Tag Archives: phoenix

December is Done

Thank the stars! December was a crap month.

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.

She the Phoenix

And the Phoenix, in all her glory

will don the robes of the warrior queen

that are tempered in the fires of suffering

and ashes to reveal the colors

of a Goddess within the flames,

born repeatedly from the music

of the nest’s heat dancing

the blazing sparks.

We should not forget to love

Enough is enough

Enough is enough

I don’t give a loaded poop chute about this piece of digestion. I want to know about the lives he took. I want to know their names so I never forget that his guns took their lives. I want to remember the victims because only then will real changes happen.

It’s easy to forget one person, but when you have to remember Sandy Hook, Chattanooga, Phoenix, Knoxville, ANYWHERE there are victims of murder because of guns; List the victims.

Trace their lives that led up to their fatal decision to go to school, church, the movies, or work. Let’s examine how they let it happen by putting themselves in harm’s way by living their lives.

Let’s examine what they were wearing. If they would have been wearing more orange would they not have been accidentally assumed to be a game animal? What is it going to take? This is freaking enough. It’s just no. Stop this already.

I’ve already written against this ridiculous glorification of the murderers HERE

Thinkful Gratitude

When I was younger, I never felt as if I had enough of anything. I felt greedy for attention, lusted after riches, begged, borrowed, and yes even stole to acquire more. I felt that if I could surround myself with things I saw others be so happy with, I would finally be happy. That carried on into my first marriage where I used things as substitutions for the love that was absent from my life.

As I grew in age, I began to understand that no amount of material goods would give me what I was looking for in my heart. That new pair of shoes, new car, new pan, new…anything would never fill that void. Even though I still hadn’t discovered what exactly that void was, I knew my needs weren’t being met by my buying things. I moved away from that behavior.

I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t enjoy a good shopping trip, but I’d rather focus on the company I keep instead of the goods I may get. I try to shop only when I need something like food or a pair of pants, for example because I’m less likely to just randomly spend money I don’t have. But, overall, I don’t go shopping with the sole intention of purchasing something. It has to be pretty spectacular (like my goldfish shirt or my hugger shirt) to necessitate me buying something.

Original Art by Maximus Decimus Meridius (aka Maxine the Magnificent) Watercolor and ink 5"X7"

Original Art by Maximus Decimus Meridius (aka Maxine the Magnificent)
Watercolor and ink 5″X7″

My evolution made me realize that my emotional needs weren’t being met, so of course I attached myself to a man who was emotionally unavailable because he matched me at that point. Matched me enough for me to realize that the absence of emotional connection was what I was missing. I started to reach out emotionally to those I trusted to test the waters of truth in myself. I found rejection from him but I found acceptance from a few others which kindled a small flame in my heart.

I broke from that shell in much the same way as I did the other, I evaluated, realized, understood, and moved on to the next stage. I’d realize material goods are nice, but they are not where love is found. I realized that connection is as important to the growth and understanding of myself and others but it wasn’t enough. But what was I missing?

By the time I reached my third “stop” searching for love, I was broken. I had nothing of material value. My mask of makeup had been stripped away. My body had been violated. My spirit was barely breathing. I had but a basic foundation of self. A rudimentary understanding that there was something far more than what I had. I longed for whatever it was. I was disconnected from my body, mind, spirit, and self. I was lost and I knew it.

The next five years allowed me to find what I’d been missing. Out of all the crazy weirdness, I found myself. I’d hidden under the covers of degradation, humiliation, anger, hurt, fears, shame, guilt, and most of all, self-loathing. Through the unconditional love from my friends who saw me, nurtured me, loved me, cleansed me of my clutter, helped lift me up from cowering into standing, I learned to be me.

I felt like a toddler. I took uncertain steps and with coaxing, love, and laughter, I stepped into the sun of Arizona, born of the Phoenix, almost literally. The Painted Desert showed me colors that I knew existed but had never seen before as Stephanie and I passed through the landscape. The smell of Christmas that Flagstaff has all year round filled me with a sense of giving, but Shanna gave me the gift of acceptance of myself. She showed me love every step of the way. Carrie sealed me with a sense of naked belonging. I didn’t have to wear a mask of any kind around her. She adored me. I adored her. We sang the songs of unity, all of us. I learned to rise from the ashes in Arizona.

My testing grounds are my battle grounds I stand on now. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone. I don’t have to answer to anyone but myself. I do anyway, but I don’t have to. I can say no without explanation. I can say yes without reason. I can protect. I can serve. I can pull pranks. I can be everyone I’m supposed to be but on my terms. I’ve had to strip away everything in the ashes of my old life to rise again, but I am quite happy being who I am now.

When I look around at the world through these child-like eyes of mine, I see such beauty that sometimes I weep with joy. I see the smile of a person towards one of their own and the light of gratitude flashes brightly. That’s the light of love. Gratitude. Where there is love, there is gratitude for every little gift given, every glance, every ribbing and inside joke. There is thankfulness in each breath when a loved one is ailing. There is thinkfulness.

There is relief then peace when gratitude is found and met in one’s life. Every day that I’m mindful, I can be thinkful (misspelled on purpose as a hybrid of thankful and thinking): I am grateful for the quiet music in the background. I am thinkful for my visit. I am thinkful for my computer to write this. I am full of gratitude that I’m loved. I am just thinkful that my needs are all met, my body is rested, warm, and full.

Each moment I’m grateful is one that allows me to notice things differently than others because I’m tuned to the gratefulness in my life. It’s similar to breathing in love, breathing out gratitude. In a way it’s like looking for the silver lining in everything, whether perceived as good or bad, like my Uncle taught me so many years ago. Gratitude is the silver lining.