Babies aren’t good at that

Brothers


Brothers

Hugo and Jack are about three years apart, and crazy about each other most of the time. Jack is 16 months old and Hugo is pretty much the sun in his sky. Hugo can sometimes be mean to Jack in the usual big-brother way. Having been the recipient of teasing and beatings from my own big brother growing up, I always side with Jack. Of course at his age, you can’t blame him for anything. I always praise Hugo for being kind and patient with his little brother. But last week, they broke my heart. Continue reading

Goodbye, Little Mew

Stash

My cat, Stash, died this morning in the middle of the daily bustle to get Hugo and Daddy out the door. She was 14. She lived with me through my young adulthood, divorce, remarriage and motherhood. She was a good mew through it all.

Stash reduced her expectations of me when I became a mom. I lost a lot of the patience I used to have for her with the overwhelming responsibility of caring for a child. But she didn’t complain, other than uttering the occasional “Merf.” She learned to approach my husband when she wanted attention.

I think she was happiest when she could roam throughout a house in search of sun puddles. Stash lived with me in six different places! She was almost always gentle and generally followed the few rules of the house that applied to cats. I had a much bigger blog post written, but the whole thing got deleted when I hit the backspace key. I’ll take that as a sign to keep it short.

My friend made this Egyptian cat sendoff, which is on sale here. I can’t think of anything more appropriate.

May your soul live on for millions of years, resting in a sun-puddle with a full belly, facing the north wind with your eyes beholding happiness.” Long live Stash.

The Beloved Meows