Annie Mae is Very Sick

 

Annie Mae is very sick. 

She’s been to the vet twice in two weeks,

And this is after avoiding the vet for years. 

She had a fever and a UTI and 

She’s had medicine and fluids and time to heal. 

But she’s not getting any better. 

She won’t stretch. 

She won’t lay in her side. 

She’s not able to groom herself. 

She’s not able to jump. 

She’s walking weird. 

She’s lost weight. 

She’s barely eating and drinking. 

She’s barely going to the bathroom. 

She’s not going outside anymore. 

She’s not complaining. 

But she’s in pain.

And I am so very sad. 

 

Annie Mae came to us five years ago. 

I’ll never forget looking out the window and seeing her for the first time. 

We locked eyes and she meowed. 

And in that moment, I became her person and she became my cat. 

 

I have loved her something fierce. 

She’s never been sweet and cuddly, 

In fact she’s been quite feisty and spicy, 

But she would jump on my bed and bump her head into my hand and on my leg and turn circles in happiness  and make biscuits with glee until she would lay down right next to me and sleep. 

 

She would let me pet her and brush her and love on her and tell her her baby story until she was tired of it all and then she’d whap me. 

 

She would look forward to me coming home every day 

So that she could sit beside me and receive back scratches 

While I worked on my daily blackout poem. 

She may have been sleeping before my arrival—

And she had lots of good sleeping spots—

But as soon as she heard the chair creak, 

She would come sit with me. 

 

She’d tell my dad what to do—

When to feed her, 

When to let her out,

When to let her in, 

When she wanted pets. 

 

She even got my mom talking to her and looking after her. 

 

She had that way about her.

 

And her brother loved picking fights with her, 

Although she’d always win. 

 

But all that’s shifted in the past few weeks. 

And unless something drastically changes, 

I fear we may have to say goodbye to Annie Mae sooner than later. 

 

I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up late last night trying to imagine life without her—

Crying—

Grieving—

Trying to wrap my mind around it all—

Writing poems to help me process: 

 

It happened so fast. 

She was fine. Then she wasn’t. 

My sweet, feisty girl. 

 

—

 

I’ll open the attic door. 

And you’ll run inside to play. 

Pink insulation on your face. 

This time I won’t worry. 

 

—

 

You’re supposed to be in the hall.

Stretched out, showing your trap belly. 

And if I come near you, 

You scratch me. 

Because that’s what you do. 

 

—

 

He knows something’s wrong 

What do I tell your brother 

He’s looking for you 

 

—

 

Losing a pet is losing part of your heart. 

Pets are some of God’s greatest gifts 

But my goodness does it hurt when we have to say goodbye. 

 

I lay here trembling 

With quivering breath

Saltwater covered cheeks 

Maybe there’s a miracle 

Or maybe there’s not. 

 

Either way, 

Life will go on. 

It’s just that sometimes

It is so very hard.

There Are Still Good People

 

The summer didn’t turn out as planned.

 

For two years, JG and I had planned a three week trip to the United Kingdom and Norway. 

We had chosen our excursions and begun looking for tickets to see a show on West End, 

But JG just wasn’t feeling strong enough to go. 

She hasn’t been feeling well for quite some time. 

Together, we cancelled that trip and individually grieved. 

 

Then we decided that we would do a road trip to VA. 

We’d see some covered bridges and visit the Shenandoah National Park. 

A road trip done in short spurts should be doable, we thought. 

So we talked itineraries and made tentative plans. 

JG’s National Parks pass is even jn my car. 

 

After her three week vacation north, JG was going to go home to her various appointments

And my mom, dad, and I were going to go to the lake for a week. 

Anyone who wanted to and was able was welcome to visit. 

Early into JG’s sickness, I cancelled that reservation. 

 

When I wrote the VRBO owner to tell her why we had cancelled the reservation, 

I explained that my aunt had had a medical emergency that was going to require on-going care.

She wrote me back with her condolences and said family first. 

 

That was a month ago. 

 

This past Saturday, completely out of the blue, 

The host that never got the chance to host us sent me the following message: 

 

Thought about you and your family this past week. Praying your aunt is doing better and you are holding strong as you care for her. I know it can be a blessing but can be draining on you physically. Just wanted to let you know you and your aunt were in our thoughts and prayers. May you be blessed!!

 

I almost cried. 

 

The summer didn’t turn out as planned. 

 

But there are still good people.

And there are still good moments.

And there is still hope of one day getting to go to the lake house owned by the stranger who thought to pray for me and JG and to let me know. 

 

There is still hope for strength. 

 

And I guess, for now, that’s enough. 

 

Amen. 

Abandoned Animals

 

A few weeks ago, I got a text from a friend who had just picked up a puppy front the side of the road.

Someone had abandoned it.

She sent me a  picture. 

I immediately oohed and ahed at how cute he was

And then quickly began to wonder who would abandon such a cute little thing. 

Thankfully, my friend was able to adopt the puppy into her pack, 

and so Puppy, now known as Eddie,

Has a safe and loving home.

 

Last night, on my way home from game night, I stopped for gas.

As I was cleaning the trash out of my car,

A beautiful black pitbull mix with cute white socks came prancing up to me.

I looked to see if he had an owner, but he didn’t.

Then I noticed that he had a companion who was a little more shy.

She stayed back. 

I immediately knew that someone had dropped them at the gas station.

 

My heart sank. 

As much as my dad would love a dog,

We are not able to have a dog right now, 

Much less two,

And so I knew there was nothing I could do to help. 

 

As I drove away with tears in my eyes,

I heard the dogs crying.

They didn’t know what was going on,

Why they had been abandoned,

Or where their people were.

I could only pray that someone would pick them up and take them to be part of their pack.

I could only pray that they would have a happy ending.

 

I don’t understand how people can do it.

I don’t understand how someone can abandon a pet and go home and live with themselves.

I suppose it could be food insecurity.

I suppose there could be health issues.

I suppose there could be a crisis and they feel like they can’t take care of anything else.

But to just abandon the animal.

To just leave it behind.

To just throw it out the car door so callously.

I can’t fathom it.

Surrendering an animal is hard.

But throwing it away?

I will never understand.

 

God calls us to be good stewards of our time, resources, and the animals of the Earth.

God is not in abandoning animals on the side of the road or at a gas station. 

 

I am sad. 

I am mad. 

And I am more thankful than ever that when 

Annie Mae was abandoned with her babies and 

Siggy Ray was abandoned with two broken legs,

They both made their way to my house so that we could give them good lives. 

 

God, forgive humanity

For screwing so much up. 

And thank you for those who are fighting to fix what’s been broken. 

 

Amen. 

Grief

 

I was scrolling FB the other day when I came to a post that stopped me. 

Singer/Songwriter Sara Bareilles is coming out with a new album called, “Good Grief.”

As the title indicates, 

The album explores grief. 

Believing that, “Healing often begins when we share our experiences of loss, and that grief will not overcome us if we have a community that's willing to listen,”

Sara gave a phone number to call to leave a story of grief. 

I called. 

I left a story. 

And then I received a text that shared some behind the scenes commentary on the album and a space to share another story. 

So I did. 

I shared four stories, 

The most poignant of which was inspired by observing a friend’s grief. 

 

“I have a friend who grieves powdered donuts.

 

I suppose it’s not the donuts themselves that she grieves

But what the donuts represent.

 

They represent loss and heartache and what could have been if sickness and disease had not sent in. 

 

My friend married for a second time midlife. She had hopes and dreams of retiring with her new husband.  

Of traveling.

Of having a companion to do life with.

Shortly after they married, he began having health problems. 

The problems have only grown and he is now losing capacity to make decisions for himself.

 

My friend works in the helping professions full-time. 

She is also a full-time caretaker for her husband.

She does her best to provide what he needs,

Including good, healthy meals.

Yet he very often refuses the food she cooks,

Only to eat powdered donuts.

 

This is grief. 

This is heartbreak.

This is watching dreams die and doing the hard work of living. 

And it’s difficult. 

And it’s not so sweet 

Like powdered donuts.”

 

I’m not Sara Bareilles.

I don’t have a national platform on which to share stories of community.

But I do have this little space,

And as hard as it is, I offer it to you,

To share your story of grief,

To have your voice be heard,

And now you’re not alone.

 

Grief goes beyond losing a loved one.

Grief happens with every loss  or disappointment, however small it may seem.

Sometimes we deal with the grief without having to name it.

But sometimes we must pause to recognize and mourn what has been lost. 

 

You are invited to pause to name and mourn now. 

 

Amen. 

Retired Shirt

 

 

I got it for my 17th birthday. 

The map of NC was so detailed that it included both Tabor City and Bunnlevel. 

I was proud to have come from both.

 

I wore the shirt a lot in my youth. 

Naturally, over time, 

The text faded,

Holes grew, and 

The collar frayed. 

 

For the past couple of years,

I’d relegated the shirt as my birthday shirt. 

It could only handle being worn and washed once a year. 

 

Last night, though,

After one last appearance,

On its 32nd birthday, 

I officially retired it. 

 

The Walmart special Native North Carolinian shirt lived a good life as a t-shirt. 

Now it’s time for it to serve as part of a quilt. 

 

Thank you to everyone who puts up with quirky me—

Who wished me a happy birthday—

Who reads these notes—

Who rides the waves of life with me. 

 

I count it a blessing to have friends older than my now retired birthday shirt, 

And friends from all the years in between.

Friendships take work. 

They take time and effort and forgiveness and letting go and coming back and closeness and distance and love and growth 

But it’s all worth it in the end. 

 

Amen.