The Never-ending Song

This is my daughter's story to tell. Maybe someone reading it knows what was happening?   From: Terry Leahy Tue, Jun 30 at 10:09 AM I  just witnessed the most amazing, bizarre scenario! My little pond has 4 resident frogs who like to take up stations on the rock ring around the pond in the 12, 3, 6, 9 o'clock positions. I have wondered at this - is it maximizing space between them, thus decreasing competition for flies in the area, or...?   This AM, three of the frogs were in their places and the 4th was still in the water. Anyway, one of the lovey doves (a pair of sweetly peach-toned mourning doves who live here) attempted to lean in to drink when a splash from the water startled it into the air a bit and it attempted to light a small distance away when the frog LEAPED OUT OF THE POND ATTEMPTING TO GRAB THE DOVE!!   The frog being half the size of the dove - what could be behind that

There are many animal behaviorists who will tell you that animals do not grieve for the lost master or an animal companion.  Perhaps some may not.  Circumstances,  such as what happens to them immediately following the loss, can create differing senarios.   For example, the dog, immediately introduced to a new home, may not have time to wonder where the previous owner has gone or why he was removed from his familiar surroundings. Instead he adjusts to the new environment.  That is his means of survival. Human grieving is for the most part  the sense of loneliness, missing the voice, the presence, the warmth, the loss of the familiar and dear. Why couldn't it be the same for the dog or cat who waits at the door for their person to come in?  Are they simply put out because the person is late-forgotten to fill the bowl?  They do not understand death  as humans do.  As far as we know, they do not hope for eternal life.   Whatever our religious leaning, we humans all have some e

Sylvia's family has been emptying the apartment.  They gave away the porch lounge chair that has been Ginger's choice of a place to rest since the hot weather arrived and the little winter cabin became too warm for her comfort.  For several nights Ginger sat beneath the remaining porch chair, not in it, (it is hard plastic where the lounge was soft and padded.) Last evening she went to Sylvia's door and howled like a tom cat.  I have never heard Ginger make sounds like that.  Then she finally went into the bushes between our apartments and settled herself in a bed there.  During the night she got up on my bedroom windowsill.  The sill is quite wide, made of brick.  My window is open a few inches so she can sniff noses with Susie through the screen. Then the rain began.  So I let her come inside my apartment. She curled up on a chair and slept.  After eating breakfast, though it was still raining quite steadily, she wanted out. Back to Sylvia's door--more meowing

Sylvia and I had talked many times about dying, making plans to leave instructions and things in order for our children.  These were not morbid conversations.   They were just us, sharing our thoughts on how to make our leaving when the time was up, easier for those left behind. Sylvia flew way on angel's wings yesterday about noon.  It went exactly as she had planned.  Her daughter, Shari, the closest to her of the six children, visited for an hour that morning.  Then as Shari was driving home, only a few minutes after leaving Sylvia's bedside, her cell phone rang.  The nurse told Shari that her mother had just died.  Just exactly as Sylvia wished--to say goodbye and die quietly alone.  Neither of us wanted our family to see the end.  We hoped for the chance to tell them we love them--to say "goodbye for now."  Seems it has all worked out for Sylvia just as she planned.  The tears that trickle down my cheeks are not for Sylvia, they are for myself.  For how

When I was growing up it seemed every time I did something a bit different, be it good or bad, I was told it was just a stage. As a teenage girl, changing boyfriends often, I was again told it was a stage.  Going to college, I wanted to be a Veterinarian, (girls did not choose that field back then) so it was just another stage.  "You like medicine?  Be a nurse like your Mother.", Dad said.  And I am quite certain he figured i would soon give up the desire to be a Vet since it was just a stage I was going through.  Married and expecting my first baby, my mood swings were pretty extreme, hopping from anger to tears in a second.  Once again --the dreaded "stage".  Stages have followed me all my life, through decision making , career choice, empty nesting, ,  menopause and now apparently, old age.  I was thinking I was simply an older woman with normal desires and opinions.  However, it seems that once again, I am going through a stage. I am living in a place I would