It has been almost ten years since my mother took her own life.  She struggled so hard with her inability to communicate and enjoy her once robust life after her last debilitating stroke.  To this day there are so many questions and what if's that follow.

You know what has helped me?  Birdwatching.

Some say I am obsessed with birds as I collect figurines and I love to watch the birds that visit my back porch. 

Filling the bird feeders and taking pictures of them as they come visit is one of my favorite things. 

The following is a true story.
My Mother's Roses

My mother once planted roses
in the backyard where I used to live.

In the spring following my mother's death,
I ventured outside
as the snow had melted from the hard ground.

As if they were silently urging me,
my mother's roses beckoned me over to them -
to bare witness to their eruption
of colorful, fragrant blooms.

One cannot simply look at such beauty.
The necessity to touch and smell
becomes of utmost importance.

As I bent down
to touch and smell a particularly beautiful flower,
a tiny gray bird burst out of those roses
onto that cold, hard, unforgiving ground.

I watched it as it flailed and hopped, hinting at
an injured wing.
Its struggle clearly evident yet I could do nothing
but watch it struggle.

After a few moments,
this tiny bird stopped the hopping.
It sat on the ground- perfectly still.

At once, as if suddenly inspired
and rejuvenated,
the bird took off toward the sun
with both wings helping its ascent!

I watched that bird for so long
until I could no longer make it out
in the daytime sky.

My mother's roses belong to another family now
and I thought of taking a part of them with me
on my new journey
away from the past into my future.

In the end, I decided to keep the roses
as they were.

Just like that tiny bird.

The Time My Dog Ruined My Life

.....or to not be so melodramatic....the time my dog ruined my week.

I will from now on nickname one of my two current dogs "ruined bedspread". That is not her actual name, of course, but for this blog that is what she will be named.  You will understand.  She will be RB for short.

One day, RB got the doggy runs in her kennel.

Being a responsible dog owner I could not just leave her in her own filth.  The logistics of being able to free her from her filthy kennel was insurmountable.  The only idea I could come up with was to carefully remove her, pick her up and run to the bathroom and bathe her.

 The problem with that was RB was not finished and still had the doggy dribbles.  In addition, RB HATES water.  A serious phobia.  Trying to keep her in the bathtub required all my strength.  Holding her back worked for about...two seconds.  Doggy poo and water were all over me and floor and RB managed to free herself from what she considered the worst place in the universe - the bathtub with the running devil spit which was trying to kill her.  

Running free she needed to find a safe location.  She could have picked anywhere.  

(in numerical order):

Back into her dirty kennel:

 Or the laundry room:

Even an empty closet would have been better:

anywhere would have been better than......

My bed with brand new bedspread.

 While dogs do not like soiling their own sleeping quarters, they have absolutely zero qualms about soiling anyone else's.

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