Though she wasn’t my biological mother, I still want my mommy when sick or hurt. She passed in 2005, but the child inside me never gives up the need for her mama. Much like saying a Hail Mary and asking the holy mother for help… but I mainly call on my mom for… food. Do you think she spoiled me a bit?
I slipped a disc early Monday morning. What did I desire more than anything (other than a new spine)? When the man asked what I needed -he is incredible- my answer stunned: “My mother to rise from her grave and make me a pot of chicken and dumplings”.
Rose could make ambrosia out of dirt. She never taught me how to cook; don’t know why, but at least I’ve picked up a few things. One of them is her recipe (not really; she never needed one) for Custard Pie. Simple, with few ingredients, I crave it sometimes. Today is one of those days.
3 eggs 1/2 cup sugar 1 pint milk nutmeg
Mix together and pour into an unbaked pie shell. Bake in 300° oven for 1 hour, or until crust is set.
Guess I don’t have to ask her to rise from the dead today. (That feels blasphemous) But tomorrow I might have a hankering for her Liver and Onions…
Breagha (‘Beautiful’) was not a normal dog. She was people-smart. If one of the little dogs needed to go outside they told her and she told me. They are as lost now as we; Daisy won’t even go to the side yard, sticking as close to the back door as possible. She keeps watching for Bree to come out so she’ll feel safe. Bree was her rock.
I could tell Bree something once or twice and she got it. She knew many, many words. Training was a breeze and though we didn’t keep up with it, she remembered even unto old age. A thinker, sometimes she over-thought things.
She saved my life when the electric blanket I was using started to catch fire, barking at it to alert me.
We started each day with a hug, her ears going back while sidling up to me for the ritual.
After I showered each day and started to blow dry my hair, she would come in the bathroom. I’d turn the dryer on cool and run it over her, saying “Aren’t you a purty girl?” and she’d grin and preen for me.
At first I was heartbroken to see her nowhere and now, still bereft, I see her everywhere. Don’t know what’s worse.
It’s probably the last time I’ll say/write this: Her sire, CH Deep River Bow and Arrow, was the #1 Smooth Collie in the US, all systems, in 2008.
I love this dog. And I will miss her until I die. There was so much more to her, so much she gave us, just loving us and being part of our lives. Suffice it to say that she was a good dog and she will be missed. Goodbye, Big Love.
Now that I’m over the shock of losing Breagha (though stuck in a stultifying haze; I dropped my house key somewhere between here and the grocery store. How?!) all the funny things she used to do are coming back.
She loved this chair, but always looked so awkward on it. Possibly the only time she looked so, as she had a natural grace. Bree never even went through that gangly puppy phase.
The chair fell apart and we removed it to the curb. She was not happy, taking up residence in “the comfy chair” for the duration.