Life Lately ... The Dolce Chapter

Having a senior dog is much like having a puppy.  They both need constant care and attention.  

We can no longer leave Dolce alone for any significant amount of time.  

When we would be gone for shorter periods of time, we would leave Dolce inside.  However, if we were going to be gone for any length of time, we would leave her out on the back deck.

In her dotage, Dolce no longer goes up or down the stairs from the deck to the yard.  I am fine with that, as there are places in our yard where a small dog can get into, but would have a hard time getting out of.  It's not that we have a huge yard, or a dangerous yard, but for an elderly, small dog there are a few spots to which I would rather she not have access.

This meant that, when we would be gone for a time, we would leave Dolce out on the back deck.  She would do "her business" on there, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be dealt with once we returned home.  It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't bad either.  

It worked.

Until it didn't.

This past fall, Mark and I were going to be gone all evening.  Back to back soccer games.  Put Dolce out on the back deck.  Came home hours later to find her whimpering, because she was "stuck" under the bar-b-q grill.  Now, to be honest, she wasn't stuck. If she was a young pup, she would have simply backed right on out, but at her age, and in her state, as far as she knew, she was stuck.  I felt horrible.  I had no idea how long she had been like that.  

Mark moved the grill off the deck.  

Again, not ideal, but it worked, and Dolce's safety comes first.

So.... we left her on the back deck again.  No grill.  No problem.

Right?

Wrong!!

We get home that night, and, once again, she is stuck and whimpering.  She has her head stuck between the slats of the decking.  Again, she is not honestly stuck.  I had zero issues pulling her little head through, but, as far as she was concerned, as far as she knew, she was stuck.

OK.  No more leaving her outside.  Period.  

(At least the grill could get its place back.)

That also means we cannot both be gone for too many hours at a time.  We figure, if she potties right before we leave, we have a four, maybe five, hour window.

Which is why, when Mark went to visit family in Connecticut, Dolce got to spend her days at the liquor store.  Many customers wanted to "see her".  She would be sleeping, and they would pet her and wake her, because they didn't want to see a sleeping dog, they wanted to see her little face and interact with her.  (She was NOT a fan.)

Then we come to this weekend.  

It has not been fun.

One of the things I do to try to keep Dolce a bit active is taking her outside.  I won't let her go too long unsupervised, but I put her in the grass, and she walks around the yard.  Mark says, "She's getting her steps in."  She just walks, walks, walks all around the yard.  I sit on the porch and pet Ray.  Or water plants. Or read. Or play on my phone.  And let her walk.  Sometimes I will even be attempting to get something done in the house while she is out there.  She never goes far, and she is definitely not fast, so if I check on her constantly and consistently, it should all be good.  

Right?

Wrong!

Friday night my poor little seventeen year old, ten pound puppy starts throwing up.  It was one of our exciting Friday nights where we were home watching TV.  Dolce was beside me in the recliner.  She does this low barking growl, and then she .... vomits.  Mark and I are both all "What the hey??"  I grab her, and we go outside.  She now seems as though her body wants to throw up, but it's more dry heaves than anything.  Poor baby.  We honestly don't know what to do, but we do feel as though she NEEDS to throw up, and just can't.  Mark Googles.  Hydrogen Peroxide.  Ok....  We give her maybe half a teaspoon.  I pick up the bathroom rugs.  She and I spend the next couple hours in the bathroom with her throwing up.  Thankfully not a lot and not often, but enough that we stayed in there a while.  I put some towels down for the two of us and I sat there petting my girl while she tried to sleep between episodes.  Eventually her tummy settled, and we both fell asleep in our beds.  

This is where I discovered the grass, leaves and pecans.  OK.  No more outside unsupervised.

Saturday morning we try to get her to drink some water.  With her age and her weight, I know I can't let her dehydrate.  She takes a few sips.  She throws them up.  Crickey.  Grrr.  

I get her to sleep in her bed.  I clean house and get laundry done all the while checking in on her.  I am like a mom with a new born.  I place my hand on her sleeping belly to feel her breathe.  

This is how our morning and early afternoon go.

By mid afternoon, she gets out of bed.  Wobbly as all get out.  I have some broth.  She drinks a little.  It stays down.  A little later I mix a bit of pumpkin with water.  It stays down.  

Progress.

By dinner time as I am feeding the cats, Dolce seems to want to eat also.

I give her an egg with some pumpkin.  She eats.

It stays down.

This morning she got another egg with pumpkin.  She started gurgling ... I was on high alert.  But it all stayed down.

So now she and I are back in my recliner.  She isn't sleeping, but she has her head on my leg and she is resting.

Mark went to church, but I won't leave her.

I have no idea what the future holds for me or for Dolce.  I have no idea how much time we have together.  I am hoping it's still years.  

Life expectancy for a miniature dachshund is 12-16 years, but many live into their late teens.  (According to Google.)  I am hoping she is one of the latter.  We are on year seventeen now, and I will do whatever it takes to make her feel special from here on out.  

So yeah, Mom and Kristi, she will be with us on Christmas.  You'll get to see her.  

Oh... and if you think it's pretty incredible that she has made it to seventeen doing so well, check out Jenni and Dustin's lab who has made it to his sixteenth year!!  (He and our Georgia were litter mates.)

They truly are the best!!

Our Girl, Mitzi

 One day, about 13 years ago, an acquaintance told me she was moving.  She was buying a house in another state.  Not renting.  Not moving into a small apartment.  Buying a house in another state.  

Why is this important?  Because she was not taking her cat.  Her cat!  The only people this cat had ever known were going to simply dump her off at the shelter on their way out of town.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?

I was not about to let that happen.  

I told this person, who I had now lost all respect for, that I wanted her cat.  I would take it.  I would give it a home.

She said if I wanted to come get it, whatever, it would save her a trip to the shelter.

I went, that day, to get my new baby girl.

Only, she wasn't a baby.  We never knew how old our Mitzi was, because she was already fully grown when we got her.  She was a young cat, but not a baby.

And she was so scared.  

She was plucked up and dumped into our chaos of three other cats and three dogs.  Two which were quite large.

She lived in Mark's closet for the first couple months of her time with us. Not my closet, which would have been more appropriate.  Mark's.

**Where she proceeded to sharpen her little claws on a nice leather jacket and a pair of suede work boots.**

I put a little litter box in there.  And food.  And water.  I would go in and lie on the floor.  Talking to her.  Petting her.  

Mark told me she would never come out if I kept making it so comfortable for her to stay in.  I told him she was scared.  And I continued on.

I can't remember if I eventually coaxed her out or if she finally got curious enough to venture out ... but eventually, out she came.

Slowly she acclimated to our home, our family, her siblings.  

She wasn't always the easiest cat.  

I had decided I was done with litter boxes.  Only cats who went in and out, out and in for me.  Mitzi let me know she was NOT an outside cat, and I better get her a litter box.  

Done.

Mitzi was protective of her litter box and guarded it.  She was quite reluctant to let anyone else use it, so now, not only did I have one litter box, I had multiple litter boxes.  

Great.

She also loved to guard the water bowl.  We never knew why.  She would sit behind the water bowl and, while she would allow the others a drink, it was as though they needed her permission first. 

Cats are weird, and Mitzi proved that. 

And we loved our Mitzi.

Oh, and strong!  The different vets throughout the years and our moves (where we always took her with us and never dumped her off at a shelter!) would often remark on her strength.  I heard from more than one vet that Mitzi was the strongest cat they had ever dealt with.  I often said if she was a person, she would be a body builder; she even had a bit of a cocky little strut when she walked.  It was perfect.

And life went on.

And years passed.

And then ... one day I could not find Mitzi.  

I woke up in the middle of the night with the strangest feeling.  She often slept on the bed, but not always.  She often slept curled up next to me, but not always. I woke up trying to remember when I had last even seen her.(?) 

I searched the house over, under and upside down.  No Mitzi.  

What the heck?  

She was ONLY an inside cat, she HAD to be here.  

Only, she wasn't.

A cold front was moving in.  One of the coldest in years!  One of the coldest on record.  

We had had friends over in the evening to sit around a fire before the front came through.  Could she have got out while we or our friends were coming in and going out throughout the evening?

I mean, she COULD have ... but SHE was the one who never wanted out.  We had two other cats and three dogs who happily went in and out.  All day long.  She could have gone out at anytime, but she had shown us for years, that SHE wanted nothing to do with the great outdoors.  

...and yet, she was NOT in our house.

The front arrived.  Temperatures dropped into single digits, which, for us Texans, is absolutely beyond freezing.  Snow.  Ice.  The whole thing.  

And no cat.

Mark assured me we would hear her crying out.  Only... she never meowed.  I used to say "her meower was broke".  When she tried to meow, it would be just above a whisper and it would crack.  Even if she was crying out, we would never hear her.

We looked.  We searched.  We put the word out.  

No Mitzi.

The underside of our deck is completely enclosed.  There is a door so we can get under if there is ever any reason to do so.  Mark had looked for her under our deck once before to no avail, but he had a feeling.  He decided to look again.

And there she was.  

Her poor little nose was all crusted from it  running in the freezing temperatures.  She had been out in those conditions for three days before Mark found her.

He brought her in and put her on my pillow.  I don't think she moved from that spot for another three days.  She lay there thawing out, warming up, with her little nose healing.

A friend asked if we wanted their cat tree. Their HUGE cat, scratching post tree.  Absolutely!!  This thing was so big I had to take it apart to bring it home in my SUV.

Mitzi LOVED it.

She often slept with me at night and in her cat tree during the day.

The other cats didn't seem to like it much.  Just Mitzi.  Or maybe she let them all know it was HERS!!

Recently Mitzi started trying to sneak outside whenever we opened the door for the other cats.  What the heck?  She would run out.  I would grab her and bring her back in.  

For all these years she had proven she was an indoor cat!  Did she not remember the great freeze debacle??

Finally, Mark and Mitzi convinced me to let her out.  

The first time, we couldn't find her. She didn't come home.  She disappeared.  Went searching.  A friend came over and helped me search.  No Mitzi.  

Ugh.

And then, she just showed up.

From then on, she became an indoor/outdoor cat.  Outside most days.  Inside most nights. 

I don't know why.  ...but we let her decide.  

We even eventually moved her HUGE cat tree outside onto our deck.  She would spend most of her days outside curled up on her cat tree and most nights curled up on our bed next to me.  

For most of her life, Mitzi had some sort of skin condition which would flair up on occasion.  Thankfully, not too often, but every once in a while.  We would have to take her to the vet where she would get a steroid shot, and she would be good to go.

It was on one of these recenr flair ups when we discovered our girl was blind.  I'm not sure if she literally went blind overnight, but that is how it seemed.

The vet informed us she didn't think Mitzi could see well out of one eye and not at all out of the other.  We were surprised, because she had shown no signs of not being able to see, but now, seemingly overnight, she wasn't able to find her way around. A home she had lived in for years, and she could not find her way around.  She was constantly walking into walls and cabinets. 

This was her home, so we thought, even blind, she should be able to manage it, but she never did.  Instead her world became smaller and smaller.

Initially I would walk in front of her clapping a route.  Trying to teach her to follow my claps.  My lame attempt, because within a few days, it now appeared she was no longer hearing.  First her sight and now her hearing?  

As I mentioned her world was becoming smaller and smaller.  She would no longer go into other parts of the house.  She would go from the kitchen (her water bowl!!) to the bed, and from the bed to her water bowl.  And that was all.  

She still LOVED being outside.  I would take her out and place her on the grass.  She would venture around more outside in the grass than she did inside.  Maybe fewer obstacles?  I don't know.  I do know she loved our evenings outside.  She would sit with the breeze gently blowing on her face.  

Then her world got even smaller.

She would not leave her water bowl.  

I would place her on the bed.  She would go back to her water bowl.  

I would lie on the bed with her.  She would go back to her water bowl.

I hated it, but that spot in the house was her spot.  It was her comfort.  So I folded up more towels and placed them around hoping to make her spot a bit bigger and a bit more comfortable.

One day she just wasn't herself. She didn't eat that morning. I was worried, so we made an appointment for her, and Mark took her to the vet.  I wish I could remember better, but everything about that appointment was "normal".  There was nothing abnormal or "worrisome" that the vet could find, and she even did an ultrasound on Mitzi.  Keep an eye on her, but everything appears to be good.  

A few short days later, Mitzi was not good.  

Back to the vet.

After Georgia, I promised myself I would not try any heroic efforts with any of my animals.  Let them go... but it is SO HARD to know WHEN to let them go.  Obviously, we don't want our animals to suffer.  Absolutely not.  At the same time, I don't want to put an animal down, if it is not ready. 

I prayed for God to give me direction.  Mitzi is his creation, and I have been given the privilege of taking care of her little life.  That is a great privilege and a great responsibility. 

The vet checks out Mitzi, and, again, nothing seemingly wrong.  This time we even do blood work.  All her bloodwork comes back fine.  The check up is normal.  The ultrasound is normal.  The bloodwork is all normal.  

The vet suggests an antibiotic, something to boost her appetite, a B-12 shot and some fluids.  

OK.  That all sounds promising.  

This was last Wednesday, September 10th.  So the entire time we are at the vet, I am scrolling social media as the world learns of the senseless assassination of Charlie Kirk.

Not a good day.

I am not in a good place.

Thursday morning, my wonderful husband tells me to stay home with Mitzi.  He will go work for me.  

Thank you.

My poor Mitzi is not any better.  She is worse.  

I call the vet.

"Can you come in at 3:45?"

Absolutely!!

I sit next to Mitzi.  

I pet her.

And for the first time ever, as I pet her, she lets out a small growl.  

She is NOT good.

I watch the clock.

I watch Mitzi.

I watch the clock.

I watch Mitzi.

She is dying.

All I can think is that she is dying.  She is suffering and she needs help.

I cannot let her suffer any longer, and 3:45 is still too far away.

(Poor Dolce, because at this point, I grab her and throw her outside.)

I grab my cat carrier.  I place my Mitzi in the carrier.  I rush to the vet as fast as I can.

Only ...

She dies on the way.

I get to the vet, and I rush inside ... but I know.

I know my Mitzi is gone.

That she died on the drive.

In a cat carrier.

I felt (feel) so guilty.

I should have just stayed home. 

I should have just sat there petting her.

Letting her go in peace.

I just didn't know she was going to go that fast; I could not let her suffer.

In the end, I didn't need to "put her down".

In the end, she just went.

I miss her.

Every time there's not a cat snuggled up next to me.

Every time I see her water bowl.

Every time we only have to feed two cats.

Every time I see the green grass she loved so much.

Every time.

Stranded on the Toll Road

Back Story:  Some days I can get sad and/or get my feelings hurt.  My kids are busy with their own families, their own friends, their own activities. Their own lives!! I feel put on the back burner, and somewhat either forgotten or taken for granted.  The feelings never last long, because I absolutely do understand, but, at times, those feelings do surface.  And then it hits me:  I probably did (and do!) the same thing with my mom.  I decide to go visit my mom.  No holiday.  No agenda.  Just a nice visit for no other reason than to spend time together.  The bonus is that she lives with my sister, so we made sure my sister and her husband would be home too.  It was going to be a good day, and I was looking forward to it.

Back Story:  A month or so ago, my car needed a new tire. I had been warned by the tire sensor warning light  No biggie.  Got a new tire.  And then the tire sensor warning light came on.  Again.  Took it into the dealership.  Had the tires all looked at.  Everything looked good.  Reset the tire sensor warning light.  And then the tire sensor warning light came on.  Again.  I have no idea how many times we played this game.  Mark says it was eight.  I don't think it was quite that many, but it was a lot, and I wasn't counting, so maybe he's right.  Anyway, Mark told them around trip five or six that instead of simply resetting the sensors, they needed to fix the actual problem.  They reset the sensors a couple more times anyway.  Mark finally got a bit mad and asked them to please just FIX THE ISSUE!  The dealership explained that, because we did not have an extended warranty,  we would be responsible for all the cost and repair.  Mark said fine.  We just wanted our car fixed!!  We took the car in again this past Monday to hopefully finally get the issue resolved.  The dealership replaced at least one of the sensors, and the tire sensor warning light has not come back on again.  So far.  The best part?  In doing our paperwork, the dealership discovered we do indeed have an extended warranty, and we even have roadside assistance!  Didn't cost us a penny!!  Who knew!?

Yesterday:  Headed in to visit my mom, my sister and her husband.  As we are on our way, the check engine light comes on. Are you kidding me?  We are now half way between our house and their house.  What do we do?  The car seems to be running fine, so we keep going with a plan to look into it in the upcoming week.

No biggie.

Until the car flat out dies on the Toll Road. 

Mark is able to coast to the shoulder.  We even manage to get close to an exit, but Mark is not wanting to risk the exit, as he does not want to finally come to a stop  in the fat middle of an exit.  

But wait!  We have roadside assistance.!!

We call.  

But wait!  We are on a restricted road.

????

So I also learned this yesterday:  While it is not technically wrong or illegal for a roadside assistance company to come get you on a Toll Road, most will not do so.  However, in our area, the Harris County Toll Road Authority will send out a tow truck and even a deputy to get you off the road and take you to a safe location.  It is all free.  It is all part of the fees you pay to use the toll road.  Thankfully, at this point with the deputy and tow truck helping to clear traffic, our little car started on its own, we were able to get off the toll way and into a nice safe parking lot.  Right smack between a Taco Cabana and a Walgreens.  

Call my sister.  They decide to come have lunch with us at the Taco Cabana whilst we wait for the tow truck.  We were not too far from their home at this point.  It wasn't the visit we had hoped for, or planned for, but there in the Taco Cabana we had a nice visit with my mom, my sister, James, me and Mark.

As the food arrived, so did the tow truck.  Naturally.  Mark went out and squared everything away with the driver.  Our car would be  taken to a Buick dealership in Katy right on I-10.  Mark then called the dealership and squared everything away with them.  And then we ate.  And visited.  And it was nice.

Now we are stuck in Houston, so Kristi and James are going to have to take us home.  They said they didn't mind, and maybe we could still have some fun along the way.

We dropped mom off at their home, because she would not be able to make the ride.  That would all be too much for her.

We talked and laughed and visited as James drove us all to our house.  We wanted to pop in to feed and check on all our animals.  

Then we hopped into our Elantra, and Kristi and James hopped into their car, and we were all going to meet at Houndsong.  

ONLY OUR CAR WOULDN'T START!!

Are you KIDDING me??

So we hopped into our truck REALLY hoping it would, not only start, but run.  Thankfully, it did!

Sheeeeesh.

We all met up at Houndsong where we had some beer and cheese curds with more fun and laughter.  Followed by some ice cream at the ice cream parlor next door.  (Kristi and I got the "Rusty Hinge" ice cream.  It was whiskey, biscotti and heath bar.  Highly recommend!!)

We had invited Kristi and James to spend the night and go to church with us, but with such short notice, it didn't work out that way, so they headed back to their home.  We headed to ours.  (We made it!) (Woo-hoo!) (THANK YOU, JESUS!!)

And as we crawled into bed we were honestly able to say, "That was a good day!"

Life is not always what you plan, but it can still be fun in unexpected ways!!

And, all too often, even when things can seem aggravating and irritating, God is working in our lives to give us little gifts and information that just might, maybe come in handy when we REALLY need it!

Bye, bye my once beloved, but now aggravating little car .... hope to see you soon when you're all better!!

I'm sad...

 I'm not the only one growing old and falling apart in this house.

Once upon a time we had a house full of animals.  So many mouths to feed, chaos to attend to, bodies to walk.  

We had three active, healthy dogs and four spunky, curious cats.

Little by little, over time, we are slowly losing them. 

The first we lost was Dusty Springfield.  At this time, it was not because she died.  It was because we gave her to my mom.

Around Christmas 2012 we had a cat go missing.  We searched and searched and never found her, but in the process, we did find Dusty.  When we first found Dusty, she was so tiny.  She fit in the palm of my hand.  And she kept sneezing;  hence her name.  As she grew, she still always remained on the small side.  A tiny little thing with an extremely anxious soul.  She was ALWAYS nervous.  Always.  She lived with us for years, and no matter how much we loved her, and no matter how much we cared for her, she remained nervous.  Mark often thought she would be happiest in a home where she was the sole animal.  There came a time when my mom wanted a cat.  She had always had animals and pets her entire life, but found herself at a place with none.  Whener she visited us, she spent time petting Dusty and falling in love.  I never wanted to "get rid of" Dusty, but I did feel both my mom and Dusty would be happier if Dusty went to live with my mom where she would no longer be chased around by the other cats.  Mainly Mitzi..  I hated to let her go, but I did feel I was doing what was best for both of them.  My mom had Dusty for a few years, and even though she remained nervous, I do think she was happier and more relaxed in a less chaotic environment.  Sadly, Dusty lost her life earlier this year.  She wasn't all that old, but she was also not all that young, and she had developed a tumor. 

The next one we lost was Cecelia Beaux.  

Years ago, we decided our lab needed a playmate.  Someone with whom she could run and play.  A co-worker of Mark's was fostering a dog who was looking for her forever home.  We went to check her out.  See if she would be a good fit for our family.  To be honest, I wasn't completely sure, but Mark was all in.  Another visit or two, and she was ours.  We never knew her past history, but somewhere in her life, we do think she was abused.  Anytime I grabbed a broom, she would shrink and scurry away.  We never did anything but love her and reassure her, but no matter how many years she was with us, she never got over the broom.  And while she loved me and Mark, her heart and confidence was completely entwined in Georgia, our lab and her companion.  Cecelia would not go in, unless and until Georgia went in.  Cecelia would not eat unless and until Georgia ate.  This was her pattern with everything.  If Georgia did it first, it must be OK.  Not gonna lie, Cecelia was our hardest to love.  You could not look in those eyes and not love her.  You could not look in those eyes and not want to help her.  But, good golly, she was our hard one.  She was our digger.  She was scared of thunder and fireworks. We are pretty sure she got a chicken or two.  She wasn't bad, but she also wasn't easy.  She had THE MOST energy, and we often joked that she would outlive us all.  Only she didn't.  May 2023 she left us.  Quickly and unexpectedly.  She left us.

I wrote about her here ... and here.

2023 was not a great year for us as later that year, we also lost our Georgia O'Keeffe.

In typical lab fashion, Georgia was THE BEST DOG EVER.  She lived to please, and she lived to love.  She came to us as a beautiful puppy back in 2010, and, while we did have her for 13 years, it was not enough.  Not enough time with our girl.  I wrote her story here.

Those are the ones we lost over the last two years.  So why am I sad today?

Little by little the others are showing their age and starting down that slope that does not end well.  Well, except for Billie.  

Let's check in with everyone.

Dolce came to me back in 2008.  

She has aged a little throughout the years.  She was always a little ball of fire.  Lots of energy and small enough to get out of a fence or two.  Cecelia would dig the holes, and Dolce would fit through.  I definitely had to keep an eye on her over the years.  Not anymore.  She can hear, but not well.  She can see, but not well.  She can sniff, but not well.  It is sad to watch her decline.  We can literally leave the gate wide open now, and she won't go through it.  Chances are, she won't even see it.  Yeah, it's easier, but it's also so so much sadder.  She doesn't do stairs anymore, so she relies on me to get her up and down.  I don't mind.  For a while she was simply sleeping pretty much around the clock, but I started researching elderly dogs, and now I do a few things to keep her up and awake more during the day.  She used to always be in my lap if I was seated, but now, at times, she cannot get comfortable in my lap, and leaves me for the comfort of her own little bed.  I get it.  I want her to be comfy.  But again, it saddens me.  For now, for today, she is still ticking and going ... but not nearly as she used to.

Then we have Ray Charles.

We got Ray back in 2011 when we were down in The Valley.  One of the first things Ray managed to do was get into a fight with a cactus.  He came home and was completely covered in needles.  Oh, that was fun.  He even had one caught in his left eye.  After that, he always had a wonky eye.  No biggie.  I have one too.  Ray has always been an outdoor cat.  He comes in only in inclement weather.  When he was young, there would be stretches of days in the summer when I wouldn't see him at all.  But a rain shower or a cold front would change that.  On those days, he always wanted in.  As he has aged, he still prefers the outdoors, but he doesn't go far.  He can usually be found in or around our yard.  A couple months ago, I noticed his bad eye was wonkier than usual.  The pupil had always been messed up, but now the entire eye was.  Off to the vet.  We got drops, and they definitely helped.  Oh, his eye would never come back, but his comfort did.  The vet suggested we could do surgery and get rid of the eye.  That way it would never be an issue.  We decided to keep an eye on him.  See if the eye bothered him nor not.  With surgery he would need to remain inside with a cone for ten days.  I know that will not be pleasing to him.  So we put off the surgery.  Unfortunately, last week we noticed the eye pussing a bit and bothering our Ray.  He's scheduled for surgery on Monday.  And, because of his age, they'll have to do blood work, etc to make sure they can even do the surgery.  I'm not too worried about that... besides the eye, he does seem to be doing good.  But he is not going to be happy in our house in a cone for ten days.  Poor Ray Ray.

Then we got Billie Holiday.

Now Billie is a CAT!!  I mean A CAT.  Billie is the queen bee, and she has the personality to prove it.  If Billie was a person, she would have few friends.  But as a cat?  She's perfect.  Demanding and a diva.  We got Billie at the same time we got Dusty;  while we were looking for my lost cat.  Mark has never really been a cat person.  He doesn't hate them or anything, he just never wanted one either.  Whatever.  Billie absolutely picked up on this and decided Mark was her person.  And he is.  Thankfully, even though she has obviously aged with the rest of us, Billie seems to be healthy and problem free.  Woo hoo.

Then there's Mitzi Gaynor.

I got Mitzi, because an acquaintance was moving and was willing to just dump her cat off at the pound on her way out of town.  I could not let that happen.  I went and grabbed her before the pound got her.  She spent the first eight weeks or so with us living in Mark's closet and destroying a pair of really nice boots.  Eventually she came out.  She has always been an indoor cat.... until recently.  We have had her for years, and she never showed any inkling for caring about the great outdoors until this past Spring.  All of a sudden she started darting out the door when it was opened for the other animals.  I would grab her and bring her back in.  Finally Mark convinced me to let her go.  See what she would do.  He was sure she wouldn't go far, and he was right.  She started staying out for longer and longer periods of time.  I would still bring her in at night.  She kept staying out so much and so long, I moved  her enormous cat tree out onto the deck.  She got to where she didn't even want to come in at night.  Every night I would go and get her, open the door and place her just inside, leaving the door open to see which way she would choose.  And she almost always chose to go back out.  Fine.  Ok.  Poor girl, though, does have allergies.  I felt horrible that I didn't notice sooner, but she had been scratching her neck almost raw by the time I finally noticed.  When I see her scratching, she goes to the vet and gets a steroid shot, but, because she was spending so much time outside, I didn't notice her scratching.  I felt horrible when I finally did see her neck, so... off to the vet.  Her neck is fine.  Steroid shot, no more scratching, healing nicely.... but we found out the poor girl is basically blind.  The vet is convinced she is completely blind in one eye, and probably quite limited sight in the other.  My poor girl!!  So again, health wise, I think she is OK, but she is definitely going to need a bit more help and I will have to make a much better point of keeping my eyes on her.

I never set out to have all my animals at or around the same time so that they could all age at or around the same time.  I honestly never even thought about it.  I just kept bringing animals home until Mark said we had enough.

And now little by little, we are all aging and needing a lot more care and a lot more attention. I don't mind;  I'd do anything for them .... but I do hate watching it all happen.  I do hate us all falling apart. 

Boots, Bottles and Barrels

Mark and I are very much homebodies.  

I see people all day.  

When I get off work, I want quiet.

We often say our lives revolve around work, grandkids and church.  Other than those people and places, we are perfectly happy in our own little bubble away from the hustle and bustle of the world.

....and then Lisa sees a video.  

The Texas Wine Trail has added breweries and distilleries to the trail this year.

Boots, Bottles and Barrels

You may click on the link above, but in a nutshell: One buys a ticket for fifty dollars.  The ticket has fifteen different locations consisting of wineries, breweries and distilleries.  The ticket allows three tastings at each location throughout the months of April and May.  All of those who visit all fifteen locations will then be entered into a drawing to win a bottle from each location!!

Count us in!

So if you've been sitting around pondering what Mark and Lisa have been doing with themselves in the month of April, ponder no more.

Unexpected Road Trip

On a late Sunday evening in January, our hearts sank as we received the news that Mark's brother, Eric, had passed away.  

He had not, to our knowledge, been ill, and this news was unexpected and shocking.  Thankfully, from what we know, his passing appeared to be peaceful.  

Once we got the news that Eric's "Celebration of Life" had been set, we knew we would attend.  Our only issue being Eric lived in California, and we do not fly.

Road trip. 

Because my little girl is 16, initially I planned on bringing her with us on the road.  She doesn't see well these days, and her hearing has seriously gone by the wayside.  She gets a bit confused, and I hated to leave her.  However, after checking the weather at home and the weather we would be facing, I made the decision to leave her behind.  Thank God for wonderful animal loving neighbors who know how much we love ours, because she loves her own just as earnestly.  

Not looking forward to being in the car forever, but trying to look on the bright side of things.

We do honestly love spending time together, and we never run out of things to discuss and deliberate.

Although, at times, Mark probably wishes I would.  I mean this gave me quite the chance to get him completely caught up on Brigette and Emmanuel Macron as well as the entire Blake Lively/Ryan Reynolds/Justin Baldoni saga.  Yay.

Anytime we take a road trip, Mark is THE BEST at preparation.  He packed a cooler with hearty, healthy snacks.  Cut up cheeses and sausages.  Granola.  Mixed nuts.  A separate cooler held cold waters.  He even baked home made cookies.  Yay.

First stop:  Buc-cees in Luling where Lisa grabbed her diet coke and some "Spicy and Bold" Buc-cee's crackers.  Oh, and some pecan pralines.  So good!

Mark:  Ummm, I packed us some healthy snacks.

Lisa: (with a mouth full of not healthy snacks):  Mmm.  OK.  🙂

On we drove.

And drove.

And drove.

One thing we were looking forward to:  Caliche's. 

I knew we would be driving right smack through Las Cruces, and I knew we would stop for our frozen custard!  Definitely one of our favorite places when we lived in New Mexico, and we often took the dogs along for their pup cones.  

Mark's is mango and salted pecans.  Lisa's is candied green chiles.

**To our New Mexico friends, we are SO SORRY we didn't stop for a visit, but we were on a tight time line.  Hopefully next time!

On we drove.

And drove.

We wanted to get to the far side of Phoenix where we would stop for the night.

Made it.  Yay!

We stopped at two different hotels. No room at the inn.

On we drove.

We stopped in the next town.  Two hotels.  Both booked for the night.

What the hey?  This is a Wednesday night in definitely an off season.  Why is everything booked solid?  

We never did find out.  

We looked at each other, decided there were two of us who could take turns driving and on we drove.

I am sure this part of the drive was quite beautiful, but considering much was done over night ...  I missed all that.  I mean I DID get West Texas in the day time, so there's that.  🙄🫤😂

Stopped the next morning for a gas/bathroom break and Lisa found some chocolates to add to her snack bag!!

I mean, I know Mark took the time and effort to pack all those healthy snacks, but look at that chocolate!!

On we drove.

We were SO EXCITED to finally make it into California.  I mean just look at those gas prices:

😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

As some of you may be aware, Mark does enjoy teaching and sharing little tid bits of information.  He does love telling me all about his home state of California.  However, as we are driving through the San Joaquin Valley (thankfully during the day because it is beautiful, and it was raining), Mark was finally trying to get some sleep, as I kept exclaiming about the beauty of the valley and over and over again asking. "What's that!?  What are they growing there??" 

**  side note:  When Mark drives through Houston, he will drive a bit cautiously.  Not slow or anything, but he still doesn't know all the roads or which lanes he needs on the freeways, etc.  This is NOT how he drives in California. The first time he took me to San Diego he was flying through those freeways like he was a participant in the Indianapolis 500. 

Me:  OK, the speed limit through here is 65.  Not sure you know that as you are doing 85. 

Mark:  In California speed limit signs are just suggestions.  Nobody really cares.  **

Now I do realize I can get distracted. 

Me:  Whoa, I almost hit the back of that semi.

Mark:  I noticed.

Me:  Well, I was just trying to see where the "N" is on my dashboard now that I am going North.

Mark:  😒

So Mark does 99% of the driving, and this is the road he lets me drive on:

And yes, I am taking a picture whilst driving as Mark is sleeping ... but don't tell him.  And it was the San Joaquin Valley so it was pretty straight, pretty flat and absolutely gorgeous.

We pulled over for these:

The reason for our trip:

Thursday evening a few of Eric's closest friends and family met up at the Spaghetti Warehouse.  

Dennis explained to us the reason we were meeting at this particular restaurant:  Eric, for the most part, liked things to be a bit more upscale. A bit classier.  ...but he would often find comfort in the Spaghetti Warehouse.  It was a guilty pleasure and a secret of his.

I got zero pictures of our gathering.  It was a night of catching up, sharing and remembering.  A few different times, I thought of grabbing my phone to take a photo, but I honestly didn't want to disturb the moment.  I don't think anyone's phone was touched all evening except to bring up a photo of a time or place about which we were discussing.  While I have met Mark's family, this was the first time I met these friends. They were so warm and friendly and welcoming; there was an instant connection where we all fell into an absolutely wonderful evening ... which ended too soon.

Friday afternoon was Eric's Memorial, his "Celebration of Life".

To my understanding this was arranged and planned by Claire, with the help of Pam and Judy.  

It. Was. Perfect.

As a lifelong bowler, Eric's Memorial was held in a private room at the Country Club Lanes. 

As we entered we were greeted by a table with Memorial cards and a another table held a canvas on which to sign in. To leave a message for and/or about Eric.  

           

The bar was serving Eric's signature drink. And, even though it's not MY signature drink, I did have to get one in remembrance.

Another of Eric's lifelong passions was Barbie.

Eric had the ultimate collection of Barbie and Ken dolls complete with fabulous wardrobes --many of which were designed and sewed by Eric himself.  (There will be more stories about this later, but for now just know that there was a fashionably dressed Barbie and Ken on each table.) The centerpieces also consisted of miscellaneous photos of Eric, chocolates, Eric's obituary and a letter Eric had recently written.

Around the room were displays of photos of Eric and one of his favorite art pieces.

Time to begin. 

Friends and family were invited up to share their stories.  Their memories. There were so many.  

Most everyone spoke of his huge smile, twinkling eyes, his one-of-a-kind laugh, his mischievous personality and his absolutely giving spirit.  

More than one person mentioned when Eric showed up, you NEVER knew what he had planned or what was about to happen.

One of my favorite stories was a woman sharing when she got married.  Wanting to make her celebration special, Eric took everyone outside where he had a surprise.  He had those little lanterns where you light a candle, and the lantern lifts up into the night sky.  Beautiful.  Only the lanterns started heading off into the forest.  During a drought.  She said she never saw Geiger run so fast in his life. ... to hide back inside the house.  😂😂

She also shared with us that when they bowled, and especially when they went to tournaments, they could not wear basic outfits.  Oh, no. Eric would fashion and create their shirts.

This is also one of the MANY ways and places Eric's Barbies came into play.  When they would bowl, Eric would bring a Barbie or Ken to represent each bowler.  The dolls' outfits matching the bowlers' outfits.  As the game progressed, the dolls would be arranged and rearranged according to the outcome of the game. 

Vonda carrying Eric 

Another couple shared that when they got married, Eric gave them Barbies to represent each of them.  Wearing the outfits they were married in complete down to their wedding rings.  When this same couple bought a house, Eric made them a model replica of their home including such details down to the shutters.  When they bought a jeep, yep, Eric presented them with a model jeep.  No life event was too small to celebrate.

What touched me was how so so many different people talked about his giving spirit and making each and every one of them feel so incredibly important ... and special.

If you would like to watch his Memorial, it has been uploaded to YouTube.  View it here:

Eric Geiger's Celebration of Life

During the Memorial, we sat at the "Cousin Table", and while, once again, we didn't get out our phones and take many photos, we did manage to capture one of all the cousins.

Claire reserved a few lanes at the bowling alley, and as the Memorial came to an end, a few people did make their way down to do a bit of bowling.

As I mentioned earlier:  It. Was. Perfect.

Then it was time for Mark and me to head home.

Before leaving California we knew we wanted to eat at Rubio's.  One of our favorite little stops when we are in that state.  Sadly, there is no longer a Rubio's in Sacramento.  If there was, no telling how many times we would have eaten there.  As it was, we had to settle for waiting until we made it to Palm Beach.  But finally, Rubio's!

Her people left her while they went to place their order.  I think she was hoping we might drop some snacks.  

Baja fish tacos really are the best!

I am not sure how many times Mark heard me say, "I am so glad we went.  I want to do this trip again when we can take more time.  Stop and see the scenery along the way.  Take the time to visit."

The trip home was pretty much the same as the trip going... we decided if we could drive it one way without stopping, we could drive it the other way without stopping.

Pros:  We didn't have to unpack the car and/or luggage just for one night.  We didn't have to pay for a hotel just for a few hours sleep.

Cons:  Sitting in our vehicle FOREVER.  

We did make it home, and we were extremely exhausted, but so happy that we were able to make the trip.

Until next time, California.

RIP Eric.  So so many people loved you and are absolutely heartbroken.