Month: June 2018

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

SAYING GOODBYE

Last Wednesday, June 20, 2018, our little Pug, Ms. Pickles, had to be put down due to complications from a routine teeth cleaning.  This came as a complete shock to both myself and Tiago and we’re learning to navigate our way without our little girl.

Even though we still have four dogs, there are dogs and then their are “dogs”.  Pickles was in the latter category.  She was a force unto herself and when she came into our lives back on December 10, 2010, we had no idea what we were getting into.

Tiago and I moved from Seattle to the Methow Valley on Halloween day 2010.  We moved into a house in Carlton and slowly began to fashion a life for ourselves.  My cousin, Marie, told us about a Pug that needed a good home.  Apparently, this Pug was a real terror; she was an alpha and couldn’t get along with other dogs and the owner couldn’t keep her.  We said we’d take her and drove over to Omak to meet the guy that had her.  

This is the first picture we took of Ms. Pickles on the ride home after picking her up.  She immediately fell asleep on my lap.  Tiago and I were a little taken aback by how noisy she was.  Pugs are a brachycephalic, short-nosed breed, and often have breathing problems.  Pickles had more problems than most since her face was far more “flat” than most Pugs.  That first night we couldn’t sleep because of all the noise she made.  Gradually, we became unaware of how noisy she was and we settled into life with a Pug – Pug owners will know what we mean.

Pickles was an extremely smart dog.  She was also very stubborn as well as demanding.  You couldn’t sit down without her demanding to be right next to you, or on you, you had to simply give in and let her do what she wanted.

Ms. Pickles was with us for 7 1/2 years, the entire time we’ve lived in the Methow.  She was with us when we moved from Carlton to Edelweiss and lived there for three years and she was with us when we bought our house in Winthrop and moved in the late summer of 2014.  

There was a rhythm to our life.  Get up, let the dogs out to go potty, go to work, come home and enjoy our time with the menagerie, go to bed, repeat.  Our our fur-kids, but especially Pickles, had to be right next to her humans AT ALL TIMES. 

Pickles was always a grump getting up in the mornings and often had to be taken out of her kennel to to potty.  

Often times, the first thing she would do is drink some water.

Ms. Pickles was a very affectionate dog; she gave us so much love and we loved her in return.  I’m thankful that for the years she was in our lives we did our best to give her a good home.  

We were fortunate enough to both be there when Ms. Pickles left us, but it was one the hardest days of our lives.  Ms. Pickles, wherever you are, thank you for being a part of my life; you brought me so much happiness and joy that I wouldn’t trade anything for and I will always love you.  XOXO

Saturday, June 9, 2018

I just learned that someone who was an important part of my life back in the late ’90s died last January. Even though it’s been close to 19 years since I last saw him, he always made me smile and I considered him a friend.

When I first me Stephen Bertrand Kittrell (1956-2018) he lived in a one-bedroom apartment a block off Alki in Seattle.  We met at a coffee shop called “My Friends” back in 1995 and became fast friends. What I remember most about Steve was his rapier (and often vicious) wit and humor. When I came to his small apartment for the first time it was decked out in antiques and artwork hinting at a privileged upbringing, which he said he had. Steve said his family had fallen on hard times after the oil crash hit Texas hardest in the ’80s and these were all the possessions he had from his past life. One thing I remember in particular was a large pastel drawing that hung in his dining room/living room; it was a portrait of Marie Antoinette dressed as the goddess Athena…or Diana, I can’t remember.  Steve claimed this picture once hung in Versailles.

Steve died in hospice care on January 31, 2018.  I Googled his name and what I found was his last years were that of a troubled man.  I don’t know what happened to Steve.  I don’t know if he hurt those he loved.  I knew Steve struggled with addiction back in the ’90s and that was one of the reasons we grew apart. 

What I remember most about Steve was his charm, his self-depracting humor, and a marrow-deep sadness he hid well most of the time.  We were friends for many years and as I got to know Steve I also was privileged to see his vulnerable side and he was a man that battled a lot of demons and who had endured a lot of grief.

Steve loved the over-the-top love tragedies of operas like La Traviatta and La Bohème and there was a book that he loved to quote ALL the time, so much so, that I can almost recite verbatim one passage in particular over 20 years later:

“It’s a bright, sunny day in Dallas and I’m happy to be wearing my pink Channel suit and matching pill box hat. I pause for a moment to put on my kid skin gloves to protect my hands from the thorns on these beautiful red roses.  But we better hurry, we don’t want to be late, we have a date with destiny.”

Steve, my friend, whereever you are, thank you for your friendship and I hope you and the man you loved are together again and the difficulties you endured in this life have been washed away.  You were always the consummate gentleman with me.