Goodnight My Micey

My little Shadow and Hamish Macbeth’s big brother, Micey, died today.

Micey was 16 years old and also leaves behind his brother Darwin who is also 16.

Darwin and Micey were litter mates and have never been without each other.

We love your My Mice.

Mommy.

The End

 

Over the weekend I found out my little sister’s friend was murdered by her husband in a domestic violence murder /suicide incident.

My Sister and her friend grew up together and moved to Hawaii after they graduated from High school. They were spirited, rebellious girls I’m glad to share here.

They smoked, loved Prince,went dancing every weekend and destroyed the Ozone with all of that hairspray they used to wear. They also lived with me for awhile and I will give them this, I think they were a little afraid of me but not so afraid they weren’t afraid to use my I.D. and they figured out how to use my clothes and put them back the way they found them.

The thing was, they were so paranoid I’d figure it out they use to wash and fold all the clothes around the stuff they wore so the upshot was I hardly ever had to do laundry.

It was awesome.

All of my sister’s friends from that time have a special place in my heart- they made me laugh at a time where I didn’t do much of that.

So to think that one of the girls left this world fighting for her life I can’t help but to feel angry.

Filled with rage is probably a better description.

But I take comfort from the simple fact that  for as much as I believe in a Heaven, I believe in a Hell too and I’m sure there is enough room there for one more damned soul.

amm

 

 

 

Domino

 

My dog Domino died about 4 years ago this October.

Domino was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and by managing her diet, giving her a chance to go on very short walks everyday  and making sure she had lots of attention from me and her cat brothers ( who never left her side ) she had low if next to no stress in her day to day life. Domino had a few symptoms show up from day to day and none of the others that you would normally see in a dog suffering from this disease so I consider us lucky.

I won’t fool you, for the last two years of her life I was devoted to Domino and her care and it was a lot of work but I didn’t care-Domino was spirited and smart, she hated to get her paws muddy and loved getting her nails clipped and when she was a puppy she fought off and got the better of a dog that outweighed her by over 40 pounds.

Domino was an exceptional creature- second to none, two or four legged.

Domino and her brothers- when she got ill they insisted on going on walks with us.

 

One thing bothers me though- it bothered me the night she died and it bothers me now.

I had come home from work and as usual we went on our little walk, we ate dinner and we settled down to watch some TV in our bedroom.

After a few minutes  started to cough and then she got up, turned around a few times in her bed, she got comfortable and she died.

 

Domino went on her own clock, I believe that.

She knew what she wanted ( her walk, her dinner with Mom and our evening of tv watching ) and after she had her regular day she let go.

 

Me and Domino were alone together on the night she died- I put her pink blanket on her but I didn’t cover her face.

She had been such a pretty dog that I couldn’t do that- and I thought that if there was little spark in there somewhere, I wanted her to see me and her cat brothers until she was really gone.

I don’t know what I wanted to give her in those final moments of her life- she sort of ninja moved her way out of the world- but I guess was what bothered me was that she knew she was going to die  and I didn’t- I thought it was going to be another evening at home with my girl.

But it wasn’t like any other day – she died at the foot of my bed.

And I never got to say goodbye.

Domino shortly before she died- last month she would have turned 18 years old.

 

Daily Post Prompt: None

 

 

 

Wolfgang’s Garden

Photo: AM. Moscoso

I don’t know what to do with myself when Spring comes.

I used to have an herb garden.

I collected herbs the way other people collect friends on Facebook.

My cat Wolfgang would sit and supervise and  I would talk to him and he would ignore me and we both had a good time.

One day I noticed Wolfie was holding his head at a funny angle and drinking bowls of water in a day.

His kidneys were failing and by Summer he was gone and I let my herb garden go wild and most of it died off and I didn’t care.

I buried Wolfgang out there and to this day I stay out of  what used to be our favorite place in the yard.

I don’t know what to do with myself when the Spring comes.

I guess I’ll hide until the Winter and hope the snow comes and covers what’s left of me and Wolfgang’s Garden.

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Daily Post: Ruminate

Home

fb_img_1447653377634.jpg

One grave belongs to my cat, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

The other is a grave in New Orleans

It’s funny how these places where we leave our dead remain the center of our lives for so long- we visit them, care for them and as time goes by we leave them to their new homes and say how beautiful their resting place is.

Besides:  They have a new family among the dead.

Maybe we stay away after a spell because we’re jealous of that.

I will be honest.

I am.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Post: Center