November Nonsense – The Riley Files

It’s a perfect Friday night.

Catie’s farting and Mom’s drinking a hot buttered rum because it’s a gazillion degrees below zero outside (not that I care, mind you; I’m pretty tough) and she insists the cinnamon stick in the drink will help freshen the air.

Me? I’ve just finished shredding Mom’s new slippers that she wore three times since bringing them home. They have (had) all this fluffy stuff on the inside and suede on the outside and, besides, Mom won’t stop listening to Josh Groban. It’s a protest destruction. You see, Josh makes her cry but she listens to him anyways. She says it’s because he has such a beautiful voice. I don’t get it though – if something makes you cry like a baby why would you keep playing it?

Over and over and over again.

Go figure.

Catie’s doing well except for the unrelenting gas. I have to say – and remember I have super powerful old factory senses – she’s pretty stinky. Not sure what’s going on there. Everyone in the household has begged her to please stop.

Catie is oblivious to human entreaties and my barking. She thinks she can do whatever she wants now because she’s 7.

Just wait until I turn 6 next month!

The sudden cold weather has meant the Weather Channel is once again Mom’s favourite channel and it’s on pretty much 24/7. When Mom leaves for work in the morning she’s scary unrecognizable in a big ugly down-filled coat she keeps promising to replace, and she’s strangled under scarves and has the exact same look on her face she has right now listening to Josh.

You can see why I’m confused.

That’s it for now. Mom looks like she’s ready to turn in – it’s almost 9:30 PM (yes, bedtime gets earlier and earlier). Time to do my job and warm up the bed for her.


Disclaimer:  Even though Mom’s been a slacker about blogging, she wouldn’t have let me write any of this if it hadn’t been for the hot buttered rum. It’s true.

Giving birthday thanks

In the sleepy town of Redwater, Alberta – 30 minutes northeast of Edmonton – a litter of golden, jostling, joyful puppies was born on November 3, 2003 to Myvic Nobel Golden Buddy and Myvic My Chuchuk.

One of them was Lady Caitlin Galadriel.

And that would be our Catie.

This is a milestone of jubilant, unbelievable proportions. Back in January of this year, I didn’t think Catie would see another birthday. Truly, I didn’t. I cried a lot back then.

I am choked with gratitude today though, because here we are, almost nine months after a diagnosis of bone cancer and amputation, the three of us – Catie, Riley and me – as we should be. Catie and Riley, right now, smudge their noses with earnest curiosity against the window and watch the street lights timidly flicker and finally hold steady against the evening darkness.

I know they know it’s time for the hares to return. They spotted one just the other night, a mottled brown-and-white creature who brazenly taunted them from the flower bed in the front lawn. Its presence caused quite a brouhaha and I don’t know that I’ll ever get rid of all the barking spittle on the glass.

I just want to say I’m thankful for so many, many things right now.

I’m grateful for the friends I have on this site, even though I haven’t – yet – met any of them face-to-face. The genuine hearts and souls, rich with generosity and empathy, tears and laughter, are woven in and throughout every story of every journey of every Tripawd and their families.

There is simply – and I say this with the utmost sincerity – so much GOOD here.

I’m grateful for each day and each moment.

I’ve learned that from Catie and Riley.

I’m thankful for them.

Happy 7th birthday, dear Catie Caitlin. It’s time to party.

If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember. you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we’re apart.. I’ll always be with you.

Winnie the Pooh