The day after

A little note I wrote to my family this morning...

well here we are. yesterday went by in a strange blur, but we got through. anabelle went to her friend cassidy's house and pat and i took buzz to the vet. all was so peaceful, and when we sat in the room after he was gone, the only thing missing were his soft snores. he just went to sleep, and dr strobeck sat on the floor with us for awhile while we all talked. he asked if we wanted buzz's paw print, and i said yes of course, how wonderful to capture that big muffin paw on paper! so when we finally left, pat and i went for a bite to eat. the house is full of his presence, and my mind feels so confused that he's not here. like i have to keep reminding myself... last night felt esp sad - no buzz to let out and summon upstairs to bed. and this morning too. anabelle slept later than usual, so i did too because no buzz whining to go out.

it's quiet here without buzzy, but we know we did the right thing, and dr strobeck did not hold back in agreeing. his sparkle was gone, and that was hard to see. pat and i feel like we are ready to leave now - ready to start again. sort of the right ending to a really great adventure.

love, kate

I have now lost a few friends in my life, and today I silently declared that I hate death and all that it means. It's a shame, I know, because life is full of it. And they say that if you make peace with death, life has more meaning. You can appreciate how sweet - and short - life is.

But today I say phoo-eeee.

Buzz, my friend. We have been through a lot together. We have been to many places - Holland's tulip fields, Chicago's city streets, the red rocks of this wild wild west. You have watched me grow up - all the while being the old man soul that you are. Quiet and stubborn, like a rock. I have loved you in a solid way, my steadfast wingman. I have loved the places you have led me and the people you have led me to. But now, before our big move and before the new baby, you have decided that it's your time to slowly exit.

I will miss your squat body, soft but bristly, but most of all I will miss your funny snorts and your soft and even purring. When I wake at night to roll over, I will miss that snoring. It's the background music that means all is well, that I can turn over and fall back to sleep.

You are and always will be my first baby - the one who taught me how to care for someone besides just my silly, young 23 year old self.

Fare thee well, my old friend.

And thank you for all that you have given me.

* * *

"It's been a wonderful journey. We were magic together, for we saw each other with ancient eyes... we made it sweet fun for each other."

-The Shaman Bulldog, A Love Story

by Renaldo Fischer

Done. and done.

Life is so very busy so for now I'll keep it simple and just show you what I've been up to: