Help the Wolves....please!!

I am sitting here crying. I don't do this very often, so when I do, it is for a damn good reason! I am crying because I just got an e-mail from an organization I support which is Defenders of Wildlife. The email I got was asking me to sign a petition going to the Discovery Channel asking them to ban Sarah Palin's show about "her Alaska". One of the reasons this petition was started was because she has not only allowed but encouraged arial slaughter of the Alaskan Wolf. One way she encouraged this was by paying a $150 bounty on any left leg (I can't remember if hind or fore, but that shouldn't matter here), that was brought in. That is what has made me cry. I can't believe anyone can be so callas and mean. Look into the eyes of this wondeful wolf hybrid that is my neighbor, and tell me these beautiful animals don't have a soul.

I am from Montana, where the wolf was reintroduced into Yellowstone park. On one of my visits back to my old stomping grounds, I went back to Yellowstone and sat and waited and saw the wolves. They are so wonderful. I am kind of strange this way, but that kind of beauty and power, just gets to me....and makes me cry. I cried at the Dolphin show at the Boston Aquarium too. For what ever reasons, I feel so close to these wonderful creatures. All animals, wild or domesticated. Of course, sharing my life with a wild dog has kind of made me more aware of how special and amazing wild animals really are!!!

So, would I be crying if Sarah Palin took out a bounty on right wing fundamentalists?....well, probably not. But then, they can take up arms and defend themselves.....these animals can not. They were here before we are. How dare we think that they are encroaching upon our land. That is complete nonsense. They don't want to have anything to do with us. They just want to do what they do best...exist and make sure their species does not die out. They help our eco system.

I am currently watching a nest cam set in South Africa of an Eagle Owl. I thought the name of the cam was funny....as it is potplantowl. I was tuning in thinking I would see these stoned owls hanging out in marijuana plants, but oh no, much more sad than that. These owls are nesting in someones potted plant on their balcony, as they couldn't find any natural place to nest. Luckily, they picked someone who is just interested in putting a cam up, and showing us the irony of this. How many people would either through ignorance or negligence, destroy the nest?

I cry a lot over animals. I want to see them safe. I want to see them living their lives like they should. If you have a moment and want to do something little to help these wonderful creatures, please go to the web site of Defenders of Wildlife and look at the actions you can take.

One of these days I hope that I can sign a petition to get rid of all the idiots out there like Sarah Palin, but until then......

May I Be a Good Friend...

One thing I have been thinking about is friendship. I am very lucky, as I have many good friends. Some, I have never met! I guess in years prior to computers, this may have been called "pen-pals". Now however, I have some very good friends who I chat on the phone with, and write emails to, and I consider them just as good of friends as those who are in my everyday life in the flesh. In fact, they may even know more about me than some of my real time friends. When my uncle recently died, I talked to my aunt who I haven't had much contact with in recent years. She told me that one of the qualities that I had that she envied a little, was being able to make friends easily. I guess that is true.

When I was a kid, I thought everyone was our friend. The guy that pumped gas, the store clerk, and the librarian. My father never knew a stranger. He also made friends easily. I suppose I learned that skill from him. The other thing I think caused this friend making behavior, is being an only child. I did not have sisters or brothers, I also did not have any extended family members that lived close, so I had lots of friends. I grew up in a great neighborhood, and there were kids my age in almost every house on the block. So, friends were always an important staple in my life.

Usually, I have always had many good friends, but one or two really close friends. Lately, I have been thinking about all the friends who have left my life. I am sad about that. Some died, some just faded away as our lives took different paths, and some left under stressful conditions. Some have gone away without any real explanation. Those are the hard ones. Actually, both of my closest and longest relationships ended that way. One was a thirty year friendship. We were closer than friends, really. To me we were more like siblings. I don't know what happened. Our lives did take drastically different paths, but it seems like the older I get, the more I want to rekindle this relationship.....but I wonder, can it work? If I can base a friendship on just shared memories of our crazy past, then maybe. But, when our lives are now so different, maybe it isn't possible to become close once again. It makes me sad though. The person who has the most history of me, is unavailable to me.

The other day I was explaining some amazing gifts some new friends have bestowed on me to someone. These are friends who I have met through the internet. The person stopped me and asked, "Do you have any real friends?" I knew what she meant, but I pondered that for a moment before I answered. Are these not "real" friends? They feel real. I suppose if we were in a room together, rather than on the phone or the internet it is possible that the "chemistry" would cause us not to enjoy one another's company.....but I doubt that. I don't have a sense of smell, so even if they never bathed and smelled horrible....I wouldn't care!!! LOL I could imagine a scenario where they were energy suckers and the boundry crossing would be difficult to handle....but usually, I know this just from talking to someone.....so I think, when and if we ever get into the same room...we will still like one another! So, yes....I have real friends, as they are not imaginary! (What the question meant was do I have friends that I go out and do things with....yes I do)

I had a number of these as a child. I apparently thought they were real. My mother told me that I almost had a break down one day when she slammed the car door shut on one of them! So, they must have seemed real to me. I don't remember this. I don't remember my imaginary friends, but I have heard so many stories that I think I remember them. The only one that no one knows about is the only one I actually remember. I wonder what that means? (If you want to do some arm chair psychotherapizing.....go ahead, my ego can take it...LOL)

My other closest friends.....my animals. Some would possibly say that they would not really be friends, but I think they are the closest friends, and the best friends I have ever had. All they seem to want to do is love me. How many of my friends can I say that about? I have some good friends, but lets face it....the human ones always have some kind of strings attached. That isn't necessarily negative...it is just the nature of us humans...

So, as I sit here tonight, and ponder the meaning of friendship, and friends....I feel pretty darn lucky. I have had, and currently have some amazing friends. Because I have lived in many places, I have also had the fortune to make all kinds of friends, learning about all kinds of cultures, beliefs, religions, and backgrounds. Luckily, I think I am pretty open minded and non-judgemental. I learned a long time ago that it is ok to agree to disagree about things. I have learned so much from my travels, and my curiosity of other people's lives. (Good quality for a psychotherapist huh?)

If you are reading this, you may be my friend...or maybe you just started reading my blogs recently. I want to thank all of you who are reading this, but mostly I want to thank all the friends and acquaintances I have had throughout my life. You have come into my life for a reason, and even if we ended our relationship on a negative or hard circumstance....I learned from you. I believe even those that we consider our "enemies" ( a strong word that I don't really think I apply to any of those who have been in my life, but it is 3am and my word choices are not as plentiful as they could be when I am a little less tired) are our greatest teachers. I truly love all my friends, past and present. I wish I could do something for every single one of you to show my appreciation of our walk on this earth together. Whether that walk was a day, or 30 years, you have touched my heart and changed me. I just hope my interaction with you was positive, or helped you grow in some way.

May all of us find friends that nourish our soul. May we hold onto our friends who love us, and let those who challenge us go with a prayer for their continued well being. May I be a good friend to all who come into my life.

Am I Depressed??

I can start off by saying....NO. But, so many people
seem to think I am, or should be. Yesterday I had an interesting experience at my doctor's office. He said he declined my home health nurses's request for a DNR. I said "no wait, that is correct". He looked all concerned and said, "I have to explain this to you. If you are outside and suddenly drop, no one can touch you, even if you could be resucitated you will die"
" That is correct"
"But you are pretty young to want that"
"Come live in my shoes, and see if you want to continue living if something says it is my time to go"
At that, my dear doctor gave me stats to back up my thinking. I really think he was giving himself stats to be ok with me, at 54 years old, not wanting to be kept alive. I suppose some people would think that was coming from a place of depression, but for me.....I think it is the most sane and wonderful choice there is. I certainly don't want to be kept alive by machines, but really, I want to go when that first touch of the "death angel" comes for me. I think that will be one of my departed animals BTW.

I am not afraid of death. I don't welcome it, but I have lived a pretty event filled life. I have no regrets as I look back, in fact mostly I smile. I have had easy times and hard times. Right now, because of my health, I am having the hardest time ever. Sure, I find ways to keep myself happy. I am enjoying what I do have, but truth be told, I am not all that happy with my quality of life. I have learned to adapt. Another comment made at my doctor's appointment yesterday....
I said in response to a small political discussion we were in, "I pretty much quit watching news, I find that those CNN junkies I know are all pretty depressed. I know that the world has things that suck in it, I really don't need to be reminded on a daily basis".
My doc agreed and said that it gives him a feeling of being out of control, but it is really a mirage that we are in any kind of control at all anyway. I agreed, and said, "Try getting a chronic pain illness, or 5 in my case.....there is nothing like that to wipe away any thoughts that we are actually in control of much of anything. I learned that you learn to roll with the punches, you learn to be grateful of the good things, and you focus on what you have, rather than what you don't have."

So, yes, if you look at my life, you may think I am depressed. I spend a great amount of time inside, laying on my couch. I don't reach out to people like I used to, I don't attend social events. So, based on that, on a forced isolation...well, it could look like depression. But, I am so grateful for those friends that have hung in there with me, that have not given up on me because I can't participate in their social invites. I am very grateful to my medical providers who have hung in with me and know that I am doing my best to help myself feel as good as can be.

So, I am not depressed. I am just moving along the best I can, waiting for the day when the pain will lessen, the fatigue will lift, and my life will have a better quality. I still have some hope that this will happen. As you know if you have been reading this, I have been adjusting my goals so I do have something to look forward to. I think this is key.

So no, I am not depressed...quite the opposite, even if I did request a DNR!!

How Did I Get This Way?

I have been thinking a lot lately, which can be a dangerous thing, but I have decided to share some of these meanderings through my mind. I have been mostly thinking about what I have. Well, let me be honest, it came originally from my dwelling on what I have not....until one day I was standing at the sink and turned on the water. Magically, it came rushing out. Clear clean water. Yeah, so what you may be thinking (or if you are regularly reading this, you may already know where I am heading), but there it was, clean, clear, safe, water. I could just hold a glass under the faucet, and there it was, water to drink. Amazing. How did I end up being one of the fortunate ones?

How did I end up being born in a place where this is totally taken for granted. I realized at that moment, how incredibly lucky I am. I am not walking 3 miles, to get a little bit of clean water to drink. I am walking to my kitchen sink. Then I started thinking about all the other things that I have that make me feel incredibly lucky. I won't bore you with all these, it is the same things most of you have. A roof over our heads, a car or at least public transportation to get from here to there, a telephone, the internet, wow. Really, how did I end up just plopping down in the middle of a place where things are easy. But yet we complain. Well, I guess I should not use "we", I complain. I imagine you do to, it seems pretty normal for those of us who have everything, to think we want or need more. I wonder what the person in Africa, who has to walk those 3 miles are dreaming about? Maybe the same things as I do. But, I bet there is a huge difference too.

Then I realized how lucky I am because I have done a lot in my life time. Possibly because I have never settled down into a family, or a relationship, I have had the freedom to do a lot of living. I have had so many adventures, that I can't even remember some of them. How lucky is that? I have traveled through most of these 50 states, 7 European countries, and most of Canada. I have experienced other cultures either through living with them, or being friends with a vast variety of people. I know what living in Appalachia feels like, where blue grass music was born. I have had numerous Native American friends and been very lucky to be invited into their culture (my mother was born and raised on the Fort Peck Reservation, which was just one of many times I was living close within this culture). I have done so many things that some people only dream of....walking on fire, shooting class 5 rapids, living in the 60's and 70's (enough said,,wink wink), living through 2 volcanos, 3 hurricanes, a few tornados, one major flood, numerous blizzards and ice storms, and a sand storm. I have met famous people, and people who should be famous. I have even attended an NFL game.

I have hiked in majestic mountains, walked across prairies and on beaches. I have flown in the skies in small planes and jets. I have seen the glaciers in Glacier National Park that are now almost gone. I have watched Old Faithful shoot toward the heavens on countless occasions. I have ridden in semi trucks, rode with a motorcycle club (gang really), lived in a motor home and a teepee. I have lived in very large cities, medium size towns, and a tiny little village. As the song says, "I've been everywhere, man".

Then there are the things that were not easy, but I still feel very lucky to have been placed in these situations...working with children with leukemia, people with Alzheimer's, teens at risk. I have been involved in various churches, a separatist lesbian community, practiced Buddhism, and have many friends who are witches who have shown me how to love the Earth and all it has to give us. I have been involved with a school for psychic healers, where I was there to help them learn by rating their readings/healings of me.

I have lived within the creative community of the arts and performing musicians. I was a starving artist, I have performed in bars, and for crowned heads in Europe. I have lived a life where money did not matter, when my father was considered quite wealthy, as compared to now (and other times in my adult life) where I am living below the poverty level.

I could go on, I could go on for hours....I am so lucky. I also feel very blessed by the people who have come and gone in my life. I have had long lasting relationships with childhood friends, and brief encounters that were all intense and lovely and full of learning opportunities. I have had amazing kindness shown to me, as well as cruelty and abuse. I have cried over lost loves, lost friendships, lost pets. But, I have laughed, and laughed hard and long. I am so very very lucky.

How did I end up being who I am? Nature? Nurture? I believe by being mostly open minded and non-judgemental (or at least I try), this has allowed me to take in all these varied and marvelous adventures in life. And, it is all an adventure, now isn't it? One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite television shows was by Ed Chigliac on Northern Exposure. I don't remember the exact quote, but it was something like "all we have to do is wake up each morning and we have the possibility of another adventure". I like that. Even now, even when my body feels like every single one of these past listed adventures has taken a huge toll on it....waking up each morning still holds numerous possibilities for a new adventure. I may not hike the Appalachian, but something else just as wonderful will come along. I just have to wait, and be open. My adventures are not over. I am lucky. Because not only do I have endless opportunities for wonderment and awe in my life.....I can turn on the water, and take a drink right from the tap. How did I get so lucky?

Entitlement

I haven't felt like writing in the past couple of weeks. I guess because nothing has come to me that made me feel passionate, or angry, or happy, or whatever it is that makes me want to share my ideas with you all. But today, I got a post on FB that made me stop and think, you may have seen it. It is a pic of a youngish looking ER doctor, who is complaining because the person he is working on is covered in tattoos, has a lot of bling, smokes, and eats at fast food restaurants. He said this is what is wrong with our system. It isn't the medical system that is broken, it is our social system. Well, yes and no.

The first thing this brought to mind is when I was working, within a medical clinic setting where most people there knew I was on medicare/medicaid, a rumor was spread about my spending habits. Basically, someone overheard me say that I wanted an Iphone. It went from this statement, to my supervisor being called in to warn him that someone who is working and claiming to be on SSDI with medicare and medicaid is buying things like an expensive Iphone.

Ok, lets get real here; there are many things wrong with this picture! First, how me saying I wanted an Iphone, transferred to me going out and actually purchasing an Iphone was the first assumption that was just wrong. Next, the fact that anyone can tell me how to spend my money, is just wrong. Also, for those who get all paranoid and freaky about how can I be on SSDI and be working...yes, you can be on disability and work. They actually encourage it. So, what this brings up is: if you are poor, and you are using money that basically you worked for most of your life (I have been giving up a portion of my check since I was 16 to that fund), then apparently people around me have the right to monitor my spending habits. If I am living on a fixed limited income, well by golly, I had better look like I am poor. Nothing new and shiny for me! BTW, I don't even own a trac phone. You see, I can say I want something, it really doesn't mean I am going to get it.

But, this is a good example of how those of us who have had to swallow our dignity, to push away our pride, to become less than....because of something that is totally out of our control, has forced us into living a life we were not planning. Yes, there are those who abuse the system. There are those who have figured out how to screw the government out of money. We say they feel "entitled". But, isn't the example I use above just as bad? Why are people who are working "entitled" to tell me how to spend my money? Why should this be an issue in my work place? Why do they even listen to rumors in the first place? Why wouldn't they just come to me rather than telling my supervisor? Yeah, to me none of this makes any sense.

When I questioned the reasons behind this inquiry into how I am spending my money, the explanation was as follows: "I think it is because there are people here who are working really hard for their money, and to see someone who is on disability affording things that they can't, gets them upset"....ok, wait red flag, red flag..... First, and again....I don't have an Iphone, or any phone that is not connected to a land line. So, this should be a non issue to begin with...maybe we should start talking about rumors....but, that was not the case...the case was "people who are working hard for their money".....Oh, I guess that means because I am on disability, I am somehow taking it easy for mine? I remember working prior to getting sick. Work was most of the time enjoyable, fun, easy. I didn't think twice about getting up in the morning, showering, eating breakfast, and getting out of the door on time to drive to work. Well, since becoming sick and being on disability, just getting to work is more work that most people do at their actual job. I remember a few days during the winter, that by the time I walked through the snow, shoveled to get my car out, and got in the car.....I sat there and cried. I was too exhausted and too much in pain to even think about going in to work....but I did. Did I take a few more breaks that day? Maybe. But, just to be clear, that did not mean I was in some worker's lounge with my feet up, or chatting with co-workers. No, what that meant for me was that I just stayed at my desk and answered the phones, and did some paper work. I tried not to do any extra running around. So, I don't think that because I was on SSDI, somehow my job was any easier than theirs' was. In fact, I would say, I worked even harder for my money.

Why? Why would I do that, when all I would have to do for work is "run out to my mailbox". I have heard that one too. "Yep, that is her job, she just has to open her mailbox and laugh all the way to the bank." I know there is a perception that many people who are on public assistance want to be there. I don't believe this. I think if anyone was given a way to go back to work, or earn money in a way that was acceptable, they would. It is easy to look at someone on public assistance and think that they are the problem. I don't think "they" are. I think as long as we can look at "them", and think it is "their" problem, well then it can't be ours. It is an us and them thing. We are not in their shoes, that is because we want to work. "Look at whoosywhatsit over there, was on public assistance and pulled herself right up and out of there and is now working. If she can do it, so can wheresywhosit." And that is where the conversation ends. It is their fault. Or maybe it is the system's fault, it got people all used to depending on it, so it could be the system's fault. " Well, it is either the person's or the system's, but it sure isn't mine. I have a job, I like to work. I may not even like to work, but I do because I do not want to be a drain on society. I do not want to be one of THEM. And, what would we be if we did not have THEM?" I think maybe the answer to that question is easy to answer. We are them, and they is us. We say they think they are entitled to all this and that, and that is the problem. We feel entitled to judge them because they receive all that they feel so entitled to. So, we are all entitled. The meek shall inherit the earth. I think maybe, just maybe the "meek" are those of us who are living on public assistance!

It is so ironic to watch our culture. We don't like people who feel entitled, yet we put up on reality (ha ha) TV people who have lots of money and little sense. They become our heros. We think that it would be great to be just like them. We all want to have 200 + cars and motorcycles in our garage (Jay Leno). We worship those that can throw parties for 300 people each night in their mansions (Dennis Rodman and other sports heros). We are told if we work hard, if we follow our dreams, we can get there too. Every night there is another example of this put before our very eyes. Rappers/musicians who make it out of poverty and are dripping in bling and extravagance. They did it. Those that can throw away money are our heros. Politicians who help keep the very rich, the very rich....they are heros to some people. They promise that if you just act/think like them, you will be rich too.

I was thinking the other day about how companies used to take care of "us". You put in years of dedicated service, and the company would take care of you. The church would take care of you. Your neighbors or extended family would take care of you, if you could not work. Now, no one is taking care of anyone. No one wants to be a "them". So, in order not to be a "them" we have to keep all that we get. We have to buy things like Iphones that show that we are not a "them". And when one of "them" gets out of line and tries to look like one of "us", my God, get out the regulations that tells us how to keep them down. Humility is a good weapon, use that one.

So, this doctor, the one who is upset because he is treating a young woman who is poor, living on disability and has the nerve not to eat well, or at least quit smoking....well, she is the problem. Not him, he has to work with THEM. Good him.

Last night, I used up about 3 hours of my life trying to figure out how $80 in food stamps per month is going to allow me to maintain a healthy diet. Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful for those $80. I certainly can eat lots of beans and rice. And I will. But, I would like to have some variation in my diet. I searched the internet for hints on how to eat organic, local, healthy and the diet I am recommended to follow to reduce inflammation to slow the progression of Dercum's Disease. It is not going to be easy. Almost makes me want to throw in the towel and go buy some hamburger, and the cheapest most fatty at that. I can afford that, and probably get about 10 meals out of a pound. But, that isn't good for me. So, I have to work just a little harder to maintain a healthy diet. So, I am kind of getting paid for doing a job, I am getting paid to figure out how to stay healthy and not use up any more of this money they are "giving" me, so I won't be a "drain on society".

I know I get fuel assistance this year. But, what does that mean? How much will I have to come up with myself. I won't know until November. The thing is, I don't have any extra money to pay for fuel. So, how low will I have to keep my thermostat this winter, to make that heating oil stretch. Last year it was 55 during the day, and 50 at night. This is not good for my health. Being in the cold makes my muscles tense up, then it makes my pain flair. This causes more trips to the doctor, looking for those drugs that prove to everyone that I am just an addict. Yeah, I asked for this. And, I am entitled to this by God. Maybe the thinking is: if we make her keep her house so cold she can't stand it, she will by God get up and get to work, then she can stay warm!!

No, what I really want is a job. I want to feel good, to go out and feel useful. I want to help others, I want to do good things. But, apparently while swimming through the gene pool, I didn't pick up much that was very helpful toward accomplishing those dreams.....I am entitled, to all the judgement that keeps Them from becoming Us. or visa versa, it really doesn't matter any more....and I still don't have an Iphone.

My Big Grey Cat With Green Eyes, I love you.

Today I took my beautiful cat, Indigo to the vet to have him put down. So, tonight, although I am more tired than I should be to try and write this, I want to pay this cat, a little tribute.


I was living in North Georgia, when I came across a flyer advertising kittens. I wasn't really thinking about getting a kitten, but the flyer was so catching. I called the number and went to the house. OMG. They had something like 8 female cats, all deliver about 10 kittens each at relatively the same time!! I had never seen so many kittens in one place, all just running around. It doesn't make for easy choosing, but I ended up with 2, Indigo and his sister a little calico I named Kahlo. (named after women artists, the Indigo Girls, and Frieda Kahlo).

I brought them home to my little cabin out in the woods, and realized that Indigo was not the sharpest cat I have ever had. He used to climb the walls of the log cabin, get up under the ceiling and then could not get down. I had to get the ladder out, and rescue him. This happened at least 3 or 4 times a day! Once they were able to go outside (all shots and fixed), they discovered that they could climb a tree off my deck that led to the roof.....where I would have to go get them at least...you got it....3 or 4 times a day. Oh would I get mad. Inside was one thing, but this tree/tin roof thing..well...that was a little different. Yes, it was like a cat on a hot tin roof, and it wasn't like a cat on a hot tin roof...it WAS a cat on a hot tin roof. I would have to go get him, because his little paw pads would get burned up there.

One day, it was cool and overcast. I decided to see if he could come down on his own. I left him up there for 2 days. I put some water up there for him, but I figured he would come down when he got hungry...nope not him. He would stick his tiny little head over the end of the roof and meow at me with lots of angst. So, I crawled up there and rescued him once again.....this went on for months.

The other fun little game we played, was how many times a day we can step on the kitten. This poor little guy, at the time had grey eyes, grey fur, on a grey carpet in a cabin with poor lighting....luckily he never got hurt, but I would get major scratches on my legs.

What saved this little dear one, was his purr and his love. This little kitten was pure needy love. He would come over to me, to anyone...and want to show his love. He would purr and rub his head all over me. He would then settle in for a nap in my lap. I would sit for hours, reading with my little "man" (the only one in the house). He was a lover boy.

The next adventure that we had together was my move back to Vermont. I had a pick-up with a cap, and he and his sister made that their home for about 2 weeks. The place where I was staying had dogs and other cats, and they were afraid for my cat's safety. After two weeks, I had to get them out of that pick-up. I was driving up the road one day (way back in the boonies) and found an abandoned shack. My friends knew who owned it, so we got permission to keep the cats there. I would go up every day, bring the dogs (my dogs) and visit them, feed them and such. Everyday, Indigo would meet me sitting on the door step like he was waiting. (which I am sure he was). One day, his sister didn't show up. I found out that she had decided to adopt another family, as she was not a camping kind of cat....or a much smarter kind of cat. However, Indigo stayed in the shack, (which was kind of amazing, as there was no way I could block it off to predators, I just prayed a lot!!!) I don't remember how long my poor cat stayed in the boonie Hilton, but too long for sure.

I finally found a place for all of us to land, and there we stayed for 2 years. This however, was inside and with another person who loved cats....had 4 of her own. Indigo could go no further than 2 adjoining rooms in the house. However, I believe after the camping experience, this didn't bother him too much. He was becoming quite the meatloaf cat, as he couldn't really exercise much. I think at his most, he weighed around 22 pounds.

Next we moved here, to the house I bought. It was perfect for him. He (and my dogs) could let themselves in and out on their own. Indigo, I think because he was raised around dogs, was much more "dog-like" than feline. When I came home from work at night, he would run to meet me just like the dogs. He was never picky in what he ate, if it was in his bowl, he would eat it. Sometimes when the dogs would bark at things, he would look at me with a funny look on his face, and meow at the top of his little kitty cat lungs....I think the funny look was he never quite figured out why he was doing this.

Once, and I mean once....he caught a mouse. Now, this is an old farmhouse....so, this is not for lack of having all the hunting material he could possibly ever want.....he just didn't want. I used to joke that the mouse was a kamikazi...and jumped right into his mouth. That was a big day around the sub-dude ranch.....so named for him. (not a typo, it is a play on words that I used to use as my answering machine message). He was one big, subdued hombre.

So, we lived quite happily for the next 11 years or so. I noticed that his eye was runny, but he seemed fine in all other aspects of cat health. Then he started sneezing and coughing. But the scary thing, was his, in- the- middle- of- sleep- yowls. I thought he was dreaming. But, now his nose was running. Again, he did not seem sick, but about 2 weeks ago I took him to the vet. She found a lump on his gum, but thought maybe it was an abscess, and gave him an injection of anti-biotics. She told me if that didn't work, and if the lump did not shrink or the other symptoms clear, then it was most likely cancer, and warned that there was not anything that could be done for that.

The day after I brought him home, he became obsessed with being on me. As I stated, he was a very loving cat, and always wanted to sit in laps getting petted, but this was different. If I went to the bathroom, he was jumping up on my lap. When I was in the kitchen, he would reach up and put his paws...ummmm claws....into my leg and try to just hang there. I spent the entire day giving into his needs. We slept on the couch together all day long...and night. He would look deeply into my eyes, and I could feel that he was giving me a message. The next morning when I went to feed everyone, he was no where to be found. This was extremely odd. I looked everywhere, and called out for him...but he was not there. A day and a half later, he showed up at dinner time. I put some food into his dish, which he normally gobbled down like the dogs, but he just kind of licked it. He used to always come to me when I called him, and where ever I would pat my hand, he would lay down in that spot; but now, he would just lay on the back of the couch, close to my head, and sleep. I would invite him onto my lap, but he would just look at me in the eyes for a few seconds, then turn his head away. (He was my heating pad for my sore thighs and knees, he always would lay there if I would pat those areas, and purr and keep them warm for me).

A week went by (I think). He would eat a little, but would still not engage with me. Then yesterday, suddenly he started wheezing. Not only that, but it sounded very "wet". Also, his whole face looked misshapen. His nose was kind of pushed over to the side. I decided this was it. I called the vets office and made an appointment. I called a friend and asked him if he could come dig a grave for him in my yard. And at around 3pm on 9/9/10 my beautiful grey cat with big green eyes crossed over the rainbow bridge.

The vet's office was very good about how they set up the room, and about giving me time to be with him. We positioned him in his favorite sleeping pose, all curled up with his paw over his eyes, and wrapped him in muslin. I then put him in a pretty purple cotton pillow case, and brought him home and buried him.

But, the story doesn't end there, because if you know me, you know there is a coincidence...a spiritual show if you will.

Last night, a friend who came over to say good bye to him, questioned me about doing this as she thought it wasn't time. Of course, that put all sorts of doubt into me. The vet tech who gave him the injections looked him over after the first injection that calmed him, and said she was sure it was time. I won't bore you with all the reasons why, but it did make sense to me....but there is always that doubt. As he was laying on the table (which they had draped with fleece so it wasn't a cold sterile exam table (nice touch I thought), they left me alone with him for around 5 minutes before they came in with the final injection. Of course, I used that time to shed many tears, pet him, and hold him, and tell him how much I loved him. (which I had been doing for the past week too). I also called in my spirit guides and helpers to assist him with his transition. I told him who I thought would be coming for him, and to look for them.

On my way home, I decided to take the back road, as it is beautiful and less traffic. I was still crying. On the radio was jazz ballads which were very soothing. I asked the guides to give me a little sign if he was with them. I was listening to a song that sounded familiar, and though to myself "Isn't there a song that has the word Indigo in it?" I thought about putting in a CD of the Indigo Girls (his name sake) but that just didn't feel right. The announcer came back on air and said that the song he had been playing was "Misty", he then said "and now I have a beautiful rendition for you of a song played by Thelonius Monk, it is "Mood Indigo".

I knew, they were with my cat. He was safe and being greeted on the Rainbow Bridge.... they told me so. Until then, I had been crying. When I heard that, I kind of gasped, almost ran off the road...but then smiled. He was ok.

Some people say after they put down a pet, they see them. That hasn't happened to me with Indigo. But, all day today, I have heard him. I hear him purring, which he continued to do up until the very last seconds of his life on this Earth, in that beautiful, soft and silky kitty cat body.

So, rest in peace Indigo, our fourteen years together were good. I and your dog buddies will miss you, and we loved you very very much, but I am very happy for you......Happy First Day in Heaven Mr!

With thanks and gratitude to Amy at ORAH, and those that helped him transition.....you all know who you are.

slip and fall

It's been awhile. I want to write, but every time I try, nothing comes out. I think between the pain that I have been experiencing, and the recent death of one of my very favorite uncles, I just haven't had the energy to come up with anything to write about. Fall is almost upon us, I suppose that could render some kind of reflection, or thoughts about what is to come. I used to love fall. I loved getting new clothes, or at least getting the old clothes out of storage (and that $20 bill that seemed to have been forgotten in my coat pocket), and dressing in a way so I could be warm in the morning, but cool in the afternoon. I did like the way the air felt lighter, crisper, and the big sky in Montana was always so blue. Yes, I loved fall back then. But now....

I should love it, I am in Vermont, home of the king of falls, the showboat of all of the falls in all of the states, the stereotypical image of fall. It is beautiful. The first time I saw a mountain side ablaze with the near neon blast of color, I actually welled up. I had never seen anything like it. I haven't grown complacent about those colors; Mother Nature still amazes me, awes me, and makes me realize that I am one lucky woman to be able to bear witness to all that she provides. But....she also provides that thing...that stuff....that horribleness that one can only enjoy while young, agile and healthy. That stuff that is cold, and when you are not watching will bury your car....the terrible "S" word....snow.

I used to love snow. I was even called "the Snow Queen" amongst friends. Snow was fun in every way. Fun to walk in, especially when it is really really cold and the way it squeaks when you walk on it. It is fun to play in and with, snow forts, snow balls, snow sculptures. Not to mention skiing, sledding, ice skating...all the things that would make me plead, beg, pray for snow. But the best, that first real snow storm. How it makes everything quiet, and white and clean. How beautiful and sparkly it is in the sun, and the most beautiful shade of periwinkle blue that shows itself right before sunset. Yes, this is all beautiful, and marvelous, and wonderful, and blah blah blah.......

Now, because I am an old person (only in body mind you) that has been forced to walk like some web footed fowl with arms out to my side, rocking from one foot to the other in very slow small steps, I hate snow. I don't like that it is slippery. I don't like that is cold and wet. I don't like that if I fall, I may very likely break my ass, or leg, or arm, or hip. It is too much fear. I don't like fear. Even the cold that once felt refreshing and invigorating, now seems to have found the entrance to every joint I have on this body, and it makes them stiff and they creak and grown. No, I don't much like this cold and snow business.

Not to mention the hassles this stuff brings to me. I have to shovel, not only the side walks, but my roof! I can no longer do this, so I have to become some beggar woman asking neighbors to please help me. Then, and this is the worst.....there is the heat bill to pay. I start stressing about this in the spring. Living on a small fixed income is not conducive to a stress free fall/winter. It isn't like I can just put on more layers and huddle around a little electric heater...oh no...I have all manner of pipes that can freeze and burst....I know, it has happened...a lot! So, not only do I not have the money to pay for the heat, now add the heat guy, and the plumber. (oh and if I am really nice, and feel like I can expend it...a few dollars for those helping with the shoveling). So, whatever money I may have for things like food, clothing, entertainment (yeah right) now goes to winter maintenance......and I would like to add, this means sitting in a cold and drafty house with the thermostat turned all the way up to a balmy 50 degrees. Ah yes, ain't this the life?

So dear readers, at this point I am almost sure I can hear you all, in unison saying..."Get the hell out of Vermont". Makes sense doesn't it? But wait, then I would miss stuff...like that first snow flake landing on my tongue. That first big snow where all you can do is cuddle up inside and sit and watch the absolute beauty of the show Mother Nature is providing. There is also a community that comes with the white stuff. People helping others with shoveling, or just mentioning the fact that we weathered another great storm. There are more community dinners and potlucks, filled with delicious things like hot soups and stews. So winter is not a dark, lonely time of the year, if you don't want it to be.

But, I still do kind of dread it, and welcome it all at the same time. Maybe it is the survivor in me...ahem, the stubborn survivor in me...."I'll tough it out, I can get through anything!" Maybe it is just that I am a Northern woman, and that is where my blood just wants to be. Maybe it is that I can't fathom having to pack up and move.....maybe there is some kind of magnetic force right under Vermont that grabs us, and won't let us go.

Running with that theory...I may be onto something. I have noticed that there are a very high number of like thinking people in this State. Mostly it is people thinking good thoughts, caring thoughts, you know...love your neighbor kinds of thoughts. Maybe that white stuff and the dropping thermometor keeps those out that can not feel that same magnetic pull. There is a joke about that, the weather keeps away the undesirables. Maybe?

So, for at least one more year, I will bitch, moan and complain about the weather. I will absolutely freak out because I won't know how I will afford fuel oil. I may slip and fall on the ice and snow, or hurt my back shoveling. I may not see very many people, or go out to do as many things. But, I will still be here. I will every once in awhile marvel at the beauty. I will snuggle down into my comforter and blankets, gather my animals around me and smile as I drift off to sleep. (Think about it, when you freeze to death, you basically just go to sleep.....I had heat stroke once...it wasn't pretty!!!)......but no, I just mean go to sleep all toasty warm in my bed.

So, let the fall begin. The seasons change and so do I, and just like the winter with it's harshness and beauty, I find myself sorting through the winter in my soul, with it's harshness and beauty...there is something to be said for hibernation.

Happy Fall Everyone......