Godspeed Merlin, a.k.a. Best Boy Ever (Canine Degenerative Myelopathy Disease and The Final Year)

Merlin was our first boy dog. He won me over thirteen or so years ago when I was "walking" him while he served time at the city pound. I continued visiting, walking, encouraging, hoping he'd find a forever home. No such luck. It wasn't for his lack of trying. He was an incredible flirt. The minute I'd bring him out of his cage, he'd literally nudge me into a corner, sitting like a good boy, and wag that darn tail. I was won over immediately, but we had a house full of dogs by then and I didn't think we were ready for another one, much less bringing a boy into the mix. Our interludes went on like this for about two weeks (me begging the shelter to keep him "off the list". . . he's totally adoptable, just give me time) until one morning I went in and was confronted by the staff and told, and I quote, "Your boy's time is up." Wow. I had no other alternative. In the car with me he went. We had our first boy.

Godspeed Mystique (A wayward soul if ever there was one.)

And now we are three. Yesterday was a gut wrenching day for our family. No matter how much preparing you do: visits with the vet, medications to halt physical symptoms--you are never, ever really ready. The crying and heaving and wondering if this or that might have made life "better"--it doesn't ease any of the pain. All you can do is let the grief wash over you and carry you further and further away from the moment when the last breath is taken. And we were there. Holding her. Well, Dr. Thyme did the holding, I was hunched over, my head in my lap, sobbing out loud. The pain is still sharp. Crying again now.

Mystique was a beagle mix we found on my birthday fifteen years ago.

Vegan Red Velvet Cake with Creamy Vanilla Buttercream Frosting (The Story of A Hero, A Father, A Son)

This is the kind of cake you could take to a funeral. And we did. . . have a funeral, that is. But this cake didn't make it there. Instead, we have been enjoying its company for dessert this past week--for three nights so far, two pieces remain for tonight. I thought it about time to pop in here. I had family comment: "Noticed you've not posted in a while". Not that I'm a person who is easily swayed by anyone's concerns, this just happens to be the god's truth.

Godspeed Maggie Mae (Let Our Hearts Heal)

Maggie Mae. The best girl ever. We said good-bye to her Monday. Nicknamed "Moonpie" because of the little carmel top on her head, split right down the middle with a streak of white, just like a moonpie. We didn't know her exact age--she was a rescue. There's never enough time. We just know every single day with us she brought more joy than seemed possible.

Saying Goodbye to My Father

Michael Panich: January 2, 1941--February 23, 2008. Michael collapsed and left us very suddenly and quickly, in the manner he would have chosen to make his final exit. Mike was everyone's favorite "social chemist" in Clearlake, Hidden Valley and the Triple S in Calistoga. He enjoyed playing golf with his buddies and in retirement became a very artistic creator of wood crafts. His workshop was his haven where he watched the food channels while building his unique birdhouses. He loved testing the various recipes and added his special touch to many delicious meals.

Losing someone once is hard. Losing them twice is even harder. I want to remember how this happened.

My father left my mother and I when I was about two. I don't know the rest of the story except for the bits and pieces my mother shared when she was alive (she was pretty mum about it for the most part--and not happy to discuss it when I did ask). Finally, my dad and I had a reunion of sorts (certainly a plan my mom had agreed to, I'm sure). Our first meeting was when I was barely out of high school--questions were asked, answers were given. Then, our second was about twenty years ago (much later)-- however, I was still young. I have some vivid memories of that time together and some hazy ones. My life came along and so did his and we moved in our own currents through life. For the last several years, I have tried to find him--my searches usually taking place around my birthday--entering the name in Google, out with the search results. Lots of results, which way to go was always my question. So last week, it was cold and rainy outside, and I had the sense that maybe my search would finally be successful. I hoped--I was persistent. Well. . .be careful what you wish for.

Long and short of this moment is, after about an hour, I found a link that took me to a list on legacy.com--an archival site of obituaries. I thought it had to be coincidence, same name, right age, right geography, but honestly hoped I was wrong. My gut told me otherwise. When I saw his picture, that was it. I had found him.

I emailed everyone on his memorial page that had left a comment. I received a reply telling me the name of his best friend and a phone number, with condolences. I called this gentleman. He answered, I began to stutter. It had, after all, been over a year now since my father's passing. I don't even remember half of the conversation. He listened, I talked, then I talked and he listened. It was all surreal. Then he said he'd let my father's partner, his girlfriend, know about this call. I received a lovely email from her that night. It broke my heart all over again. This has all been so hard.

I will get back to cooking and posting eventually. Grief stays a while, and it does strange things to you, like the appetite (gone), like getting mad, like being sad, depressed and walking around like you're in shock, like running away. All of the above and more. Thank god for my husband and my friends and my running.

I want anyone out there who has lost touch with someone in their life to never give up--especially daughters. Every little girl--grown up or not--needs her father.