2 Jun

The Fence Sitter

Posted by DOGKISSES in art, mental illness. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , .

Fence Sitter for Lady DogKisses aka Michelle. Image by Leslie S. IconDoit, the blog)

Fence Sitter

I wrote to my friend, Leslie Sigal Javorek, trying to describe the images and feelings I have when I consider ways to help my adult son in his healing journey, which has in the past meant navigating the mental healthcare system.

Leslie is a talented artist and author of the blog, IconDoIt, which is how I first came to know her. 

The drawings of the “FenceSitter” surprised me.  I loved them right away. The insight I saw in the image amazed me.  Little details, such as the red velvet fairy-like trousers and the white ruffled shirt reminded me of myself.  

The cute alligator came first and the dogs later.  They were perfect really.  I’ve only played with painting and drawing a few times in my life, so the Fence-Sitter was the first time I had seen my experience and feelings in a tangible form.

The woman I imagined can never decide which side of the fence she should be on.  “She has one leg on each side,” I had written Leslie.  “I’m not sure what is around her or the fence.  She simply can’t decide which road to take or what opinion to have.  She’s always wondering which side has less potential for harm.  Hard choices are on both sides and the fence is starting to hurt.  She needs to be free.  She knows in her heart she will probably never fully stand on either side of the fence.”

I haven’t always been a Fence-Sitter.  In my twenties I had strong opinions and was not afraid to express them, at least to people whom I trusted.  I was reluctant in academic arenas and sometimes in the jobs I held.  I knew what I liked.  I knew what I thought was right or wrong.  I knew what I believed in, but over time, I lost my footing.  Everything changed when my son was diagnosed with a mental illness.

 

“Fence Sitter” Image copyrights belong to Leslie Sigal Javorek.  Visit her here: IconDoIt.

Also, I wanted to share that Leslie has a store on Zazzle where she sells her original art– (IconDoIt, the Store).  Her art is very cool!  Thanks for visiting DogKisses.

29 May

Fibromyalgia, family and a funky chicken?

Posted by DOGKISSES in fibromyalgia, health, mental and emotional health. Tagged: , , , , .

invisible pain and fatigue is a long hard row to hoeWe don’t talk too often and sometimes I simply don’t know how to communicate with my relatives.

I recently received an email from one and the subject line read: ” You must do this!!!”

I think I thought there was some type of national emergency or something.

It was an email asking people to pray for people with cancer and then to forward it on to others.

Well, I thought, who would I send it to?

Most people I email to are really busy.  I feel like I’m asking too much of their time if I send them emails asking them to forward a message, although, now that I think about it, people do that with me for causes they believe in all the time.

I didn’t think much about not sending it on as requested and then I saw a note at the end of the email — 93% won’t forward.

I knew I’d be one of the 93%, which kind of didn’t feel too good.  I felt like I would be in a group of people who didn’t care.

Maybe it was the subject line of the email–You must do this!!! —  along with the three exclamation marks that touched on my one fragile nerve I had left by mid-day.

I realized quickly that the email bothered me.  I was taking it personal, or at least in a way it was not intended, I don’t think.  It had nothing to do with my level of care about people who have cancer, along with their loved ones who are grieving too.  I’m sure I care and I did take a moment to say a prayer.

My mother has survived breast cancer and I’m grateful to modern medicine for this because she had about seven or eight aunts who all had breast cancer.  They were not as fortunate to have the treatment that my mother had.

My father died after a long bout of severe pain from cancer.  My grandmother died two years ago, also in severe pain, with a type of bone cancer.

My beloved Free girl, my canine companion, had to go due to bone cancer in her leg or from all the pain pills, the latter of which made her sick.

My friend Sonny, who passed away one week ago today, had throat cancer.  They were able to remove the tumor but the radiation left his throat too dry to swallow, leading to his having to use a feeding tube, subsequent weight loss and weakness, all of which shortened his life.

I am no stranger to loss as a result of cancer.

I care.  I care about people in general.  I hurt when someone I care about and or love is hurting or sad.

I feel sad for people who are suffering.  People with terminal illnesses.  People living in a war or are watching family members being abused or killed.  I feel sad for people who are starving or sick without access to medical care.

I feel sad for all the broken hearts in the world.

My adult son who has a huge place in the center of my heart has suffered many times and he is a young man.   My heart has broken many times for him and for the other young men and women I’ve met through him who I’ve seen suffer.

I feel sad for the lesser injustices, such as my ten-year old friend who wishes for things, such as an end of the school year celebration, but who graciously accepts that her family doesn’t have enough money to celebrate in a way that  a young person might dream about.

Sometimes I care so much it hurts and I don’t even know how to feel such strong feelings.

I felt selfish by the way I was experiencing the particular email from my sister.  The three exclamation marks felt like — well hell, I don’t know what it felt like, but it wasn’t a nice happy feeling.

Maybe I wish family members would take a small interest in  learning a little about Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  I wish they were able to understand the seriousness of the illness and acknowledge it.

Sometimes I think they are afraid of acknowledging how serious my illness is because if they did, then they might feel some sort of obligation.

I’ve been what you can safely call sick since 2005.  Many of my symptoms were magnified over the past year.   Two accidents and a narcissist had a strong impact on me, my health, and my life.

If folks don’t believe much in fibromyalgia and think the term Chronic Fatigue Syndrome is nothing more than the way they feel after a long day at work, then it isn’t logical to expect these same people to take the term narcissist very seriously either. 

People who don’t believe you are sick when you are, or who may believe it, only they think it’s because of something else, not what you have been diagnosed with and what you know is true, are not showing respect.

Basically, if you don’t have cancer and haven’t been told you’re dying, or if it isn’t an illness people are familiar with or can see, then I believe many people write it off to being psychological.

When I read the email of what I “must do!!!” — I felt a surge of emotions.

What about me I thought? I am aware, as I think many of us with fibromyalgia are, especially since other people will often remind us, that it is not a terminal illness and for this I am certainly grateful.   Should I be more grateful than a healthy person should be?  Aren’t all us who don’t have a terminal illness grateful for that?

Knowing I don’t have a terminal illness indeed offers me a sense of gratitude and feeling gratitude is a healing experience.

There are plenty of days when I feel like this illness is killing me.  I get scared of the future too.  There are days when I’m so tired, so incredibly fatigued, that I feel like the walking dead.

Brain fog and physical fatigue together, plus pain all over my body, even with strong medication, gets me feeling a bit… depressed.

This illness has taken my career and any confidence I  had about future earning potential.  I can’t do a great deal many things that most people take for granted.

My friend, Rose, who has a health blog, Seeking Equilibrium, is too cool.  I shared with her my feelings and she re-wrote the text in the email asking for prayers for people with fibromyalgia.

I wasn’t brave enough to send the revised email, until I got the same email from a cousin, and then saw that the original one came from my other cousin.  I was struck with courage, opened my email, added some recipients and clicked send.

I doubt very seriously if anyone forwarded an email asking for prayers for people with fibromyalgia.  Maybe, but my gut feeling tells me probably not.

My mother came to visit a week or so ago.  She came to help me out a little.  I know she wished I’d had more free time, but I didn’t.   I told her I was trying hard to finish a project and she understands it was important to me.

My mother wanted to have time with me that I simply didn’t have that week.   She wanted us to have a fire outside, but I did not have the energy at the end of the days.  I too wanted this.  I wanted to sit around the fire and see my mother happy, which would have made me feel happy.

“We didn’t get to spend any time together,” she told me after five days of being here.  “I wanted to go to the thrift shop(s).”

I felt guilty.  First of all we had spent time together.  I told her she would be walking into my life as it goes during the week.  I have many ongoing obligations and people don’t realize how much of my time and energy is spent on fulfilling them.

Then too, going to one thrift shop in a day is my limit and even then I can’t stay long.   I can’t walk around a store for more than a few minutes before pain sets in.

Now, I just say I’m sorry to my mother when she wants to go shopping and I’m too tired.   It’s time like this when I feel like a disappointment.

The disappointment isn’t only about her though.  One of my favorite things to do is thrift shopping.   I miss it too.

In pain, fatigue, sadness, grief and loss, I’ve found a few ways to live my life the best way I can — with the knowledge, tools and abilities that I have in this moment.

I recently decided to try a little harder to actually live my life.  I may only get moments in time, but I’m getting them.  I hope those moments will turn into days and weeks.

I’m finding laughter again, which is excellent medicine.  I heard myself laugh today.  The sound of it lingered in my mind for a minute or so.  I liked it.

I’ve gotten several pictures of my son now, smiling again, which seemed lost to the lens of a camera for a long time.  I’m enjoying music again.   I’ve made some new friends.

dancing like a funky chicken is good medicine

funky chicken

I’ve even learned a new dance that my ten-year old friend and I came up with, “The chicken dance,” she calls it, which is easy because when I do it, she and her sister laugh so hard they quickly fall down on the sofa, so it only lasts a second or two at each go.

I’m still tired though.

Click on image for a little history of the chicken, from IconDoIt, the blog.

Image of Gardenlady by, “The Graphics Fairy”.

All content in this blog, including images and external links are subject to a Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.  See my Terms of Use in my sidebar for more information.

Thank you for visiting my blog.

dogkisses.

Related posts from Dogkisses’s blog:

Without the label of fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia Misunderstood


22 May

In memory of a real friend

Posted by DOGKISSES in grief, life. Tagged: , , , .

remembering...

  Suddenly, it sounds like every bird around are each singing at once.  My mind feels empty but my heart is exploding with a deep sadness.  

I learned today that my dear friend passed on this morning. 

I don’t like death.  I just don’t.  I miss people who die.  And now, my dear friend, a man I considered my accidental adopted father, Sonny, has left this earth. 

Sonny was an amazing human being.  I’ve never known anyone who experienced as many losses in one lifetime as Sonny did and adding to that was a will to live like no other I’ve ever seen.  

I watched Sonny carry on after losing three sons, two of whom I knew and loved.  They each passed on at different times in life, the last one, Sonny’s oldest son, passed not too long ago, the loss of which did have a severe impact on my friend Sonny. 

The last time I saw him he said he wished he could come live with me and I wanted him to.  I really did.  Then I could see him I thought.  Even if he died I could be with him.  I considered it wondering if home health would come in.  I would have taken care of him if I had been able.  I would have until his last day. 

I wish it wasn’t so.  I wish I’d gone three days ago, two weeks ago, and I wish I’d done what he said when I talked to him several weeks ago. 

“Sugar, you should call me every day the rest of my life.” 

Sonny knew and so did I. 

I had gone to visit him not long ago,which was the last time I saw Sonny, and was so sad to see him in the shape he was in.  He recognized me though and he knew my son too. 

I took a picture of us with my cell phone and he could barely see it but he laughed and said, “Sugar you look about as bad as I do.”

I laughed too thinking how at least somebody could see my illness. 

Sonny saw my illness and it made him sad.  He missed too the way I was before but he loved me as I was.  Sonny called me when he saw something on television about fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome or mental illness.  God Sonny loved us! 

He sang me a song not long ago.  I was so sad I couldn’t think and now I can’t remember the name of it.  He sang the words — I’ve always got you on my mind —  his voice was fragile but he still managed to sing to me.  He didn’t care how it sounded.  He told me it was so.  He said I was always on his mind. 

Sonny was at the state hospital with me when my son was very ill and I didn’t know what was wrong.  He was there all the way through it and sat beside of me when the doctors told me words that took me down, literally, and Sonny held me while I cried tears that felt like they came from the bottom of the ocean. 

Sonny was a mechanic and loved old Mustangs.  I was 26 years old when I first pulled my 1966  into the gas station’s parking lot.  The first man I met had the same name as my father and reminded me a bit of him.  My father had passed away shortly before.  Seeing my car the man called out to Sonny.  I couldn’t believe it.  He looked just like my dad only he had gray hair.  He sounded like my dad.  He moved like my dad.  I felt nearly haunted. 

He had a small cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth.  He loved my car and made some pretty common remarks you might hear at a gas station in reference to the looks of the driver, if the driver is female that is.  From that day forward, Sonny became my adopted father.I never  told Sonny certain things my dad had always done for me, such as fixing my car problems and buying my son and I a coat every Christmas.  These were things my dad did for me, no matter what.  My dad didn’t have much money but what he had he handled it well.   Oddly, when I met Sonny and told him how much he was like my dad, he began doing these exact things. 

Now I cry.  I knew Sonny leaving would make me miss my dad more too. 

I don’t like death.  It is too sad.  People leave forever.  

Sonny always told me I changed his life.  He became a bachelor after he met me and he lived happily ever after, calling his ex-wives by numbers.  “Wife number two called today,” or “number three.”  They were always calling and he enjoyed telling folks about how so many women wanted him. 

“I feel like a nineteen year-old in an old man’s body,” he’d say enthusiastically.  

I cry again.  His first wife died, the mother of their sons who have died. 

Sonny carried on.  Sonny always carried on… 

Sonny was a funny man.  He and my mother got along great because of their joke-telling abilities.  The first time my oldest sister met Sonny she cried.  She was very close to our dad and when she saw Sonny’s blue eyes, she cried.  They looked exactly like our dad’s. 

His daughter told me today that he went outside yesterday.  He got dressed.  He wanted to sit in the sun.   He was just like my dad.  Even in the end they wanted to wear nice clothes.  They liked being neat and clean.  They wanted to look handsome.  And they did.  

I was driving home at dusk yesterday.  I felt that feeling of being in between.  Not quite dark but no longer day.  I thought of my dog’s nearby gravesite.  Sonny.  I thought of him right then.  I had been thinking the past few days — call Sonny, no go see him, but I didn’t.  So for that too, I cry.  I wish so much I could have said good-bye. 

Sonny gave me a Subaru once.  The greatest little car I’ve ever had.  Sonny helped my son once and I don’t know what we would have done otherwise. 

Sonny listened when I cried.  He listened when I spoke.  He heard me.  

 He completely loved my son.  He said he saw him the same as his own grandson.  

Sonny always told me I was a good mother.  If I said I felt otherwise, he had a never-ending list of reminders for me of all that he remembered while I was raising my son.  My son was about seven or eight when we met Sonny. 

Sonny was my dear and good friend.

 

18 May

Gratitude is Healing

Posted by DOGKISSES in gratitude, personal, reflections, relationships. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Dogs Know Best

Bye Bye and Hello!

“I like reading blogs about fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue and Narcissistic Personality Disorder,” I told my good friend.

He laughed.  He thought I was joking. 

Realizing I was serious, my friend and I started a conversation, which was as healthy as the awesome brunch he had prepared for us. 

My friend is a wonderful cook.  He likes to show off his talents in the kitchen.  I’m always happy when I’m on the receiving end of his pancakes made from scratch or the egg dish he makes when I’m feeling particularly down.

Having a real friend is one blessing in my life that helped me rise above the darkness I found myself in after falling prey to a narcissist’s deviant intentions, lies and games.

My friend has never read a blog, but he sure bought me this little computer I’m writing in mine with.

There weren’t any hidden agendas in the gift.  No power-tripping.  Nothing other than wanting to do something for a friend out of love.  Unconditional love is a wonderful gift.

The relationship I had, with a man who by all means behaved like a text-book narcissist, was toxic to my mind, body and spirit.  He had also given me gifts.  Alas.  Each one came with a price.  I would later learn that everything the man had done or offered, in the name of love and kindness, was all a part of his dark and destructive intentions.

Ending a relationship with a man who suddenly changed, and so drastically that he became unrecognizable, was a shocking and painful experience.  I did end it though, and from that day forward, I am healing.

I’m making new memories.   My spirit is renewed in new acquaintances, but even more by remembering the good friends I have.   Authentic interactions with people is healing my heart and helping me to sort through the confusion that was left.

I can feel a return to myself.

I started writing again.  I’m enjoying simple things like sitting by a fire.  My mental and emotional health is better, but it took a pretty long time for the pain to settle down.  Healing after abuse takes time.

Practicing gratitude has helped me heal.  Every little thing helps when you’re assembling pieces of your self.  Being grateful is said to be a state of mind, and I believe it.

A healthy life after a toxic relationship is possible. 

Aside from practicing gratitude, saying No was crucial for me to get out and stay out.  I had to say NO many times, at first to the man with harmful intentions and finally, to myself each time I doubted the truth.

Say no to a narcissist!

“No” icon via IconDoIt

Thank you for visiting Dogkisses’s blog! 

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16 May

A dog named Free

Posted by DOGKISSES in Canine companions, dogs, healing, pet loss, pet poem. Tagged: , , , , .

A dog who loved the river, resting after a swim.

Free, In her element by the mountain creek.

I was a young mother and at times, when I look back, I think I grew up with my son.  Sometimes I’d get strange ideas.  Like with getting a dog.  I told him if we were supposed to have a dog (as if everything is predetermined, which I don’t believe is so), that one would probably just come to us.  I told him if the opportunity arose before school started, which was only about ten days later, then I’d think about it.

“$25.00” read the sign on the side of the large cardboard  box. 

 I don’t know how my son spotted it since we were across the street eating , but he did.  We were at the Apple Chill festival downtown Chapel Hill, North Carolina. 

“Mom!  Look!”  And he ran.  He ran fast to the other side of the road and then I heard, “Mom, come here and hurry!”  

Approaching the box I had no clue what was inside.  My son had already spoken with the nice woman standing beside of it.  She was smiling.  He leaned down and came out with a small but fat black furry puppy.  It was the ninth day since I’d said what I had and unknowingly to me,  he had counted the days. 

“It’s the ninth day Mom!”  He placed the puppy in my hands and looked into my eyes.  Very quickly he said here let me take that one and he put it back in the box.  “There she is,” he said.  He picked up another puppy, gently placing  her in my hands.  A smile came across his face instantly and right then tears flowed from my eyes.

I didn’t know why.   I felt something deep inside me.  I knew she had come to us.  I knew too that we needed an extra family member.  Two was not enough.  We needed three and there was our third member, curled up in the cup of my hands just like she had fallen from heaven.

“Can we take her home now?” my son asked.  He hadn’t tried to hold her but instead he wanted me to keep holding her.  “You like her don’t you Mom,” he said with great confidence, and I most certainly did.

“I have some cash in my car,” I told the nice woman selling her puppies at the festival.  “I’ll go and get it.” 

My son’s face glowed. The woman’s eyes teared up.  “You don’t have to pay,” she said.  I can tell you guys are going to give her a wonderful home and that means so much to me.  I can tell you both already love her!”

“Here is eight dollars,” I told her, which was all the cash I had on me.  I offered to pay more but she insisted that we not pay anymore.  She thanked me saying this would cover the puppy shots she had paid for.

Free lived with us as our third and necessary extra family member for 12 years, which is not much time in my time, but a bit in hers.

Most people think she was free, but we named her after a horse from Texas.  Free always reminded me of horses.  She grazed in fields of grass as a pastime and almost always never got sick. 

I’m thinking about Free a lot lately.  Free lived every moment to the fullest.  She engaged in life with every fiber of her being, even in the end she still wanted to experience life, mostly the fresh air outside.  

Free passed with as much glory as she had come to us with, leaving her love and teachings with me forever.

I found a note I wrote shortly after she passed on.  I know it is sad to think about our pets who had to leave Earth, but for me, I cannot forget.

I spent three amazing days with Free shortly before she left this earth.  I spent every day with Free during her life,  but those three days were special.  I stayed with her the entire time.  I lied down as close as I could get with her in the corner.   The Thunder beings came, which always scared Free and I held her close.  I stared into her eyes and I told her all that she meant to me.

People think you’re crazy when you say you can communicate with your dog.  I think people who can’t are kind of strange.

Free sure shared a lot with me.   She was my teacher.  Those three days –Free showed me the world from her view.   I could see life from a place of complete forgiveness, peace and a knowing that it is all okay.

I came across this note I’d written in my diary shortly after Free passed on.

She remains an angel.  

A gift from God

I am humbled 

  My face towards the ground, my head hanging low

I reach for the earth,  the roots run deep

I return to the sky,  the trees stand tall

And this is Free

She is everything beautiful.

Pretty flowers grew and beauty appeared in the woods where no other flowers grew. A healing garden in memory of my best friend, a furry four-legged girl.

A Healing Garden, In Memory of Free

7 May

Do narcissists make good lovers?

Posted by DOGKISSES in Uncategorized. Tagged: , , .

tell narcissists no and see where they go

Image Credit: IconDoIt , the blog. 





26 Apr

Without the label of fibromyalgia

Posted by DOGKISSES in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, fibromyalgia, health. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

why do some people dislike labels when they help us understand what is going onWithout the label of fibromyalgia, I’m a human being in severe pain.

I am a human being who feels pain 24/7, 365 days a year.

Without the label of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome — I am a human being who is more than simply exhausted.

I’m not talking about the kind of tired I used to feel after a hard days work.  Not the kind of tired some people say I might have, “because I don’t run ten miles a day like they do,” or “because I write,” or “because I need to get out more often.”

People who think they know why I’m tired or in pain, who don’t know one little iota of truth about fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, are people whose opinions mean zilch to me.

I was a firefighter.  My training made me so tired I had to go to the doctor.  This was before any diagnosis of fibromyalgia or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.  This was before Lyme disease in 2003 and near death from Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever in 2005.

I got over being tired after that training.  The doctor, who is a homeopathic physician, told me to rest and drink fluids with electrolytes.  So I did and after a day or two,  I could run with the best of them again.

Without the label of fibromyalgia, I am a person who has severe problems sleeping.  I never get good sleep.

Without the “label,” I am a person who sees days where taking a shower wears me out.  I get all nice and clean.  I get dressed.  I fix my hair.  Sometimes I even put a little makeup on.  Then I take my shoes off and fall on my bed from sheer exhaustion.

Without the label, I am a person who cannot live an active life.  Some days I’m a person who spends the day in bed, not sleeping, too tired to read, too tired to move, who just lies there like the living dead.

Without the label, I am a person who strives to make it through one trip to the grocery store and 98% of the time I can’t get all that I intended to get.  I could if I used one of the riding carts or whatever they are called, but I’m not there yet.  I’m not at a place in my mind where I feel I’m ready to reveal to the public how disabled I am by FATIGUE.

Without the “label” I am a person who hurts when I take wet clothes out of my washer.  I am a person who hurts when I push a vacuum cleaner.  Many days, I’m a person who feels like a plastic bag weighs ten pounds.

Without the label, I am a person who gets so tired that my brain seems to collapse inside my head.  This is called, brain fog, but some people can’t take labels.

Without the label of brain fog, I’m a human being whose brain stops functioning and I have a hard time adding 2 + 2!

Without the label, I would be quite confused as to what the hell is happening each and every moment I live!

Too tired to say how tired I am of people who don’t know squat about what it means to live with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and the pain of fibromyalgia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Image of ferns by, “The Graphics Fairy”

I chose the image of the fern because even plants have labels.  I stand on both sides of the fence, or perhaps I’m the FenceSitter, regarding the use of labels in medicine.   Labels are useful but can be abused.  Labels can be used to identify a whole person and I believe, those of us who have an ongoing health issue, illness(es) or disease(s), know that we are more than a label.  We remain fully human.

Thank you for visiting my blog.



26 Apr

I AM FREE

Posted by DOGKISSES in Canine companions, pet loss, pet poem. Tagged: , , , , .

I AM FREE


I am Free.
I once had four legs with webbed paws.
I swam in rivers, lakes, ponds and the ocean.
I plopped down in big ‘ol dirty mud puddles too.

I absolutely loved water!
I fetched sticks and balls
and anything my human friends threw for me.

I loved it on earth!
I had a great human mom
and a terrific big brother to play with me.

I went camping and traveled
all around the country
with my beloved human family.
We had lots of fun!

I loved them very much and they loved me too.
I once ran so fast into a stick that I had to have surgery.
I was very enthusiastic about fetching!

I swam in just about every river in the southeastern United States.
I camped in most of the national forests.

I went all the way to New Mexico and once lived on a horse farm in Texas.
I was named after a horse that my human mom’s friend knew.

I did lots of fun things during my life on earth.
I totally digged food and raw meat bones!
I ate all sorts of things that my human family thought I shouldn’t have.
I once ate an entire bag of Halloween candy!


Chocolate, caramel, suckers, chewing gum, even the paper.
I liked everything in the bag, except for the very hot red balls.
I tried each one but that was no fun.

I was a very good girl but I did steal toys from neighbors.
I was kind of spoiled.

As I got older I didn’t care much for other four-leggeds in my territory.
I did like one in particular.
I loved visiting her and running in her grass.
She lived on a farm at my human aunt’s house,
so I guess, we were first cousins.

I lived on earth almost 13 years.  That’s almost 90 human years.
I enjoyed my life and loved my family,
so I will tell of that and our wonderful years together.

I want my human family to remember our fun times.
I want them to be happy when they think of me.
I am Free.

In Memory of my Free Girl, who blessed this earth from 1993-2006.

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