THE 9'S HAVE IT

It still amaze's me (and I really hate to use that word-"amaze"); wait, I just used my Thesarus and found a better word-"dumbfound" me that after all this time and each and every day that I still think about him and wish we could have that one last conversation.  But, really I do.  Everyday since Sept. 29th, 1986 I have a conversation with him like he was still here.  We could be driving in the car, or sitting at our kitchen table in St. Ann, or Richmond Heights sitting on the front porch watching who would drive up (or down) Ralph Terrace.  Or we could be standing in the driveway having that last game of "catch".  I'd see him do his crazy wind up like Dizzy Dean and tell me watch out, here comes his curve.  Really, he didn't even know how to grip a ball to throw a curve, let alone which way would the stupid ball go. But, it was him in his make shift way of trying to show me that he was something he wasn't. And all I really wanted him to be was himself. Not some corporate exec that made millions of dollars, or a computer geek that could hack his way into the Pentagon, nor even a world class chef. I just wanted him to be what he was the best at-my Dad.

Happy 99th. I love you,
Dan

Hey there, Georgy Girl

I was blessed to meet her 15 1/2 years ago (along with her brother). She was a "crybaby" as it goes when I brought her home.  Always talking, vocalizing something of either her displeasure or happiness.  In the beginning it might have been her displeasure.  Who wouldn't I guess, if they had a dermoid growing out of their eyeball!  My God, this little girl had this tiny hair follicle growing, literally out of her eyeball.  They told me they'd have to do surgery to correct it.  I thought to myself what a start this girl is getting in life having to endure such an intricate surgery.  Alas, one surgery wasn't enough and there were several others that followed with the last one their telling me she may have to just live with it and possibly subsequent eye infections.  However, what ever gods that were following her (I have to believe it was mine) the last surgery corrected it and it was never an issue.  But maybe that was to leave her with this sweet vocalizing whenever I'd go to pick her up, or she'd lay on my pillow, or I'd tap her on her rump; she'd always give this what I call a "scardy kitty" meow.  It was her way of telling me she approved....and whole heartedly.  Or, when she was really pleased, she'd look at me with those big green eyes and give me these gentle staccato meows, almost to say, "please, do that again".

Through the years her and her other two cohorts would always grace my day, either by nonchalantly plastering themselves on the back of the couch or fixating themselves to the pillows.  She was always last to the food bowl, anxiously waiting for the scraps or "spoils" of whatever her brother and friend would leave behind.  Often I would have to garnish her plate with more.  Never did she walk away hungry.

Lately, she made her way to my bed and waited for me to arrive.  Once we were all snuggled in she would again start with those little staccato burps of meow....followed by her incessant purring and would search for my hand to lick and clean.  I'd awaked in the middle of the night to feel her snuggled with her brother against my legs or even atop my hip.  When it was time to eat in the morning, off she (and her brother) would charge down the steps and await the breakfast bell.

Georgy left me yesterday, taken by force greater than her, me, or modern medicine.  It came quickly and without warning-pancreatic cancer.  How is it that these dreaded diseases must adhere themselves to such precious few?  With God's creations that grant us such an undeniable joy, comes such heartache and suffering at the end. For all the happiness and pleasure that they afford us, I would think that when their time came, that God would just have this giant pleasure train that would make it's way into our lives and give a "shout out", "All Aboard" and He would bring them home that way, not with suffering, or pain at the end.

When you have a multiple animal household (as I do), one would think with one gone, that absence wouldn't be felt as much.  WRONG....it becomes more acute!  One becomes so aware of that absence it becomes somewhat unbearable.  I walk into the spare bedroom where she often laid on the bed on top of the pillow (I can still see her hair gracing the cover; the sound of her meow from under the bed when it was time to jump in; her soft gently purr in my closet as I'd get ready for work; and most of all her faint step across my comforter as I tucked away for the night.

Dad, I want you to take care of my little girl....be gentle with her and show her around with "baby steps".  She's shy till you get to know her, and always be ready at bedtime....she'll be right there waiting.

Miss you Georgy!