This is a photo of Phoenix that was made into a canvas painting which now hangs in my kitchen along with her collar, tags, and her ashes which has her favorite baby (lambchop stuffie) in the blue velvet bag.
April 29, 2011-December 19, 2024
She was the best girl. She never met a stranger, behaved herself (mostly) when we went on adventures. I inherited her from my friend, Nancy McCord when it wasn’t possible for her to care for Phoenix anymore.
Phoe will always be the girl who gave me back my heart.
When I lost my dear Pumpkin a few years back, I was heartbroken. Phoenix and my therapist helped me to understand that I wasn’t replacing Punky, nothing could, but I was allowing the love to continue.
Phoe loved to rearrange rugs, chase her lamby, go on sniffaris, and generally loved the world. My heart was heavy, but she was getting increasingly confused, fell down the steps of my deck, and became incontinent. I knew it would come, but I didn’t want to say goodbye. I did take her for a great ride around before I brought her to the vets who loved her so much.
I wanted to be okay with it. I felt grief, but I also felt a loneliness for her clicking claws on my floor. I missed her greeting me when I came home from work. I missed her wanting to be on my lap to be loved on.
With a bit of guilt, I started searching for a new extention of love. I wanted to find a small baby to grow old with. I didn’t contact anybody. I went with my Beastie to say goodbye to her 16 year old soulmate, Simmy. We wallowed in our sorrow that Monday.
On Sunday next, I made my usual trek over to my Beastie’s house where she confessed that she was looking at puppies too. With great relief that I wasn’t the only one, we searched, talked, shared, poked about, finally deciding on a Knoxville no-kill shelter where there were fuzzballs.
Before I went to meet the pups, my Beastie went exploring to see what they had “in stock”. She told me I needed to meet Mocha. I reluctantly agreed.
This little dog was in a corner room that had a small poo and a small puddle with a blanket. I agreed to meet her, but I was kind of looking for a baby.
She put her feet on my leg, so I picked her up. She “frog hugged” me. (Front legs around my neck, back legs splayed across my belly).
I thought, “Uh oh.” But the pressure I felt to CHOOSE ME! LOVE ME! forced me not to knee-jerk my reaction. We took her for a walk outside. She behaved brilliantly on the leash. She pottied. I brought her back in and went to meet the wee ones.
This is Finley (Phinley). He is about 8 weeks old (give or take) and living in foster care with three of his siblings. He is cute, cuddly, and so little! I loved him and he kissed me repeatedly.
On my way home from meeting Mocha and Finley, in the still of my racing brain. I knew where my heart belonged. It had been stolen quickly and completely.
Mocha’s profile is regal. Her adoration is apparent on her face. She LOVES to give kisses. The sleeping picture was after a day at the dog park, a pup cup, a new winter jacket (trip to the pet store), and a play session with her friend Keiver and several larger dogs.
Today is Mocha Choka Latte’s gotcha day. Her birthday is December 12 (But I’m moving it to the 19th). She’s an Italian Greyhound/chihuahua mix. She’s a little over a year old. Her adoption was finalized today. I’m in love.
A little history about this love of a pup. She was owner surrender because she bit a child who was feeding her from their hand. The owners wanted her put down. Mocha also nipped one of the volunteers at the shelter when given a treat.
At intake, in November, Mocha weighed in at 10 pounds. Today, after her spay, she’s at 14.4 pounds. I’m going to guess her food insecurity caused her food aggression. I’m already in talks with a dog trainer to see what can be done to guide Mocha to live her best life.
I’m in it till death do us part, so here’s to the continuation of love that Piggy, Punky, and Phoenix all gave to me with all of their hearts.
How high do we go in the dark? Or is it always down? The depths of anguish Deep depression Heavy grieving What if the darkness is merely a threshold? A catalyst for changes that must happen? A step that isn’t there To support our heart-stopping air A shift in vision of what was to be To what is in this moment Chastised for arriving at rejection’s door Huddled in the clothing of innocence The wailing lamentations of a heart Breaking open to possibilities not yet named Climbing out of the pit of despair To observe the mountainous task Unasked for Recognized at last, not as a destination location But a roadside attraction, a must see, With the oddest of bedfellows Now clothed in the light of new understanding.
The match burst unexpectedly into a flame The tender tinder caught An ignition of late-night discussions That pursued verbal intercourse Vulnerability exposed; naked An incredible view from the mountain Where true north was marked on our compass The heat and warmth of intention Splayed out in tranquility and mutual reliance Invited to an adventure of a lifetime We blazed new trails through trials But apathetic time broke the compass And people do what makes sense to them The safe place became a wasn’t And a not now, not ever. The allure got eaten by silence When all I wanted to hear was “Don’t go.”
As we enter the holiday season, there’s a new album that’s dropped and it’s AWFUL! I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything worse than this. Whatever you do, don’t listen to any of it. You’ll instantly regret it. The Hits keep coming.
At The Speed of What The Farts (Radio Edit) Winter GTFO
Dead Starter Blues a. Sample Lyric: “Gonna take everything in my account, have to empty that dog out.”
Dying Dog (Euthenasia) a. Sample Lyric: “She’s thirteen years old and blind as a bat, she can’t hear her name and she’s fading fast.”
Bed Bug Boogie a. Sample Lyric: “I got welty itch from my head to my toes, that’s how the bedbug boogie goes.”
Bitterness and Regret a. Sample Lyric: “The ailing heart showed up at my door, catheterized on the hospital floor.”
Monkey on His Back a. Sample Lyric: “All my cash went up my nose, what I have left is my dirty clothes.”
So Many Leftovers, Nothing to Eat a. Sample Lyric: “I’ve had so much corn chowder it waves hello, and warms up again for another go.”
Delerium a. Sample Lyric: “Nine days have taken their toll on his brain. He now sounds like he’s not sane.”
The Boot a. Sample Lyric: “Broken foot, faulty hip, growing old can kiss my grits.”
Never Ending Gray a. Sample Lyric: “My love, the sun has gone away, I hope to see it again someday.”
The Darkest Christmas Tree a. Sample Lyric: “This tree will never win awards until I find the farting extension cords.”
Presence a. Sample Lyric: “Stuffs wrapped and under the tree, wondering who is there for me.”
Shitty Ditty a. Sample Lyric: “Waking up in the middle of the night, discovering my fart took liquid flight.”
(BONUS TRACK) Cold Friends a. Sample Lyric: “They used to laugh and joke a lot, but now they’re in a wooden box.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is written in originally Comic Sans for the simple reason that it’s an awful font. Everything on this “album” has happened during the past month to me or to my Bestie.
Survival mode stepped to the side Allowing an informal reprieve from chaos An acknowledgement of mutual security The stability that came to dinner Pulled up a chair and feasted gluttonously On a childhood fantasy for totemic inclusion Seized the steadfastness of a kinship Situated in a sprawled right relationship Ladling the gravy of laughter over Legendary stories of affinity A communion of flavorful moments Savored in a homemade assurance of loyalty With an abundance of whipped cream
Death offers the warm embrace of peace A loving homage to the newly deceased Life used to stay busy; feel overly productive The spiral of drowsing is overwhelmingly seductive No more errands or things to do No more arguments of personal truth With warmest lust on the coldest skin An allegiance unfurls with the shifting winds What was once taken for granted truly is sated The breath comes no more from the body related And yet as a witness to the dearly departed A journey, a pilgrimage, a trail never charted Speculation like specters gather for court Dressed in saint’s clothing, suspended transport the breathing world is holding hands with Death leaving lamentations from the loved ones bereft
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Mare Martell 