Archive for December, 2012

My Name Is Mollie

My name is Mollie. My mommy calls me Widdle and Mollie Doodle All The Day. I love my mommy most of all. She gives me yummy treats and chicken breast. She lets me lick her face. She rubs my tummy even when she’s typing and I’m behind her in her chair.

I love to run up the stairs and I run down too. My big brother and I race, but I usually win especially when he has his foot in a cast. He’s Sammy, Jr., named after our malti-poo daddy. He likes to steal my food when I hide it under my body. He’d rather steal it from me than eat it out of the dish. It’s our game.

I hate bath time and groom time. I can tell Mommy is nervous when she scissors around my eyes and nose. When Daddy helps her I can feel his fear and that makes me shiver. Sammy, Jr. hates the same things I do, I can tell. He hates going to the Vet too. He howls and whines the whole ten blocks. Mommy and Daddy say he’s a pussy. I don’t do that even though my tummy flops. I’m quiet as a mouse.

Button, the old lady Yorkie, barks in her sleep and I wonder what her dream is about. She lets me hump her backside when I feel foxy. She acts like she doesn’t even feel me there.

Sammy, Jr. and Fawn play together sometimes. They race back and forth up and down the hall. Fawn is twice the size of Sammy with big teeth and sharp nails. I don’t play with her ’cause she’s scary.

Well, I have to tee-tee so I’m out of here.


A Celebration of Life

Her name was Marlene and she was barely fifty-nine. What struck folks about her was her calm demeanor and sparkling smile. She knew who her friends were and that she could ask favors of them. And we loved her for it. She died of ALS (Lou Gehrig Disease). First she lost her voice, then her ability to eat. She was fed through a tube she poured a can of stuff in. She was a gifted quilter and a wonderful friend. Church members told us that in the end, she could only move her eyelids. Finally at peace, I guess that’s reason to celebrate.