a stream, a flow,
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
a stream
a stream, a flow,
Thursday, March 4, 2010
He Who Comes In Peace ... has gone

Mo’s departure was sudden and entirely unexpected; the situation caught both Ron and I completely unprepared emotionally, and so has been particularly difficult. In addition, Mo has always been a lead character in our day-to-day lives; from the very beginning, he inserted himself into the very center of our home and hearts -- and settled in deeply.
I can scarcely grasp that he will no longer drape himself across my neck to sleep at night as he has for almost ten years; no more to follow me around, to jump on my lap when I sit down to read, to carry on long conversations with Ron or I, to be the first to the food dish, carry a toy to me while yowling loudly or snuggle with me whenever and wherever possible. He was mellow, friendly and seemed to rest in a deep faith that all would be well no matter what; in fact, he was so calm that we could run a vacuum right next to him and he would just watch, or when the dogs would hear a noise and go crazy with barking, again he simply observed while the rest of the cats scattered to hiding places. We called him Mo and a host of other nicknames, but his proper name was Imhotep - Egyptian for 'he-who-comes-in-peace'. And he lived that name.
I know that everything happens the way it does for a reason but I confess that I failed this particular lesson in 'loving detachment.' Without any mental or emotional preparation to losing Mo, I lost a bit of myself as well. And yet, I feel so honored and blessed that he came into my life, and I will treasure every moment we shared together, even as my heart aches with the absence of his physical form and voice. Mo was peace - a being who brought light, love and laughter into each and every moment of life.
Read more about our miraculous Imhotep ...
Adopted March 2000; Died March 2, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
the perfume of life
Mysticism is the perfume of life.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Good-bye Juliette
We lived together for almost 15 years and I'll miss her lively presence. This morning as I prepared my breakfast, and each time I rattle a dish or open a cabinet door, I expect to see her leap to the counter hoping for a snack - or hurry to her water dish so that I'll fill it with fresh warm water just the way she prefers it. And I know that the next time I return home after being away a few hours, it will be odd not to see her waiting in the window, watching for me; she didn't do it every time but often enough that it became habit for me to see if she was there.