aware that Fero was in the room. He brightened it up and was the center of the conversation. He made sure of it. And he was so worth it! He would not live to be a bore.

Whoever said cats have no personality has never truly met a cat. And whoever said that cats are selfish creatures, independent and wanna be left alone has never met Fero! He was completely selfless. He was more in your business than he was in his. He was at the door when you walked in, next to your lap, when you were on the couch, on the spare dining room chair, at the dinner table, and right next to your pillow, when you laid down for a nap. 

 

This just in August - with my nephews, joining us for dinner and a movie, later. Always present. 

His biggest passion was food. He loved everything, or at least he thought he did. He begged for anything that came out of the fridge, and everything on the counter, or on your plate. He asked politely, with a tilt of the head, in a questioning growl that I will miss soooo much, if he could try anything you were having. Anything. He was always, and I mean always on the island stools when I prepped for cooking, just watching me carefully. He was always on the same chair as me, when I was having my breakfast. Even when he was sick last week, he carefully watched my husband mix the batter for the Thanksgiving pie. His favorite foods, beside any brand of cat canned food were ham, white chicken meat, popcorn and potato chips.

He was not ever a lap kitty. He was too much on alert for the doorbell for that. But he loved to cuddle. His favorite was to breathe hard in your ear while purring, or in the root of your hair. And he loved, loved, loved to have his tummy rubbed. My favorite mornings, here in Utah, were when I would find him in front of the hot vent in the winters, all stretched out asking for me to rub his tummy. He purred, forever and he would never get enough …

He always jumped and was present in the kitchen every single time the fridge opened, or the pantry door. He was so incredibly smart. They tell you that Abyssinians will learn words, just like dogs, and will respond to commands. I don’t like training pets to do things on command much, so I never took the time to train him. But he definitely learned the word “treats” on his very own!

He learned the Windows shutdown song, on my Dell laptop. Every time the song would come on (and he of course was right next to my wrist as I was typing), he jumped in the middle of the room, and headed for the kitchen. He knew it was time for a bedtime snack. And I mean, every single one time, in 14 years! Lately, I muted my laptop, in the hope that he would just chill. It took him probably about a month flat to figure out that the sound was gone, and he was now sitting perched over my shoulder on the back of the couch, just so he could watch my screen. When the screen would turn blue,  I was not even closing the lid, but when I pressed the shut down button and the pictures would disappear – he knew!

He loved to redecorate my house with his toys. I have a some cat toys, small, furry things I bought over the years, and people have given me, as gifts for all my cats, and I keep them in a plastic basket, out of the way. He would meticulously pull each one out, and spread them all over the dining room floor, where they would get premium visibility. I listened to him, and only put them away when I had guests.

I’ll miss his wet nose in my ears. And his jumping in the middle of the kitchen every time the laptop shuts off. And his bony fingers mashing and webbing into mine. I’ll miss the smell of his feet, and of his breath. I’ll miss sharing my meals with him, and especially the popcorn and my breakfast bar in the morning. I’ll miss his nose glued to my bedroom door in the morning and to my entrance door when I come home from work.

14 years. We have watched each other at our worst and our best. I have cradled him to sleep as a baby  and as an old sick kitty, and he has cradled me, through my many disappointments. At the end of the hardest day in my life, there was always his reassuring paw on my forearm, and his soft talk, and his deep, brown eyes, and his friendly tilt of his bony, earful head. He’s made me love cats more than I thought possible before, and he’s made me hate people more. I just hope I gave him at least an ounce of what he has given me.

When I adopted him 14 years ago, I signed a piece of paper that made me promise I would care for him, that I would not declaw him, and I would not allow flees, worms or any kind of parasites to live in or on his body. That I would not hurt him, or adopt him further to other people. I kept that promise religiously for every single day of every single one of those 14 years. Except … for the past months, where he’s been sick. I could not shield him from this one. The Big one! I could not. I did not know how. And I will never forgive myself for it, either!

Even skinny, he was still joyful, happy and communicative – till the kidney failure set in. And then, a week ago, he stopped eating. I knew he was near the end when my baby stopped eating. Stopped begging for food, and stopped jumping in the kitchen every time the silverware drawer would open. Then, two days ago, he stopped drinking. And then moving on his own.

I am not running through this to give myself absolution. This was also part of his life. The very sad, but fortunately, very short, part of his life. He trusted me blindly. I moved him across the country and I would crate him every single day in the car ride, and he never fought it. He talked and talked in the car, but I think he was asking for explanations. Oh, how I wish I could give those to him!

I am not quite sure how I’ll move on from here, but like Churchill said … I’ll have to just keep going. Blindly, and hurt, and down, I will keep crawling, and praying that my Fero is well and we shall meet again, on a sunny, beautiful pasture, somewhere.

They say kitties go to kitty heaven when they die, but I swear Fero would love a people heaven. Full of good hearted people that would listen to his stories and would feed him whatever they could spare.

Wherever he is now, I hope he’s free of pain, and there is plenty of foods and toys for him to enjoy. I hope it’s warm, and there is a vent he can purr by. I also hope they have a Windows, not a Mac, computer with a Windows XP song.

There is no way I could ever, in a million words, even begin to do justice to this amazing cat! I am just trying to leave a mark in time about his beautiful givings to us, and I am just trying to get this out of my chest, as it smothers me. As it should!

I am forever humbled that this unbelievable creature has spent most of his short life with me. I will never be the same because of his passing, but mostly because of his life and what he has taught me. Egyptians worshiped cats, and now I know why.

Rest in peace, little buddy. Until we shall meet again, momma loves you forever and always just the same.

 

June 1, 1998 - November 26, 2012 

Time and Times Are Slipping …

Nothing is new, and yet every year it all feels freshly different …

Cats are hovering over warm vents in the house and get fatter… The furnace kicks in at night … We grab jackets from the coat closet on our way to work … We turn blue on our daily walks…We remember we have a closet just for coats …

I walk into Hallmark just to smell the “harvest” candles … Pumpkin pie … Apple and cinnamon … Autumn wreath … I dream of fires! Grapes are sweetest … Another year – another new wine …

Dogs get spunky and thicken their coat … They eat more … Cats snooze more, if that’s ever possible …

God-awful, cheesy Halloween décor shows up on lawns … And pumpkins … Christmas trees are in the store front at Lowes … *sigh* …

We’re craving and cooking the “warm and cozy” foods … Mashed potatoes … Mac and cheese casserole … We roast a whole chicken in want of Thanksgiving … We’re baking more bread and feasting on its warmness … We’ve retired the salads …

The smell of freshly chopped wood floods the morning drive through the neighborhood … Piles of wood greet us at the stores …

People at the office exchange recipes for squash dishes and pumpkin soups … It’s “orange food” season … Kids go apple picking and drown in cider ...

We go shopping for new books and reach for a blanket … Make the book thick. Make the blanket soft …

Autumn rugs are lying on earth once again … yellow and red and brown and purple … It’s raining more… It’s dark longer … The sun has lost its bite …The rocky peaks jumped the gun into snow already …

Things are slowing down and quieting down to get ready for “the big sleep” … All things but the wind. The wind is howling in the dark void of leafless valleys …

It’s fall and we’re going with it …

Oct. 5, 2010 - first hint of snow, outside my kitchen window.
Please click on picture for more fall pictures along the Alpine Loop, in Uinta National Forest

Cainele care latra numai la pisici

For the English version, please click here.

De ce o facem?! De ce vrem sa avem animale de casa? Stim ca ne atasam sufleteste de ele. Stim ca ele se vor duce inaintea noastra si ca vom suferi cand le vom pierde. Si cu toate acestea le dorim. In mod constient. Cu ochii deschisi le cautam ani de zile si ne deschidem usile si inimile catre ele, atunci cand ne caute ele pe noi. De ce?!

Cred ca o facem din aceleasi motive pentru care vrem sa avem copii, desi stim ca nu ii vom putea proteja intreaga lor viata – e o lege inexplicabila a naturii. Simtim nevoia sa ne conectam sufleteste. Sa dam si sa primim dragoste, neconditionata. E superflua explicatia acestui fapt natural. O facem pentru a ne onora umanitatea!

Tatal meu si-a dorit dintotdeauna un caine. Mereu a vrut sa aiba un caine ciobanesc german. Dar cand eram noi copii, a iubit mereu cainii altora, pentru ca mama nu voia animale in apartementul in care am crescut. Cand a costruit in sfarsit o casa, primul lucru pe care l-a dorit in curte a fost un catel. Astfel, catelul va putea sta afara, fara sa murdareasca in casa si sa o supere pe mama.

Si asa a facut – tata a adoptat in sfarsit un catel. In august sunt 10 ani de cand a adoptat un caine ciobanesc german de la un prieten de al lui caruia ii fatase cateaua. L-a numit Bobby. Sau mai précis “Bobby Capucino”, datorita culorii maronii. Tata voia sa aiba un caine care arata fioros, pentru ca strainii sa se teama de el, si sa nu se apropie de casa. Bobby arata fioros, dar era departe de a fi fioros.

Bobby a fost cel mai tacut si supus catel din cati am vazut eu vreodata. Iubea oamenii, prieteni si straini, deopotriva. Si desi tata il voise la inceput pentru a latra tare la persoanele straine, asa cum o fac de obicei cainii ciobanesti germani, Bobby nu latra niciodata la nimeni, decat la pisici. Niciodata nu latra la oameni. Manca din mana oricui, se sprijinea de piciorul oricarui om statea la masa, spunea “buna ziua” la oricine intra in curte, si ii conducea frumos la bucatarie, sau oriunde erau cei de ai casei.

Era mereu in preajma tatei, desi tata fusese rau cu el in anumite ocazii, cand i-a calcat gradina de legume, sau cand a disparut de acasa si nu l-a gasit decat dupa ore intregi, speriindu-l pe tata care credea ca il calcase vreo masina.

Bobby a fost mereu dezlegat. Niciodata nu a fost legat cu lantul, asa cum o fac multi oameni in Romania. Si dupa ce si-a invatat teritoriul, Bobby era extrem de ascultator si cuminte, si nu mergea unde nu avea voie.

Vremuri mai sanatoase si mai fericite: Bobby in fata bucatariei si a portii

Ca orice animal de casa, Bobby a devenit parte din familia noastra. In primul weekend pe care l-a petrecut la noi in casa, a fost nunta sorei mele. A fost cu noi cand a murit maia; era mereu langa noi cand veneam in vizita, si mancam pe terasa; a fost langa mama si tata cand a murit Dolly, pisica noastra; era mereu langa tata cand facea gratar; a fost acolo cand l-am dus pe Patrick in Romania pentru prima data. Era mereu tacut si daca nu il vedeai, nu stiai ca exista caine la casa parintilor mei. Sau daca nu era cate o pisica vagaboanda prin curte si atunci ii auzeai scheunatul. Ca nu era chiar ca un latrat. Era mai mult ca un suspin sau oftat!

Nu prea se pricepea la tinut pisicile afara din curte. Suspinul lui frustrat cand le vedea insemna mai mult ca le atentiona ca desi primesc mancare acolo, curtea ii apartine lui.

Bobby a fost fara discutie cel mai destept caine din cati am vazut vreodata. Grija cu care se misca pe langa copiii mici, obedienta tacita fata de adulti, discretia cu care statea sub masa fara a cere flagrant de mancare, il aratau ca pe un caine destept. Si, fara discutie, a fost un caine plin de dragoste, pentru toti cei care l-au intalnit. Dragoste si umilinta.

Cred ca tacerea lui i-au cauzat si moartea, poate, pe de o parte. Parintii mei nu si-au dat seama cat este de bolnav pana a fost prea tarziu, pentru ca nu se plangea de a-I fi rau.

Bobby a murit astazi. Avea doar 10 ani. Si spun “doar” pentru ca ar fi trebuit sa traiasca mult mai mult! A murit la fel de silentios cum a trait. Asa cum a zis si mama, a fost ca si copilul lor; chiar daca l-am mai certat, l-am iubit, asa cum iubesti si certi un copil.

Deci, la dupa doar 10 ani, noi, si mai ales tata care si l-a dorit timp de peste 40 de ani, nu suntem pregatiti sa ii spunem “la revedere”. Dar adevarul este, cand oare suntem pregatiti sa spunem la revedere unui “copil”, unei parti de familie, unui animal de casa?!

Sper ca daca exista vreun “rai ai cateilor”, Bobby alearga acum liber si fara durere prin el, rastindu-se doar din cand in cand la pisicile care ii ies in cale. O sa imi fie dor de tine, Dle. Capucino. Esti de neinlocuit!

Mai putin "servitor si stapan" si mai mult "prieten si prieten" - tata, cu Bobby

The Dog Who Barked Only ... at Cats

Why do we do it?! Why do we ever consider to have pets? We know we will get attached like they are family. We know they will die before us and we know it will hurt when they go. And yet we choose to have them. Consciously. With eyes wide open, we seek them, or we open our doors and our hearts to them when they seek us. Why?!

I am guessing for a similar reason that some of us choose to have kids, although we know we won’t be able to protect them forever – just from some kind of unexplained law of nature. We feel the need to connect. To give love, and to receive it. Unconditionally and totally. Explaining why is superfluous. We will do it at some point in our life, to celebrate our humanity!

Ever since I can remember, my dad wanted a dog. He was very specific about what kind of dog he wanted: it was going to be a German Shepherd. As my sister and I were growing up, we watched him love other people’s dogs, because mom never allowed pets in our condo. But once he built his house, the very same year, he was on the lookout for a dog. This way, the dog can live outside, and not bother mom.

And a dog he got. Ten years ago this August, he had a friend who had a German Shepherd female dog who had puppies. And he adopted one and named him Bobby. More precisely, Bobby Cappuccino, because of his “cappuccino” color. Dad wanted a mean looking dog, so people would stay away from his house (in Romania the notion of a guard dog is not at all extinct). A large and mean looking dog Bobby was, but a mean dog he was very far from.

He had to be the quietest and meekest dog I have ever seen. He loved friends and strangers just the same. And although dad wanted him for the known, loud and intimidating Shepherd’s bark, the only thing Bobby ever barked at were cats! Never at people. Ever. He would eat from anyone’s hand, and lean onto anyone’s leg at the dining room table. He would greet everyone, friends, strangers, the mailman, anyone at the gate, and show them into the kitchen or where dad was.

He was dad’s shadow, all these years, although dad has been known to be mean to him when he trampled his veggie garden and when he wandered off into the streets for hours causing dad to panic that he might have gotten killed by a car.

Healthier and happier times: Bobby outside the kitchen and in front of the gate - he never quite grew into his paws and large head.

He was always free to roam. In Romania chaining a dog is routine, but dad never ever chained Bobby. He trusted him, and Bobby behaved always, after he learned everyone’s needs.

Like any pet, he became very much part of the family. During his first weekend in our yard, my sister got married. He was there when my grandmother died, when we visited my parents and had all our meals on the patio, he was there when Dolly, our cat, died; there when we grilled out, there when we brought Patrick for his first visit to see my parents. He was always quiet, and unless you saw his large frame, you never ever knew there was a dog living there. Unless stray cats would happen in the yard, and you’d hear his whining. Not as much as a bark, but a frustrated whine. He was not very successful at keeping cats at bay, though: dad has had throughout the years many-a-stray cats in the yard to feed. His whine was just a warning to them, perhaps, that yes, they may get food in that house, but the yard still belongs to him.

He was without a question the smartest dog I have ever known. His diligence to move around babies and small children without hurting, his nonintrusive closeness to humans, his discreetness and never begging for food made him smart to me. And definitely, without a question, he was the most loving dog I have ever seen. He was nothing but a big pile of love for everyone. And meekness!

I think his silence almost killed him: my parents didn’t realize he was as sick as he was, because he never complained. His congested heart was found too late.

He died today. He was only 10. And I say ONLY because dogs should live longer than that! Much, much longer! He went as quietly as he lived. As mom said “he was just like a child of ours; we loved him, although we sometimes scolded him, just like you do a child”.

So, at only 10, we – and definitely dad who waited for him for 40 some years – were not ready to lose him! Truth is: when are you ever ready to lose a “child”, a part of your family, a pet?

Hopefully, if there is such a thing as a doggie heaven, Bobby is peacefully roaming it free and painlessly, only whining at the random cat up there … I’ll miss you, Mr. Cappuccino. You could never be replaced!!

Dad and Bobby. Not as much "master and servant" as "pal and pal"

A Mental Deck Chair

So, the countdown has started. The countdown to my starting a new chapter in my life, that is. So far, everything was in sort of a happy-go-lucky, dreamy, planning stage. Now, the doing phase has begun. And let me tell you, I feel like I am standing near a mountain of huge stuffed bears that were holding up so ever so tenderly, and someone has recently pulled a bear out of the stack, and the whole mountain moved. And I am standing there, holding on to it for dear life, so I’d prevent it from burying me under it.

Overwhelmed and scared is what I feel. I mentioned this before: my motto in life, when I left high school was “I am scared but I like it”. Now, older, and really not much wiser than then, I would say “I am scared and that’s it”. ‘Cause I surely as heck am not liking this!

And I think the issue is control. The stuff I worry about, from everything I have to do in a day is not stuff that I can control. That, the knowing and known stuff, it’s what gives me comfort. I know: it’s a truism: knowledge gives you power – so, you won’t be afraid of what you know. But only now, when I am buried under all the details and all the chores, and under the incredible amount of things that other people have to do for me, I realize this so acutely.

I am not sure what overwhelms me more: thinking all these things I am scared of will happen? Or the fact that things that I can do might not get done, because I have too many of them to do?

Just to give you an idea of what I do in a given day lately: the alarm goes off at 6 AM. I hit the snooze button for at least an hour; I get up at 7:15 or so. Sometimes later. I shower. I dress. I make up my bed “fancy”, since the house is on the market, and it has to look like no one lives here (really, people, who are you kiddin’??). I then clean out my bathroom: fold my towels just so (again, like no one uses them – yeah, right), I put the toiletries away. Then, I climb downstairs. I feed cats. I make breakfast. I pack lunch. I scoop litter, and take the trash out. Every morning. Then, I jump in the car around 8:30-9:00 – already late. Every morning.

Then, work. With all its chores: meetings, documentation updating, answer emails, make sure all you know is in some folder so someone can find it. When I am not there. Being everyone’s spare brain is not easy, ya know! Lunch is always a working lunch: either working at my desk, or running an errand for what I have to do: meeting with the wedding planner, picking up the wedding dress, buying litter for the house, buying groceries or supplies to clean up the patio, vacuuming the car, cleaning the trunk, installing a baby seat in the car, doctor’s appointments, picking up prescriptions. What have you.

Then work, again. Errands again, after work: meet with realtor. Or go home, crate the cats, since I’ll have a showing. Cook dinner, at some point. Somewhere in there, watch what I eat: I can’t possibly allow myself to gain another pound, and there is no time for walking anymore!

Email mom and friends to let them know I am alive. My emails to them are shorter and shorter every day. Got no time for long ones. Then, clean the house some more, of kitty hair and throw up, from over the day. Go to bed around 11 or 12, and try as hard as it may be, to read at least ONE page in a book. One page. Just to pretend I disconnected and I gave my brain a break that day. It doesn’t work. I fall sleep in the first 3 minutes of “reading”.

These are the chores.

For the things I cannot control and which keep me up at night, right after the first 30 minutes of fast asleep-ness… are way more than those… I always worry the people who will see my house will let the cats out, if they don’t call to make an appointment and they come in without me crating them first. They will let at least one, the friendliest of all, out. And I will be devastated if I lost him/ them. I feel like I constantly have my front door wide open, since they put a key in the lockbox for the showings, and anyone can help themselves to my cats, house, everything. Communism instilled paranoia goes a loooong way, let me tell you.

I fear the house will never sell, because of this crappy market, and we will end up paying the mortgage on this big monster for 2-3-5 years. We will be poor and he will hate me for my debt! People get over buyer’s remorse when buying a house or a car in a couple of months. Three years since I bought this – I never went over mine. And now the painful feeling of being “stuck with it” has to be shared with this other wonderful and innocent human being that accepted me in their life! Guilt. Lots of it!

I fear, I will crate the cats, but then they will go crazy, because they really don’t like to be crated, as free as they always are.

I fear that when we drive across country with them for 4 days, they will pant and get crazy in the brain in the crates, and I will have to put them to sleep if they never recover. I fear silly things like these, all the time.

I fear I will kill them one time, by forcing them to enter the crates, although I have had vets teach me how to do it properly, with minimal to zero discomfort to them. But I love them too much, anything “against their will” hurts me.

I try making the crates fun: I sprinkle cat nip and try to hide toys in there, hoping they’ll like it. They look dubious! And I feel, once more, guilty.

I fear everyone will arrive for the wedding (because everyone but me is flying in, and no one from a drivable distance, really!) one or two days late, and all our schedule for the wedding week will be shot. I fear my future husband will be late, again, coming into town, and we will not have time to get a marriage license … I feared till yesterday that they’ll burn my dress at the alterations place and where am I going to find a beautiful dress that fits me again?? Well, they didn’t burn it. In fact, it turned out beautifully, and I am so tickled to have it in my possession now, all fit and ready to go!

I fear (still) that my nephew will get very sick again, and my sister will not be able to make it to the wedding. But, alas, she has plane tickets now, and she at least has that “insurance” for my troubled psyche …And he has felt so much better lately, bless his heart!

I am a constant knot of emotions, thoughts and fears. I sound like a crazy person, I know … And this is, like I said, the beginning. And these are all things that will get sorted out with time, patience and a clear mind. But alas, I do not have time for clarity right now. Just for shear panic, it seems.

I needed to at least lay them down on paper, and let them fly into the world, so they will leave my brain and heavy chest.

With all this running around during the day and being awake with nutty thoughts at night, I have grown to enjoy even the little bit of waiting at the traffic light! Even the wait in a doctor’s waiting room, which normally grinds my nerves. I don’t even read there anymore. I can’t. My brain is on overload. I need to let it just rest. Just be. Just have no purpose at all for a minute. Or two. I enjoy waiting lately – and I don’t even recognize myself as typing this!

Did you hear what they’ve been doing in New York City now ? They have blocked off streets in Times Square – yes, as in the busiest, most crowded and happening square possibly on the planet – closed down the traffic, and let people sit there on deck chairs. Just stop and sit on deck chairs - take a break during their crazy days: they have street artists, even yoga, and lots of nothing, but sitting and chatting, and being. The Budget Travel magazine editor ended her editorial about this wonderful initiative with “somewhere, there is a deck chair with your name on it”.

And ever since I read that, I keep praying that I’d find mine. For even just one second, I can block off “the traffic” which is now my life and just sit. And do nothing at all. But sit on a mental deck chair. I hope I find it soon, or else my “mental” knees will give out. And I do need a rest. The long road is just ahead!

Gypsy, making peace with the cat carrier - but not quite.