Beauty blooms in January

“Beauty is so quietly woven through our ordinary days that we hardly notice it. Everywhere there is tenderness, care and kindness there is beauty.”

-John O’Donohue

Perhaps it was a little crazy to take on a hospice cat over the holidays, or was it?

I was asking that potentially depressing question to a friend earlier this week since my husband passed away in hospice right after Christmas a few years ago.

On this gloomy bitter cold Sunday I’ve been watching Mr. Bojangles curl up on a cozy cat bed right beside me.

And I’ve actually been finding myself smiling.

Mr. Bojangles is holding his head up high, but not quite as high as he did when he first joined me.

Still he does so with grace.

Sure the fellow’s estimated to have only 2-5 months left at this point, but who really knows when our time is up anyway.

Three days ago Mr. Bojangles had stopped eating and didn’t seem to be drinking water. Yet by the next evening, I discovered he was back in the game.

However, it’s clear his appetite isn’t what it once was no matter the type of food given.

I’ve also noticed Mr. Bojangles is moving a bit slower, still every step he takes is deliberate. Though I no longer find him climbing the stairs to join the dogs up in the kitchen for breakfast.

Instead he prefers I join him in his private room and hold him as he tenderly takes in every flake of his tuna meals.

It seems Mr. Bojangles likes this extra one on one time.

I do know that I love providing him the extra attention he deserves along with some extra warm blankets.

Mid January can be especially cruel here in the upper midwest and this week has been no different.

Sub zero temperatures, icy roads with 20 car pile ups, and what looked like the loss of my hospice cat 3 days ago was beginning to play havoc with my soul.

Yet as I smell my beef stew now simmering in the crock pot while watching fresh snowflakes dance out the window to the sounds of that hospice cat still purring softly, I know it still is a beautiful world.

Yes, even in January.


Another gift

Today’s another gift.
Mother Nature paints the sky.
My view’s brushed with joy.


Autumn gifts

Joy is found above.
In the sky bright colors fly.
Autumn gifts so grand.


Autumn joy

Open up your eyes.
Look above. You’ll find your prize.
Autumn blooms with joy.


Sweet Passage: Part 2

“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”
Clarence, a kindly guardian angel shared those words in the classic 1946 movie ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.”

And I’ve often found the words ring even more true when talking about our dogs.

As my fourteen year old lame corgi Maddie continued to struggle earlier this summer with various health issues, I was already feeling an all too familiar void coming my way.

While lamenting with a fellow corgi owner strolling by with his own corgi pup, I was advised to adopt another dog before Maddie passed on “to help ease the pain.”

He was speaking from his own experience.

“Thanks for the suggestion,” I said dismissing the advice right after our conversation.

After all, I already had a couple of little four legged friends back at home.

Still I knew the hole in my heart was growing as Maddie’s days continued to shrink.

I guess it was no surprise that I found myself ‘just stopping by’ a small shelter one afternoon while driving out in the country.

I’d been visiting a nearby cemetery where my parents and brother were buried, and was feeling a little blue.

As I first entered the shelter, I spotted a white five pound dog dancing with joy as he first saw me.

The silver wispy curls shining like a halo on his head reminded me of Clarence.

And this little guy was clearly a senior as well.

Estimated to be about ten years old, the dog was a dirty, matted mess when he’d first arrived. He had so much hair on his body that the shelter couldn’t safely guess at the breed buried below it.

This former stray, named ‘Dirty Harry’ by the loving staff, was cleaned up and had since been shaved down.

A half hour after my arrival a smiling Harry and smiling me walked together out of the shelter after completing adoption paperwork.

I’d chosen to leave the dirty part of his name far behind.

Back home Harry quickly got to work befriending Maddie as she rested on her plaid dog bed in the kitchen.

Harry continued to share his sweet smiles and dancing acumen daily in spontaneous recitals of joy right next to the stove.

Maddie appeared to approve, watching every move.

She once loved to dance herself on those short hind legs years prior to her lameness.

Harry quickly fell in love with his big sister, joining Maddie in her stroller on our trips to the farmer’s market and for outdoor band concerts down by the lake.

And also on that comfy dog bed.

Maddie was soon smiling brighter again herself.

Yet just two months and a day after Harry’s adoption, the music suddenly stopped.

Harry had left us while sleeping peacefully on my shoulder, just like he did every night.

My own vet suspected Harry was actually older than ten and detected a heart murmur, though it was still unclear why Harry had died that evening.

But one warm day a week later it became clear to me.

Earlier in the morning Maddie had also passed on.

I choose to believe Harry, her guide and protector, had flown back to get her.

He was an angel after all.

Maddie’s guardian and guide granted her wings to finally move on to a more beautiful place where she could kick up her heels and run free once more.

My heart is full again, just at the thought.


Autumn blooms

Sun, you are my friend.
Light you bring, the warmth you send.
Autumn blooms in joy.