For the Love of Snuggles

Snuggles was a bonus.  She earned her name and was faithful to it to the end.  

 

Buttons, a stray cat that wandered to our rural address, blessed us with a litter of beautiful, long-haired, good-natured kittens.  She was a wonderful mother whose babies were in demand and we allowed her to have three litters before the knife.  The reputation of her off-spring caused us to have repeat customers.  

 

We had adult cats but no babies and our eight year old daughter wanted a kitten – a yellow one.  We began our search for this special being.  Sure enough, we found a litter that had a big, robust yellow male cat.  In the weaning period, we visited often – to ensure bonding.   His dominant nature earned him the name Thumper from the beginning.  The owner commented on his robust personality and that – although he would not be denied in the dinner department – he seemed to favor, even to take care of – the runt kitty.  Whether sleeping or playing, she said those two were always together.

 

That’s how we got our bonus kitty.  Their personalities were opposite from the beginning.  Thumper was a typical independent-I’ll-love-you-on-my-own-terms cat.  But at the slightest outreach of a hand, Snuggles came running for head rubs and cuddles.  Thumper never met a stranger.  Snuggles was strictly a three-person cat, forming friendships only with my daughter, my husband and myself.  Thumper ran to greet guests when the door bell rang; Snuggles hid under the bed until all scent of another human was past.   We loved them both and they each brought a special joy to our lives.  And they continued to be best buddies.

 

Days go by one at a time and lives change.  Our daughter went off to college and we all missed her dearly.  In an effort to fill the void, I reached out to the cats even more.  Soon, they were sleeping on our bed and were following me around like a puppy-cat. 

 

Thumper was the adventurous one and met an accidental death at age twelve.  Snuggles grieved for him for a long time.  She turned to me for solace, becoming my constant companion.  As I did my morning routine at the dressing table, Snuggles perched on the corner for a birds eye view.  I would give her a nose-to-nose kiss and say, “I love you.”  She would “Meow” back as if to say, “I love you, too.”  This became our frequent greeting to each other. 

 

Snuggles lived a long and healthy life, belying her runt beginnings.  At age eighteen she slept day and night and moved slowly.  She all but quit eating, and her breathing became laborious.  The vet assured me she was not in pain so I chose to keep her with us, tending to her needs, until the end. 

 

I put her on a pillow and carried her from place to place to be wherever I was – at the dressing table, by my computer while working, on my lap for TV time, and in her normal place by my head at night.  I hand fed her.  I cuddled her and talked to her, telling her how much she had added to our home.   Although she had quit meowing, in her own special way, she communicated back. 

 

One night as I held her, I said, “Snuggles, do you know how much I love you?” 

 

She looked deep into my eyes and uttered a weak “Meow” as if to say, “Do you know how much I love you?” 

 

That night, Snuggles died peacefully in her sleep.  I took my silky dressing gown and wrapped her frail body in it as a burial shroud.  We placed her amid the iris outside my office window.  As they bloom in the spring, I am reminded of the cycles of life, the serendipity of bonuses and the love of Snuggles. 

 

 

 

A New Normal

　
Life has a way of not following goals and dreams fall down in midflight. Sometimes things happen from which we never recover. Our normal is disrupted. What then? Here are some thoughts on accepting things are they are, adjusting and continuing the journey.

Let yesterday be yesterday. No matter how great yesterday was, or how many possessions you owned, or how great your success, it is over and done with. Trying to relieve what has already been robs you of discovering joy in the midst of today’s struggles. And there are thrills and growth to be found amid adversity.

Acquire an insightful perspective on physical disabilities. All of these topics cover a wide spectrum; Physical disabilities could involve birth defects, wrecks/accidents, life-threatening disease, chronic pain, or the natural by-products of aging.

Emily Perl Kingsley, mother of a Downs Syndrome child, compares the anticipation and realities with traveling. Suppose you have made plans to go to Italy - with all the romance and history and adventure that entails – but your plane lands in Holland.

And there is no return.

No way to change plans.

You are stuck.

But Holland has a lot of wonderful things to offer – although at a slower pace than Italy and perhaps off the beaten track of what your peers pursue.

You always have a choice. Although the pain and disappointment may never go away, grieving and angering over life’s travel changes will keep you from seeing the beauty in the present situation and from embracing the character development that limitations offer.

Honestly revisit the good ole days. Barbara Streisand’s song The Way We Were has some poignant lines about selective memories. It suggests that we rewrite events to exclude the bad and only include the good. “What’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget. So it’s the laughter we will remember.” No matter how much you idealize that part of life, it is over. It is time to discover a new normal.

Enumerate what you have left. You will never get over the loss or the pain, but you can move beyond it by focusing on what you still have – the loves, the joys, the abilities, the promises.

I am not talking about giving up nor am I discounting grief. I am encouraging a surrender to the inevitable that results in flow rather than struggle, creativity rather than stagnation, and healthy relationships rather than stunted existence.

Please share with me and our readers your new normal and some of the things you have learned in the process.
　
We welcome reprinting of articles in your newsletter or magazine, providing credit is given as follows: “This article was written by Mona Dunkin, Motivational Speaker and Personal Success Coach, www.monadunkin.blogspot.com or www.monadunkin.com.”
　

Tribute to Lacy Williams

Today is my brother's birthday. He would have been a young 73 years. He died June 19, 2009 from rapid onset of dormant pulmonary fibrosis. I was humbled to be asked to speak at his interment. Following is my tribute to a wonderful brother.

For all of us, at some time, we will come to the end our lives. What will be remembered? Accomplishments? Fame? Wealth? Or will they remember the times you made a difference in their life and in the lives of others? That is what we will remember most about Lacy; his smiles, his humor and his encouragement.

One of the missions of Hospice is to help patient and family avoid the obvious ‘death-elephant’ in the room, and to talk at ease with each other about hopes and dreams and regrets and wishes – to make the last days as fulfilling and comfortable as possible –to tie up loose ends. Lacy, being Lacy, began to do this on his own without the help of Hospice. He had his list of to-do’s and was actively pursuing them. And he talked openly about faith and questions and his past-the-due-date amount of time allotted to mankind (three-score and ten).

He was so proud of the letter Amy sent him and the e-mail from Wendell. I told him, “Well, I guess I need to write you a letter.” His bold reply, “Yes, you do!” Although I have no regrets for not penning it sooner, I guess this is my letter to him.

Jerre used three words to describe Lacy: provider, protector and teacher. I am sure you have your own special expression of who he was to you.

He was an entrepreneur and inventor. Years ago, in his burnt-orange truck, he stopped by the house one day with a magazine in hand to show me an innovative bridge-building devise he had invented. I read the advertisement again and again and did not see his name anywhere. He said, “That was my idea, they just beat me to it.” There is a current display at the Mayborn Center of Leonardo DiVinci’s before-his-time invention ideas.

Lacy was always going forward: in more ways than the idiocies of his truck. Not only did he found his own construction company, but even when he worked for someone else, he still was his own boss. He always had some kind of a pyramid scheme and all too often, he got me involved. (You too?) He had me help him develop and write up plans for “My Brother’s Keeper” – a pyramid method to get rich while giving your money away.

The other word I might assign to him is agitator, except I think it was unwitting. In his openness and honesty and being real, he often came across as brash that could provoke you to anger or reduce you to tears. But you always knew where you stood with him. I appreciate that. What appeared to be criticism, I think was his unpolished attempt to prod you to live up to your full potential. Lacy had faith in God, faith in himself, faith in humanity and faith in each of you.

In his own way, Lacy was a nurturing parent. He gave me good advice when Melinda was a child and I wanted her to change from her favorite, although faded, dress before we went somewhere. Pointing his finger at me, he said, “If she feels pretty in that dress, you let her wear it.” I did.

When Aunt Erma was nearing the end of her life, Melinda and John paid the airfare for me to go visit her. Although I was quite capable of going alone, Melinda insisted I not go by myself. Lacy became my chaperone and I am so thankful we had that bonding time together. In the long flight and lay-over and drive from Blacksburg, VA to the WV farm (we worked in a visit to Clyde and Rosie), he regaled me with far-fetched adventure tales. Late in the day he leaned back and asked, “Did I ever tell you my bull story?”

My query to him was, “And just exactly what were these others tales?” (Seems he taunted a bull like a matador and barely escaped with his life.)

Lacy is one-of-a kind. He is much loved and will be greatly missed. His legacy is long and strong through his children and grandchildren.

Henriette Meyers said, “For every sigh, there is a Psalm.” The majority of the Psalms were written by David the Shepherd boy. In the open field he had time to think and question and reason, as are reflected in the poems he wrote. Maybe the same was true of Lacy. He had many questions about faith.

He said, “You know there are a lot of things that I just don’t believe. I am not sure I believe there was a world-wide floor or an ark big enough to hold all the animals.”

I told him that from my understanding the only critical believes for eternal life was faith in God and Jesus as his son, born of a virgin, died and resurrected as our Savior. He readily proclaimed his faith and friendship with Jesus.

“Lord I believe. Help thou my unbelief.” Mark 9:24

He told me he had been involved in church and worked on committees, but was concerned that he had not confessed his faith to others. I told him that works of them self does not save a person but the attitude of the heart in which they are performed. And I reminded him of the words of James, sometimes called “the apostle in work boots”.

“So you see, it isn’t enough just to have faith. You must also do good to prove that you have it… I say that without good works you can’t prove whether you have faith or not; but anyone can see that I have faith by the way I act.” James 2:14-18 MD paraphrased

Lacy did not quote Scriptures, but he lived it. As John Wesley said, “Preach the gospel always. Sometimes use words."

Amid David’s questioning, he came to an amicable conclusion. I think Lacy did too.

"But as for me… when I awake in heaven, I will be fully satisfied." Psalm 17:15

Jerre asked that we end our time together today by all singing Will the Circle be Unbroken, another of Lacy’s songs. Copies are in your handout. I have modified it to fit this service and Gary Moore added the sixth verse.

Will the Circle be Unbroken

1) I was standing by my window on one sad and lonely day
When I sensed death angel calling for to carry my loved one away

Chorus: Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by.
There's a better home awaiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.

2) Well, I told the undertaker, “Undertaker please drive slow,
For the loved one you are taking,” Lord, I hate to see him go.

Chorus:

3) I will follow close behind him, try to hold on and be brave.
But I could not hide my sorrow, when they laid him in the grave

Chorus:

4) When I went home, it was lonely, missed my loved one, he was gone.
All my family, neighbors crying, how we hurt to see him go.

Chorus:

5) We sang the songs of childhood, hymns of faith that made us strong.
Ones that Lacy loved to listen and the angels sang along.

Chorus:

6) We are standing in the circle, of a family that is blest,
With fond memories and dedication, we lay Vera and Lacy to rest.

Chorus: Will the circle be unbroken by and by, Lord, by and by.

There's a better home awaiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky

Written by: Franks, Tillman/Houston, Davie/Sherrill, Billy
Modified by Mona Dunkin for Lacy’s service
Verse six written by Gary Moore

We are comforted that the circle will be unbroken. Regardless of when the passage, and at what age – mother and daddy, Lacy, baby Joshua. One day we will be together again.

At Lacy’s funeral service, the 23rd Psalm was read twice. At the beginning, it was presented in the traditional way to comfort us with the promise of safe passage for our loved one. At the ending, it was read again as comfort for the family. When we, who are alive and remain, experience the death of a dear one, the Shepherd is there with us, with His rod and staff to comfort and lead, and to protect us from the enemy that would destroy.

I will end with the prayer our Pastor gave Sunday morning. “Father, we pray your blessings on the family of Lacy Williams. With joy they release him to you, and with sorrow they relinquish him from being with them.”