New Beginnings

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A long December and there’s reason to believe

maybe this year will be better than the last.

 

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Dec.31st, 2016.

It was a long December.

It was also filled with great memories, smiles and laughter but there were times when reality overwhelmed me.

Like when Alistair was gone and the snow kept coming down and it was so cold Loki chose to piddle inside and Steve, the Ranger wouldn’t start so I was hauling wood to the house through the snow in a wheelbarrow and I was down an extension cord so the 3/4 ton wouldn’t start and I couldn’t get a round bale in for Zeus so I was carting square bales in that damned wheelbarrow to the 6 foot fence and heaving flakes of hay over at him sending shards of spiky hay all over me and into my hay boots which have holes in them so they’re cold and then UB took off to the forest for a few hours and I knew we would be losing sweet Luigi.

Hell, I didn’t even know about Georgia at that point.

 

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Georgia Woo Fang Fyfe

She had been helping me split wood and would leap into my arms daily when I would lock her and Jockey into the barn every night, sweetening the deal with a can of soft food. She ate ravenously every time but we had been noticing her head tilt was more pronounced and she was more off-balance this fall.

Georgia had a chronic sinus infection that used to clear up with antibiotics over the years but this past year it became resistant to everything we tried.

 

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A few years ago, cuddling on the front porch.

Alistair got home on a Friday, and he commented that she had raspy breathing and wasn’t in her usual place in the barn. I had split wood the day before and she had been cuddly, purring and seemingly normal.

She passed away in her sleep on Saturday, curled up on some blankets in a box.

 

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Georgia loved her brother, Mouse so much and truly mourned his loss a year ago. They are together again.

And poor Alistair had to tell me, his wife who normally kept her shit together but had admitted to being overwhelmed on the phone to him a few days prior.

Doctor Tanya suspects pneumonia but I really don’t know. How brilliant is that, that I didn’t even know she was ill? She looked peaceful and comfy, thankfully, when I went to the barn that morning, where Mummy Tanya had a good cry.

I’m glad I told her and Jockey that I loved them every night when I would close the barn door behind me.

 

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Georgia, Mae Mae and Mouse a few years ago.

And I’m glad Mamma Cat had her furry babies in our barn in Bismarck the summer of 2005 and that we got to love this special litter and their funny ways for so long.

 

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The first sign of spring… Georgia in her tree.

I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving

Oh how the days go by so fast.

So my heart was a little frayed 2 days later when Alistair and I knew it was time for little Luigi to cross the Rainbow Bridge, too. I had carried the weight of knowing he had GI lymphoma for a couple of months and had only shared it with a few friends. Telling people about it only made it more real, which I was trying to avoid. I also don’t like messing with people’s Thanksgiving and Christmas happiness- the ferrets have quite the fan following!

 

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Luigi earlier this year making a move on my merlot!

I wasn’t even sure Luigi was going to be around to see his Papa again but he kept eating and wanting to come out and play and sneak into the sub-woofer and nibble cat kibble in the garage. And Alistair got to play a little more with the silver boy he raised in Bismarck for 2 weeks before bringing him to Montana as a Christmas present 3 years ago.

 

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The best Christmas present, Luigi Fyfe, the Italian Stallion!

Oh, man, he was a cute little thing but he was so tiny back then! Alistair’s brother, Ian visited in Bismarck and got to play with Luigi, who seemed entranced by his uncle.

 

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Our silver kit loving his uncle’s big arms in ND.

Phillipa and Calypso loved their new little brother and we got to enjoy watching them romp and play and snuggle and hide and play the “Chase” game for hours every night.

Their multi-tiered cage, “Quebec” is in the laundry room which is a central part of the house. I walk past it countless times every day, starting with letting the dogs out first thing in the morning and getting cat food to the indoor kitties once the dogs are in bed, the last thing every night.

One or more ferrets would watch me in the kitchen or visit with me as I did laundry for the past 7 or 8 years.

 

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Good times in Quebec in the Pirate Ship!

We went through 3 Pirate Ships because they loved the thing so much and come on, what’s cuter than seeing 3 feisty little pirates peeking through peep holes?

Do I even have to mention the Sing-Song Saddle and the Luigi Song?

Doctor Tanya and Doctor Alistair noticed Luigi losing a bit of weight this fall and then his stools got softer and softer. I whipped out every trick I had and even some new ones I learned from text books and an online Veterinarian network I am a member of.

 

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My boys… Luigi, Alistair & Calypso last year

The smell of hospitals in winter

and the feeling that its all a lot of oysters, but no pearls.

Some meds seemed to help and others were just annoying. Like the pink KaoPectate droplets scattered throughout the tiled floors where Luigi would try to spit it out. I have always tried to keep the memories happy during our companions’ final months, weeks or days so seeing him resist the syringe like that didn’t seem worth it. Luigi lived life as the happiest guy on Earth so why change that? Especially since it didn’t seem to help.

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Phillipa & Luigi in the ball bin this year

But then he stopped eating his kibble, which is usually a sign that Doctor Tanya watches for during palliative care. He still came out daily and played, though, eating lots of chewy treats and cat food.

And he came out one final night but moved much slower than normal. We both watched him in the living room and even the subwoofer didn’t seem to hold its usual appeal.

 

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“I’m a-just playing in the sub-woofer, Mama!”

He did lay on my chest and let me hold him for a long time, at least, and only a couple of tears fell onto him as I kissed his forehead and rubbed his little body that night next to Alistair.

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,

makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her.

And the next morning there wasn’t any sparkle in his eyes so together we sedated Luigi, the Italian Stallion and I sang him the Luigi song and he fell asleep in my lap. Doctor Tanya and Mummy Tanya became one and tears fell onto him when I administered the final injection and just like that, Luigi was gone.

 

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enjoying some water with Mama just a couple of weeks ago.

And just like that, December was a bit more difficult this time around.

But there were good times, too, many of them shared with the pets and also friends so I was able to sort of coast along busying myself with wood splitting or plowing snow. Having Alistair here during the 2 sad goodbyes helped tremendously. I really felt his absence when he left a few days ago.

When, for the first time in 7 years I didn’t have a ferret or 2 to play with or care for in the evenings. The house is pretty quiet.

 

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Taking pics of these 4 was always hilarious!

Amazing how much of this enormous house those little spirits filled.

Through all of this is Loki’s struggle to handle the cold temps and snow this winter. In all honesty, we didn’t expect her to be enduring another winter but November had incredibly mild weather and she really had the best Autumn of her senior years.

 

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Couch Time with Step-Gammy every night.

She enjoys her food and Couch Time every single night with us and she gets around the house just the same as always but going outside is a nightmare for her. She even began “chibbering” when I would put her little jacket on inside, seemingly in anticipation of the horrible cold snowy weather.

I’ve pleaded with her to keep doing her business outside because Step Gammy might lose her shit if she doesn’t.

Nobody wants to see that.

Because that isn’t me.

I’m always able to find something to laugh or smile about and I always will, even when my heart is sad. Loki is snoozing under my desk as I type and occasionally she toots and that just makes me chuckle.

 

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UB and Cleo helping me split wood yesterday.

I have plenty of things to be happy about and look forward to.

We are a family with 3 cats and 3 dogs. Why, that’s almost normal, right?

And the PGA kicks off 2017 in Kapalua, where Alistair & I spent a week playing golf in November. We totally enjoy watching the pros play the exact same course we were on, remembering how things looked from the tee and how we chose to approach the green (as if my ball ever goes where I’ve chosen it to go!)

And the skating world is in its 2nd half, meaning US Nationals and Canadians and then Worlds are on the horizon.

Will my friend’s 3 students skate well at Canadians? Will Gracie Gold hold her own shit together for the first time this season? Will Tessa & Scott re-claim top spot on the World podium after not competing for 2 years?

 

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Zeus. Yesterday. Handsome fella!

And Zeus has a round bale and Jockey is ever-so loving as my companion when I split wood or work outside and Steve has been firing up and we have a new battery charger and Big Red got new battery connectors and the bling company is launching a capsule this month and I found my pink Carhartts and  we have African cichlids in our kitschy tank and book 3 is coming together and the days are longer and my heart is full from having a house full of spirits and I’m going to be okay.

And its been a long December and there’s reason to believe

maybe this year will be better than the last.

I can’t remember all the times I tried to tell myself

to hold on to these moments as they pass.

(Thanks to the Counting Crows for the assistance on this one.)

Here’s to a New Year.

 

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Luigi & Phillipa this year.

 

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Georgia out front a few summers ago.

 

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Loki, snoozing on the bath mat last month.

 

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Pink Carhartts make me happy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Angie

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Angie Kimmel this winter. Photo by Juan de Santa Ana

Dear Angie.

Hey.

I’m writing you this letter because I can’t pick up the phone to text you or your mom to see if you guys want company. I can’t bring Cleo along for a fun walk through the neighborhood with you and Kali. And  I can’t randomly swing by, either, and hope to visit you because your bright smile and tired body left us on Oct.27th.

We celebrated your life yesterday at your folks’ resort on the lake and it was lovely. You would have approved.

I absolutely loved seeing all of your artwork throughout the house along with your amazing photographs that deservingly won awards over the years. I always loved seeing your photo entries at the Alpine Artisans auctions and still am in awe of the incredible pictures you took during the Jocko Lakes fire that nearly devastated our little community.

 

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Me, back in the day , 2007

You used to work at Lindey’s Steakhouse back then and you were building your photography business. Your eye for detail and love of nature shows in the photos hung or displayed at your old house.

I’ll never forget you coming into my little clinic with your liver & white Springer Spaniel puppy you had got from your aunt in Spokane 3 days prior. My records say it was November 29th, 2007. We bonded immediately because we had had our hearts taken over by our own Springer, Cleo a couple of years prior.

Kali was almost too smart for me and my Easy Cheese routine (Springers!) but we got her completely vaccinated and then I spayed her in March of 2008. Man, it doesn’t seem that long ago, does it?

 

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My first Furry Scurry walkathon at the inaugural Dog Days of Summer!

I’ll also never forget my very first Dog Days of Summer. I remember telling you about the party and why I created it. I was annoyed that the local medical group wouldn’t let me do microchipping and toe nail trims and a walkathon as part of their annual medical fest for humans so the Dog Days were created. You supported my craziness 100%!

 

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Angie, crazy enough to walk our young girls, Cleo & Kali in the walkathon

I was busy doing microchipping at that first event so you volunteered to take The Girls for their walk wearing their cute bandanas and all. The Furry Scurry raised money for the local pet shelter and turned into a huge part of that annual summer party.

We didn’t have a really large turnout but it was still pretty special. We had the discounted microchipping, a veterinary technician doing toe nail trims, goodie bags, bandanas and a fun BBQ for everyone who came.

And you and I and The Girls made the paper in a full spread that the local Pathfinder covered that summer!

 

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All smiles, enjoying the party with Cleo & Kali

You got your 2 kitties soon after you got Kali and I remember joking with you that you were collecting pets like I had done. You even found a black lab one day and we laughed our heads off when I said you were totally becoming a Fyfe and that I even had a single brother-in-law if you wanted to make it legit.

Your laughter radiated through the phone lines as we worked out who the Labrador belonged to and you remained exclusively a Mum for Kali and the kitties.

Your laugh is one of the most special things we all talked about yesterday. Your wonderful brother, Jeff told us all by the bonfire, through tears, as stunning lanterns were being released on the still lake behind him, how he used to try extra hard to be funny just so he could hear your laughter.

I got that. We all did.

 

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Up at the ranch today.

 

 

I’m feeling a bit melancholy today, which is unusual for me. One of the many things we had in common was our happiness and joy for life.

Even when you were diagnosed just over 2 years ago with a brain tumor your attitude remained bright, cheerful and strong.

You lit up like a lightbulb when we ran into you one day in Missoula when you & your mom were eating at The Shack. I plopped down on the bench next to you and we talked about how you were cheating a little bit on your well-researched diet. Your mom worked tirelessly to find the best foods for you as you fought back against your diagnosis. She has been your number one Champion throughout all of this.

I had fun walking with you and The Girls last year and sharing lunch and I enjoyed just visiting and hanging out at your place. I loved your garden the past 2 summers and hearing what you had planted and what the plans were.

Cleo never did go in the wading pool you had set up for Kali, did she?

 

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After our Bling for Angie online fundraiser a year ago!

You were so shocked almost exactly a year ago when I came by with our fundraiser check after my trip to Kauai. I love this picture of us because we’re both smiling (as per usual when we’re together) but also because I remember how much you liked your pretty birthstone earrings, my second book and the fact you wanted to go to Kauai.

That online fundraiser brought a lot of folks together all to support you. We sold bling in MT, FL, ID, CA, OR, AK, AZ, WA and even Alberta & British Columbia all because so many folks love you and wanted to help out. I realize now that some of those women who shopped were at the house yesterday and even though I may have met them I didn’t remember the fundraiser. I introduced myself as your vet and your friend. A lot of your family seemed to know who I was and that made my heart so happy.

I was also happy to see Kali and Bentley roaming around. Bentley is so outgoing now! They both found me countless times; what a joy to see Kali doing so well after her dog-attack this summer.

 

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Cleo (last month) was pretty worried about Kali this summer!

I loved when you, your mom and Kali came by to drop off the dog kennels this summer and you got to see the farm! It was a gorgeous, warm day and you were able to walk around and watch the dogs play in the creek. UB and Cleo showed Kali the creek and we talked about ear meds, Chambers of Commerce, barn cats and how peaceful it is up at the farm.

You and your mom both saw why Alistair and I love this place so much and we all laughed and everything was cool. Kali explored the creek but she mostly wanted to be with you.

 

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Loki, doing some sniffing this afternoon in front of the creek.

 

Randi and I talked about that dog attack yesterday and how your bond with Kali is so special and unique. Her dog, Lily was at the lake when the lanterns were being released and it feels so wonderful to know how many people and their pets you have touched with your life.

I’ll never forget our last visit, when I brought a bit of Hawaii to you because you never did get to go there. Your rolled the shell lei around in your hands and let me babble on about our upcoming trip to Maui, the golf tournament, my golf addiction, the bling, the state of the Fyfe pets, Loki pin-balling her way around the house, vaccine clinics and house calls, trips to Bismarck, our garden, your garden, your cats and even the upcoming election. I said “hi” from Lynn and from Alistair and even from Cleopatra and we talked about how everyone was doing.

I am so happy we made the trip outside that afternoon because the sun was making an uncharacteristic appearance that week. We bundled you up and the sunbeams found you and that was a lovely day & its a beautiful, special memory I will cherish forever.

 

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A couple of weeks ago with Kali and a sunbeam.

Because, as it turned out, that was our last visit.

The last shared giggles and laughter of two Springer Spaniel-loving, cat-cuddling, gardening brunettes who both came to Seeley Lake as outsiders who have a love and respect for the land and beauty that surround us.

My life is richer for having known you, Angie. My heart breaks for your folks, your brother & his family, your friends like Becky and Kathy who cried with us all yesterday and for everyone who has met you and maybe been lucky enough to have heard your incredible laughter.

And I know Kali is mourning you, too, but she has a lot of love surrounding her and she probably knows more than we think because of your amazing bond.

I love you, Angie. Thanks for playing. I miss you.

Love, Tan

 

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Me. Today. xo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Special Agent Fox Mulder Fyfe

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Mulder and Mummy

I think its pretty safe to say that I am not suffering from Compassion Fatigue.

No, my emotions are well and truly on display and I often have no control over them.

Like now… when I am choosing to share the fact that we had to help another special member of the Fyfe family over the Rainbow Bridge a few days ago when a rapid type of cancer took over Mulder’s unsuspecting body.

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Mulder, snoozing on the kitchen table last summer

The grief is raw and fresh and the tears are burning my eyes and I am totally okay with that.

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Alistair and Muldy back in ND a few years ago

Compassion fatigue is a term used for medical professionals who deal with emotional work routinely only their emotions don’t show.

It is often a veterinary team member who deals with terminal diagnoses, dropped-off or unwanted pets and euthanasias on a regular basis.

Many of these people bottle their emotions up inside with a “suck it up” attitude and they don’t have an outlet to let them back out.

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The “Muldy Pillow”

No family, friend or colleague to share them with.

No journal or blog to give life to words and feelings.

No sports or hobbies to allow the emotions to ride along on physical or creative release.

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Mulder loved nothing better than a classy box to hang out in

A resident during my 4th year Small Animal Medicine rotation was like that.

I had gone in to see a client and realized I was being asked to perform my first-ever euthanasia.

On a lovely, older, long-haired ginger cat.

The cat’s name was Tanya.

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Mulder Fyfe!

I remember going back to the interns and residents with tears in my eyes, thinking of my own long-haired ginger buddy in Bismarck, telling them the owner’s wishes for that morning.

This particular resident looked me in the eye and said, poker-faced, that I had to “get over it.”

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Muldy and I in Bismarck

I still remember how I felt that day before, during and after the appointment and how I didn’t bother holding the tears back as I injected the terminal solution into Tanya’s intra-venous catheter.

The resident didn’t grade me very well after that rotation and I didn’t care.

I have always wanted to be a good vet.

Maybe not the smartest, most intuitive, amazing, intellectual vet. Just a good one whose clients would know I cared about them and their pets.

I never minded sharing many tears over many goodbyes in my clinic.

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Not long after Mulder moved in with us 16 years ago

My feelings were right at the surface when I laid awake our final night in bed with Alistair, Mulder, UB and Loki.

I didn’t sleep a wink listening to Mulder’s sometimes-raspy breathing, knowing his cutaneous lymphoma had likely spread elsewhere.

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Mulder’s glorious winter hair coat in Bismarck a few years ago

 

I got up with him through the night when he got off the bed and helped him to the litter box where his kidneys spoke volumes.

Literally and figuratively.

I cried all night and in the morning when I told him all the things that needed to be said.

And I cried when I knew Alistair was off having his own time with our special friend.

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More “Muldy Pillow”

Mulder was unique for so many reasons and anyone who visited the Fyfe Farm remembered him.

Maybe for his raspy, incessant “MRAWWWWL” that he shouted frequently.

Maybe for the way he sat at (or laid on) the kitchen table even when we were having supper.

Or maybe for his ‘kiss pieces’ of bacon he would happily take from Alistair’s mouth regardless of who was watching.

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My breakfast-in-bed companions, Alistair, Mulder and Boomer (likely just after a kiss piece of bacon)…

He was a character from the moment he moved inside, a torn-up, scarred, sassy ragamuffin who I only fed because I didn’t want this beat-up stray dying with an empty stomach in our barn.

He followed his big brother, Oscar around, he smacked at my stepkids for no apparent reason, he head-butted us with an intensity that knocked us off balance, he tried opening door knobs with his front paws, he hunted voraciously, he tolerated our Siamese, Sport, who followed him everywhere, he groomed our arms as he purred if you rubbed his head and routinely drew blood with his intense, brittle tongue and he knew how to give as much love back as we could give him.

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Muldy-in-a-box

He hid in boxes and was first in line for soft food and he actually had a sense of humor.

When he first moved in with us he would lay at the top of our split level stairs and whack at our dressing gowns as we walked past him, almost sending us down the stairs.

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Purrrrrrrrrrrrr…

We would look down and he would be looking away, forepaws tucked neatly underneath his chest and then slowly look up at us as if to say, “What? You being clumsy again?”

Alistair didn’t believe a cat was capable of such coy plotting until the one time Mulder got his claw stuck in my robe and he was busted.

He never did it ever again and I’m smiling from the memory.

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Boomer, Loki and Mulder helping me study years ago in ND

As he got older we would often find him snuggled in bed next to Loki, our blind Boston Terrier grand-dog who lives with us.

They both claim innocence but we know the affection was real.

We know it because even Loki has been grieving the loss of Mulder the past few days.

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Even the Mulder & Loki golf club covers cuddle in bed!

And Mulder was one of my main muses as I wrote my books, keeping me company on the green couch behind me.

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Helping me write!

 

And the house is quiet and the order of who gets soft food first has changed and I don’t find clumps of orange hair around and nobody is swatting at my hand when I’m on the toilet and UB isn’t sure whose hairy ears to lick and we haven’t had bacon yet because we don’t want to face the no-kiss-piece situation and the freezer is becoming alarmingly full and it wasn’t his time and it isn’t fair and sometimes I just stop and remember and it hurts.

And I miss him.

And I’ve got this emptiness.

And I’m crying again. Because I don’t have compassion fatigue.

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I miss seeing these two cuddled up together.

And so, a few mornings ago, Special Agent Fox Mulder Fyfe laid in his dad’s lap and tears fell from my eyes as I sedated our magnificent little buddy.

His weight was down to just over 8 pounds, which was perhaps half of what Muldy in his prime had weighed.

His dignified, tough, amazing spirit deserved better and together, we gave it to him.

Like Harry. And Oscar. And Chorney before that.

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Mulder and his “sister”, Whitney a few years ago

And nothing is bottled up because that just isn’t healthy and I want to feel the pain because I know it means that I felt the love and joy that my relationships with these spirits gave me.

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Hanging around, Muldy style

Rest in peace, Mulder.

You were so loved. And you are so missed.

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Muldy and I a few months ago… xoxo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Losing Boom

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“Hon, where’s Boomer?”

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For 18 and a half years, that has been a common phrase on the Fyfe Farm.

Even when she was a teensy, tiny, adorable kitten out on our farm in windy Watford City she would get lost.

In hay bales.

In the tack room.

Up in the rafters.

I would panic when we wouldn’t be able to find her. She was the runt of the litter and one of her siblings was particularly mean to the rest of them. I worried she would run little Boomer off the farm or not let her back in under cover.

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I didn’t have to worry for long, though.

Alistair went out one day when the gale-force winds were whipping horizontal snow and ice crystals around in a frigid, deadly blizzard.

The horses were fine.

4 of the kitties were fine. Boomer was right there next to her brother, Oscar. She wasn’t missing for once.

The hairy, big, mean kitten, however, was on the Ritchie water fountain, out in the blizzard.

Apparently she got her paws wet while drinking and ended up stuck, frozen to death, mid-leap off the fountain.

The other 4 kitties thrived after that.

Boomer and Oscar made the long move back to Canada and soon became Inside Cats.

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With Outdoor privileges of course.

And Boomer continued to get lost.

Inside closets.

Inside bedrooms.

Behind the wood pile.

She learned her name quickly, probably because I was always calling her. She also had the only “oooh” sound in her name back then which distinguished her from Oscar, Marshal, Shep, Chorney and Alistair.

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She actually has a little grey soul patch beneath her adorable puckered-up mouth.

It looks like she is saying “oooooh”.

Boomer and Oscar helped me get through my guilt and grief over the whole antifreeze-doesn’t-mix-well-with-cats thing.

I needed their comfort that year because so many things were happening that I couldn’t control.

Alistair moved back to ND soon after he started working as a Canadian physician so I was often by myself on a large farm with pregnant mares.

I had zero support and even faced some misplaced animosity as a figure skating coach in the little town I lived in.

It was the same town Alistair and his first wife lived in for many years and some of their old friends weren’t necessarily opening their arms to the new, young wife with her spandex and sequins and love of makeup.

Some friends, like Sue, Glenn, Patti, Shirley, Janie, Bill and Julie were wonderful, though.

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And the cats were wonderful, too.

Warm, loving, purring, fuzzy bodies to cuddle up with on never-ending lonely nights when my job wasn’t any fun anymore.

But I was able to join Alistair in the states again so we all moved to Hazen. Then to Bismarck. And now to Montana.

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Through all of these moves and all of these years, Boomer continued to get lost.

In the little closet the ferrets like to hide in.

In the basement.

In the garage.

As the feline Fyfes have aged they have recently begun to spend most of their days in the kitchen/sun room. Its one of my favorite rooms, too.

Even in the winter the sun shines brightly.

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There are 4 cat beds in there and I can generally find a cat, or a combination of cats, or UB or Loki in any of them at any given time.

Boom has been spending more and more time in those beds lately.

It began last fall when I realized she had lost some weight. She is a cat who has always been slim but in September she looked a bit gaunt.

Her thyroid was on overdrive so we started twice-daily pills.

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In the mornings I risk life and limb by scruffing her and tossing the tiny white pill down the hatch.

Usually it works. I still have all of my fingers.

At night its canned soft food for everyone, with a pill mashed up in Boomer’s dish.

She’s not our first cat with hyperthyroidism and she won’t be our last.

When we said our tearful goodbyes to Oscar back in January Boomer went into a bit of a slump.

A cat who used to lay in those beds with 1, 2, or 3 others now lays in them alone.

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Her companion since the time in their mama’s womb is forever gone and it made an impact on every single Fyfe in this house.

As much as this hurts to admit, I’m losing Boom.

It isn’t the amount of time she sleeps during the day- Hell, I’ll be doing much the same when I’m 90 or 100 years old.

Its the weight loss.

Her decreased grooming.

The way she almost shouts her meows at me when she wants her soft food.

Its seeing her petite, feminine, grey and white self just sitting at the water dish, staring at it.

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And the tenderness on her right side.

Where I thought I felt a lump, or maybe it was her liver, or maybe it was both.

Her thyroid is whacked, her kidneys are failing and maybe there’s a lump.

Like the one in my throat right now.

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But she eats and drinks without hesitation and keeps everything down.

She doesn’t limp, she isn’t jaundiced and she isn’t dehydrated.

Its tough right now because I’ve also noticed that Casey has a bad limp in the rear leg that still has hardware in it.

Loki seems to be losing her hearing, not realizing I’ve come home despite my boisterous “hey, Gangs” to them all sometimes.

And yet Loki seems quite content, if not a bit more clingy lately. I don’t mind the extra attention and snuggles. Maybe that’s one of the perks for her and I. And for her and UB, too.

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And Casey still leaps and jumps and runs and wiggles and plays and licks and bumps into me and knocks things over. All with his floppy larynx that remains one-sided.

And Boomer still enjoys being held, gently, while I dance with her like I have done for 18 years.

And she continues to enjoy her sleep-in-morning special brunch dates with Mulder, Loki, Mummy and Daddy where everyone gets bacon.

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I advise clients to think about what is important for them as individuals and families when the question, “When is it Time?” comes up.

Its different for everyone.

For me, I want to be able to recognize and share love with friends and family.

I would like to be free from pain.

I’d like to be able to put my makeup on. Its vain but true.

I’d also like to be able to lift a glass of red wine to my lips and enjoy its taste.

I want these same types of things for my animal companions, albeit without the mascara.

The time may come soon when Boomer won’t let me groom the matts from her delicate hair. Or she won’t prance into the room with the guinea pigs and chat with me. Or she won’t head butt me, or Facetime-Bomb every single person I chat with. Or she won’t want her soft food or some of my chicken.

It would be akin to Casey not wanting to goof around and jump and play.

And Loki not wanting to be with me.

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I will find strength from somewhere because I have to and because I love them and because I owe it to them.

They have all given me so much.

And I will give them beautiful, dignified deaths.

Not today. Not tomorrow.

Not next week.

But soon I will lose my Boom.

She won’t be lost, though. She will be in many different places like she has been all of her life.

In her photos.

In my memory.

In my heart.

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