Tag Archives: death

Happy Kitty

Missy Two Shoes Died Today or why the decision to euthanize a pet is agonizing

I feel a little stunned and the back of my eyes and head hurt while my heart aches. Missy would have turned 17 years old this Summer which is 84 years old in human years.

She was a happy cat, a trooper, and travelled and lived from one coast of Canada to the other with me. She saw me through two major surgeries, marriage, divorce, addiction, and too many parties and both good and bad times to count. She always purred when you patted her and rolled onto her back for you to rub her belly. Missy loved when I whistled The Andy Grifith tune to her. She used to spend hours outside on decks and rooftops, catching moths at dusk or licking dew off of leaves in the garden. She was a great furry companion.

She is survived by Little Orange, her adoptive son, and Skulley, her stepsister and predeceased by Cat McGandy.

I miss her so much right now. It was agonizing taking her to the veterinary clinic this afternoon to euthanize. She lost the ability to walk this morning and would not eat or drink anymore. Her heart was failing and I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer any longer.

I love you Missy. You are truly missed and will never far from my thoughts.

Loaded Christmas Cactus!

Have you ever seen so many buds on a Christmas Cactus?

My mom gave me this cactus when I moved into my house a few months ago. She has three or four of them growing in her house. I sat the cactus in the sun room and forgot about it. I really did forget about it. I didn’t water it. I didn’t talk to it. I didn’t touch it.

About a month ago my mom was visiting as she has been known to do on occasion and walked into the sunroom and quickly stomped out of the sun room through the living room and into my studio horrified, cactus in hand exclaiming “IT NEEDS WATER!” I looked at it all withered and spiny and starving and giggled “Mom it’s a cactus and not a succulent.”

She placed it back on the corner stand where it was originally dieing. That night I went over and looked at Herbert (yeah, I’ll call him Herbert) thinking, maybe you do need a little water. I carried him into the kitchen, filled a bowl of water and sat him in it. He drank for a good hour and afterwords I returned him to that corner stand in the sun room.

Two weeks ago, Herbert had little itty bitty buds. I gave him more water and moved him into the living room.

Today he’s full of buds! And he’ll likely bloom right around Birthday time and not Christmas time.

RIP Cat McGandy – June 1991 to December 2008

cat-mcgandy

Cat McGandy AKA Aloka became ill last week. We thought she would pull through by the weekend. Last night she took a turn for the worse and passed away earlier today.

My friends gave her to me as High School graduation gift in June of 1991. She was the runt of a litter of kitties from a friend’s family farm. She was so tiny and never grew to more than 7lbs as an adult. But she loved life and everything that went along with being the family cat.

The picture above is her drinking from the Fountain of Youth. We all aptly named that little water fountain as she would only drink water from it so daily it had to be re-filled two sometimes three times. She taught my other cat, Missy, to drink from it to.

She is much loved and will be missed dearly.

xoxox

Cat McGandy (Aloka) – June, 1991 – December 23, 2008

Life beyond Death after Indignity and before Google

Indignity can stem from not doing the things you want to do. You begin taking on someone else’s creation when you are not whom you are. Really, don’t you think that when you are feeling out of sorts and not choosing to be who you are then don’t you think it’s rather unbecoming of your personage you portray to the world. Why lie about who you are?

From time to time we all wonder why; that is, why we are the way we are. I have. I combat this thinking by doing.

I’m battling just that by creating art digitally rather than by traditional means by way of paper, paint and ink. I’ve been delving into photoshop breaking new ground, mixing up what I was taught long long ago in college. It feels very good to do what they said not to do.

Have you ever done that? Felt giddiness overtake you when you… fuck I just added giddYness to Google dictionary while trying to spell check it. Now, every time I spell check giddiness with a Y it will be spelled correctly. For that matter I won’t even know that I spelled it wrong for the little red dotted line that shows up underneath a word that needs to be spell checked won’t exist on giddyness anymore.

The thought of writing anonymously crosses my mind more than once every day. There is a an energetic side to me that needs to purge by way of words things often left better unsaid. Although, over the last couple of years I have had people write saying thank you for being so open and saying the things I could not say.

And I think… I haven’t said everything, all those things I want to say. Time will tell when they will be said.

I picked up the book 2012 on Friday and have begun reading.

I felt a kinship immediately Daniel Pinchbeck. However, my taught feminine psyche holds back and does not release this other side of me that I had found. Perhaps when need be, we do realize our authentic selves only through death. Up to that point we practice life. Beyond that point is after life. They call it death.

When my grandmother died she had said to my mom in the hospital that she was ready to go to heaven. I don’t believe in heaven. I believe in an after life. She was also talking her long dead husband and son saying she was on her way.

Words I’ve been pondering:

sex, love, family, success, money, life, death, orgasm, paint, fabricating, production, penis, indignity, trust, relationship, single, one, two, three, ignorance, bliss and lust

There is a ……………… part of me that still questions the validity my own digital art. I don’t know why or where I picked up the notion that manipulating a drawing of one’s own on a future date by means of computer from it’s original traditional creation on paper is wrong.

I.really.need.to.let.that.go.

Poof!

At 09:10 Eastern Standard Time my Grandmother, Edith Keary, Died

Grammie and Me

Up until last Friday she had been living on her own. I miss her to pieces right now. We often joked about life, about love and about religion. She had a beautiful aura surrounding her everyday.

Oh, she could make me smile.

This is she and I in the photographs. They were taken by my mother in July of 2007. The one below I snapped on boxing day, 2007. She is so beautiful.

Grammie - RIP - December 25, 1904 to February 2, 2008

I remember being nine years old and staying overnight at her home. The next day we awoke and decided to go shopping. Grammie asked if I wanted to get my ears pierced. I said “Yes!”. We went together to the beauty salon and I winced as the esthetician stuck my first ear then the other, piercing them with little topaz gems embedded in gold studs. I was ecstatic.

I held my grandmothers hand last night while stroking her face and hair.

I love you Grammie.
xo
Jessica

Edith Keary – Age 93
Born – December 25, 1914
Died – February 02, 2008

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About Dry Mounting Dead Baby Feet

I have custom picture framed many things in my life. From sew mounting a 24 by 36 inch Peruvian head dress to planning small multiple opening matted family photographs with frame I take care and pride in the work I do. More than that, people trust me with their precious items.

On occasion a *custom order stands out from the rest.

A woman recently came into the frame shop in search of a solution for framing ink prints of both hands and feet of her dead grand daughter. The black prints were on cotton. There was also an accompanying drop of blood on this white cotton. I suggested heat setting the prints, before she poured the planned thick coat of varnish over top of them in her shadow box collage, to set the ink in case it ran after the application of varnish. She left the store with the tiny 6 by 6 inch cotton and returned the following day with her shadow box. She showed me what she wanted to do. I said dry mounting to foam core would heat set the ink. I measured the inside of the shadow box at 12 by 12 inches. She placed the cotton and the other baby memorabilia where she wanted them, forming her collage and I punched those measurements into the framing computer system.

She paid for the mounting, gathered her shadow box, pictures and dried flowers then left. There was this smell. A smell I was unfamiliar with that came unbidden whenever the cotton was exposed… as though life or death was holding onto and surrounding the frame shop. I sandwiched these little feet, hands and blood into cardboard, numbered the bin and thought how sorry I was for this little still born soul. With the picture of the dead baby ringing clear in my mind from a few moments earlier I worked silently.

A couple of days ago I dry-mounted this order. Upon opening the cardboard the smell loomed. I cut the foamcore to 12 by 12 inches. I turned the dry mount machine on. I carefully placed the little hands, feet and blood stain a half inch from the bottom in the center on top of the foamcore. I tacked it on one corner with the heat gun adhering it to the board, lifted the seven foot long machine cover and placed this tiny order in the center. I closed the lid. I clasped the sides. Set the machine to three minutes and 150˚ Fahrenheit and hit start. I prayed.

It was quiet in the frame shop that Tuesday evening. The calm before the Christmas storm.

Three minutes later… beep. BEEP. BEEP…
I hit stop.
Time stopped.

Another 12 seconds pass as I wait for the machine to decompress. I open the lid and lift the light green protective covers revealing these perfect little black ink prints of both hands and feet with blood stain mounted to foamcore. The smell is gone. The cotton now smooth, flat and heat set. The water in my eyes dry and I breath in life again.

Her memory will forever live on now.

RIP

*The exact details of this custom order have been changed to protect the identity of all those involved save for myself.

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