House of the Flying Mermaid

Boo.

2018-03-07T12:36:00.002-08:00

Dearest daughter,

Tried so hard to model myself on Atticus Finch for you.
Ended up being Boo Radley instead.

(sigh) So it goes.

Lost and Alone

2018-03-07T06:41:00.002-08:00

Dearest Daughter,

Well, I f*cked up again. I think. Who the hell knows anymore.

I am presently in the process of dragging you kicking and screaming through your science project (which I am mostly completing) so you can finally climb out of the failing grade pit you have been in all year (mostly due to bald-faced lying to me about your school-work since October. So since it is due in three weeks, we're a little behind).

But we managed to get your grade up to where you finally got your phone back from your mother.

So of course the first damn thing you did was break the rules and continue using it after the 9:00 p.m. cut off. (And then lied about that as well). So when I took your phone back you resorted to your go-to solution of trying to bully me.. getting in my face and trying to be physically intimidating. And smirking while you tell me you don't have to do anything I say.

I warned you earlier in the week, that between still trying to recover from the flood and living in the middle of that shit-pile - and you changing up the schedule to avoid going to your Mother's, so that I've have zero time by myself to recharge for two fucking weeks - that I was going to start to come unglued. So it seemed like an ideal opportunity for you to get in my face at 10 p.m. and deliver a big ol' "fuck you". So you got slapped. Twice.

And oh sweet holy God how you did deserve it.

So now we aren't speaking. Again.

And you gave me back each and every deeply heartfelt note that I had written you and you, bless you, had kept. All the ones I've quoted here. All the one I wrote JUST FOR OCCASIONS LIKE THIS.
All the ones where I said "we've had fights. We will continue to have fights. And they will be terrible and hurtful and terrible things will be said and done, so I am writing you thins now so you will know that even though it will not seem like it at the time, I love you deeply and dearly, and forever."

I gave you those in the hopes that you would understand that things said in anger are nothing more than shadow-puppets. It is the quiet feelings - the ones I write down - that are the Truth.

But you gave them back. And I know you will accept no more from me, as I'm just a lying asshole in your eyes. And I have lost you (unless and until you want something).

Feeling so sad and lost and alone. And knowing you must be feeling even more so.. though your blind fury may balance out some of that. I don't know. I would dearly love to go have a drink. But I am already low enough in your eyes. No need to dig further down.

And although I do not expect you to ever be sure of it again....

Love you forever.

Dad.

Living with the Enemy

2018-02-22T04:39:00.000-08:00

Dearest Daughter,

I have lost you. Utterly. And not all the tears I have shed can make it one bit better.
You were being especially cold and cruel, and in the middle of it I said "I really don't think I like this person you're being."

And that was it. It could see it. I could feel it. All the careful, painstakingly thought out and heart-felt words I had said and written - words to reassure you that no matter what happened, no matter how angry we got with each other, I loved you and I would always love you - all of that was swept away in a minute. All of that will forever be classed in your mind as "more adult lies." And I can never fix it. And I have lost you utterly.

My heart is broken, and there is no place left for me to go.

Little Things

2018-02-02T11:37:00.001-08:00

Dearest Daughter. In RL I am about to give you this letter I wrote. I don't like exposing myself this way, or if it will even make sense. But even if it doesn't at 13. Maybe it will now. I love you

Dearest daughter,

This is important. Which is why I’m writing it instead of saying it. First because if I say it I’ll get it all wrong. Second, if I say it I’ll go on too long and you’ll get bored and stop listening. In writing you can take a break J

I hope I can get this to make sense… it’s so important to me that this make sense.

First, I love you. (That’s always first). I love your Mom too, but she’s wrong on something (at least if she does what you say she does). She’s wrong to focus so much on the grade that she doesn’t give you appreciation when you’ve done a good solid day’s work. I understand why she does (she’s young) and please understand – I’m just as focused on your grade. BUT..

Little things are more important than big things.

I will say that again.

Little things are more important than big things.

Cause little things are where big things come from.

3000 years ago, a guy names Lao Tsu wrote a book basically on how life works. And one of the things he said was “take care of the little stuff – do it as good as you POSSIBLY can. Then relax. Cause then you’ll look around and find that the big stuff took care of itself.”

But people don’t do that. Not you. Not me. They look at the BIG thing and freak out. “OMG.. I HAVE TO TRAVEL 1000 MILES. HOW COULD I DO THAT? IT’S SO FAR!!!”

But Lao Tsu said forget the 1000 miles. Just take a step.

Cause that’s all 1000 miles is.. a bunch of little steps. Don’t think about the BIG picture. Just take a step. Cause anyone can take a step.

Then just take one more…

Get a rock and drop it. Do it enough, you’ve built the pyramids. Big stuff is ALWAYS just little stuff that you keep doing.

ALWAYS.

Honesty time – your Dad is an alcoholic. Alcohol is just a legal drug, so it’s fair to say I am a drug addict.

I have been clean now for almost 11 years. But it was a hard addiction to break. And I think about it every time you look at that “U” on your reports and say “It’s too much.. I’ll never be able to change it.”

Cause I know EXACTLYhow you feel. It’s why addiction is so hard to break (well, one of the reasons). Because you look at YOUR WHOLE FUTURE….. YEARS AND YEARS, AND YEARS. And you think, I can’t do it. It’s too much. It’s too big. I can’t control myself FOREVER.

So you don’t.

That’s what they teach in recovery. “One day at a time” gets drilled into your head. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow doesn’t exist. Just today. So they say “Hey! Can you manage to not drink – JUST FOR TODAY? I mean, tomorrow you can do anything you want… but can you manage it JUST FOR TODAY?” And you say.. “Uh. I guess. Yeah I can do one day.”

And the next day, you decide again. Can you do it just for that day. You never EVER think of all the other days… just today.

And then at some point you look around and go “dang! It’s been 20 years!”

It seems too stupidly simple to possibly be true. And yet… it is.

And I’m embarrassing myself this way (and yes, admitting my shame to you this way is VERY hard and VERYembarrassing) to make a point. When you’re in recovery and surrounded by other people trying to recover, if you’ve been sober for a year, they cheer.

If you’ve been sober for a month, they cheer.

If you’ve been sober for a week, they cheer.

If you’ve only been sober for a single day, that is only a tiny, tiny little success, right?

But guess what?

They cheer just as much and just as loud.

Because they understand better than anybody that a week, a month, a year, a decade – all they are…. are days. Little tiny successes.

Little tiny successes that build up.

So when I tell you to work hard one day at a time. To just go in and focus your very best just for that day I have a reason.

I do want you to have a good grade. I do. But thinking justabout the grade is too much. It feels like too much. And when it feels that huge, anybody would say “It’s impossible. Why try?”

But a day? Sure, you can do a day.

And when you do it…. When you come home and can say – yeah, I worked hard and focused today – please understand that my pride in you is VERY real. Not just words.

Then you go out and do another day.

Cause whether it’s a journey of a thousand miles, or building a pyramid, or winning the Olympics, or getting sober, or raising a grade… it’s the little things. The baby steps.

It’s one day at a time that gets you there in the end. AlwaysAlways

I love you so much,

Daddy

Strangers in a Strange Land

2017-08-23T10:49:00.000-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

Adolescence is making thingsa bit rocky at the moment. (You've been grounded till the end of the month for example). And at some point recently I desperately felt like I needed to reach out to you about this strange land we are wandering through. And because I'm not adept at human speech, I wrote it down.

At the moment, you still have it (in fact you made a point to show me that you still had it, which pleased me more than I let on. We are both masters at telling each other things that matter while pretending that they don't). But by the time you read this I am sure it will be long gone. So I'll copy and paste it here.

I love you,

Daddy

Dearest Daughter,

You have said that there’s no point in saying I’m sorry when I lose my temper because I’m just going to lose it again one day. And that’s true. That is unfortunately true.

But please never ever think I don’t love you. I love you so SO much. That has never changed – not in our darkest moments. And it isn’t ever going to. No matter how pissy I get, you know that I have always been there for you. And while it may be true that I lose my tempers sometimes when you don’t deserve it, you also know that even when you DO deserve it, I am always going to forgive you. Shoot, I keep doing stuff for you even WHILE I’m angry with you.

But here’s the thing: I’m scared. Just pants-wetting scared. And lost. Most all the time. I have NO idea what I’m doing. It is my job (the most important job I have) to keep you safe….. but at the same time give you the freedom to let you grow. AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO BOTH OF THOSE AT THE SAME TIME!!!

First part is easy – just lock you up and never let you out. Second part is easy – just toss you out the door and let you do whatever. But BOTH of them TOGETHER???

So I do make mistakes. I wake up almost every morning think “Ohhh. I should have done that SO differently. I could have done that so much better than I did.”

And I know that you are JUST as scared and lost in all this as I am. Because here’s the deal – we’re BOTH doing something we’ve never done before. I have NO IDEA how to be the parent of a teenager. And you have NO IDEA how to BE a teenager. We are both clueless and we are both nervous and neither of us really knows what’s going on and we are just bumbling through it all the best we can, making a ton of mistakes but trying so very hard to get it right.

But please never ever think, for all of my fumbling and fussing, that I don’t love you fiercely. Because I do, so very much. (And the proof is the fumbling and fussing. I don’t get upset about things I don’t care about.)

I love you kid. Always have. Always will.

And it’s okay, because we are both going to get through this.

(also – I leave you alone in your room and hang in mine trying not to bother you because I know that privacy at your age is very important.

But that is the only reason. I don’t want you to mistake it for me not being interested in you or not caring about you. (There’s a reason I asked for your time as my birthday present). I was here for you before you hid away. And I will be here for you when you eventually come back.)

Winter

2017-08-04T13:22:00.003-07:00

When you gonna love you as much as I do?

Change

2017-07-28T10:43:00.000-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

I miss you.

I can say that now, here. Because you won’t read this until years from now, when it no longer matters. I do not want you to feel guilty as I did, constantly listening to my mother and grandmother mourning how I used to be, as though my growing up had been a personal affront. And I do not now nor ever want you to slow up or feel shamed or apologetic for growing into a strong and healthy young woman. So I keep my mouth shut in the here and now

But God I miss you.

I miss the time we spent together. I miss every game we played. I miss every minute of the times you allowed me into the bright world of your childhood. I was grateful, for I knew it was a “limited-time offer” which would end. I just never counted on how fast it would go or much I would miss it - and the you you were then.

At the same time, I used to think that there were only two of you – child, and adolescent. And I’m starting to gain enough distance to recognize that that is not so. You were not one single person throughout childhood, but many. One day, it was all about stuffed animals and setting up classrooms with them. Then it was all about Barbies and their relationships. Then it was all about making up dances. Then it was all about card games. Then it was all about…

And I can see now that each of those were not just changes of interest, but changes of you – demarcations of the fundamental shifts in your being. So where we are now is not something new after all… just the same dance we’ve always done, even if the music has changed.

Which is comforting.

So I miss deeply the closeness we once had, and the time I once was allowed to share with you. But I loved all your other selves – and survived their transitions. So there is no reason to think I won’t love all your future selves and all the future transitions just as well.

So go be who you need to be today. And change it all tomorrow if need be. Grow! And NEVER feel you have to apologize for it.

You old man loves you, no matter who you are.

This

2016-04-19T08:22:00.005-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

Some days I worry that I've taught you nothing.
(And other days I shudder with fear that I have).

Yesterday on this blog I repeated my mantra for you not to worry about the actions of others - just always be the best Moiya you can be.

Today I leave you this - which is even more important:

Forgive.

Don't wait till or if you think they deserve it. People are bastards. They'll rarely deserve it.

Forgive them because YOU deserve it.

I took me a lot of years of carrying around hurts and burdens that I didn't need to have carried before I finally figured this out. This knowledge was bought at a huge price.

And once you understand it, dear girl, you'll have something worth having.

I promise.
(And you know your Dad doesn't make promises lightly)

Your Song

2016-04-17T17:23:00.001-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

You've got this thing lately about songs. When we're driving you'll hear a song and say "This is my song to Mommy" or "That is Mommy's song to Travis."

Today we were discussing what could be your song to me. I already knew what I wanted for my song to you, but didn't say anything. Partly because I felt sappy. Also because you don't like Simon and Garfunkel.

Also because you didn't ask. ;)

So I'll do it now. This is my song to you, sweet girl:

"Bridge Over Troubled Water"

When you're weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;
I'm on your side. When times get rough
And friends just can't be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

When you're down and out,
When you're on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I'll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pain is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

Best You

2016-04-17T17:16:00.000-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

It's been a rough week. I've been convinced for most of it that I was about to get fired (still am). The water heater failed and we haven't had hot water for a week (added to the fact that the $105 part I had to special order failed to fix the problem. And we've come to the realization that within week or two, we're going to have to help Duncan to leave this world. The vet says her kidneys are going, and after a brief hopeful spell, this week she's taken a turn for the worse, getting thinner and thinner and wanting to be held constantly.

None of which has helped with my raging depression and certainly hasn't made me easy to live with. And then the week ended with another note from your teacher complaining about disruptive behavior and shoddy work.

Of course, you did what you usually do - tried to deflect it by comparisons to people who were worse. Usually it's other students ("Billy Jo behaves WAY worse than I do"). This time surprisingly you tried to use the fact that your teacher was texting in class.

And I told you again, as I have in the past, will in the future, and do now: I don't care about them. I don't care if one kid eats puppies and another has cured cancer. There will ALWAYS be people worse that you, just as there will ALWAYS be people better than you.

I don't care about them. I care about you. And what I want - what I expect - from you, is that you be the very best you, the very best Moiya that you can be. This week, you weren't. It happens.

But there's always next week. Be the best Moiya there is. And remember that I love you.

Old Dogs, New Tricks

2016-03-19T08:27:00.002-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

At the moment you are shut up in your room, texting your friends. I've been clearing out some of your old toys that you said you no longer wanted, and those two things together usually put me in a sad frame of mind.

I sometime miss the child you used to be, the games we used to play together, and the closeness we used to share. And I sometimes used to write blog entries about how sad it all was. (I didn't post them, as they were too driify with self-pity even for me - but I wrote plenty of them).

Because it is a hard thing to be outgrown. Your brain knows that it has to be, and that it's a good thing. But your heart says otherwise.

And then I found a comment posted online that snapped me back into focus. It was so exactly what I needed to hear, exactly when I needed to hear it, that I kept it. And I take it out and reread it often, to make sure that I remember:

"I am 63 years old, my "babies" are 40 and 38. Here's is what I know. You are in the early stages of what is to come. My advice is to give a hug whenever possible, every day, even when your child makes it clear they think they are too big for a hug. Treasure each and every moment, each and every stage of growth. Do not be sad about what it "used to be like", instead embrace all the new little things about every "new normal" that is now and yet to come. Listen. then, Listen some more. Children don't always want your guidance or your advice, they just want to tell you things. The more you listen, the less you talk, the more they want to tell you. Show up at everything they are doing as often as your schedule will let you, even when they say you don't have to be there, even if they say they don't "need" you there. They will always notice that you are there, even if you are just standing quietly, unobtrusivley in the background, giving them a smile and a wave. The fact that you are always there to see them during the events that are important to them, will remain in their memories long after the event you are attending with them is forgotten. Show them your emotions. Tell them how important they are to you. Tell them how it warms your heart when they smile at you. Take photos, lots of photos. Photos are important to you now, photos become important to them later. ~ Pj Jackson"

I love you. I hope that future you will be able to look back and say that I learned from Mr. Jackson, and that I got it right.

Dance

2016-03-13T16:57:00.000-07:00

Dearest Girl,

Well, I had hoped to round up a bunch of my old notes and do a good, solid post this weekend. But I just looked back at the posts from 2008-2010 and found that all the pictures are gone (I really, REALLY need to create a backup of this this asap) So I spent several hours trying to figure out what pictures had originally gone there and trying to replace them.

So I'll just say this one thing that has been on my mind for the past few days:

You used to dance for me all the time. From practically the time you were first able to walk, you've periodically put on some music and danced for me. You don't do it as much now as you did, but even now.. even as pending adulthood nibbles away at all your old habits... sometimes you still dance for me.

So I just wanted you to know - just in case you didn't - whether it's serious or whether it's giggly, I LOVE watching you dance. I always have. I always will.

I just love it when you dance.

Remember This

2016-02-28T18:49:00.001-08:00

Dearest girl,

I hope in my previous post I did not come off too critical. I did not mean to be - I just was trying to describe some of the challenges you (and you and I) are going through. Hopefully if you are reading this from the vantage point of adulthood you got a wry chuckle out of it - which was my intent.

You are a good kid - a kind human being - and I am proud of you. Below is a picture of a Valentines card I gave you a few weeks ago. I thought very hard about it and went through several revisions because what I was trying to say is very important to me and I wanted so badly to get it right and for you to internalize it. Wanted it so badly that I'm reaching through time itself to give it to adult you again.
(Transcript follows).

2/14/2016

Dearest girl,

Read carefully what is written here - it comes from the heart.

I love you. I have made sooo many mistakes over the past 11 years that I wish I could go back and fix. But please believe that my mistakes were never ever the result of my not doing my very best for you (because I love you - duh)

I never knew I wanted to be a Dad till I became yours - and then I could not imagine ever wanting to be anything else. I've told you before - and it's true - that you are the best thing that ever happened in my life. There is nothing as important to me as you - nothing I enjoy seeing as much as your smile - and nothing I love hearing as much as your laugh. I love you. I love being your Dad. And I am so proud you are my daughter. Time changes most things, but it will not change this: as long as I am alive I will be there for you.

I hope, dear girl, that you grow to have as much love, as much faith, as much belief, and as much pride in yourself as your old Dad has in you.

You're the best. Never forget it.

Love you -

Daddy.

Puberty

2016-01-17T12:57:00.004-08:00

Well, it's here. You've hit puberty and everything that comes with it. While you will still talk and or play with me on occasion, your primary focus is listening to current music and talking to your friends on your iPod (I bought you an iPod as sort of training wheels to teach you responsibility and safe behaviors in this hopes that by the time we cannot put off buying you a phone any longer, you will have developed the maturity to use it well.

Results to this point have not been encouraging.

You are coping with school okay (still on the honor roll as of this writing. and other than the fact that I get my feelings hurt as I am moved further and further out of your world (I am trying hard to adapt - I really am) most of the time you continue to be a great kid.

And then without warning, you occasionally go batshit insane.

Never about anything reasonable - you are not happy about my not allowing you to have Instagram, for instance - or about the few occasions when you have had your electronics privileges revoked for minor transgressions. On those occasions, we talk, you voice your arguments, I explain my position. Life goes on. So that level of maturity makes it so much more mystifying when - like the time I told you that it was too late to take a bath - you completely lose your damned mind.

I sympathize - I really do. I know you are in the grip of forces beyond your control or understanding. And I remember having been there myself. But some times..

A few years back when we were yelling at one another, I decided to follow the common parenting advice and "remove myself" from the situation till tempers cooled. So I'd gotten in the habit of going in my room and simply closing the door. Shortly after that, we came up with the idea of slipping a piece of paper or a notebook under my door and continuing the argument in written form.

It has worked pretty well. As we write, we gradually calm down, begin to find common ground, and eventually start making jokes. That's why I have as it were "notes" from our argument this past week. I present them here as a time capsule of puberty's early days and what we both went through.

To this day I have NO idea what this was about. Zero. Zip. None. I knew that you would have been missing your friends after our week in St. Louis and so I gave you a good 2+ hours online with them (as opposed to the rule of 30 minutes). Eventually, since it was a school night I told you it was time to wrap up, gave you another 15-20 minutes and then told you to get to bed again.

You went into your room, closed the door - and some time later came out and lobbed a notebook into my room before going back into your room again. Attempts to talk to you failed, so over the next hour we had the following exchange in writing (you in red and me in blue):

Dear Father,

I didn't mean to be so mean. It's just that I want some time alone cuz I haven't seen my friends in 2 week.

SORRY!!

GOOD NIGHT

THIS PROBABLY WON'T MEAN ANYTHING OUT THERE

I REALLY DON'T CARE ANYMORE. SAY YOU LOVE ME ALL YOU WANT IT WON'T CHANGE ANYTHING

FINE I SEE HOW IT IS!!

GOOD NIGHT
(I'm very mad)

Huh???

You see how what is? And why are you mad? I let you have 2 hours e-time and I stayed in my room to give you privacy most of the night. You only got fussed at because you farted around when it was bed time. I think I have been VERY reasonable and understanding.

WELL GUESS WHAT......?

I CAN TELL YOU DON'T CARE ANY WAY SO...

YOUR GONNA ACT LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT BUT I DON'T CARE EITHER.

YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ANY WAY SO...

BYE

I am genuinely sorry that you feel I don't care and sorry (and puzzled) that you are so angry with me when I was trying hard to make your day a little easier. And sorrier still that you will go to bed angry and that I won;t be able to tuck you in.

I know that you don;t believe that, but that does not make it any less true.

STOP LIEING

YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT AND THEN YOU GO OFF SAY THE OPPOSITE. I'M REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD. I DON'T CARE ANYMORE.

I do not lie.

You may choose not to believe, which is your right.
I have tried to give you more time and made you angry.
I have apologized and been called a liar.
I can't think of where to go from here. Call me a liar all you like, but I love you and am sad that you are angry (and confused)
Can' think of what else to say. Sweet dreams and I hope tomorrow will be better than today.

YEAH WHATEVER

GOODNIGHT JERK

YOU THINK IM GONNA COME BACK WELL YOUR WRONG
BYE FOREVER
VERY :(

Simon

2015-11-26T12:36:00.004-08:00

It's Thanksgiving today, Thursday 11/26/2015. Currently you are at your Nana's with the rest of the family, eating probably about a ton of good food (as you should be) :)

My first picture of Simon

I'm having a bit of a quiet day. A couple of good friends invited me to share their Thanksgiving, but I'd prefer to be by myself today. We'll have our Thanksgiving tomorrow, but today I'm not good company.

The day before yesterday I took Simon to the vet. There had been a number of odd behaviors, each one of which meant little in itself, but taken together, they indicated something was seriously wrong: Simon had always been first to the door to greet me when I got home, and lately was arriving late, if at all. She had stopped sleeping up on the bed, nestled near me and spent most of her time under your bed. She had started missing the litter box - not unknown.. on occasion she would walk the front half of her body in, but leave the "business end" outside. But now it was a regular event for her to pee just beside the box as though she just didn't have the strength to step over the side). And most telling - she had stopped eating. At first I thought it was just because she wanted the soft food I give Duncan (who is missing some teeth), so I began giving her that. But then she stopped eating that - and it became evident she was losing weight. Lots of weight.

So I made an appointment with the vet. Simon HATES the carrier and has always been fearful of anything new, so I hated to do it, but something was so obviously wrong. You and I practiced with her for two days before. You came up with the stratagem of placing a trail of treats into the box. And for two days it worked like a charm... she walked into the box.

At 1:30 on 11/24 I took off from work and came home. Duncan greeted me first, but I put her in the spare bedroom for the time being. Eventually Simon came down the hall to greet me - slowly. I out out the treats, but after nosing them, she turned away. I finally had to pick her up and put her in the carrier. What was most alarming was the fact that she let me.

And off we went.

She was so good at the vet, nuzzling the doctor and presenting her head to be petted. They drew some blood and said they would be back in about ten minutes with the results. Simon settled down on my jacket while I petted her and talked to her and she purred.

And the results were that it was cancer. The doctor said that he could pump her full of fluids to take care of the dehydration, but that ultimately there was nothing ahead for her but pain.

And that was something I was not going to allow happen.

A year of two before you were born, when your Mom and I lived way out in the country, one chilly, pre-dawn morning I was out with Wicker, letting her take her first pee of the day. And out of the dark woods came a gray kitty. She and Wicker looked at each other, carefully touched noses, and then - some unspoken agreement having been made - both went about their business. And while Wicker looked endlessly for the perfect pee spot, the gray kitty rubbed against my legs and purred.

And the next day, we went through the same ritual of sniffing and purring. And the next. And the next.

In fact, any time I was outside, my little gray shadow would appear. When I was working in the garden, she would follow me until I knelt down in in one spot to work, whereupon she would lie down a foot or two away and doze contentedly in the sun.

My two babies

That continued until one morning, as I reached to pet her, Simon backed away. A further (careful) examination showed that something had attacked her - her hindquarters had been badly raked. Somehow your mother and I got her in the carrier and got her to a vet, who cleaned the wounds to prescribed a salve. And for the next several weeks, Simon lived indoors with us and Wicker while she healed.

And when the healing was complete, I opened the front door to give her her freedom. Simon, sleeping in a sunbeam in the dining room, raised her head, looked out the front door, then turned her head to look directly at me as if to say "Are you out of your damned mind???" Then back down and went to sleep.

Older babies

And so Simon came indoors to stay. And became my shadow - for she was unquestionably MY cat. She was fine with everyone else, but I was her preferred human and she wanted to be wherever I was.

All she asked from life was food and affection. Your mama called her the "the Lap Shark" because once you sat down, she would begin to circle.. and the next thing you knew you had a purring cat in your lap. She LOVED to have her ears rubbed - although she was also prone to present her belly for attention as well. And unlike Duncan, who arrived later, she could never get enough.

Guarding Dad

She was there when I was sick. She was there when I was lonely. She was there when your mama left, and there when we moved. If I came home, she would rush to greet me. If I laid down, she would snuggle in next to me. If I sat, she would be in my lap (if I got up and came back she would be in my spot soaking up the residual warmth and would quack in annoyance when I made her move).

She did not like it when we left her alone to visit your grandmother. On at least one memorable occasion, when we got home she came running but stopped dead a few feet away. When I reached to pet her, she backed up - just out of my reach. When I moved forward, she would back up again - never breaking eye contact. After about an hour of this, she decided I had been punished enough and allowed me to make up with her.

Although mostly Russian Blue, she was not purebred and showed signs of other breeds. When she would come to me for her first petting of the morning, her tail - held straight in the air - would vibrate with excitement. And on those occasions, ever so briefly, you could glimpse faint black and gray stripes running from the tip to about six-eight inches in. I used to love that. And I think she may have had a touch of Siamese, as I never met another cat who was so vocal. Unlike Duncan, who pretty much just meows, Simon seemed to carry on conversions, with a wide, articulate range of barks and quacks, and trills. She talked you you especially, and the two of you used to sometimes sit for 10-15 minutes talking back and forth.

How we ended most days

She rarely played (although sometimes early in the morning she would stalk my feet under the sheets), ignored the catnip and toys we bought her, and despite having a nice fluffy bed, preferred to sleep in my laptop case

The only misbehavior she ever displayed, was with garbage. Apparently her time "on the street" left her with a need to steal food (even if she had just been fed) and I could not leave the kitchen trash back unattended for any length of time without finding the side ripped open and various nasty things pulled out.

My last picture of her

But that was it. She was patient and tidy and loving. Wherever I went, and whatever I did, she was always close by, my little sweet shadow. And so we grew old together, she and I, good and comfortable friends. Most evenings ended with me, a good book, and a dozing kitty snuggled beside. She was always there for me.

Until last Tuesday, when I needed to be there for her.

They gave her a sedative, and I stoked her head while she slowly drifted off to sleep. The vet asked if I wanted to step away while they gave her the last shot. But that is not what a friend does. I had promised her I would be with her to the end, and so I continued to stroke her head and talk to her until finally she had slipped away across the black sands.

I went back to work to finish out my shift. And when I came home, for the first time in a dozen years, there was no one to greet me. I gathered the shovel and carried her out back where I laid her to rest in the garden outside my window next to Wicker.

I held it together till I got back inside, then I sat on the kitchen floor and keened.

Truth or Consequences

2015-11-08T16:33:00.000-08:00

Sorry I'm green.

Transitions

2015-09-27T18:03:00.001-07:00

Summer has just officially ended and Autumn has begin. The grass has stopped growing (thank god) and while the leaves have not begun to change color, some are beginning to fall.

It's been a time of changes. Your Mom and Travis moved to a new house. At the moment Max is teaching you the meaning of the phrase "terrible twos". And you've started Middle School.

Since we had no real options in which school, I worked hard to make sure you made it into the Montessori program, where I thought you would make the easiest transition. And U of L offered a week-long summer learning event that took place at your new school, which I signed you up for. I figured if you spent a week in the building and around the teachers and some of your classmates, that the first day of school would be much less stressful for you. It took the help of our neighbors and the tolerance of my boss to get you to and from it, but you enjoyed it and I think it helped.

First Day of middle school, Aug 2015

And the school itself had three days of orientation - one that I went to with you, and two that you went to by yourself. So that all in all, by the first day of school, things were already pretty familiar. It's our first year since you started public school that we've not depended on the YMCA CEP program. You've been coming home on the bus and being a "latch key kid" till I get home. Still too early to tell how that's working out.

It's unfortunate that most of your friends from Middletown ended up going to another school. But knowing that was going to be the case, I got you and iPod so that you could keep in touch. Of course you wanted a phone, but I wanted something I had a measure of control over so that I had at least a chance of scaling your growing autonomy to your growing maturity. Jury is still out on that one.

And you've transitioned into a tween. It was like somebody threw a goddam switch. Once day you were my Moiya and we played around. And the next day you were some stranger who wanted nothing to do with me. BAM! We moved out your doll house and all your dolls and banished all the pink from your room. (Sigh) You may have been done with your childhood, but I wasn't. So it goes.
Some days are better than others. For some reason this past week you were just a complete and utter asshole. If I had a nickel for every time you screamed "LEAVE. ME. ALOOOOOONE!!!" and slammed the door to your room shut, I'd.... well... I had a bunch of nickels.

Fortunately, we had some good times before then.

We went to the state fair...

We saw a really good production of Peter Pan at Derby Dinner Theater with your Mom and Travis.

We got a surprise pumpkin plant when the remains of our Halloween pumpkins which I threw on the compost heap germinated in the spring and promptly took over the plot that I was going to turn into a garden this year.

We went to WorldFest, but only lasted an hour. Unlike he last two years when we got rained on, this year it was unbearably hot.

Though while we were standing on the Belvedere enjoying the breeze coming off the river and watching the Belle pull away from the shore, you reminded me that we hadn't had our annual buffet cruise. So last week we did that. :)

Our souvenir picture

Sitting in the bow of the Belle and facing into a stiff, cold breeze

Focused at the belt test

And after your last belt test in July, unfortunately we had to say goodbye to Hwang's Martial Arts. I would have given anything to keep you there, but Master Hwang was bleeding me dry, having charged me $800 for 6 months and wanting another $1,440 for you to stay another year.

Your Mom was there at your belt test and for a time I thought she was going to agree to split the cost. But she got spooked by doing so on top of buying a house. And since I could not cover the cost on my own, we had to say goodbye, and I went in search of someplace I could afford.

I had about given up when my friend Lisa put me onto someone she knew. So we're now enrolled in Mission Martial Arts. We've only had two lessons so far, and it's not as loud, frenetic, or grand as Hwangs.. but at $50 every two months, we can afford to keep going for as long as you want.

And that's it for now.. so many changes. Off to bed I go. Got to get my rest to deal with my stroppy tween daughter tomorrow. ;)

I love you. Never doubt that.

The Experiment Begins

2015-06-20T20:54:00.000-07:00

May

2015-06-07T18:48:00.002-07:00

Busy month, May 2015

I'm not even sure I recall all the things we did. I Know we went to the How To Festival at the downtown library - though we didn't have as much fun as we'd had last year. We waited too late in the day and missed all the best topics. Still, we got to learn some magic tricks.

The middle of the following week (on a Thursday) we went to see the Ringling Brother's circus. You had asked not long before when we would go to the circus and the next day there was an advert in my inbox. So I reserved seats and off we went.

You had a choir concert at school, but there's no pictures of it here because you were behind 47,000 other people.

Belt test was that weekend, and so I borrowed you from your Mom for the day and you tested for your green. Afterwards we jumped in the car and went across the river to Derby Dinner to catch a play (and do a mini-birthday celebration a week early). And then we went BACK across the river so you could attend a friend's birthday party at Champs Roller Rink. And the BACK BACK across the river again to take you to your Mom.

On the 24th, we celebrated your birthday as you had requested, with a party at Hwang's Martial Arts. You got to be blackbelt for a day and cut your cake with a katana.

Since your Mom and Travis were in the middle of house-hunting, I got to have you for a third weekend in a row and you had a sleepover with your friends Abbigail and Arianna. After pizza and left-over ice cream from the party, y'all managed to talk me into taking you to the roller rink which I hoped would wear you the hell out by the time I brought you home at 11 p.m.

It didn't work. You were up till 8 a.m.

And then as the month slid into June, you had your 5th grade graduation. You weren't up for any awards because (as we found out later) you had basically blown off the last few weeks of school and blew your straight As. But that knowledge was still in the future. The ceremony was nice, if emotional. You were beautiful. And Max was well-behaved :)

One Year

2015-04-26T16:37:00.002-07:00

It occurs to me that I've been neglectful. I tend to look back and write about the rare emotional upheaval or "important event". But in transcribing the old blog to House of the Flying Mermaid 2 I realized that I used to record the day-to-day things.. the events that really make up life. And somehow I feel out of that habit.

So to compensate, here - in condensed format - is our past year, from April 2014 to April 2015.

It has been an eventful year. On the plus side, we got you out of crappy Klondike Elementary and into Middletown Elementary where despite your initial fears, you have flourished. You gained confidence, got (and stayed) on the honor role and made friends, becoming happy, popular, and successful. I only wish we had moved you sooner.

On the down side, it was the year your Mom and Larry broke up. And while that has gone more smoothly that I had feared it might, I know that it has been so very very hard on you. You like to say that you're fine, that it doesn't bother you - but I know otherwise.

So.. we went to Disney for our second time!

I wanted to give you a happy memory. And generally speaking, I think we managed it much better this time. We saw more. We did more. We argued less. And over all, I think it was one of the happiest times I can ever remember having. I'd take us back tomorrow if I could.

And when the collector's pins we bought were stolen on day at school, my friends banded together and got you about twice as many as you had had originally!

Over the summer, we visited St. Louis and went to the City Museum and climbed and explored all the strange and wonderful places in that bizarre place. The first time we went it was winter and cold and so we confined ourselves to the indoors. But this year we went outside and explored the roof and slid down slides as long as three stories (well, you did. My fat butt wouldn't fit)

We went to World Fest again and watched dancers and musicians from different countries. And once again I tried (unsuccessfully) to get you to try foods more exotic than nachos and corn dogs.

And then just as you finished getting your face painted were caught in a HUGE and violent thunderstorm. We huddled under a tent (watching other tents blow away) while low-hanging clouds swirled like waves around the downtown buildings. And when the downpour lightened briefly, we ran for the refuge of the parking garage under the Belvedere, and sat there, watching the rain, eating snow cones, and giggling.

We went to the How-To Festival at the downtown library, did fun stuff - played games, made a phenakistoscope, made balloon sculptures, watched square dancers, ate more bad food. And when we left we got caught in a huge downpour on the way back to the car (which was blocks away) so that we were utterly soaks. So when we got home, we each jumped into a hot bath in our respective bathrooms.
And since the rooms are back-to-back were able to hammer our messages on the walls :)

We'll be going again next week. I can't wait to see what things we discover this time

This was also your first exposure to Tae Qwon Doh. You were quite taken with it and I promised that before the year was out, we'd manage to get you some lessons.

We went to the circus a few time, and continued to attend Derby Dinner Theater regularly

You had your tenth birthday party and at your own insistence, guests drew chances to smoosh cake in your face. Wicker and Spike were delighted at getting to clean up the mess

And I made you this

We went to the State Fair as we do every summer where as usual, we rode rides and ate terrible food.

And in between throughout the warm months, we flew kites, we played on playgrounds

And had squirt-bottle wars

(Fort Moiya below)

And sometime we were just silly

The year had it's sad moments. Wicker was sick and deaf and blind. And when you Mom decided to move to Indiana, we decided that it was time to help her to her end. Duncan would have gone the same way since your Mom insisted that she was very ill. But Larry convinced we to take her to a vet, who pronounced her fit.

So we took her into our little family, and began the LONG process of trying to convince Simon that Duncan was not there to eat her. We divided the house in half with pet gates (which we had to climb over 1000 times a day) and used towels to keep them from seeing each other except when they ate. Gradually there was less and less hissing, and finally after about four months the gates came down and there was peace at last in Eagan-land.

In the new school year, I spent a lot of my time taking you to school events and hanging out while you socialized. We went to about a million school fundraisers, skating parties and basketball games.
This was the beginning of my transition from playmate to background. I soon learned to bring a good book and sit where I was not visible to your friends, but could still keep an eye one you.

The first Middletown skating party we went to, you were too terrified to get out on the rink, so I arranged skating lessons for you over the summer and by the time the school started their skating party fundraisers in 2014-15, you were cool and in control. I was very proud to see how you grew :)

As Fall settled in, we hit MULTIPLE events. In a once-in-a-lifetime event it was the Belle of Louisville's 100th birthday and I wanted us to be part of it. So we boarded one of the visiting steamships and ate ice cream while we became part of a six paddlewheeler flotilla cruising up and down the Ohio River.

We discovered the Tom Sawyer Park Fall Festival, which was right by the house and free. They have face painting, pumpkin decorating, inflatables, s'mores, live music, hay rides, and assorted games.

And we discovered the Brown Park Fall Festival - a little further off, and with a line than went for blocks. But there was lots of Trick-or-Treat candy to be had.

And as we usually do, we hit the Zoo Halloween Party, for the first time taking Max with us :)

Carving our pumkpins

Winter came, and your Mom and I had your pictures taken..

And while band didn't pan out for you, you stuck with choir and did your first concert in December 2014. Actually this was your second performance. The first was on a rainy night at the Middletown civic center as part of the Light Up Middletown Christmas festivities. It was notable primarily for the disruption provided by placard-waving protesters who decided it was a good opportunity for them to protest police brutality in Ferguson, Missouri.

No, it didn't make much sense then either.

But the Holiday Concert at your school was delightful :)

You had THREE Christmases this year, First at your Mom's house with Max. Then I took you to Larry's house for Christmas there. Then we came home and had our Christmas. I'm sure it was hard on you.. hell, it was hard on everybody. But everyone worked together to make the day as pleasant for everyone as possible

XXX

And in January, I finally was able to keep my promise and you started your first Tae Kwon Doh lessons. Sadly, I could only manage to scrape together the funds for six months of training, but as of this writing you are about to take your green belt. Hopefully the future will bring some way for us to continue.

Aaaand here we reach our close - back at April again. The finances have been tight and haven't recovered as I had hoped since our last trip to Disney, so it just wasn't in the cards this year. But we were able to spend a few days over Spring Break at Big Splash Adventure in French Lick :)

Goodnight

2015-01-30T13:20:00.004-08:00

Dearest Daughter,

This past Tuesday night was the first time since your birth (when you have been with me, anyway) that I did not tuck you in to bed and kiss you goodnight. I am sure that there will be others, but this was the first. I am not happy about it.

You are going through a phase in which you seem to go out of your way to demonstrate your lack of respect for me. That isn't it at all, off course - impending puberty has given you a short fuse and a need to push against something.. to demonstrate your independence. (That's the reality. What is feels like is another matter entirely).

But the fact that I understand the why does not mean that I can allow you to to shout "NO" when I tell you to do something, or "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM??" when I ask you a question.

Threats have never worked on you, reason only works when all parties have cool heads, and shouting back (which I am way too prone to do) is like Br'er Rabbit fighting the tar baby - you get sucked in with no way out. So I walked away.

I went and picked up our jackets by the front door and set the thermostat for the night. I checked the door locks. When I came back by your room the lights were off and you had burrowed under the blankets. I suspect you were waiting for me to make peace with you, but I did not. In my experience, women seem to take that as a weakness. So I took a bath instead. When I came out you were asleep and I went to bed.

As I said, it was the first time ever that you had been with me and I did not tuck you in and stay there by your side till you fell asleep. So when I say I went to bed, I do not mean to say I went to sleep.

By the next morning, you were bright and perky and could not understand why I was, in your words "Quiet even for you" Which is good. Like all parents I harbor a deep-seated belief that everything I do is scarring you for life. It's nice to see evidence that that is not the case. And I still feel I had no choice. There's no point in pushing if I don't give you something to push against.

But still.. it fills me with a sadness. It is not a first I am proud of.

Second Chances

2014-12-28T17:21:00.002-08:00

"You know what's rarer? Second chances. I never get a second chance, so what happened this time? I don't even know who to thank."
~The Doctor, Last Christmas

Dearest Daughter,

I've been sitting and thinking of a second chance of my own today. And unlike the Doctor, I know who to thank. You.

When your mother and I broke up, there was a great deal of anger and pain - as there so often is in these things. I doubt that, had there not been a you, we would have had anything further to do with one another once the divorce was final. Certainly nobody else I've ever broken up with has stayed in my life. More often than not, after hurts of that magnitude, people just want to get far away and forget.

But there was a you. And because there was a you and because of the love your mother and I both have for you, we each gave the other a second chance. We worked very hard, day by day and bit by bit to rebuild a friendship.

Everyone knows that when something shatters, no matter how painstakingly it is repaired, it can never ever be as good as it was originally.

But every once in a very great while, when the wind is fair and the stars align.... it can be rebuilt into something better.

So I owe you a debt of thanks. Your mother has become my dearest friend. I do not know how I could have survived without her patient support and encouragement. I know she will always have my back and she knows I will always have hers.

And that is a very good thing to know.

Second chances.

Come at Last

2014-12-24T07:17:00.000-08:00

"So, it's come at last. At last it's come, the day I knew would come at last has come at last."

~Mae Peterson, Bye Bye Birdie

Dearest Daughter,

Well, the Terrible Tweens have begun. God help us.

I've been pretty spoiled. After the terrible, terrible fights we used to have at bedtime passed into history, things have been pretty peaceful. On the rare occasion you would suddenly go ballistic over nothing (read "my ham-fisted behavior unknowingly hurt your feelings"), once you were too old to be spanked I learned to shut my mouth and stop feeding the flames. I'd remove myself to my room and close the door and we would communicate by notes passed under the door till we both calmed down, made a joke, hugged, and life went on.

It's been peaceful and pleasant and we've been so close. Not as close as you and your Mom, but close for us. And I've loved every second of it. After the turbulent time right after your Mom left and you seemed to want to take it all out exclusively on me, it felt like I had reached safe harbor at last. But the terrain has changed now and suddenly I'm having trouble finding my footing again.

For one thing, we don't play any more. That has been the biggest shocker - we went from playing games every waking minute to not playing at all - virtually overnight. You prefer to sit in your room and listen to music. Since I went through the same thing, I understand. But I miss the time I used to get to spend with you.  I knew I had a finite amount of time to enjoy it, I just didn't know the end would come so soon.

Harder to take is the fact that you went from calling to tell me good night every time you were with your Mom, to never calling me at all. And since you ask to call you Mom and call Larry every morning like clockwork, that one really, really hurts. Your Mother assures me when I go wailing to her that I've done nothing wrong and that tween girls just do these things. But I remain unconvinced.

I am learning to deal with the verbal smarting off though. The first time I told you to do something and you yelled "MAKE ME!!" and stormed off, I did not react well.  But I'm starting to understand that the flashes of temper often take you by surprise as much as they do me. And if I just let you express and don't escalate matters into a power struggle, within a few minutes you shake it off, comply, and life goes on.

So it goes, one halting, uncertain, confused step at a time.  I cannot doubt that I'll get it wrong more often than I'll get it right.

But we'll get through it. And no matter how rocky it may get - never ever ever forget that I love you more than anything else in the world.

You

2014-11-18T10:28:00.002-08:00

Dearest Daughter,

Weekend before last, we were having one of our periodic battles - the kind that always leave my male mind so confused because they seem to come from out of nowhere, more angry and intense than they have any right to be.

As I recall, it was about playgrounds. We had just come out of seeing Big Hero 6 at the movies and you wanted to follow up with a visit to a playground. But somehow every playground I suggested failed to meet with your approval. And then (as ALWAYS) I got lost - which did not help either of our tempers.

And at one point, you voiced your frustration that you ALWAYS had to pick. That sometimes I ought to step up and say what I wanted instead of always pushing the responsibility off on you. And after all the arguing and shouting I was just at my wit's end. And as I could not think of anything else to do, I just told you the plain truth.

I think I made you cry. I'm not sure. We were in the driveway sitting in the car and you jumped out and ran to your hiding space behind one of the bushes in the back. I am sorry for that. I hate making you cry. Eventually I came and got you and we played hide and seek and all was forgotten.

But I'm writing what I said here because I don;t want it forgotten. Long after I am gone, I want you to remember it, and I want to remember how important you are. So here is what I said (as best I can recall):

When I was little, I rarely got to play with my Dad. He was always at work. He worked long, terrible hours, so I didn't see him all that much. And when I did, he mostly wanted to be left alone to work out his stress in the garden. When he was dying, on the very last day we sat and talked together, he told me that looking back, it was the only thing that he really regretted.

He said that back when he was growing up, that's what they were taught a good dad did - he worked and provided for his family. So he had always tried terribly hard to be a good dad the only way he knew. I told him that I understood - and I did and do. But he looked so sad as he was talking that I promised myself that if I ever had kids I would not make that same mistake. And I've made LOTS of mistakes - you know it and I know it. Sometimes quite dreadful mistakes. But not that one.

There's so much I've wanted to give you growing up but was unable to because we never had much money. So I have given you time. I gave you every minute that I could.. to play... to go places.. to explore (and to be just plain silly at times).

Because I like being with you more than anything else in the world.

I know I frustrate the hell out of you when you keep asking "but what do YOU want to do?"or "What park do YOU want to play at?" and I have no good answer. And I know you are just being thoughtful and trying to look out for what makes me happy - because you are and always have been a good and thoughtful person.

But you see - that's just the point. It doesn't matter. I don't care where we go or what we play - cards, Barbies, tag... whatever. As long as I'm playing it with you - that's all I care about. You don't have to worry about it.

If I'm with you, I'm already happy.

Wicker (2000-2014)

2014-07-25T06:58:00.001-07:00

Dearest Daughter,

I have just come in from burying Wicker in the backyard – so my thoughts are likely to be a bit scrambled and my emotions more than a little frayed. But I have developed a bad habit of not writing, and Wicker deserves better from me. She always did, though regrettably she seldom got it.

Your mother decided when we were first married that I needed a dog. I told her I didn't.. but you know your Mom once she makes up her mind to something :) And so early one morning we found ourselves out in the arse-end of nowhere, looking for a breeder down winding, wooded country lanes that bore no relation to either the lines on our map or the instructions your Mom had taken by phone. There were false starts, reverses, close calls, and a very great deal of inventive and heartfelt swearing before we finally, finally found the farm.

I was not in a good mood by then and wandered off sullenly while your mother talked to the dog breeder. And when I looked down, there was a tiny ball of red and white fluff trying to climb onto my shoe. I picked up a tiny cocker spaniel puppy and it looked at me with dark, solemn eyes before reaching out a tiny paw to pat my cheek gently as if to reassure me that everything was going to be all right. By the time your mom and the breeder came around the corner of the farmhouse and tried to give me the dog they had selected, it was a done deal. I had already lost my heart.

So we took our ball of fluff and headed home.

Somewhere along the way our puppy was named “Wicker.” For years people have asked us why. And for years, I've had no answer. It was rather like the scene in “Harvey” where the doctor asks Elwood P. Dowd why he chose to call his invisible rabbit companion “Harvey.” And the answer was simply “Well, Harvey’s his name.” Wicker was just Wicker.. and that was it.

She cried all that night in her crate in the kitchen. We tried everything we had ever read: hot water bottle wrapped in a fluffy towel, ticking clock. It was finally the stuffed frog that did it. She snuggled down content and for the next several months, froggy was her constant companion.

Well.. till she ate him.

Wicker never complained about out eclectic household. Not when your Mother brought Duncan kitty home (after I had told her that under no circumstances were we going to get a cat – and she not only picked one out at the shelter, but then got me to go and pick it up). In fact Wicker mothered Duncan, laying her head flat so the tiny kitten could climb up on top and groom her shaggy spaniel ears while Wicker lay immobile with a look of pure bliss. And years later when Duncan was lost in the woods it was Wicker who dragged me frantically at the end of the leash through the brambles till we found her.

Nor did she complain when Simon kitty came into our lives. Early in the pre-dawn darkness while Wicker was selecting the perfect spot to relive herself (a process that could take 15-20 minutes on a good day) a dark gray, homeless cat came out of the woods and approached Wicker carefully. They touched noses gently and then Wicker went on about her business while the cat purred around my ankles. Some sort of silent permission had been requested and granted and we repeated that same ritual greeting every morning at the same time for months until the morning Simon came to us injured and thus became absorbed into the interior life of our home where she lives still.

Nor was Wicker fazed when Pops gave us a domestic rabbit he’d found abandoned on his land (though Simon was terrified of Hetty bunny), and many’s the picture I have of Wicker up on our old bed, dozing intertwined with the other critters (and occasionally you) for warmth and for comfort. In fact your arrival was the only thing that upset Wicker, but only when you cried. She would paw at your crib and whimper until we came to comfort you. And somehow comforting you comforted her.

Every day after I picked you up from daycare, our ritual was to go home and see how many rabbits were in the yard. We’d feed the fish in the fish pond. And we ‘d take Wicker for a run/pee. Then we would all sit on the front porch - me, you and James Bear, and Wicker dog. And in companionable silence we’d watch the cars go past until it was time for dinner. It was perfect peace – what I call a “snapshot moment”. And I hold the memory close and dear.

The one problem we had with her was her absolute unwillingness to let us know when she needed to go outside. She was the most silent dog I have ever known. On at least one memorable occasion when she was young your mother and I sat on the kitchen floor on either side of her trying to teach her to bark by modeling “proper” dog behavior. So for about half an hour we took it in turns to growl, woof, and bark while Wicker's head swiveled back and forth between us with such a clear look of “what in the sphincter of hell is WRONG with you people?” that we finally became too embarrassed to continue.

And so we lost many, many thing to dog pee. Rag rugs, expensive carpets. At one point the dining room floor became so saturated (she got good at peeing in out-of-the-way locations) that the handsome hardwood turned black. We tried training pads. We even for a time swaddled her in dog diapers (and it was a near thing as to who hated the morning ritual of putting them on her more, Wicker or us). We tried taking her out more and more often, but to no avail. I sat and watched one day, having just brought her in from a good 20 minutes of fruitless waiting for her to pee – only to have her squat immediately on reentering the house and saturate the dining room rug.

Unfortunately in despair I turned to punishment to try to resolve the problem. There was yelling and sharp slaps on the rump. And as our marriage disintegrated and I turned to drink to dull that pain, I became like - so many drunks - a bully and my bullying focused on my disobedient dog. That is my greatest shame in this life. I hated the son-of-a-bitch I became. I still do.

And so when your Mom left to go live with Larry, it was right that Wicker go with them. Larry was always far, far better and more patient with her than I had ever been. And when on occasion in later (sober) years I was called upon to dog sit, I did my best to make up to her for all the unkindness.

And she was friendly enough. I think I was forgiven, though we both knew I would not be her human ever again. I indulged her with treats and with lots of runs. Lord how that dog loved to run. When we had our country acreage, whenever I got home from work I’d put her leash on and run with her for as long as I could keep up – from one end of the property to the other, tracking rabbits and possums and God knows whatever else her busy nose could detect. She could never get enough running and I’d have to force her to stop and drink before she keeled over. I can still see her in my mind’s eye when we would visit Nana and Pops – the only time when we could let her off the leash without fear of cars. And she would tear off as far and as fast and she could go, great shaggy ears flying out in the air behind her and her sense of pure joy palpable.

And even in age, when she grew infirm and deaf and half-blind, the sheer exhilaration of running seemed to make the years fall away (See the entry "Snapshot"). The very last time that your Mom and Larry brought her to me to dog sit while they were out of town, Wicker and I trotted the perimeter of my back yard as hard and as fast as our wheezing lungs and old arthritic legs would go. Then we huffed our way into the family room and cooled off by eating crushed ice (which she loved as much as I do).

And finally the time came to lead her to her rest.

Your Mom and were both with her at the end, holding her and stroking her head and telling her what a good girl she was until she slipped quietly away. And then I brought her home. With your Mom and Larry thinking about selling their house, I could not leave her there where she would eventually be among strangers. And so she sleeps now in a sunny spot outside my bedroom window, near where she and I used to run.

I have done what I could for her. Later we will make a small monument to mark the place and plant some flowers.

Enough. My heart is sore. I need to sleep now.