Brothers

Hello everybody!  Simon here.  I am sorry I have not written in quite some time, but I have been very busy runnin things around here.  My moms is fixin up our house so's we can move into our other house and sell this one and then we's gonna move AGAIN, but this time will be to Florida, where I will get to have my awesome alligator gang, so I'm looking forward to that.  Anyways, I also got in some sorta scuffle and had to get stitches, which is NOT awesome, but I'm all better now and writin to you folks.

I been thinking, what should I write about?  Ain't nothin real fun goin on around here lately.  I ain't had no big trips or nothin.  My mom has been givin me this new fish oil on my food on account my friend Crepes also gets it, and so props to Crepes's mom Alana for suggestin it.  I love it!  I hope my coat gets super silky, although I always look awesome.

Anyway, I noticed the internet is all abuzz about Yadier Molina, and on account he's my favorite baseball player, I read the story.  Apparently, he left some peanut butter crackers on home plate for his brother Jose, who is also a catcher, but he plays for a different team, the Tampa Bay Rays.  I thought to myself, well ain't that nice of him!  But then the people were readin all kinds of things into why he did that, and they went on and on like a buncha chickens.  All I can think is that people got too much time if they's just going to sit around and talk about why a guy would give his brother crackers!

Yum!

Yadier and his brother, Jose, my heroes!

Me and my brother, Griffin

My brother Griffin always shares his crackers with me, and so really, we's a lot like the Molina brothers.  I'm real happy I get to have my brother.  We don't play baseball but we love to spend most of our time together, and if we had to play on different baseball teams, I would totally appreciate if he left me some crackers on home plate.  I would still catch better and kick his team's ass, but I would be lovin me some crackers, and then we'd go to the local waterin hole after the game and talk about how awesome I played baseball and how he wasn't so bad himself, too bad he got on a crappy team!  Hahahaha.  I crack myself up.

Love Simon

The King Is Dead

Yesterday, Rainy and I took Paco to the vet and had him euthanized.  He went very fast and we took him home and buried him next to his sister.  Looking through pictures later, we realized he's been gone for months already.  Our sweet, shy black cat has been pacing with fixed pupils since at least around the time Isabel died, no longer able to jump up on the table and steal our food with one extended claw or go outside to play with his brothers.  Once again, I am grateful that I had the ability to give him some peace and let his soul loose from his broken mind and body.  But I'm done.  I can't do this again, not for a long time. Everyone else has to at least make it to Florida and some years past that.  In the last 3 years, I have buried my father, the kittens I loved for 16 years, and the boxer who stole my heart.  Enough.  Enough already.

My sweet Paco, enjoying a concrete back scratch in the sun, 2004

Reading the mail

Snuggling with Mama Rainy

The best thing I ever did for Paco was give him his Mama Rainy

Bruce was Paco's favorite dog

These 2 yahoos, stealing my food

Paco "working" in his office that he shared with his Mama Rainy

This was taken right after Rainy and I moved in together.  Paco loved his final home.

Paco, I hope your soul has woken up in The Meadow this morning and that you are with your papa and your grandpa and you are happy and warm and young again.  You took a piece of my heart with you, take good care of it for me.
Love, your grateful mom

Life Keeps Playing

My buddy Alana just reminded me that I haven't done a blog post in a long time.  I know, I know.  But Casa de Tribe Atherton has taken some hits, and when I did have time to write, I just didn't have the heart.  Isabel died.  Her brother Paco's health has been declining rapidly.  And then our beloved Max died.  Our big, goofy, happy boxer boy left us, just like that.  The vet said he had ruptured tumors on his spleen, tumors that our mobile vet couldn't even feel a couple months earlier.  We barely even had time to give him medication to make his transition easier before he died.  It was terrible and we miss our boy so much that this is all I'm going to say about it.

We love you, sweet boy.

Since that terrible day, we've watched Paco decline more and more--first the vet said he was blind, then the eye vet said his problems were cognitive, not visual.  The only way to know if he has a brain tumor, which is the most likely diagnosis at this point, is to do an MRI, and then what?  We put our 16 year old cat on chemo/radiation?  No thanks.  So we call Paco "Tiburon" now (spanish for shark) while he paces endlessly around the house, and we give him hugs and kisses, and we wonder if we'll know definitively when the right time is to help him die, or if he'll leave on his own.  

This is life with multiple elderly pets.  I saw it coming when Isabel's tumors showed up, that we could lose 3 of our family members in the span of a few months.  But Jesus, none of us is guaranteed any time on this earth, and I wouldn't give one second back of life with my loved ones to avoid the pain of losing them.  I mean that.  It's the price to pay for joy, the losing of it.  And some time goes by, and the wounds heal a little, and life keeps playing its song, and we keep dancing to its beat.

More joyful posts to follow.

Love,

Julie