This is a photo of my beloved Bobb-O. When he passed over to the Rainbow Bridge, I was devastated. Heartbroken. Ground to a powder.

I made special donations to several animal shelters in his memory, but as the weeks passed, I felt the best thing I could do to honor Bobb-O (who was a rescue–a gorgeous, solid black bobtail), was to rescue another kitty from death row. My husband agreed. Oreo, our sweet black-and-white tuxedo kitty, was lonely for a friend and so we set out to find him one.

Going to shelters breaks my heart–all those faces looking up at me. My throat closes and I get teary-eyed. It’s so hard to pick. My husband and I held hands, feeling sad that we couldn’t take them all. While I gravitated to a gray kitty named Charlie, my husband noticed a tiny black kitten. And when I say tiny, I mean he fit in the palm of my husband’s hand.

In an eye-blink we knew he was “the one” for us, and even before signing the adoption papers, we named the little guy Frankie.

A kind woman who works for a veterinarian had pulled Frankie from death row just days before we adopted him. It’s sickening that this precious and sweet little boy was going to be killed for no other reason than his color.

Yes, Frankie is black and it’s a disgusting fact that black cats are far too often deemed as “bad luck” (which is so ridiculously ignorant I won’t even comment), and they are said to be not as pretty or as cute as other cats. Healthy and loving black kitties are murdered by the thousands each year.

We brought him home and from the moment his paws hit the floor, he was filled with wonder. Often he’d sit in my library window and gaze into the sky.

I was concerned how Oreo and Frankie would get along, but it was love at first sight.

From the get-go they’ve been inseparable. Now, 8-months later, Frankie has shot up and is almost as big as Oreo. I recently took a photo of them in my window, and it sums up their relationship perfectly.

I want to thank all of you who sent lovely cards and emails of sympathy when Bobb-O passed away, and I also wanted to share a picture I recently took that captures the beauty of friendship and the very true sentiment that life does, indeed, go on.

Loving Frankie doesn’t diminish the incredibly special bond I had with Bobbo-O and still have with Oreo (or any of the wonderful furbabies who came before him). Love is boundless and brings with it a healing that can only take place when we allow ourselves to embrace life. At least that’s the way I see it.

Dad

October 11, 2009

Farewell Tribute to a True American

In loving memory of my dad—a salt of the earth genuine American—a man who fought with courage and dignity in the armed forces to keep our country safe, and to uphold the freedoms that he held so precious. He was a man who loved nature, open spaces, country roads, animals, and the crisp smell of autumn mornings—a man who knew the fatigue of hard manual labor, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

He was a man who filled more bird feeders in his lifetime than perhaps anyone on earth; a man who took stewardship of stray cats and dogs, a man who built a toad house that still sits beneath the downspout. He was a fine marksman with both gun and bow and arrow, and in his day he could swing a golf club with grace and ease.

He loved sugary doughnuts, heavy cream in his coffee,  a cold beer, and watching a well-played game of baseball. He was a meat and potatoes kind of guy who never felt the need to wear a tux or learn how to use a cell phone. He was the kind of man who would stop to help a stranger with a flat tire, and more than once he lifted a dead animal from the side of the road, brought it home, and gave it a dignified burial in a shadowy slope by the woods he loved so much.

He was also a captivating storyteller.

As his days grew shorter and his legs weaker, one of his greatest joys was the simple pleasure and relaxation he received from riding his lawnmower. He loved it so much that it was the last thing he spoke about just hours before he left this earth.

Rest well, Dad … and God speed. I hope there’s a riding lawnmower waiting for you in heaven.

Somehow I believe there is.

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