For the last few months, I've been a high raw vegan. I've also eliminated grains, wheat, gluten, oil, nuts, sugar (sugar that occurs in food is ok), alcohol, and of course almost all cooked food. I incurred an ankle injury that happened much longer ago than I'm willing to admit, but didn't take care of things as I should have. Eventually I found myself barely able to walk, with a constant altered gait, in such severe pain that every aspect of my life was being impacted. Although I eventually sought medical care, conventional medicine completely failed me. I took matters into my own hands, or rather my own kitchen. With this temporary lifestyle adjustment along with a regimen of herbs, supplements and enzymes, I'm on the road to healing. Although I haven't yet taken back with running, I'm out of all braces, boots, and casts, have tossed all medication to the curb, and am cycling every day, sometimes 20 miles. This isn't about perfection (I'm high raw, not all raw), if there's something I really want I'll go for it, but that's very rare, as quite simply nothing tastes as good as healthy feels.
Our dear friend, Pop, has
left this Earthly realm and passed on to whatever comes next.
Through the years I have
written about Pop for you…. Including how we met. I wrote about when Pop left
the Keys, including we happy vegans swift visits up and back to see him after
he moved. Whether you met him or not, you knew about him if you read the blog,
or keep up with us on Facebook in our on line community. And, if you read about
him, you probably loved him. Strike the world probably…. You loved him.
In Pop’s world anything
worth doing was worth doing himself. Mattered not it might take 10 times as
long at his advanced age, his work ethic was as solid as it was when he was
young. Many people offered a helping hand to him for chores and such, but the
typical response would be “no thank you, I want to do it myself.” Case in
point, the day we met.
I was new down here and hadn’t
met many (any?) neighbors, and had no friends. I was homesick, missing my
family, missing my friends and everything that I knew and was comfortable with.
I was also coping with frequent thoughts that I had made a huge mistake moving
here. Driving down the street one morning I saw an elderly man at the edge of
the road with large trash buckets full of cut up giant palm fronds. He had big
trimmers with him, and was wearing a white fishing style hat. He was stooped
over the buckets, drenched in sweat. It was summertime, maybe July or August,
and was sweltering out. I noticed there was no one else around, he had no
walker, no wheelchair nor cane, just one old man and a mission. I stopped, told
him my name, that I was his new neighbor, and asked if he needed any help.
Mosquitoes were all over him, but he seemed unfazed as the sweat dripped off his
face. With a wry smile he said something about my “perfect timing” asking where
was I an hour ago, as he was just finished. I was mortified, thinking he was
serious, and I was embarrassed thinking he’s right, no person of his age should
be doing the work he was doing. Next thing I knew, he busted out laughing as he
saw the look of shame and horror on my face.
I had a new friend, a new
friend with a wicked sense of humor.
We forged our friendship
as I baked him too many muffins to count, fed him too many pancakes to count,
and drove too many miles up and back over the 7 Mile Bridge with him to ever
really know.
Pop was a man of devout
faith, and he drew on that well through his whole life to get through some
exceptionally difficult times. Don’t be fooled by his never ending smiles that
he got to be 106 years on this Earth without a hefty chunk of hard times. He
outlived his wife, a son, and other family members he loved dearly. He lost too
many friends to count through his life. He saw the world change in ways people
like me cannot imagine.
Pop and I had truthfully
had more differences than similarities, not just a generation between us, but
several generations. Despite all that, we connected and always found a middle
ground, more often than not because of Pop’s efforts. Pop didn’t want to talk
about the “old days” quite the contrary. He wanted to talk about sports,
politics, religion, food, nature, and the wonderful road we lived on. Pop had a
great love of sports (he was a star athlete in his younger days, and set a pole
vaulting record), including basketball and football. He was involved in many
sports, but never played football. Long ago, I asked why he never played
football being that he loved the game so much.His response… “Mother didn’t want me to, she said it was too dangerous.”
Pop spoke so lovingly of his mother, the food she cooked, lessons she taught,
and so much more. He lived by her wisdom to the day he died. He told me a few
of her lessons were “eat a good breakfast to start your day right, do a puzzle
every day to keep your mind fresh, exercise daily, and always say your
prayers.” I can recite exactly what Pop would have for breakfast every day,
tell you that he did a jumble every morning, did his leg, arm and hand
exercises every single day, and prayed like no one else I’ve ever known.
Pop was as much a good
student as he was a good teacher.
Most likely Pop's strong ability to be a goal setter came from his mother in one way or another. She herself lived to be 104, and Pop had a goal to make it to "at least" 104. Another checkmark crossed on Pop's life list.
After Pop had given up
driving, his son gave him a golf cart so he could continue to visit friends on the street, and maintain independence in theyard he so lovingly tended to. There were quite a few golf cart rides
before a regulator was installed. Pop would go tearing off down his driveway at
full throttle “PEDAL TO THE MEDAL” as he left scorched Earth behind. I was on
quite a few of those scorched Earth rides before the other happy vegan thought
it would be best to install that regulator. At the same time, the other happy
vegan surprised Pop with a supercharged duel air horn on the cart, holy bananas
was that thing loud. Pop LOVED it! He’d go riding up and down the street laying
on that horn to say hello to all his friends. He also blew that horn every morning on his way out to water "his birds" at the fountain so, as he would say, we'd all know "I'm still here!" On one of our crazy rides when
the cart was still supercharged with speed and horn, we happened to pass some
poor soul who had stopped in an empty lot to make a phone call. Pop’s vision wasn’t
the best, all he saw when we passed at full throttle with air horn constantly
blaring was a raised hand in the air. Being that Pop only saw the good in
people, he was certain that was a “hello” wave (it wasn’t, trust me) so he
blasted the horn even more, it was truly absolutely hilarious. All this while
he was rasping out “PEDAL TO THE METAL! PEDAL TO THE METAL! PEDAL TO THE
METAL!!!!!!”
So. Much. Fun.
Pop and I watched some
sports together, not too much as he knew I didn’t appreciate sports the same as
he did, although I surely could watch a baseball game or two, especially
Yankees. I learned much more about golf from Pop than I ever thought I could
stand, as he was a huge golf aficionado. When he moved to the Keys, he became a
member at Sombrero Country Club, continuing to continue to satisfy his long
love of the game. He had several holes in one during his life as well, I think
his last hole-in-one was at Sombrero at around age 92 or so. Pop had friends
who are in the pro circuit, and also knew others through his friends. We’d watch
more golf than anything else, as he’d tell me who he was rooting for and what
the connection was for him. He also took no prisoners when they were shooting a
crappy game, and felt genuine happiness for them when they played very well.
Pop and I didn’t agree on
religion either, maybe I disappointed him on that but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead
he gently told me that he’d pray for me anyway. He’s the only person in my life who could get
away with that. Every conversation ended with a blessing from him, along with
an I love you.
Pop was my biggest food
fan, and best food critic. He would try anything I ever made, so long as it was
something that wasn’t too spicy or too fancy (“honey, I like my food plain.”) He
had a sweet tooth as big as his smile, and would never turn down a cupcake, a
muffin, or any other sweet from me. Probably the only people I’ve met in my
life who had a love of chocolate greater than my own were my father, and Pop. Each
time I went into research and development for a new product, he was my first
taste tester. He may have liked his food simple, but that doesn’t mean he
didn’t know good food. His most requested items from me? “Chocolate cake honey,
with a side of kisses” (especially for his birthdays), “muffins please, with
extra nuts,” and “those blueberry muffins honey, yes please, they’re my
favorite, they’re the best.”
On our last visit up to
visit Pop a short couple months ago, I baked some cookies that were actually a
recipe from his mother. Pop and I talked about food a lot through the years. Before
he left he told me I could have any recipe I wanted out of his recipe box. I
sorted through them all, some in his own careful lettering, some in his beloved
wife’s hand, and others written by people I didn’t know. I took the recipes I
wanted, but left those that had personal notes I thought his family would enjoy
reading and left the ones I really could not veganize. Once, after I had all the recipes, we were
talking about them. I mentioned his ginger cookie recipe, saying it looked like
a really great recipe. He said “that’s a good one honey, a really good one.” After
he moved, I veganized that “good one.” They came out absolutely perfect on the
first try. I packed them up and took them on a plane with me for our visit.
Also in my bag with the ginger cookies were all the components for a tiny
birthday cake I was going to present to him on the same visit. I wrote about
that visit on this blog, not realizing it was the last time I would ever see
Pop face to face, yet acutely aware odds were not in our favor for many (any?)
visits after that. I will never forget the look on his face as he bit into that
first ginger cookie, he was so happy. He said something along the lines of
“perfect honey, just like I remember from mother.” He and his son reminisced
about mother over more ginger cookies while I snuck into Pop’s new kitchen and
assembled the tiny chocolate birthday cake. It was a couple weeks shy of his
real 106th birthday, but it didn’t matter. I had made my best
chocolate cake, my best chocolate ganache, my best chocolate frosting then packed
everything with a sleeve of bright rainbow sprinkles. I had carefully wrapped
and packed special “#106” candles to top the cake. I lovingly filled, frosted
and decorated that cake in his shiny new kitchen, silently wondering if I would
be given the privilege of preparing a #107 cake, hoping desperately that so it
would be. When I finished the cake, I lit the candles, and marched into his dining
room where he, his son, a few other close family, and the other happy vegan
were. We sang happy birthday, hugged, and snapped a few pictures before Pop got
down to business of sawing through cake, ganache and frosting. Those are the
last pictures Pop and I took together.
Pop went through a lot,
and although he would be frustrated by the limitations his 106 year old body
would sometimes have, he always kept his game face on. He wanted to keep doing
everything himself, but bodies simply sometimes do not cooperate when we get to
a certain age. So, we went from shopping outings together, to me doing
shopping. We went from me taking him for haircuts, to haircuts being done at
home, or someone physically stronger than me taking him out, just in case he
needed more help than I could give. Through the years there were other changes
too, but two things that never changed were our visits, and Pop’s golf games.
About those golf games.
Pop had a second family
within the Sombrero Country Club. Even after he gave up the game in his 90s, he
still continued to run the twice weekly “Pop’s group” games for the other
players. He did this without a calculator. This was no small task, at times
those groups had upwards of 60 players. His clipboard…. well, let’s just say it
was tattered and had A LOT of ink stains. The players and the members at the
club looked out for Pop. They helped him around if he needed it, while those
games and those people gave him something to look forward to every Tuesday and
Thursday. Games got him out of the house, and got him to spend time with those
dear friends of his. He’d sit on his cart out on the course on hole #8 and
needle the players. They’d give him food to take home, and stories to tell me
on the ride back. He loved them, and they loved him right back.
Pop was a proud man who loved his family, his country, his community, and his friends. He loved the Florida Keys, and loved where he lived. Pop would wait for me in his dining room chair so he could wave at me as I passed by on my runs. I’d see his silhouette in the window. Sometimes I’d dash up his driveway for a quick visit on the way up or back. Pop was always still waiting at that same table, in his chair, to wave at me through his giant picture window as I passed his house on the way back home. Sometimes I’d do ridiculous things like a spazzy roadside dance, silly fake Irish jigs, blow kisses from the street, or run up to that giant window of his and holler through the glass “thanks for waiting, I love you!” before I dashed backwards down his driveway, waving the entire time until we were out of each other’s sight.
So now Pop is gone. Over
the last few days I have been thinking about a lot of different things
connected with Pop. I’ve been thinking about the wisdom he imparted, lessons he
taught me without me even realizing school was in session. I know people seek
to find themselves. Too many think they cannot do this without going to some
exotic country, without climbing a mountain across the world, or without paying
bundles of money to hear someone else explain to them how they too can “find
themselves.” I will have none of that for myself, my own guru was 4 doors down,
sat on a golf cart that happened to have a supercharged air horn, and savored
every day like no one else I know. Pop had the wisdom of the ancients which he dished
out with the simplicity of the Amish. He truly was the wisest person I have
ever met. Pop could get people who had NOTHING in common to laugh together, and
have a mutual respect. Pop built roads for people like no one else. He would
not dwell on people’s missteps, he would not dwell on negativity. He believed
in the inherent good of all humanity, all people, and he believed that the
power of love could conquer anything.
Our world has lost a very
special human being, one of great love, great forgiveness, great kindness, and
great empathy. Pop had great concern for those dealing with hunger, and was
very generous with his time and raised money at the golf club tournaments, which
he always donated to the food bank. He would donate to the missions in Miami as
well. He was a man of modest means, but he found a way to make things better
for so many people in dire straits.
Shortly before Pop died,
both of us happy vegans had a conversation with Pop, a goodbye conversation. He
knew, and we knew, the purpose of that call. It’s something in all my years I
never had to do before. He counseled me to not be sad, we said what we wanted
to say, and then within what seemed like either seconds or forever, the talk
was over.
On the day Pop died, we
happy vegans spoke with him. He wasn’t able to talk back, but his son held that
phone up to his ear so he could hear us as we again told him how much we loved
him. The passing of Pop leaves a void in the lives of so many that will never
be filled. While it is true that he lead a rich full life, we mortals are left
behind without him. No chocolate crumb covered guru on the golf cart offering
advice in a raspy cheerful voice, no guru savoring the smell of a fresh cup of
coffee, no guru offering his famous “you rascal!” to everyone passing by.
Our deepest condolences go
out to Pop’s family, and everyone who loved him. He had so many angels in his
life that helped him live the life he wanted and deserved. He retained his
independence for almost his entire 106 years, we should all be as fortunate. He
was doted on and adored by many, including after he left the Keys. He had a
beautiful last Christmas with family where he was, and was appreciated for the
living legend that he was. It’s hard to imagine going forward without his
larger than life presence. It’s hard to imagine a birthday of his passing
without “chocolate cake honey, with a side of kisses.” It’s hard to imagine a
lot of things now, but we have no choice. Pop’s simple guidance would remind me
“we have to press on.”
For years I sat next to a
sage who listened to my woes, celebrated my successes, and guided me through
this scary, beautiful, cruel, magnificent world. He was a living reminder of
what really matters, and a giant in not only what he did say, but what he
didn’t say.
I have a lot to be
thankful for in my life, and my friendship with Pop is at the top of that list.
He became my first friend down here, and remained a stable force in my life
from our very first meeting. I will be eternally grateful for that, as well as
to everyone else who helped him along the way live the life he wanted, the way
he wanted.
Pop was a lucky man, and
the world was better with him in it.
Rest in peace great guru
on the golf cart. I will never forget you.
We're still adjusting to life since the loss of Peri. The others are upset, and Lemon especially is battling for dominance, to reclaim the "top cat" position that Peri took when he came on board. We're coping is all I can say.
Season has been exceptionally busy with work and other commitments. At the beginning of this year, I made a goal for a certain amount of miles to run this year. I think I'm on track, despite a couple setbacks including an injured ankle that's been going on 4.5 months recovery now, and all the other obstacles that life throws when any of us goal set.
I went out for my daily run today, it was hotter than I expected. I run exclusively on asphalt, that's what we have down here so it's what I am accustomed to. I'm going through a pair of running shoes every 4 weeks, I think that's a decent testimonial to the amount of miles I'm logging regularly. I went out today for 6 miles, figuring no big deal. Only about 1 mile in, I realized it was not going to be one of my better days, that I should dial back my time expectations and just work to finish. While I was out there, I saw dragonflies getting busy (that always makes me laugh when I see them... how is that even possible they DO that?!!!), what I think was a green heron (I'm just not sure, I should go look that up, no?), and then the mosquito chopper made long work of dropping pellets over the Bight. We've had some rain on the overnights and it's brought some mosquito activity as per normal in life. I am always compelled to watch those 'copters when they're working, they fly so incredibly low and so very close to houses and wires. Today I watched the 'copter go almost completely sideways, the blades looked like they would've cut mangroves (no, they didn't), but I did shut the music and listen as he was overhead time and time again. I also saw my first waterspout in a long time. The season is changing. There are some cues down here, it's much more subtle than where I come from (north), but Spring is almost over for us when the purple martins pass through on their migration up north, and entirely over after "Spring fall" which is what we happy vegans refer to when the trees here shed their leaves, and the dogwood trees bloom. The dogwoods have tiny pinkish white petals that fall to the ground, making a beautiful soft blanket that the Key deer gobble up.
Harbinger of summer? I guess today was it.... incredibly hot run with temps or heat index well into the 90s, and seeing my first water spout. By the last mile, the wind had shifted, and the rain which I expected to stay on the North side of the island seemed to be heading my way. The wind brought sweet relief for that last mile, but not enough for me to stop thinking with every step "why why why."
Five bowls, not six. Before, there were six. Now, there are five.
Peri, Mayor of Long Beach, King of the Beach, has crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
There are 5 bowls. It sounds like so many, but my truth is it seems like "only," not "many."
If you met Peri, you knew that he was special. We will agree that ALL animals are special, but sometimes you meet a wise one, an elder shall we say. That was Peri. I think animals are here on Earth to be our teachers. They are here to give us messages, to show us joy, love, compassion. Whether we choose to listen, well that's our personal choice.
Animals live in the present moment, there is no yesterday, no tomorrow, but there IS a now. They don't have the static in their lives that people do, they have the gift of clarity. Peri was always about the people. I think a lot about what was Peri's "job" and it comes down to 2 things. To bring love wherever he goes, and to unite people. He was excellent at both.
I've been thinking, what would I do if I knew today was the last day of my life, how would I spend it? Would I panic, and waste every moment wondering why was this the last day of my life, or instead, could I approach life, my day, THAT day, as Peri did?
How did Peri approach life? Well, pretty much just like the last full day of his life.... with absolute joy. Peri was continually fully in the present moment. He was not one to let an opportunity pass. In addition to that, he couldn't get enough adoration and worshipping, this is an absolute fact. If he wasn't getting what he needed, he'd simply move on to the next person waiting in a lounge chair, walking down the beach, or where ever else someone would be.
I remember a few years ago we had a commercial shoot here. I forget what it was for because through the years we've had several shot here for different things. This was a big shoot, trailers rolled up with actors, wardrobe changes, huge cameras and all that went with that stuff. Of course Peri had to check it ALL out. It was absolutely hilarious watching the antics going on as they were shooting scene after scene, while Peri would photo-bomb the whole thing. In the end, we had to pick him up and remove him from the equation (time is money in commercial shooting so we learned). Of course, he did win the hearts of those involved with the shoot anyway. Teeny paw prints in the fresh raked sand between takes.
Back to the "last day" thoughts. Peri, on what turned out to be one of the last days of his life was taken for a beach walk on his leash. Not unusual, we made our best effort to get him out there every day. He was thrilled as always, just like it was his first time out there. He would skittle down the steps (we had to move quickly to keep up!) sniff around the deck, then head left so he could scratch "his" rope. Next, he'd decide if he would go more left or right. To the left, his favorite patch of sea oats, to the right his favorite patch of blue flowers. That day, he turned right.... he went to the seaweed and sniffed, then flopped down making himself as long as possible and soaked up every ray of sunshine he could grab. After enough of that, he got up and began his stroll down beach. To a beach chair... sniff sniff, lay down, sprawl and soak. Up on the move again.... to the small sea oat patch on the right.... sniff sniff... then getting down low and sneaking inside them so he couldn't be seen (except for the leash leading into this spot, so cute!) Next thing I knew, he was on the move again....to his blue flowers. The blue flowers weren't blooming, but, there he went into the large, green unblooming patch anyway. Flop, right in the middle of them. His nose went up in the air to smell.... the sea, the sand, the sky. He watched birds nearby and made 2 halfhearted (still leashed) lunges for them. Did the same with some butterflies nearby. He got up and walked onto the sand towards the seaweed. He didn't go to the weed line, instead he stopped shy of there. He sat down, all regal. He stared at the ocean. He sniffed, and looked at the beautiful sky, then back to the sea. He just stared at his ocean after that, like he was surveying everything, that everything was his, and he was everything. He was connected, fully present. Looking back now, I think he knew his time was short, a secret he wouldn't reveal. If only we had known, what would we have done differently? I suppose nothing realistically, but I do imagine that I'd never have fallen asleep, so I would never miss another moment with him for whatever time was left.
Peri, in "his" blue flower patch, at a time when they were blooming.
I celebrated the miracle of Peri with every breath. He had this "thing" he would do with me every morning. As soon as he knew I was awake, he would stride up to the top of my pillow, and do a combination of sniffing and purring on me that made such a unique sound. It would only be that moment every day, never going to sleep, never relaxing, nothing else.... just that very moment when he first noticed my open eyes. Sometimes after the sniff/purr he would spin around a few times to get comfy and plop down, other days he would stroll to the edge of the bed, jump down and meow. The message was clear on those days "get up, I want something." And, so I would.
The mornings Peri would plop down were dangerous. I would touch his soft fur, breathe in his familiar smell, and just be with him. The other happy vegan would come in sometimes 2 or 3 times trying to drag me up to work.... time to make muffins, flip pancakes, saute vegetables, or some other task required as an innkeeper. It was hard to leave him there, happy and purring. Content. In the present moment. Telling me to be and do the same.... to follow his lead.
Today I am living a present moment with only 5 bowls. All those sayings "he's in your heart" yes, I know, and I say them too. But, he's not. I cannot touch his fur, hear his rumbling, watch his play, or be with him.
If someone were to ask me, I would describe Peri as fearless, fierce, honest, outspoken, devoted, loving, graceful, persistent, classy, elegant and wise. He knew what he wanted, and knew how to get it. There was no language barrier with Peri, he taught all of us Peri-speak. He wanted to experience as much as he could. He was a sun-worshipper to the very end, loved to eat, loved to play, and loved staying up all night during full moons. He loved to sleep in the hammock, make new friends, break down barriers, and do his best to teach those he could how to live simply, with gratitude in one's heart. Despite all that good, he was never one to back down from a fight (he defended his territory without fail, I even saw him tangle with a snake once -- non poisonous, yup the snake retreated). He was a warrior, and knew how to defend all that was his.
There is such a hole in my heart that it is a physical pain. I will never forget Peri, anyone who knew him could never forget him either.
Sometimes out of the corner of my eye, I think I still see him. If only.
As I feed the 5, I am silently counting for 6.
Rest in peace Peri. Mayor of Long Beach. King of the beach.
Today IS indeed Valentines Day. This holiday certainly has some sketchy (and apparently bloody!), beginnings, yet it's morphed into a retailers dream (or a consumer's nightmare, depending which side of things you're on).
I've never been a fan of this holiday. I sometimes was alone and made to feel lonely, that perhaps I was damaged or broken since I was not sharing my life (or even a pizza) with someone on February the 14th. Not all years were like that, and now I feel happy to help make special memories for people who come here to celebrate the ordinary, the extra-ordinary and holidays in their lives.
But, where am I going with all this? To a love story, of course.
Love comes in many forms, and creeps up when least expected. What, and who, we devote ourselves to is the single most personal choice we will make in our lives (I think). It may change though the years with who we are with, or what we allow ourselves to grow into, but love stories will always exist.
It has been said that animals do not love us, they fall IN love with us. I believe it. I also think it's reciprocated more than humans will admit, that we too fall in love with our animals.
I have shared my life with animals since I was pretty small. The first cat I remember as a pet was a tiny black cat named Ely. I don't remember much about Ely, he used to hide under our house by crawling into an access hole under a porch. He would come out for dinner, but he didn't really want to be around me, or anyone else. In spite of all that, I adored him, and was completely infatuated with him. He was one of a laundry list of animals that have come and gone in and out of my life.
In 2014, I fell in love with a speck of fur now famously known as Princess Glitter FancyPants. I have written about how she showed up here one night almost exactly 1 year ago. How she was howling so loudly that her cries woke me up in the middle of the night (she outside, me inside). I wrote about how when I went outside to see what was wrong, why was a cat crying in the middle of the night, how she jumped off the ground into my arms (no easy feat considering how tiny she is) and how she was so gnarled with matted fur my first thought was that she was covered in tumors. Underweight. Filthy. Crying. Hungry. Thirsty. Desperate. That's how I found her. What I thought would only be a bowl of food and some comfort has turned out to be another of the great loves in my life.
Princess was thrown away. I know it, the other happy vegan knows it, our vet knows it, and the person who did it knows it. How horrible that people do such terrible deeds to the innocents of the world. She probably endured some pretty big hardships and has some pretty big secrets. Despite this, she was quick to trust me, and fall in love with me. Both she and I were in deep, all too quickly.
She is smart, quick witted, agile, determined, loving, comforting, curious, funny and kind. She is one of the most stubborn cats I've ever known. She has one of the softest coats on any animal I've ever felt, and is the first cat with long hair I've ever known too. It's hilarious watching her as she grooms, her fur is so long she tries to back up from it as she cleans.
That little speck of fur has changed my life and over the last 11 months been a driving force in my life as I continue to evaluate how is the best way for me to be an advocate for animals.
With this little speck of fur, I have surrendered to complete unconditional love. I am very patient with her, and I do my best to imagine what goes through her head to understand her complicated little self. If I could harness just a fraction of the patience, tolerance and love that I feel for Princess towards human beings, I know I could move mountains. For some reason, I am unable to really do the same completely with human beings. I am frustrated and impatient with society and the world, but not with animals. I am completely and totally at peace when animals are involved and I think I have more clarity as well. Is it possible that they are giving me this as a gift, I don't know, maybe.
My love story is about the animals. It's my whole life. I have been privileged to share my life with them, so far, for almost all my years on Earth. I cannot imagine a day without animals around me. Without animals in the world, things wouldn't mean the same to me, I wouldn't work as hard as I do to make the world better, and I might be a very hopeless person. Instead, everyday I receive a gift of love, hope, compassion, joy, laughter, sometimes pain and so much more, all from the animals.
I think if there ever was a worthy love, and worthy story, in my life, its only because of the animals.
Happy Valentines Day.
PS: to the other happy vegan, my dear one, yes I love you too... but I also know you understand me about the animals. For that I love you.
Peri, Pirate Style, courtesy of Panda With Cookie on Etsy!
This entry is about Peri. I've waited quite a while to write about this because I wanted to make sure everything would turn out ok. Since I'm now writing, you can keep reading because it means everything is ok. It's been a long road.
Peri has had 2 major surgeries in the last few months. We noticed something was amiss and took him for consultation with our wonderful veterinary group. Upon exam and labs, we learned what it was, and it was very serious. We had decisions to make, including surgery as an option. Removal of 1 eye was recommended. We thought we'd go for the seeming less invasive choice first which was indeed major surgery but not eye removal.
The first surgery was not a success. The disease was still with him after that surgery, and due to other issues, he was no longer able to fully close his eye. We were advised to give him some time to heal as hopefully he would be able to close the eye in due course. But, in the interim....
The interim was horrible. He needed several kinds of drops everyday, was on medication to stop any possible infection and forced to wear a cone of bravery, for days and then weeks. We would take that blasted cone off, he hated it so much, and let him rest with us without it as much as possible. But we could not leave him unattended for even a moment without it. After a few weeks, he had about 3 good days, and then bam.... things took an even bigger turn for the worse. He got an ulcerated eye, and that meant even more different kinds of drops and creams.
It was torture, he hated the drops, hated the medication, hated the cone, and of course he ultimately became extremely depressed. It was an awful time. Don't ever think for a moment that it's untrue when I say either of us happy vegans would have traded places with Peri to take his pain away and make him whole. We love him that much. That is what you do for family, but it's not physically possible. If we could've, we would've.
All through this time, we were shuttling him back and forth for follow ups, and even a few house calls were made by our wonderful vets as well. We are so lucky to have Marathon Veterinary Hospital as the professionals for our companion animals.
We had to decide what to do. He had disease remaining, he had an eye that was not functioning due to ulceration, he was in pain and he was depressed.
This decision may seem easy to someone reading this, but trust us, it was a very difficult decision. With guidance from Peri's doctors, we made the decision to move ahead for another surgery to have the eye removed. Back to the hospital, inpatient.
Peri had his surgery and it went incredibly well. We got the pathology back, and he has no disease remaining, they got it all. He had a few difficult days with a few things that required a trip back up and resuturing after the first round of stitches were removed, but after that last round of sutures and coning, he is reborn. All sutures are out, the cone is forever gone, and his fur is even mostly grown in. He is playing, eating, running, jumping. He is sleeping in the sun, he is taking his walks outside on the leash, he is allowing the others to finally groom him again, and he is following us wherever we go demanding his treats, soy milk and hugs.
Peri is back to being the Mayor of Deer Run.
This post doesn't talk about the realities of what we went through for the last few months with him, but he endured a lot. We were with him every step of the way with excellent medical care making the best decisions we thought at every step. We're very sorry he has had to have an eye removed, but as Dr. Mader said "animals are extremely adaptable." And, yes they are. Doctor told us that the surgery to remove the eye would be less difficult for Peri than the initial surgery to save the eye, and indeed he was right about that too. It just seemed like the right thing to do and try to save the vision, save the eye.
On a happy side note.... While Peri was in recovery, I was trolling the internet one day and came upon "Panda With Cookie" which is an AWESOME craft site that makes awesome cruelty free, vegan felted items, including CUSTOMIZED ANIMAL ORNAMENTS!!! With a few clicks of the mouse, and a few emails back and forth, we were amazed that a little vegan felted customized Peri ornament showed up in our mailbox just before Christmas. As you may (or may not) recall, I don't celebrate Christmas, but the other happy vegan does. This year, he was not in spirit with Peri's situation, and didn't even want a tree. Then, magically when the Peri ornament arrived, he was up in the attic rummaging for the little tree we keep, throwing on some lights, (organic!) candy canes, and 1 single ornament.... the little Pirate Peri. The tree was complete, the house seemed happier, and Peri was happy to check the tree (and his artsy version!) out every day like clockwork.
Peri is fine. We're searching for a teeny tiny patch to see how he'll like it, because every pirate rightfully has either a patch or a peg leg. Peri's fur has grown in so the peg leg is gone, so the patch it is!
Peri, sweet Peri. Our little pirate, our sweet sweet pirate.
