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Regel

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It was Saturday morning on a bright spring day. A small surprise was waiting for me out my front door. A small gray and white mouse was sitting on my step.

The first time I met this little guy I thought he was a goner. Some strange illness had left him too ill to run or too blind to see the danger of sitting out in the open. (Ate some poison bait I assumed.) Barely moving it was still alive but surely death would soon be paying him a visit. The side walk I decide would not be its final resting place. Someone could easily step on him where he was so I moved him under the canopy of my forty five foot Blue Spruce and went about my business of pruning hedges and mowing the lawn.

The work although hard required very little thinking. It was a small holiday of sorts when the body is in motion and the mind is on idle. While I pushed the lawnmower the mind began to wonder. The disease these little rodents carried wiped out half of Europe and yet while the opportunity to destroy the mouse was there (it would have been easy really) I couldn’t bring myself to do it. That reluctance had been there all of my life from the time I was a child. Cruelty and killing without purpose was incomprehensible to me. I made a terrible hunter for ostensibly the same reason. I had food in the fridge and didn’t need to kill anything. I fear I may have ended up a vegetarian if I had to slaughter my own animals.

The job soon finished and I began cleaning up the clippings. I didn’t worry too much about the body underneath the Blue Spruce but continued about my tasks.

 

 

 

A few days later I returned home after work to find my youngest son Joseph and several of his friends huddled over my step. Curious about what could hold five ten year olds attention for so long I approached.

It was him! The same small gray mouse (or a close kin hard to be sure) sitting in the sunshine. "Leave him boys, he may be sick." I said. With that the group took a step back and yet the small creature remained relatively calm. Whiskers twitching and grooming himself he seem oblivious of his surrounds (but at least he was moving better). Once again I thought his small body would end up a smudge under someone's shoe if I didn't move him. I took a small garden tool and gently nudged him over towards the grass. I fully expected the small mouse to bolt but he was neither worried nor in a hurry to run away. "Gosh we must grow them stupid on BirchCliff!" was my comment to which the group of boys giggled.

 

About twenty minutes later he was back sunny himself on the step again. What is wrong with this mouse? He must have a death wish. I didn't know what to do with the little guy. A crow or a stray cat would but not me and perhaps the mouse knew it. <_<

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Another Saturday and my weekly appointment with the lawnmower has begun. Once again my mind began to wander into muses that I had no time to consider through the week.

 

A conversation I had with a fellow pennite recently made me pause to consider how I am being perceived. The comparison to Peredhil was quite flattering but not deserved.

Peredhil is far more evolved. I see myself as a good person but flawed. While I am sure Peredhil may have one or two flaws, mine are far more numerous as well as apparent. Still when it comes to dogs cats and other small mammals I have always seem to have an instant understanding. I didn't fear them and they didn't fear me. Sadly the same could not be said about people. My experience with people has been entirely different. Trust was never something I could associate with people, only animals even the maladjusted ones. People made those animals mean but it was never in their nature which is something I can closely identify with.

The lawn finished I was returning the mower to the garage when who should be there to greet me but that dam mouse again. This was getting weird. The neighbourhood was full of cats and dogs and natural preditors how does this mental midget manage to survive? I decide that I will just let the little bugger go about his business and suddenly I see another mouse. This one was also gray and white but fortune had not smiled quite as sweetly on this one. It's ear torn it was obvious that something had placed its mark on this small creature. This one was an entirely different mouse. As I approached it showed fear and scurried away. It occured to me that I have been like both of these mice at various times in my life.

The dicotamy of my character illustrated in the form of two mice. Weird.

Edited by Regel

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For some strange reason God has given me something of a special ability. I am sure it belongs to someone else but while I can smell things at great distances I'm sure there is a basset hound that couldn't smell a rabbit standing right beside him.

 

Working around the yard is my chance to reconnect with things long forgotten. The smells of fresh blossoms triggered a memory of my childhood. I found myself thinking back in the early sixties when it was just me and my sister. Mom and Dad would called us their first family later. It would be five more years before my two younger brothers would join us. The world was smaller then. Most households still had a 60 watt service and some even less (40 watts). Our TV was still a black and white Zenith and Dad drove an old green Ford. With only three channels two clear and a third requiring a small child to hold the rabbit ears to be veiwable. Our backyard had peach trees and they flowered early. The smell of their blossoms had brought back the memory.

 

It seems that in those days we had to be creative in how to occupy our time. When the opportunity to get together with cousins my own age came around we cheered. The aftermath of a day at the beach or a day of visitation always ended the same way. "Do we have to go already?!" we would moan in unison. My dad had his own way of handling us on these occasions. "Yes, say goodbye and get in the car." he'd say flatly. The long drive home would be a quiet one and the view into the backseat would have two pouty kids seating with their arms crossed.

 

My father would always start the conversation about three stoplights from home.

"So did you enjoy yourselves?" Almost as a groan we would reply "Yes Dad."

"You had fun?" he would continue and we would respond again "Yes Dad."

This would continue for sometime and we would relunctantly nod and thank them both for taking us. Sometimes we would be rewarded with a treat at the Red Barn or an ice cream. By the time we arrived home our sullen faces had always brightened. Seems like that had always been my father's job. Reminding us of the good times we had. Keeping our sadness in perspective.

 

My dad has been gone for many years now and we still miss him badly. They say that time heals all wounds, hard to argue that one but unless you're a Salamander you can't grow a new limb or have your father back. So unfortunately that wound still festers. I suppose that his words "Did we have fun?" would still be answered "Yes Dad." In my head I still hear his voice, his cadence, his own pauses. To this day he is still teaching me lessons long forgotten. It's early and June blossoms make my eyes water or maybe it's the pollen.

Edited by Regel

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*laughs*

i absolutely love these, Regel. You have an interesting take on things which is very refreshing.

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I love the mice stories. It's very groovy of you to be so sweet to them. ^^

 

The one about your dad touched me most, though. You're good at articulating feelings that most people can't express. Very neat.

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I watch in shock and horror as my two year old cat Mr. Sassy urinates on the carpet in front of me. This is the second time in the past week I have witnessed this. After yelling and screaming death threats at him I calm down and go about the business of cleaning up the mess. The small portable carpet cleaner has been getting a work out lately. "What's wrong with him?!" I asked aloud. Some time later I heard him make a sound that was like a cry of pain. It was a long yowl while he looked at me in the hallway that made me worry. I was on my way to work. "What's wrong Sass?" I didn't have time for this shit and out the door I went. The drive to Oakville is just over an hour at highway speeds and I couldn't stop thinking about the dam cat. I was behind on the sales forecast again and this meeting couldn't wait. Why is it that my mind thinks clearer the further I travel from the problem? "He has a Urinary Infection stupid!" I say aloud to myself. "Dam!" The meeting went well in Oakville and 11:30 am I am packing it in and heading back home. I will go by the vet I think to myself and get him some antibiotics. By 12:30 pm I am sitting at St. Francis Animal Clinic beside some lady and her dog (I guess). Brisket she called him and although he was friendly I am sure Sassy would kick his ass. “What can I do for you?” asked the young woman in scrubs. “I have a sick cat with a urinary problem.” I tell her. She informs me that his very life could be in danger and how soon could I bring him in? I hurry home and gather him up. Within minutes we are back in the animal clinic.

 

The next morning I go and collect him. Two hundred and thirteen dollars later I have learned a lot about vets and how they stay in business. I pay, collect my cat and leave.

The family pet is just that after all, family. Talk to you later

Edited by Regel

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And then there is Holly, a small dog with a mixed heritage (some say mutt). A lovely little black and tan shepherd-terrier cross that instantly took to me (ha-ha). She is my next door neighbor’s dog. I first met her five years ago and slowly over that period of time I have slowly won her over. When I first met her she had a serious mistrust of men, all men, including me. I can't explain why that bothered me but it did. So in spite of her cold shoulder I would always greet her and give her the space she required to feel safe. It was only through interaction with my neighbors that I began to understand why the little dog appeared to be unfriendly. She was a little over protective and fearful but intensely curious. It wasn't until the famous duckling rescue that our friendship truly began.

Murray came over and mentioned that a mother duck has been stressed out because her ducklings had mysteriously disappeared down holes. They were aeration holes around a large tree on his neighbor’s property that they were trapped in. Together we sorted out which holes had a duckling to rescue and which did not. Some of these were easily reached others were too small or too deep to simply reach down and scoop them up. The first duckling was an easy scoop. The second was more difficult. The third was more difficult because we had to dig without collapsing the earth on top of the little creature. So painstakingly we dug by hand while Holly moved in ever closer to watch. She actually nudged me while I was prone on the ground and straining to reach the little yellow bundle of fluff. I almost missed it when Murray mentioned it to me "Looks like you made a friend." As I turned in the direction he motioned and looked up there was Holly looking at me. She licked my face and both of Murray and I laughed. "Now she gets affectionate!" I declare.

Moments later my face which was a contortion of concentration softened into a smile. My hand gently closed around the small duckling as I pulled it out of the darkness. This one went into a box with its siblings. We had recovered the third and we were almost ready to toast our success when Holly barked a short distance away while looking down yet another hole. "What you got there Holly?" asked Murray.

Murray is a gently soul and probably the fittest 62 year old man to might expect to meet. We looked at each other and sighed. Almost in unison we said "One more." This one had a slightly deeper and wider hole and was walking back and forth between two openings. Almost an hour and fifteen minutes invested in the rescue of four ducklings by two grown men. I am sure our wives were laughing because if we didn't relocate these little guys they would likely fall back into the same predicament. We crossed the street and released the four into the soccer field. Their mother must have been near by for as soon as we retreated she moved in. Seems like even Holly was pleased. After that day she started seeking me out. Did I mention I would feed her a treat once and a while? Oh yes love has it's price and for Holly a piece of cheese or meat was a powerful attraction. More another day.

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It was late February and winter still had us in it's icy grip.

I had been away on business for the weekend and although it had snowed and snowed a lot I had hope that the lure of PS-2 had not emptied my eighteen year old son's mind entirely. Surely the entrance of my driveway would be clear at the very least.

 

Nope. It was a wall of ice and snow with the gate closed. Muttering things best not repeated I parked on the street and started to dig out the entrance. I had strategically placed my vehicle in front just in case that dam snowplow came by.

 

Thirty minutes into this exercise I had managed to clear the majority of the entrance and half of the driveway when fatigue forced me to rest. It was quietly snowing that evening and as I watched my breath form clouds of vapours floating up through the snowflakes. Someone was approaching. I heard the clinking of metal dog tags.

 

Around the Blue Spruce came a small dog dragging her leash. "Holly!" I cried. She gave me quite the welcome, tail wagging and tongue lolling she came over to where I had crouched and licked my hands and face as she plopped on to her side an allowed me to pet her. I was smiling ear to ear and after a few minutes I watched as my next door neighbor Connie came walking around the spruce. She was smiling as well " She saw your van and got so excited I had to let her go to greet you." I smiled and said "And quite a nice greeting indeed." We had come along way in our relationship Holly and I. She was quietly called back to Connie and Holly gave me a final lick and dutifully returned to her master's call.

 

Seems like the little things in life are still what make it worth living for me. That neighbor's dog and my black and white cat sitting just inside the glass door waiting to say welcome home.

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The fall weather has been amazingly mild and here we are deep into the middle of November and I have tasks to preform that should have been done two months earlier.

I don't know why I always do things like this. Procrastinate until the last possible minute and then acted.

The backyard pool has been closed since September and the pipes that lead back to the pool pump have yet to be drained. Weather threatening and temperatures just above freezing I set off to work. It's amazing how numbingly cold water works on the human body. To thread in the plugs my arm has to be up to my elbow in this chilly water. With the corner of the cover up and me prone to the ground I can't help but notice how clear the water seems. "Your an idiot!" I scream at my self. The job might have taken ten minutes in September but here I am struggling to loosen the jet tubes with my frozen right hand. One down and two to go. Outside in my backyard is a different place. Inside the city but still some how it feels country. Quieter than week days when the sounds of traffic and schoolyard children are the dominant sounds. Today it was rustling leaves and birds chirping. Arm blue and task finally completed I turn to other tasks on my "Honeydew List". Next on the list "Christmas Lights".

Edited by Regel

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Wow, I'm so blessed you posted another of these, because I'd missed all the rest. These vignettes are really excellently written. Your use of the senses brings them to life for me.

*hugs*

I wish, my friend, I were as together as I seem to you, for I too have a myriad of faults on which I work! Perhaps we are so different after all?

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It has been a tough day. An emotional day to end an emotional and couragous battle that lasted seven months. Tough on her and tougher still on her family and friends who loved her. We watched as the cancer that ravaged her body just blunted it's teeth on this woman's spirit. She comforted those that came to visit her and consoled those of us that were overcome with grief. She blessed us all with her gentle soul and kind nature.

 

I wish I could give her the proper tribute she deserves without filling this page and many others so I won't. Instead I will give you a peice that she read every day to keep her spirit strong and face what ever this journey had in store for her. It's simply titled

 

What Cancer Cannot Do

 

Cancer is so limited ...

It cannot cripple love,

It cannot shatter hope,

It cannot corrode faith,

It cannot eat away at peace,

It cannot destroy confidence,

It cannot kill friendship,

It cannot shut out memories,

It cannot invade the soul,

it cannot reduce eternal life,

It cannot quench the spirit,

It cannot lessen the power

of the resurrection.

 

Anonymous

 

 

As the poem says it couldn't quench Roseanna's spirit or invade her soul. For those of you out there that have friends or family suffering from this illness I hope that this brings you the comfort as it has brought to me.

Edited by Regel

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There are times when time does stand still while crickets sing and candles burn. This August evening smack dab in the middle of a long weekend and I find myself sitting on my deck, tappings on the keys of my notebook while sipping a glass of Vidal. I watch as my wife and youngest son enjoy a quiet dip in our pool.

 

Seems like ages since I have had or taken the time to do very little. No visitors to entertain, no wedding to attend just a free unplanned weekend. A chance to unburden oneself and some time to appreciate what gifts we have been given. The break from the heat was so welcomed, 36 degrees celcius for three days followed by a summer thunderstorm easing off into a cooler sunny day. A chance to swim in the pool, play a game of golf with the little guy and a cold bottle of wine to top off a great meal.

 

Everyone has gone away and left us to fend for ourselves. The birthday callers had their day and this evening was for my wife and I. She and I have gone through alot together, it hasn't always been smooth but I doubt I could have ever found a better person to share my life with.

 

A few words pass between us and soon the wine dwindles down to a last sip. God I love summer.

Edited by Regel

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September rains are almost always summers swan song. The colours in the trees are still green but the cold night air suggests that summer has consumed itself and fall will soon show its colours.

 

The Labourday weekend is here and we are off to a wedding today. What a remarkable story about yet another friend diagnosed with lung cancer that was given three months to live (four months ago). What is remarkable is that her health continues to both amaze and confound her doctors. What had been reoccuring bouts of fluid building in her lungs as stopped, at least for now. Her long time boyfriend proposed only a month ago and today he will make her his wife for as long as they both have each other.

 

She had told Dan that before she could accept they would have to ask her two boys aged 13 and 10. They were delighted and so she agreed. Today is the day that many a bottle of wine shall spill their contents and the celebration of their wedding shall be enjoyed by their closest friends and family.

 

The weather is cloudy and wet and what would have been an outside wedding has gone into a church. Call me old fashion but that is where weddings should take place. The reception will be lively and I believe the water I am drinking now is to limit the size of the hangover I will have tomorrow.

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The concrete held on to the tiny green leaf in spite of my best efforts with the corn broom. I finally relented and stopped trying to sweep it up and simply bent over and picked it up. I returned to sweeping the thorny seed pods, leaves and small broken branches into piles. The day is warm but not overly sunny. Pools suck in September. Especially the ones unheated and surrounded by Beechnut trees.

 

Cleaning the clogged skimmer basket was becoming a daily chore. Often it included the discovery of a dead rodent. Moles that thought they were otters drown and swirl around until they come to rest in that skimmer basket. This year had been a particularly bad one for small mammals. Three young rabbits (yes bunnies) the size of kittens, half a dozen grey mice, one red squirrel and more moles than I can remember. I hate fishing out those floaters.

 

I swept the deck and finished vacuuming the litter at the bottom of the pool. The pool cover was next. I started turning out the brass anchors with the hex shaped tool with the bright red handle. “Lefty Lucy” I said to myself and continued to work my way around the pool. The sun broke through the clouds and the warm sunshine was appreciated. The freshly vacuumed pool sparkled as I unfolded the leaf cover. The lever bar forced the spring loaded clasps over the brass anchors. It covered in a matter of ten minutes. The plugs into the jets and returns are next but first the pool pump needs to be shut off. Prone I hand turn the plugs into the jets. The task seems so much easier when the water isn’t frigid.

 

Inside the shed I continue to drain this and unscrew that. Another season comes to and end. The final blaze of color will come soon, hints of red and yellow ting the leaves. Without the constant hum from the pool pump the backyard grew quiet. The remaining sounds all natural. Birds chirping, wind moving through branches rustles the leaves the background noise to my own thoughts.

 

 

My coversation with Terrilee replayed in my head. Her doctors can't explain what is happening or not happening with her lung cancer. The fluids that had not returned her weight gain and her health all a mystery. "Do you know how many people are praying for you Terrilee?" I asked. Her reaction was unsettling.

"If there is God then why me, why my mother and my father?" I waited for her to settle a bit. "I don't need you to believe in God Terrilee, I will believe for you. Besides if you don't believe, then who are you angry at?" She has made all of her short term goals, her son Spencer's pool party, her trips to Florida, her marriage and her son Mitchel's birthday they had all come and she is still here. "I'm scared Joe." she said to me. "I know love, you're going to have to set some new goals."

 

I closed the pool shed and headed up the hill carrying the leaf bag. I stop just long enough to see the taunt green leaf cover and the freshly swept concrete deck. As I stood there I watched a tiny leaf flutter its way to the ground. I sighed as I turned and entered my home.

Edited by Regel

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The heavy rains and strong winds had passed. I wish I could have said the same thing about my headache. The mild October evening was inviting, so I took a stroll. As I walked out the door I felt and smelt the dampness. It was muggy, a term you normally associate with mid summer not October. Cold crisp air is what I had expected so the heavy leather jacket that weighs the same as my overfed cat was uncomfortably warm. “Oh well...” I thought “…I am just going around the block.” I was surprised at just how many people were still out an about. Some taking their evening constitutionals, (usually in twos) some just arriving home. I listened to an exchange between a young father who had just stepped out of his vehicle and was staring up. “Who is that!” he said. The answer came from a young boy who simply answered “It’s your son.” He couldn’t have been more than 4 years old. The porch light left me with just the gray silhouette of the father in running shoes and track pants. I remember those days, my wife and I just starting out and a family of three. I smiled involuntarily and kept on strolling. My pace was leisurely as I had no deadline and there was no destination in mind. My route had taking me down the steep slope on Birchcliff and now half way down Greenbrook. I was approaching our first home on Warren Rd. How many times had I walked this route in the past fourteen years? Waiting patiently as my sons would trick or treat their sacks full. It used to be an every night occurrence when we had Crystal, the golden retriever with the cow bell in her head. She was a beautiful dog but how does that saying go? “The porch light is on but there is nobody home.”

At the corner of Warren and Greenbrook I was looking at the leaf litter on this lawn. It was like the line you see at high tide. The lowest point of the entire neighborhood was here. During times of heavy rain fall the sewers can keep ahead of the cascading waters. Torrents of water swirling right past gutters and surging onward until it reaches the Mighty Warren River! The name I coined our old street. The water would crest the paved surface and flood over the curb and sometimes cover the sidewalk. It was clear and dry at the moment.

 

The bungalow was still there and a curious thought crossed my mind as I looked at the master bedroom window. Two out three sons had been conceived there in that room. The flood of memories both bitter and sweet flowed quickly through my mind. As I crossed Ripplewood I looked up the street and recalled all the old neighbors we used to chum with. Most had moved away not just around the corner like we did. I kept down Warren Rd. The tree canopy was heavy in this neighborhood. It reminded me of the way London my hometown used to be. Streetlights illuminated spots on the sidewalk and even with a three quarter full moon it was dark. These leaves will soon carpet the ground here. Small children will swirl through dead leaves dressed in costumes and another year will have passed.

 

I am in my autumn I thought to myself. More of my life has past than I have left in front of me and I am ok with that. The walk had picked up a bit as the slow steady climb back home began up Forest Hill Drive. We live in paradise compared to most and yet we spend more of our energy and time comparing our fortune with others. Dam that Robin Leach! It’s his fault (and also our fault). Simple pleasures are the best like a stroll on a pleasant night.

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:) As always your little bits about every day things area pleasure to read. I found myself thinking of my walk home from the bus stop tonight. The Trees here are all mature too Mostly maples lining both sides of the streets making a multi coloured arch that for that brief moment in time call fall birghtens our world before it all goes grey and white. *hugs* keep writing my firend. Edited by WrenWind

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I was just flipping through some of your stuff. The mouse story was very nice: I'm all about giving things a chance, and I hate it when people kill animals (bugs and snakes mostly) just because they are afraid of them. So bravo *claps hands*

 

Then I found your post about your friend who had cancer. The poem really meant something to me: I have experience of what cancer can do to the family who have to watch their loved one suffer (I can't imagine what it has to be like for the one suffering. Trust in God has to keep their spirits up). My grandmother, my mom's mom, died just last year of it. But even through it all she kept her bright sense of humor and joyful spirit. I want to thank you for posting that; even though it has been a year I found it encouraging.

 

Keep on writing: these are great!

 

-Kikuyu

Edited by Kikuyu Black Paws

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What a delight these are!

 

Thanks Kikuyu for bumping this thread, I'd have missed it otherwise. Thanks Regel for your conversational observations and gentle spirit.

 

Cerulean. :)

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I had just spent four hours visiting my my mother-in-law who was back in hospital and did my best to distract and keep the spirits up of both my wife's parents. I did my best to chat them up and keep the mood light. I said my good byes and informed them my wife would be down for the weekend. My father-in-law was beside himself and as he walked me out he said to me in a whisper "It's really bad this time Joe, really bad." I stopped shook his hand and told him "Do not dispair, we still have her." It was all the encouragement I could muster.

I took the elevator down from the fourth floor and started thinking about how I have been.

 

 

I've been dropping F-bombs lately like leaves falling in autumn. Frustration perhaps or maybe fatigue but it has been creeping into my comments and of late my temper is decidely short. It's a patterned response I developed when ever I feel overwhelmed or stuck in a bad place. Cursing never solves anything for me but releasing some of this venom inside me verbally and keeps me from breaking things. Rage or despair, which of these two evils to pick from? I can't say one is better than the other but I would rather rage than despair.

 

I can't remember when I watched this National Geograhic special but it certainly left a lasting impression on me.

The subject was the animals of the Serengeti. The photography was incredible and the insights into the everyday life and death struggles was amazing, but one particular part of the special effected me more than any other part. Until I saw this I never would have believed that hyenas actually hunted, but they do. The video was shot at night and the night vision gave the animals in the screen a strange reflection off their eyes. There eyes practically glowed. The hyenas had targeted a baby Black Rhino, an animal that is already endangered. The baby in the company of its mother had been harassed by the brutes all day. During the daylight hours the mother would trump any attacks and run off any hyena that approached. With night fall the poor sighted mother was virtually blind to these predators. Inspite of this she would not abandon her little one and continued to charge any hyena that approached. Once the mother was distracted the mob would move in and take nips at the baby Rhino. I remember thinking to myself "You assholes, get out your trucks get your F-ing guns and run these bastards off (the hyena pack). Don't just sit there and let this happen." They recorded this attack and the baby's cries would call back the mother Rhino and she would charge back to her infants side. As the mother tired her forays grew shorter and shorter. Her attempts to stay close were valient and at one point isolated and alone the baby rhino faces off against one of its attackers and actually charges the hyena. I cheered as the little guy dealt a punishing blow to the retreating hyena. The small victory was short lived and after what seemed far too long the baby Rhino was pulled down and killed. The mother called and called but her baby could no longer answer. She pranced and charged in frustration for a long while and eventually trotted off.

 

I remember thinking to myself that nature is cruel. The forces of nature devoid of any compassion. I had been moved to tears. As I walked back to my van in the hospital parking lot the image of that brave little creature fighting back came back. Cancer can be like that pack of hyenas and cast in the familiar role of the baby rhino is my dear sweet mother-in-law. She is a spunky woman, that never complains and never surrenders. Each time her Lymphoma rears its ugly head it is driven off. Armed with chemo and with radiation and poor vision we cast modern medicine in the role of mother Rhino. I refuse to believe that this will end only one way so excuse me while I rage. Fuck life can be cruel.

Edited by Regel

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Breathe

(Waters, Gilmour, Wright)

 

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don't be afraid to care.

Leave but don't leave me.

Look around and choose your own ground.

 

Long you live and high you fly

And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

And all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be.

 

Run, rabbit run.

Dig that hole, forget the sun,

And when at last the work is done

Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

 

For long you live and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards an early grave.

 

"Nanny's cancers back guys. Short of God producing a miracle there is nothing more the doctors can do that won't kill her faster. " I said with as calm a tone as I could muster. "Do you guys understand what is happening?" "Yes dad" they both chimed in. My two youngest sons and I chatted the balance of the hour long trip home. "Hows Poppa feel? Hmm... I mean what is he feeling?" asked my twenty year old. "Tired, sick, depressed.... lots of things Chris. The past eighteen months have been terrible for him." I replied. "He has to hire some help for Nanny they are taking her home on Monday. Not sure how long Nanny has but your going to have to give your mom a lot of support. Everybody is going to lose their mom eventually, she is going lose hers sooner." The rest of the drive was very quiet and the boys and I just listened to the cd alone with our own thoughts.

 

 

Breathe (reprise)

 

 

Home, home again.

I like to be here when I can.

When I come home cold and tired

It's good to warm my bones beside the fire.

Far away across the field

The tolling of the iron bell

Calls the faithful to their knees

To hear the softly spoken magic spells.

Edited by Regel

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I'll just cosign what others have said in thanking you for sharing these journal entries, Regel. Even when dealing with monotonous chores like cleaning out the swimming pool, these posts definitely show a genuine side of your personality through your observations, anecdotes, and style of writing. It's great to learn more about you, and this thread is certainly a means of bringing people closer to your life. My favorite posts thus far are the story about you and Holly bonding and your National Geographic memory... It's interesting how many of your entries deal with animals.

 

I'm very sorry to hear about the health struggles of your family and friends. I don't know if this will be of any comfort, but I thought I'd offer an addendum to your story of the hyenas and the baby rhino... the process is a very cruel one, as you said, but it also strikes me as part of natural selection, similar to the way that many baby tortoises never make it to the Ocean. I've always thought of hyenas as mostly scavengers, but maybe it's important that they have weak and helpless prey so that their own young will survive. I'm not sure how that would translate to metaphor, though "natural" would probably be the key word and focus.

 

Thank you once again for sharing these. As Wrenny said, please take care of yourself.

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I, ________, take thee ______, to be my wife/husband, to have and to hold,

from this day forward, for better – for worse, for richer – for poorer,

in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part,

and thereto I pledge thee my faith.

 

How empty and hollow do these words sound unless you have witnessed them carried out to their literal end.

I witnessed this in the first person on January 18th. A loving married couple at the very end of a 53 year marriage. She had been unable to open her eyes for the last 36 hours of her life, but ten minutes before she passed she tilted her head to the side and opened her eyes wide. He was there holding her hand and kissing her face. The words he uttered to personal to repeat. His feelings and love for her self evident. Surrounded by her closest love ones, January 18th at approximately 10:45 am she passed. So hard she fought to stay with us, it hurt to watch. I did not look away, even though my eyes blurred. She had a beautiful life and how much we will miss her.

Edited by Regel

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