LadyCarrie

Dear Fae, I'm concerned for you. Praying. Listen to your owl, and go to sleepy town. I will try also. Jerry is groaning in semi-sleep, so I know he's hurting somewhere. Amberly must leave either tomorrow night or Thursday morning for her classes. She's trying to get MRI scheduled for me on Thursday. It occurred to me suddenly that is the first day of her class. She was canceling. Neither her Daddy nor I will hear of that. We will be all right. You take very good care of yourself. ❤️ Warm hugs, Carrie

Dear Anne, I'm sorry you had to go out in stormy weather. I envy you that rain though. I'm happy to know you are back home safely. I enjoyed your descriptive writing, and your mentioning Sky Harbor Airport brought a rush of happy memories for me. Jerry and I used to fly in and out of there while we were still flying. Jerry still has his license, but of course, he can never fly again. I wish I hadn't had that thought! Jerry would tell me to "think happy thoughts," and so I will. I would suggest that when you want to get in your car and go and go and go that you come visit us, but with all the dead and dying trees that surround us and threaten to fall on us, I don't think you would be very happy to join us until they are either cut or fall. A tree fell, and took down a neighbor's deck and stairs a few days ago, and another neighbor emailed me this morning to say that she and her husband are afraid, and asked me to "flood CalFire" asking for help for our neighborhood. CalFire will act in their own timing, but I can help her yell for help. When you take your trip to Washington, you could come by and get me. We could stop by OR to get Kay, and then we could pop over and visit Fae (Just kidding, Fae. ?; we "probably" wouldn't do a thing like that to you.). Maybe we could buy a place for our Forum Friends to come to rest when they want to get in their car and go and go and go. I really think that's a pretty good idea. Perhaps I'll open up our house for this someday. I wouldn't be of much help with your horses, for I've never ridden. I thought I had ridden a horse once when I was a little girl. My daddy led the horse around the coral with me on its back. A few decades back, my brother informed me that I still haven't ridden a horse. I rode a huge mule named Dinah ~ he knew for it was his mule. Somehow riding a mule just doesn't have the same romantic ring to it. Like you guys, we love the gentle rain, and even find the blizzards exciting unless they get too scary. We are thinking that we won't be able to winter in our home unless these trees are cut. They are scarier than the scariest blizzards we've had in the thirty plus years we've lived in this house. We really don't want to leave our home. We will continue to pray for you. I will go tell Jerry your news. He will want to know. Hugs, Carrie

Dear Anne, We are thinking of you, and are praying for you this morning. Jan is right in saying that your friends on the forum are with you. You are so loved and appreciated. Carrie

Dear Butch, This is too much. Unthinkable. I don't know what to say, except my heart hurts SO much for you. I will tell my family here, and we will pray for you and your precious family together in the morning, and I will pray for you right now. We all know your story, and care that you are enduring so many hurts, and so much grief. I think of you often, and wonder how you are doing. You have suffered so much. I wish I knew something wise and comforting to say to you. I'm struggling to find words, but there aren't any for such as this. Just know that we care. I'm sending you warm hugs. Carrie

Thank you so much for understanding, Kay and Jan. I'm glad to know that shoes are particularly special to others. The only other solution I can think of is to hire someone I trust to burn them, and bring me the ashes. It's all right for all of us to be a little "strange" under our circumstances. As a "pin" on Pinterest said (can't quote), our "Give a Damn" is bent and out for repairs. I think we've all earned the right to our feelings. In truth, I do care what others think, but cannot help my own feelings. Jan, I believe I might understand a bit about your strong desire to remain in your beloved cottage, for although we are basically isolated here on this mountain in a bark beetle-bitten forest ~ and neither of us drive now ~ we really hope to keep our home. Living alone here will be a huge challenge, but I think they'd have to haul me off before I could leave the place where Jerry has built so many things, and where we have over thirty years of memories. Beauregard (Doxie) wants to sit on the deck, so I'll get try to get him there. Poor little old hound of my heart. Carrie

Kay, Bless your dear heart. Thank you for praying for me. Getting my foot caught underneath a tree root was a bit much for my arthritic back. As treatment, I'm opting for myoskeletal work, hot packs, (ultrasound?), and massage first for a dislocated sacrum, and if I must, injections in my spine. Amberly says that they help with pain by reducing inflammation, but the thought of it is enough for an instant cure. Yep. Whimper. I'm a coward when it comes to needles. I went online to find a Certified Myoskeletal Therapist in our area, but no names came up except our own. The doctor wants Amberly to be my therapist. She's very busy with classes during August and September, but that's all right. I need to heal some first. She gave me treatment number one tonight, but it had to be brief and light until I heal more. I've been active despite my back problems, which has helped me stay active. I have fought a good fight against arthritis, and I will continue to stay as active as I can (after I heal) in order to keep moving. I'm thankful for all I've been able to do. My prayer is that I can get healed quickly for Jerry's sake, as well as my own. I'm still able to take of him, but care is modified. I'm finding different ways to do what I need to do. Hugs, ❤️ Carrie

Dear Rachal, I'm so sorry you've lost your little Pug Shrek. What a cute name for a pug! I just love it. I also love the name Fiona (and the story). The name Fiona touches my Scots-Irish roots. I am grieving for our little Doxies Ashely and Callie, so I understand your hurting heart. There are a lot of us hurting here together, so I believe you will find comfort here. I pray so. I will be on the forum for a little while longer before I'll need to be off for a while. I will be having cataract surgery on August 19 and September 9. Know and remember that I care. Blessings, Carrie

Hi, I've been reading your posts with much interest, for there a few items that I wonder about in my own situation. I've wondered about this for a long time, and Amberly and I have talked about it. Jerry talks to me so openly at times about where he wants some of his things to go (so helpful, but SO hurtful). It's Jerry's shoes that are troubling me. I don't believe I can ever give them away, because he has painful bone spurs with callouses that make obvious bulges in the sides of his favorite shoes. I can't give them away. I can't look at them. If I keep them, Amberly inherits the pain, so I can't do that either. She's so tender-hearted that she would never be able to give them away, or destroy them as long as she lives. I know this because when my mother died in 1989, Amberly asked me to not give away the boxes of gowns I had made for her (I sew). Amberly still has them. A few years ago, I suggested that we make a quilt with them. She brought them to me. We cried, and packed them right back into their boxes. I can't look at them. Amberly will be taking care of them always, because we did not part with them earlier. The only thing that I can think of is to bury Jerry's shoes with him. That's going to be a full casket, if I do that, but it sounds reasonable to me. I would hope no remarks would be made by the funeral home staff. That could happen, but mean people have to live with themselves. The babies' ashes will go with the one who goes to Heaven first. It's a sad thing to discuss, yet somehow it just helps my feelings that you guys know. I'm not sure that's rational, but for today, I hope it is. I'm encouraged by your posts, Fae and Kay. I'm helped by your giving specifics. You are showing some of us how to move forward, yet never away from. The things I think about beforehand will not surprise me so terribly (there will be many surprises that I will hate.). Those surprises are brutal. Thanks for giving me a spot on your thread today, Fae. Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Dear Anne, Just a note to tell you we are thinking of you today. ❤️ Carrie

Dear Mia, Thank you for your care, and especially for your prayers. God is good. I realize this is true even more during my deepest hurts and suffering, for that is when I know He is right there in the midst of it with me. I talk with Him, and thereby form a closer bond and relationship with Him. I tell Him how sad I am, how hurt I am, how frustrated or angry I am, and everything that's on my mind and in my heart, including my joys. Then I listen for Him to speak to my spirit. Sometimes He Speaks to me through Scripture, and sometimes through the voices of my friends, such as yourself (all of you). We here on the forum hold and rock each other gently through our words. When we go through hurts together, we form bonds and relationships. We feel each other's grief, and when one of us begins to falter, the others step up, slip arms around the stumbling one, to go shoulder to shoulder with her or him to lighten the load. I thank God for you and each friend here. Each is a blessing to me, and I thank you for lightening my load. Mia, rearranging your belongings is a good thing for you, I think. It's my way of easing grief pain, yet it isn't right for everyone. No physical change I make moves my babies out of my heart or mind, for they are imprinted there forever with indelible ink. Moving and changing things around is my way of helping to lessen triggers; even so, they still nail me. For example, last night Amberly was sitting on the couch in our bedroom studying for a big test she has to take next week. I forgot momentarily that Callie is gone, so when I walked into the room, I expected her to jump up and bark to acknowledge my presence. You know the rush of adrenalin to our "pit" at "trigger times," don't you? The "rush" surely doesn't feel happy like the butterflies of falling in love though. Your loving relationship with Bushy shows what a big heart you have for other cats. This is good. Like children, one fur baby can never replace another one. My heart just aches to have another short-legged, fun-loving Doxie. Our home feels SO empty without Ashely and Callie. Our situation will not allow us to adopt again, but this time, unlike when we lost Catey Elizabeth Doxie, I want another baby. When we lost Catey, I declared for a while that I never wanted another one, because losing one is just too hard. I've come to want to have a rescue baby in order to save its little life and to make her happy (and my selfish little self as well). I think all of us are just going to go a little nuts when we lose poor old Beauregard. I was trying to "pump him up" that day in the Hollow when I fell. I was actually telling him that our workout was good for both of us. Famous last words (giggle). I was determined to get him in shape so he can live. I have some pretty serious injuries, but in time, with treatment, and by the grace of God, I will become all right again (not exactly the same, but good). Mama used to tell me to act my age, but I don't do that very well. I ask y'all to continue praying for me, and I will continue to pray for you. Warm hugs to each, (something happened to font) Carrie

Hello to all, I understand the habits of so many years. My heart goes out to each of you who are hurting so deeply for your furbabies. I'm going through these habit and routine hurts also. It's the feeding times, bath times, bedtimes, and play times that trigger the hurts, isn't it? I suppose that just about covers all the time. We must come up for air some of the time, and we do. Some days, it just doesn't feel like it. I fed Ashely, Callie, and Beauregard by hand, not only to bond closer with them, but to keep them from swallowing their one ounce each in one bite, as Doxies are prone to do. When their food was kibble, it was "two for you, and two for you, and two for you" three times a day, and two pieces as a treat after each time they used their potty boxes. After Ashely died, it was difficult to feed just the two. And now that Callie has died, just the one. This part is rough, yet there's no other option but to make a new routine (feeding Beauregard elsewhere). It's just too hard to say only "two for you." We are really hoping we can have Beauregard at least one more Christmas. He will be fifteen and a half then. He's become more lethargic after Callie died. He was able to go up and down steps before Callie died, although it was difficult for him due to arthritis. We have to carry him up and down all steps now. He tries, but just can't make it. It's so sad to watch. This seemed to have happened overnight. He's losing interest in playing too quickly. It's difficult to believe the drastic change. Perhaps it's coincidence. We're giving him a lot of attention, and are trying to get him better again. Writing your memories as you think of them is a very helpful thing to do, Mia, and you'll be happy you did it for years to come. Sharing your memories with us is helpful for you, and for us as well. We learn from each other, and try to hold each other up. I love to hear all about each fur baby, and I care for each of you here. I know each of you is hurting as much as I am, and I'm SO sorry. Someone was kind enough to ask me if I have photos that I can share here (please forgive me for not remembering who. I'm in a bit of pain, and if I go back to look, I'll lose this, and may not be able to rewrite tonight). I do have photos, but I don't know how to put them on. You guys are smarter than I about this. One day I'll learn. I've learned only how to get them to where our photo is. Even that was an accomplishment for me. Hugs to all, Carrie

Dear Shari, our sweet, little, wise one, Anne is completely right in all she said to you, of course, and I know you will listen to her. I was just thinking of you last week, and wondering how you are and what you're "up to." We certainly understand the demands and long, late hours of school; even so, we miss you. We care for you, and are always interested in all you share with us. You should be proud of yourself. You are doing well. I know your heart is hurting, yet you are going to school, and will do well with your life. You are refreshing in that you understand that people are people, and emotions are emotions, regardless of differences in generations. When I was your age, I loved to talk with the "old folks," and learn their stories. Now, that I "are" one, I enjoy you and the "young folks." It's mostly the outside of us (hairstyles, clothing, and buzzwords) that changes. Some of us are smart enough to know this early in life, and are able to enjoy people of all ages throughout our lives. I'll share with you a couple of my memories of some of the young ones in our neighborhood. Until the last few years, some of the kids of our neighborhood used to pile off the school bus into my yard to join me. We talked about everything from their opinions of how my flower gardens should be (I gave them choices) to much, much deeper things, according to their needs. I fed a few who had no one at home after school; was a place of safety for some who were abused at home; and an icon to some (I was just supposed to be here, because I had been here since they were babies). I made Southern biscuits for one, because he enjoyed them so much. These relationships were not planned. They just happened. Some of these kids still come back to visit, and to show off their little ones to me, which makes me happy. Most of the children in our neighborhood had good, loving homes. Somehow several of those who didn't, found their way to our house. Amberly said that I'm a magnet for kids and cats. Not long ago, as I was getting out of my bathtub, my doorbell rang, and then rang almost incessantly. With my hair wrapped in a towel, I went to the door with the attitude that if the ringer wasn't in trouble, he or she was about to be. The young woman at the door said, "It's me, Mrs. Hall. It's L." I said that I knew who she was, and invited her inside to sit with me on the couch. I asked why she had "sat down on" my doorbell. She said that she had panicked that I might have moved away, and that I just had to be here, because I had been here for her since she was eight (now 25). Within minutes I'd heard her stories of gang rape, drug abuse, and having her little girl taken away from her (and so much more). She and her five siblings are Alcohol Fetal Syndrome children. Her mother also used heroin during her pregnancy, and did not live in the home while we knew the children. L. was the only girl living with her brothers and an addicted father. All I could really do for L. was listen to her, hold her, and rock her while she cried. That's what she needed from me. She says that she thinks of me holding her as she grew up, and finds comfort by pretending I'm with her now (I did so little, and wish I had done so much more). I know she will return, although she lives far away, if she is able. She's in a scary situation; one I really don't want to know about for the safety of my own family, but I didn't tell her this. My heart hurts for her. It’s usually when I’m thinking of her that she pops back in, so perhaps I’ll see her soon. The relationship I developed with the boy I made biscuits for began when I caught him at the edge of the forest throwing rocks at my back windows. He was about nine or ten years old. Another little boy was with him. I called Amberly for support. She met me, and we went running through the forest like Robinhood and Little John after them. One got away. I grabbed "mine" by his ear, and held him tight (no pulling or hurting). He declared he had thrown no rocks, but that “the other kid did it.” He identified the other kid by several different names, and we went to each of these kids' homes to speak with the parents, but none of these kids who even existed were involved. He expected me to give up at any time. He did not know me yet. Finally, we were on our way down the hill of our street to his house (a beautiful new house just built). I still had hold of his ear, but did not pull it, of course. He began to beg me to not tell his father, because "He's a mean one." I told him that I hoped his father would tan his tail. I asked him if he knew who Jesus is, and he said that he didn't. I invited him to my house to hear His stories, but in the meantime, He was the one he'd better give his heart to, because his behind was about to belong to his Daddy. When I saw his father, I changed my mind instantly, and realized the kid was right. His father was indeed a "mean one," hairy, and the size of Goliath. I put a protective arm around my skinny new little friend, squeezed him close to me, and began to water down the story. By the time I had told it, his son had almost done me a favor. I asked his father to please not punish him, because we had come to an arrangement, and had worked it all out between us. I was just letting him know why his son was late from school, and that it was I who had detained him. His being late was my fault (I believe God understood I had to protect this child). I assured him that his son had learned his lesson, and would require no further discipline. I hope he believed me. In retrospect, I was talking so fast, I’m not sure the man said anything at all. I do remember him raising an eyebrow at me. Holding the boy's ear to keep him from bolting was one thing, but hitting him was quite another. From that day forward, I had another kid at our house after school. His mother thanked me later for "being there" for her son through the years. She said that he was “always” telling her things about a lady who lived nearby who was good to him. That warmed my heart. He grew up, and became a carpenter. He brought his little girl to visit with me one day, and he was beaming like the proud papa he has become. I was happy that he wanted her to know me. He was often in trouble in our neighborhood (throwing tomatoes at homes; stealing flowers and bringing them to me!), at school, and with the police, but he never harmed our property. He told Amberly that he'd learned that I am tenacious, and that he did want to keep his ear. Today, I would not grab a kid’s ear, but at that moment in yesteryear, it seemed like a good idea. Actually, I didn’t think at all. I did talk about it later with his mother who thought it was amusing, because she knew I’d never hurt him or any other child. Thank you, Shari, for listening to me and my memories of the young ones in our neighborhood who I came to love. Warm hugs, Carrie

I am so very sorry you are hurting. Your little one, Zander, is beautiful and precious. We just lost our little Doxie named Callie on July 22, so I understand something of what you feel. We lost our other little Doxie named Ashely last October 10. Both died of kidney disease just 9 months apart. They were cousins, and our babies. Carrie

Dear Anne, Jerry, Amberly, and I will all be praying for you. We know more specifically what to pray about now. You have become so special to us. Carrie

I'm just dropping in to say "Hi" to all and will continue to pray for you. Even when I'm not here, please know I'm think of each often. ❤️ Carrie

Hugs, Marty.

Dear Friends, We are back from Modesto. Amberly got off work on the 3rd at 2 p.m., and brought us to Modesto where Jerry had his lab work done at 4 p.m. in preparation for his CT of his spleen yesterday morning. We saw the cardio-vascular surgeon yesterday afternoon at 2 for the results. The CT showed the 2 aneurysms have not changed during the last six months, so the doctor said that he doesn't want to do surgery as long as they don't change. Yaaaay! Waiting each time for results is difficult. The relief feels SO good. You will likely remember my "low flight through the Hollow" while playing ball with Beauregard on July 29 (see above). I was meeting the challenge of readjusting to being in the Hollow after my last two sad walks with Callie. I did not come through that fall-with-no-landing uninjured, as I had determined I would. Sometimes a strong will just isn't enough. On the way home yesterday, when we came through Sonora, we went by our primary doctor's office to ask him to write an order for me to get my back X-rayed. The receptionist said that he had two more patients to see, and he wasn't seeing anymore patients. Amberly and I suggested that she go let him know that I needed to see him. She came back and said that his nurse said that he was with a patient, and was seeing only one more. She said that we needed to go to ER. That could mean a 4-hour wait. We walked outside, stared at the ER building for a few minutes, talked it over, and went back inside. Sitting at ER for several hours, especially after our fast-paced, anxiety-producing trip, wasn't acceptable. Without raising my voice, I told the receptionist that I was going to go "friend-to-friend" to him. I told her that I have known Dr. P. since he was 28 and still wet behind his ears as a doctor, and the nurse needed to let him know I was in his waiting room now and in pain. Within a few minutes, I had my visit, collected my order ~ and my hug ~ from him, and was on my way to radiology for my X-rays. The doctor told Amberly and me that we "are always getting into trouble." He found humor in our hassling his staff (we were nice; I promise). He and his wife have been friends of ours for a lot of years. We were among his first patients when he got out of school (receptionist not born yet). A group of us from our church (his church also) decided to help this young doctor get his start. Our entire family became his patients, including my mother. That was thirty years ago. I thought he could give me fifteen minutes yesterday. He thought so also. He just needed to be made aware of my need. The radiology tech introduced himself as Deepak. I asked, "Chopra?" He said, "Yes. He's my father." That could be true, but I think the kid is just fast on his feet. The dressing room was frigid. He had me strip to my undies, but allowed me to wear my sandals, my glasses, and my ring. That's a dazzling outfit for a 71-year-old woman with chill bumps that made me look like a plucked chicken. After my contortionist act on his table, I think I was hurting as badly, if not worse, than I was when I made my "trip" through the Hollow with Beauregard. My back and legs throbbed all the way home, and I could hardly wait to get to bed and find wonderful warmth. Jerry knows me well. He plugged in my heating pad right away, and said that it would be warm for me soon. I said, "Oh, thank you! I'm in love with my heating pad!" He laughed and asked, "Should I be jealous?" Now, I have a small dilemma. I have a follow up appointment with my primary at the same time I have an appointment with my ophthalmologist for an ultrasound exam of my eyes as a pre-op for cataract surgery on August 19 and on September 9. I agree with Amberly that after our persistence with the primary, we'd better take a chance on offending the ophthalmologist. I'm not looking forward to his massaging my eyes with an instrument anyway. Actually, we are all long-time friends and "church family," so it will be all right. Dilemma solved. I'll keep my 11 o'clock appointment with my primary, and will see my ophthalmologist at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. Amberly just called to let me know that she talked with someone she knows in that office. I know my primary is going to refer me. I'm quite sure I felt the sacrum and ilium pull apart. I have the classic pain pattern of a dislocated sacrum, but I may have cracked the ilium (and/or?). I should know tomorrow. I don't think I'm going to like this. I don't know how I can manage eye surgery and spinal injury at the same time. Some of you will know that it's Jerry that I'm really stressing over. He tells me that he's going to be fine. He reminds me to hold onto my faith. He's right, of course. I'm just in a bit of a dip. I'm an in-charge person "out of charge" ~ a disorganized organized person. Yes. That's it. I'll get a grip. Amberly will be at Stockton for a cardiac class August 13 - 18. She and one of the doctors she works with will be taking a forensic medicine class together at Sacramento in mid-September. She must not change these classes. We will manage. Thank you, dear Mia, for allowing me to finish my Flight in the Hollow story on your thread since I began it here. Blessings and warm hugs to each of you, Carrie

Carrie, One of my family's favorite photos of Chester is the one of him riding in the back seat with his hair blowing hard. As we were riding in Modesto yesterday, Jerry laughed, pointed to the car right next to us, and beside Amberly who was driving, and said, "Look! There's a white Chester." There was a lot of waving among the occupants of both cars of strangers, and one little white paw was lifted to wave to us. He appeared to be as delighted to find us as we were to find him. The doggie's family knew their big-eyed baby was much-appreciated, and they looked as proud as they should. Chester has stolen our hearts, for sure. I thought you'd like to know we were remembering him yesterday. I'm trying to get back to wherever I posted last to give an update. Carrie

Hello, I am so sorry you have lost your pretty Malibu (pretty name also), and are hurting so badly. My heart goes out to you. We have lost two precious Doxies within nine months with kidney disease. All of us here care about and for each other, so we will care for you now also. I am not up to writing a lot today, but want to let you know I hurt for you. Hugs to ALL of you. Carrie

Mia, Guilt, and often anger, is a part of grief. Guilt is different from remorse. None of us deliberately hurt our furbabies, so what we feel is remorse rather than guilt. Even if guilt, guilt is forgivable. We will nearly always make mistakes in the care we give our furbabies. We make mistakes as do their doctors, because we are all human. I believe we need to remember that we could not have loved our furbabies deeper or better, and we did the very best we could ~ at the time. If we had it to do over again, chances are we would still not do it as well as we would want ~ just somewhat differently. As is said often, hindsight is 20/20. The niggling thing is that we can remember particular things we could have done better, and so we are knocked off our emotional feet (I'm basing this on myself). As I see it, we have two options. We can choose to forgive ourselves, or beat ourselves up for as long as we can remember in future. I am wrestling with the same issues even as I write. I'm still trying to arrive at peace myself. I know I'll "get there," and I know also that it will take time. In Ashely's case, I feel deep and terribly painful remorse; the guilt belongs totally to the vet. In Callie's case, we accidentally waited too long due to no vet being available as they said they would be, causing Callie to suffer agony all night long and throughout the next day. In this case, I have the options of forgiving, or turning against two good people, and thereby becoming riddled with bitterness. I've lived long enough to learn the hard way that forgiveness feels much better than bitterness. I'm not being good; I'm being selfish. I'm protecting myself. I acknowledge that I'm working through my feelings, yet I know my goal. I am not qualified to speak about your ignoring your beloved Spooky. Others here can speak better to you about this than I. I can speak only from my personal experiences. I do know disengaging with loved ones is common among those who are terminally ill. The terminally ill will disengage from roles they have filled toward the end of life. One of my dearest friends pulled away from her two small children near the end of her life. We took the children, but that another story. My point is that we have reactions and behaviors when we are in deep emotional pain that are not always rational. How you reacted with your precious Spooky is natural, normal, and necessary for you ~ at the time. Try to remember "at the time." It's time for my morning medical routine with Jerry, so I'll be back later. Warm hugs, Carrie

Ashely, who died nine months ago (still hurts terribly), was a wee Black and Tan girl who came from Ashes and Embers. On our way home from San Diego, Amberly and I thought to possibly name the trio Poppy, Petunia, and Daisy. Jerry thought not. Amberly and I called them that sometimes anyway (giggle). Ashely looked like she should be called Daisy. I'm not sure what a fast running fall without a landing is called, but I had one of those this morning while I was playing ball with Beauregard in the Hollow. I was wearing thong shoes, and the toe of my right shoe hung on an attached cedar tree root that was only about an inch in circumference. It worked like a slingshot, and I became the human ammunition. It was so little I never saw it, yet it was so strong that it didn't break. I didn't know I could run so fast for such a long distance with my arms outstretched straight in front of me with my face about two feet from the ground. I kept thinking that my face was going to hit the ground hard and fast at any moment. I was jerked hard from my neck to the end of my spine. I ran with my face close to the ground while taking very short steps like someone whose feet are bound. Were I older, or couldn't run, my face would have ploughed another rut in the Hollow. I don't think I have an unaffected joint, yet I don't believe I'm seriously injured. I'm definitely going to be sore and stiff with a good set of muscle spasms along my spine. Some muscles are a bit stretched. My right SI and neck got the worst of it. As though that weren't enough, when I took Beauregard out to play ball on the driveway (thought skipping the Hollow for tonight might be a good idea) late this afternoon, he cut in front of me causing me to fall forward onto flat palms. My wrists bent a bit backward. The positive is that only my right wrist hurts, and not a lot worse than usual. I got another body jar, but just a little one. I have scoliosis with three curvatures (used to be two, and I was taller); even so, thanks be to God, I'm not broken. Because I'm not broken, I know how to treat myself at home (pain institute certified; glad of it tonight). I'll be fine. I'm grateful I didn't get truly hurt for Jerry's sake, as well as my own. Poor little Beauregard had an accident also. He was chasing the ball up the 12-degree incline driveway during our late day playtime, lost his balance, lay fully onto his right side, kicked a few times, and lost bladder control. He's never done that before. Cheez! He's got to live a looooog time. We need him! He needs us, especially since he doesn't have his sidekicks Callie and Ashely. But here's no way for us to explain where they went. Tomorrow will be much better. I'm really not accident-prone. That one today will last me a while. Hugs to all, Carrie

Thank you for the compliment. Calico (Callie) got her name because her mother was Blue Gingham. Blue Gingham was truly blue. I've never seen one like her. Callie looked like her father, a red sable. Beauregard is a red smooth. Carrie

Mia, We will be with our furbabies in Heaven. God gave them a spirit, and your fur-baby flew away back to our Creator, Jesus. Rest your mind about where your baby is tonight. Carrie

Dear Mia, Trust me. We care. We care so very much, and we understand your hurting heart. We will be here for you. We are glad you found your way to us, yet are so sorry for the reason you are here. I feel that God, in His great love and mercy, guided me here to Marty's forum. I believe He guided you here as well. That means He knows you are hurting, and loves you very much. Jesus promised to never leave us without comfort. He gives us people when we need them most. Our Calico Rose, called Callie by her family and friends, died on July 22 ~ just a few days ago. I wrote about her on another thread, but you may not want to read her story until you are better able to handle the pain I feel. I'm just writing to tell you that my heart hurts for you, and to never believe anyone who tells you that we here on this forum don't really care. Your friend made her statement through ignorance, so stands in need of education as well as forgiveness. She didn't mean to be hurtful, yet such words hurt us to our core when we are hurting so deeply. Like you, I am a Christian. By the way, we've had a cat named Spook, and I had a dog named Brownie when I was a little girl. I will go back and re-read your story so that I can get to know you better. We will walk with you. You do not have to walk alone. Warm hugs, Carrie

As for the ashes, I know I must keep the ashes of our babies, but there is no right or wrong. As others have said, follow your heart, and take your time. Long ago when Amberly's cat D.G. died, Jerry thought Amberly simply had to bury him. He was very firm with her about it. He thought her keeping D.G. in her room might harm her emotionally. Amberly buried and dug up that cat three times before he gave up and allowed her to keep him. We would have a funeral, go on a business trip, and she'd dig him up again. He decided what she was doing was worse than keeping him, so he allowed her to keep him in a drawer. Over the years, the drawer became too full of cats, and her duck named Bruce, so we decided to give them a warm, dry place in what could be called a little basement underneath our house. We thought we would put our Doxies there, but once they were placed on the top shelf of the bookcase, there they've stayed. Carrie