Daily Archives: August 5, 2012

Farewell to a Feline Friend

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Tonight, shortly after 10 p.m. Central Standard Time, our beloved Puddie passed away. We were at her side.

We had kept vigil over her for those last few hours, cradling her in our arms, stroking her as she lay on the bed between us. We knew the end was coming. It was just a matter of time.

We cried. We talked. We remembered the good times. We cried some more.

I told her how many people had sent good wishes and prayed for her, how she was a celebrity in her own right and would never be forgotten by those who loved her fictional adventures.

I assured her that she would live on in our hearts. Thoughts of her exquisitely smooth purr, ever-expressive and elegant plume-like tail and those beautiful green eyes Scarlett O’Hara would have envied, would make us smile.

Puddie.

Proud and sometimes a bit humorless, wonderful to cuddle with on cold days and particularly enamored of the left-over dregs of Blue Bell ice cream. And only Blue Bell. Store brand? Forget about it. Only the best for our Puddin’.

Always trying to stuff herself inside boxes a little too small for her, like a vain woman who tries to wear a dress at least one size too little. Taking helium balloons for a walk around the house by catching the ribbons between her teeth.   Thumper’s cuddle buddy and grooming partner.

Never a sweet cat like our Callie, but very endearing in her own diva-like way. We loved her. We will miss her.

Tomorrow, we will bury her earthly remains in the shade of the big pecan tree, to join our beloved Lucky, Scooter, Mary Ann and Ginger.

The happy news is this. Guy, Lucas and Porter have officially welcomed her into the fold. Puddin’  has been Loved into Being.

Harry, remember that a good book and a purring Puddie can be grand companions on a chilly winter’s day.

Guy, save her a little Blue Bell, won’t you? She’d like that. I’ve spoiled you, now you can spoil her, just a bit.

Farewell, my dear old feline friend.

Blue Eyes on a Lazy Sunday Afternoon

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Update from Chez Long.  A lazy Sunday afternoon, slightly cooler than of late.  Slept fitfully, dreamed of Christmas programs with cute little kids. Have no earthly idea why. Haven’t watched that adorable movie with Martin Freeman, Nativity, in a while. Have that hungover feeling of not being all awake and it’s 5:30 p.m. Haven’t accomplished much today.

Hubby is killing baddies on the PlayStation.  The dogs are napping, Callie is cuddled against her mom, Thumper is dreaming and, no doubt, plotting world domination (our three-legged tuxedo cat with the Hitler mustache is secretly an evil genius).

Puddie is–well, Puddie is doing pretty much the same, still hanging out in the kitchen.  We ply her with Fancy Feast  and “people” tuna and extra cooking oil (seems to make things go down more easily for her) and a little Blue Bell.  One day at a time.

Speaking of “blue,” I have also been thinking of blue eyes. A particular set of beautiful, expressive, intelligent, smouldering, sweet, sad, kind, amazing blue eyes.  You may be familiar with them . . . 

A strong man is . . .

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A strong man is one who does not constantly have to prove how “macho” he is. He does what needs to be done. Sometimes that involves unpleasant things, hard things, painful things. A strong man is not afraid to be gentle and loving, to console someone who is fearful, to cry with a soul who is hurting. He can be just as tender as he is tough.  He has more than brawn; he has brains, a heart, a soul.

A strong man is not a hero because he is fearless; then he would be a fool. He is a hero because he faces those fears, acknowledges them and tackles that challenge.  He tries to do the right thing, even though he sometimes fails. He seeks to improve himself, to go from strength to strength,  to be the better man.

John Porter is a hero. So, in my book, is Richard Armitage.  Hurray for life’s heroes, real and fictional.