974. I’m not going to be sad any more

My new attitude might have started with a pie which shows how incredibly shallow I am.

GB Prado sent me a pie. Not just a pie. A beautiful pie. It’s not like she has nothing much to do.

I watch her on TV all the time. AND she has a million animals plus a goose.

(Because of her  I got a bee, Howard. I haven’t seen him for awhile but he’s somewhere in my house.)

As busy as she is she sent me a pie. (see pie)


And tonight Julie and Dan are coming over for dinner and I will give them each a sliver of pie.

I know that sounds selfish since Julie has been limping around left and right in an attempt to cheer me up but who am I? Mother Teresa?

My other niece Stephanie called me a little while ago.

Usually she sprinkles her calls with criticism since she’s mean as a snake but today she told me about taking the woman, Eloise, who helps her with her horses out to a fancy lunch and she bought her a bunch of warm clothes.

This woman is such a good person. She saves a loads of animals and is very poor. When Stephanie’s cat died at the vet’s, Stephanie was heartbroken.

The vet asked if she wanted the dead cat and Steph said no.

Eloise went back to the vet and got the cat and buried it on her property. She knew it would make Steph happy and it did.

There is so much good in the world.

Even the death of my little dog won’t bring me  down.

He died in a warm house with a full belly in his sleep. From the time he came off death row to my home he was loved beyond measure.

I’m going to dwell on that and be happy.


I’ve already started rehearsing Bruno Mars’ dance moves from “Uptown Funk”. I should be ready to perform by a week from Tuesday.

And I have pie.


973. I’ll never put quotes around Facebook and Twitter friends again.

It was Christmas Eve. I’m Jewish but Ray isn’t so I gave him a special dinner, you know, out of respect.

It was a Chicken thigh and gravy with some kibble. He gobbled it up.

He and I sat around shooting the shit and watching TV.

I woke up at around 2 a.m. and Ray wasn’t in my bed. He’s always under the covers with me with his hot belly against my leg.

I got up and looked around the house.

No use calling him, he’s deaf as a post.

I looked in all his usual spots. I even went out on the terrace. As most of you know I leave the door open for him in any weather.

He wasn’t there but right outside the door. he had gone to the bathroom. This was a little strange because he always goes in the far corner.

Then I found him sleeping  on the floor  with his back against the couch. Whew!

I figured he might be cold so I got my coat, covered him and went back to bed.

In the morning my sister Marcia called as she always does.

“Funny” i told her “Ray must be still sleeping”

While we talked I walked in the living room and he was where I left him during the night.

I reached down to wake him up and he was ice cold.

“Marcia,” I whispered. ” I think he’s dead.”

“Are you sure? Is he breathing?”

“I don’t think so”

We both started crying.

“What do I do now?”

“Call your Super”

“I can’t do that. It’s Christmas”

“I’ll take him to the Animal Medical Center”

I got dressed, picked my little boy up, wrapped him in a blanket, he was cold and stiff. I put him in his carriage and walked the 6 or 8 blocks to the AMC.

When I went in the door the receptionist asked if it was an emergency.

I had to think for awhile before I said no.

On my was home wheeling the empty carriage I came upon a woman who lives in a box on my street.

I’ve always talked to her. She isn’t very old, maybe in her thirties but she’s very cheerful in spite of her situation.

“Where’s your pup?”

I told her. She put her arms around me and we both started to cry.

I got home and looked outside my terrace door and saw where even while he was dying he did his best not to make a mess in the house.

He was a good boy.

My friends and family all reached out to give me comfort. I guess that’s to be expected.

But the thoughtful messages and kind words from people that I’ve never actually met but feel that I know and know me made me so happy.

I got such warmth from these people. At first I was surprised but then I thought.

I care about them too. I mourn their losses and celebrate their successes.

Who thought at almost 74 I’d be making so many new friends.,

All I can say in answer to the lovely messages is,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.




971 A guest blogger via me.

Just yesterday Julie was saying she can’t thank me enough for my love and dedication to her during this time of trial.

She wanted to be a guest blogger but felt she was too weak to do it justice so she asked me to do it for her.

Remember these are her words not mine.

It’s been over three weeks since my foot surgery and without the devotion and love of my wonderful aunt Mattie I wouldn’t be talking to you now (through her).

Even though she hates to 1.leave her house and 2. leave her dog,  she shows up each day to feed and bathe me.

She’s even made full dinners and lugged them over to my house so that my loving boyfriend and innocent daughter could eat too.

This is no surprise to me. She’s had my back in good times and bad.


She’s always been the “fun aunt”. Here she is dancing with the ice box (I believe they call it a refrigerator now) before I was even born while she was just a teen


Her greatest trait is her willingness to jump right in and do what needs to be done with out even thinking about her needs, be it suffering a debilitating stabbing or various aches and sprains. I believe there was some kind of head wound involved too but since she’s not a complainer I can only guess at that.

She still perseveres suffering in silence while disappointing her beloved pup who each day looks hopefully and the door as if to say “Can I come too Mom?”


“Not this time, my lad. Your cousin Julie needs me and her untrained vicious mutts will make mincemeat of your purebred self.”

At least that’s what I assume she said.

Here’s a picture of one of my dogs trying to eat my foot so she isn’t wrong.

Although nauseated by my purple foot and later the hives I broke out in (Editor’s note: what kind of moron doesn’t mention that they are allergic to penicillin when they’ve had a reaction before?) she nevertheless cared for me always making me feel that it was no bother by reminding me that “There’s no such thing as patient care without a certain amount of gagging”

So for this reason I nominate my Aunt Mattie for Citizen of the Week, nay Year!