Top 10 Momma-Can’t-Stop-Smiling Moments of 2012

Sometimes I don’t even realize it’s there until I notice my cheeks are sore. It starts with a glimpse of something–a person, a picture, words on a page, a text message.

It starts with an upturning of lips, then a thump of the heart as the grin widens to a full-on smile–the kind that puts a twinkle in the eye and makes the heart feel larger in the chest.

That’s a Momma-can’t-stop-smiling moment, and as I reflect on the year that is nearing its end, I’d like to share those moments that have made my top ten.

1. The Older One Realizes His Dream. Watching your child’s dream come true is a humbling experience. Years ago, I treated the Older One to dinner at the local Chinese restaurant. I watched his face light up when he cracked his fortune cookie open at the end of the meal. I wanted to know what could cause such joy in a 14-year-old, so I asked what his fortune was. “‘Your greatest dream will come true,’” he read.

“What’s your greatest dream?” I asked.

“To play Division I football.”

I wasn’t surprised. Since he won his first city championship at age six, football had been his passion, and in October, his dream came true when he took to the field and played his first downs for the Army Black Knights.

I cheered from the stands and smiled through the whole five minutes of game-play. My cheeks still hurt 30 minutes later.

Check out #55…His dream is coming true.

2. The Young One Finds Her Sport. After the Hubs and I started the paperwork to adopt a girl from Russia, I began planning her after-school activities. She wasn’t even born yet, but I knew she would be an athlete–at least that’s what I hoped for her.

Playing a sport is a source of self-confidence, and above all else, I want my daughter to believe in herself, to feel strong and capable, and to be confident. She found all those things this year on the soccer field.

She out-ran the boys with an effortless stride. She stole the ball from the opposing team with a relentless desire to win, and she beamed like an angle with each goal.

I captured sheer joy on my camera, and I now know we have many more soccer games in our future.

That’s a confident, happy little girl!

3. Twenty Years and Counting. In September, the Hubs and I celebrated twenty years of marriage. I’ve been able to spend half my life with my best friend by my side. We’ve watched our son grow into a remarkable young man, and we’ve survived the painful reality of infertility when we found our daughter on the other side of the world. We’ve grown, and we’ve changed. But we have done it together. I can’t help but smile about that.

4. Fifty Years and Counting. In 1962, a blizzard roared through western Pennsylvania on the eve of my parents’ wedding. Although my grandmother had to put chains on her tires before she could take my mom to the church, and my dad had to shovel more than a foot of snow from the church’s sidewalk, they still said “I do”.

I do…again.

Two weeks ago, they said those words for the second time as they renewed their vows on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. I smiled through my tears as my dad recited a poem about growing old together, and I understood that my 20 years of togetherness is nothing compared to the love these two amazing people share.

5. Adopting a Fluffy One. When I first saw the Fluffy One at the shelter, I knew she was meant to be a part of our family. After quizzing me on the type of canine we were looking for, the shelter attendant took me into the room reserved for small dogs and puppies. “I have the perfect dog for you,” she declared. “She just came in last week. I’ll warn you though…she’s a diva.”

I wanted to tell her another diva would fit right in at my house, but I refrained.

“We named her Audrey after Audrey Hepburn.” Seriously? You named her after one of my fashion icons!

“Oh, no,” she said as she opened the crate door. “Her papers need changed. Here,” she said, thrusting the ball of fluff into my hands, “Hold her while I clean this up.”

That’s all it took. I filled out the application before I left, then called the Hubs from the car to tell him I’d found our doggie.

She’s not Audrey anymore, but she’s still a diva!

6. Furry Plays Again. The dog toy box had remained untouched for almost two years before we brought the Fluffy One home. The Furry One had stopped playing when he was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease.

All that changed when Fluffy joined the family. Little by little we saw Furry change. He went from setting his boundaries with a gruff growl to watching with cautionary interest as Fluffy threw what used to be his toys in the air.

Almost three months later, he finally gave in. He pulled himself from the sofa and rolled on the floor with his new sister. His growls are playful. His tail is wagging, and Momma is happy to have two puppies in the house again.

The Furry One doesn’t hang out in his bed quite as much any more!

7. Stiletto Momma Wears Out a Pair of Gym Shoes. Normally, the pumps give out before the trainers, but this year, I decided to not let my daily Crohn’s Disease symptoms keep me down. I got back in the gym. Three cardio sessions and at least two weightlifting classes each week since mid-January, and I have bi’s, tri’s and traps again!

8. Baking for Soldiers. I have sent 13 packages to Afghanistan and Iraq. Thirteen soldiers who are strangers to me have tasted my snickerdoodles. They have shared my care packages with their battle buddies and read my words of appreciation when I thanked them for their service. West Point Moms Bake is the organization that provides me the names of the men and women protecting our freedom, and participating in this effort has been the most fulfilling experience of my life.

Two of my 13 care packages that have hopefully made a few soldiers smile.

9. Capturing Life Through a Lens. For our anniversary this year (the big two-oh mentioned above), the Hubs and I scrapped our plans for a weekend getaway, and opted instead to splurge on a digital SLR camera. Many of my can’t-stop-smiling moments have come from reviewing the hundreds of pictures I’ve snapped since September.

10. A Blogger is Born. I’ve been a writer since the sixth grade when I started to pen my first novel. I didn’t get much further than the first chapter, but it was the first of many attempts to record my imaginings. I’ve written short stories, essays, and a few poems. I’ve held internships that afforded me my first official byline and a portfolio of published pieces.

Life, however, sometimes gets in the way of dreams, and I put my journalism degree in a drawer when marketing jobs were easier to come by. This year, however, I returned to my own passion when Stiletto Momma was born.

I have recaptured the joy of writing…that amazing feeling of losing myself for a few hours and the immense feeling of accomplishment that comes from seeing my words in print.

I smile with each click of the “Publish” button, and I smile with each “like”, each follow notification and each comment from a reader.

Thank you, dear reader, for encouraging me on this journey and for making me smile on a regular basis.

This is what has made me smile in 2012, and I’m looking forward to sharing many more with you in 2013. What’s your favorite can’t-stop-smiling moment of the year?

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Stiletto Momma

* This post was written for the WordPress Daily Post Weekly Challenge which tasked bloggers with writing a post to wrap up the year.

The Miracle of Skunk-Boy

During this time of year, we usually stop to reflect on those things for which we are thankful. Family and friends top the list, followed by the roof over our heads and the food on our table. This year, however, when I express my thankfulness, I will include that I am thankful my oldest dog, the Furry One, was recently sprayed by the neighborhood skunk.

This is the Furry One taking a break from chasing skunks.

Believe me when I say that wasn’t the first thought in my head a week ago when I ran from room to room gathering emergency bath supplies, my hands over my nose and mouth, my eyes watering and my gag reflex working overtime. No, I am not thankful for the stench of forest creature that lingers in my foyer or for the allergy attacks that have plagued me every day since the incident.

Yet, I am thankful that the Furry One now bares the nickname “Skunk-Boy” because I am thankful he is still with us two years after we fought to save his life.

That year, we were busy being thankful for our upcoming trip to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with our family in Pennsylvania. I was consumed with packing lists and laundry, so I gave the Hubs the task of taking the dog to the vet. Furry had been acting strange–sleeping a lot, not eating and falling down. When he would rouse himself from sleep long enough to bark at the window or jump from the floor to the couch, he would sometimes pass out from the effort. It was only for a second or two, but it was long enough for me to know he needed a trip to Dr. K’s animal clinic.

I was right. After the appointment, the Hubs called me from the car to say he was taking Furry to the canine ER at the recommendation of  our vet who had looked at Furry’s blood work and knew immediately his condition was too severe for a general practice veterinarian. He was referring Furry to a specialist.

Furry’s red blood cell count was at the level deemed “life-threatening”. Dr. K. didn’t know if we were looking at cancer or a blood disorder, but he did know that without new blood, Fury could be dead within hours.

I met the Hubs and the dog at the veterinarian hospital, and as they did an ultrasound of his abdomen to check for tumors, I paced the halls the same way I would have had one of my human children been in the exam room. From down the hall, I heard yelps of distress and later found out it was Furry’s pleas for help as the technicians shaved his belly to better perform the ultrasound.  They also shaved his forelegs in preparation for what was to come next–a blood transfusion.

The transfusion would take hours, requiring an overnight stay in the hospital. We weren’t allowed to stay with him, but before we left, we were asked to state which life-saving measures we wanted the staff to perform if his condition declined. I signed a Do Not Resuscitate order for my beloved dog before I went home to read bedtime stories and pack lunches.

Back at home, I tried to explain to the Young One, who was only three at the time, why Furry did not come home with us and wouldn’t sit at her feet for the nightly reading of her current favorite story–a pop-up rendition of Jesus’s birth and the first Christmas. I explained to her that Furry was sick, and in a moment of great inspiration, I told we could ask Baby Jesus to help her best friend. She suggested we look for the “big star” while we asked. We stood by her bedroom window and prayed to Baby Jesus to please take care of our doggy. Help him to not be afraid and to be able to come back home to us.

Furry did make it through the night and came home the next day, shaved at his ankles and exhausted from his ordeal. We cancelled our Thanksgiving trip. He was too sick to go with us. He couldn’t be boarded, and we would never forgive ourselves if we weren’t with him to hold his paws if the end of his time came while we were away gorging on mashed potatoes and roast turkey.

Weeks and months passed with a diagnosis of autoimmune disease replacing the risk of cancer, but our fight was far from over. In January, I took him back to the hospital for a bone marrow biopsy, hoping to find the cause of his deteriorating condition. The vet called me a hour later. His red blood cell count was too low to do the procedure. He would never wake from the anesthetic if we moved forward.

We turned instead to medication–steroids and immuno-suppressants. The pills were to be taken on a full stomach, a difficult task for a dog who refused to eat and often couldn’t keep down the very thing I was hoping would cure him.

In early spring, after changing his medications every two weeks, I watched is condition continue to worsened. Furry was losing too much weight. He could no longer walk down the stairs. I made another appointment with Dr. K. and cried myself to sleep, sure I would not be bringing him home from this visit with the doctor. I prayed to Baby Jesus to be with our family, and to help us do what was best for Furry. I prayed for an end to his suffering.

More blood was drawn the next morning, and Dr. K assured me they would keep him comfortable while they waited for the results. They would keep him at the front of the office with the staff, he said, so he could be near people and not be afraid. I could tell he wasn’t optimistic either, so when the phone rang a few hours later, I was prepared for a conversation about euthanasia.

But that wasn’t what I heard. “He’s got an e-coli infection,” Dr. K. said. “We’ve got him on antibiotics. You can pick up any time.” With his immune system so low, Furry was very susceptible to infection. It was another scary diagnosis, but it was treatable. He was coming home after all.

A happy girl and her dog.

Within a few days, he started eating again. A month later, we saw the first increase in his red blood cells in almost six months. His tail started to go up instead of down. He began to greet us at the door. His tail actually wagged again.

A year after that awful rush to the doggy ER, Dr. K. declared Fury’s blood work “normal”. Dr. K. scratched Furry’s neck to coax a doggy smile, and announced, “We brought you back from the brink! Yes, we did!” The staff cheered, remembering the day they gave comfort to a gravely ill patient. The receptionist happily gave Furry an extra treat.

At Furry’s last check up, I smiled quietly as I listened to Dr. K teaching a new assistant about autoimmune disease. “This dog was almost gone. Nothing more we could do but wait and hope,” he explained. “He really is a miracle.”

I don’t know what saved my four-legged son. Was it the prayers to Baby Jesus, the dedication of a caring veterinarian or the love of a human family…or a whole lot of all of that?

I’ll never know for sure, but I am thankful for my miracle dog…skunk-stink and all!

Stiletto Momma

Five Minute Friday: Looking for a Safe Crossing

I am a card-carrying member of the Doggie Lover’s Society. Alright, I mean if such an organization existed, I’d be a member and carry their card.

But I do love dogs, and I’m sad when I see them in distress. So, this morning when I glanced to my left to move into the passing lane on I71 North, I cut off my husband mid-sentence. “Look!” I cried. “Did you see that?”

“What?” His mind was on tomorrow’s Army/Eastern Michigan game and visiting with our son tonight before puts on his game face.

So He didn’t see the dog standing in the median of the Interstate. In my quick glance, I saw what looked like a beagle. He was white and spotted with walnut brown patches. He was no more than three feet from certain death…looking for a safe crossing among the cars whizzing past at speeds over 70 miles an hour.

Why was he there?

Who was he looking for?

Did he manage to get safely to the other side?

I’ll never know, but I’ll be looking for him on my trip home.

***This post was written for the flash mob that is Five Minute Friday. Our prompt to day is “Look”.

Puppy Tough Love

It is a sunny October afternoon, and sun filters through the picture windows that make up the north facing wall of the great room.

The Furry One takes a nap.

I find the Furry One in his usual spot on the plush sofa. He lounges on his side, his head and a paw dangling off the edge. His eyes are closed, but when he senses my approach, they pop open, and he is alert.

We both turn our heads toward the foyer when we hear the approaching sounds of scampering feet and joyful yips, followed by a fruitless chorus of no-no’s.

Furry pushes his slightly overweight body to a sitting position, leans back into the couch and heaves a weary sigh, “Puppies,” he declares with a droop of his shiny black fur covered head.

I have come today to interview Furry about the turmoil that entered his life last month when his family returned home with a tiny white Maltese that he has come to know as The Fluffy One. He shakes his head again, and we begin.

Stiletto Momma: Tell me how it’s been.

Furry One: I haven’t had a decent nap in a month. I used to wake up, go outside, mark my territory, come back in, do a little treat-begging performance, nap for a few hours, then do it all over again. I was up to about eight solid naps a day.

Momma: Wow! That’s some professional-caliber napping. What happened?

Furry: Fluffy is what happened. *sigh*

Just then a fluffy ball with four legs zips into the room, and stops at the floor below Furry’s seat. Between frantic flips of a long flowing tail, I can just make out Fluffy’s big brown eyes and pink tongue.

The Fluffy One in a calm moment.

Fluffy: Furry! Furry! I’m back from my walk. I’m back from my walk. Did you miss me? Did ya? Did ya? Furry?

Furry: See what I mean?

Momma: Yes. She certainly is…um…energetic.

Furry: She’s crazy!

Fluffy: What’s “crazy” mean, Furry? Furry? Furry?

Fluffy high jumps from the floor to the couch directly to Furry’s left.

Furry: Seriously, how am I supposed to take a nap with this noise going on all day. It doesn’t stop!

He stands and gingerly lowers himself to the floor.

Furry: I’m ten years old. These are my golden years. My job was to protect my boy when he was younger, but now that he’s grown up and moved to that obedience school at West Point, I’m retired. I should be able to sleep when I want to without being interrupted.

Momma: I can understand that. It’s a big change. Let’s talk about how Fluffy came to be here. She’s a shelter dog, isn’t she?

Furry: Yeah, that’s about the only good thing that’s come from this. She was a stray. Someone just dropped her off on the side of the road one day, as if that five pounds of fluff could really fend for herself. Now, THAT makes me mad. Can you imagine how scared she must have been, and all because someone didn’t realize a puppy is a lot of work or some breeder thought she was too small. I’d like to take her previous owners out to the middle of nowhere with no food and no water, and tell them, “You were cute once, but I don’t want you anymore. Good luck getting out of here alive. Bye.”

Momma: You were a shelter dog too, right?

Furry: That’s right.  I was just a pup like Fluffy. That was a scary time–not knowing when I’d get another meal or a warm bed. I survived, but you have to have some street smarts to keep it together in a shelter. It’s no place for a dog like Fluffy. I mean, just look at her….

He points with his nose to the spot beside him where Fluffy is spinning in quick frantic circles.

Fluffy: Furry, look! A big hairy monster is chasing me! But don’t worry. I’m gonna get it! I’m gonna get it! I’m gonna get it this time!

Furry: That’s your tail, Fluffy. Stop it! You’re embarrassing yourself!

Momma: Have you been showing her the ropes since she got here?

Furry: *sigh* I do what I can.  Oh! There she goes again! It’s the Fluffy 500. You might want to move out of the way.

I jump to a vacant recliner as Furry bounds back to the couch, then we watch as the Fluffy One sprints around the room, weaving between the furniture as fast as her little legs will carry her.

Furry: Puppies…

Momma: There has to be something good about Fluffy coming to your family.

Furry: Well, maybe.

He’s quiet while he thinks and watches Fluffy throw a knotted and holey sock in the air.

Furry: I do kinda like that I don’t have to be alone anymore. I don’t like it when my people leave me by myself. It’s a big house, and sometimes when it’s just me here, I think about being left alone before I had this family. At least now I have someone to lay down with when they’re away. I had a brother once, and that’s how it was back then. He was the dog who was with my family when they adopted me. I miss him since he went to the Rainbow Bridge. He used to yell at me too…a lot!

He smiles at the memory.

Momma: Why did he yell at you?

Furry: Oh, lots of reasons. Mostly it was because I was a puppy and wanted to play. I used to take that sock…

He points to Fluffy’s current plaything.

Furry: …and throw it in his face. Ha! Ha! He’d get so mad at me. First, he’d growl. Then he’d throw it right back at me, and we’d each take an end and pull and shake! That was the best time!

Momma: How long has he been gone?

Furry: Five years. That’s a long time in dog years. I remember when…What the…!

Furry has been interrupted by a flying sock flung from Fluffy’s playful antics. It lands a paw’s length away from Furry’s nose. Fluffy stops and stares tentatively at Furry.

Fluffy: Uh-oh…

Furry: Fluffy!

Furry stands.

Furry: That’s not how you do it. You don’t throw it by the end. You have to get in the middle. Then you throw it. Like this.

He lets the old blue sock fly. It meets its mark on Fluffy’s back. She turns several circles before pulling it back to the floor, then tosses it back to Furry just as he taught her. She plops her bottom to the floor and wags her tail, waiting for his reaction.

Furry: You know, you might not be so bad after all, Fluffy…That was pretty good, but I bet I can beat you in tug of war….

Yips and playful growls echo down the hall as today’s lesson in puppy tough love continues.

###

Love your puppies, and please adopt from your local shelter!

Stiletto Momma

**This post was written for the WordPress Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: Something Different, where bloggers were challenged to write in a different style. As you can see, I traded in my usual story-teller style for that of a magazine interviewer. I’ve been pondering how best to introduce my readers to the newest addition to the family–the Fluffy One. This challenge gave me the perfect outlet, and let me flex my creativity with the story from the Furry One’s perspective. Check out the DPChallenge for more out-of-the-box posts.

Five Minute Friday: A Welcomed Welcoming Committee

Each morning is something to be celebrated. No matter what time the sun rises or the alarm blares, mornings are a welcomed and happy occurrence…especially when you are greeted like I am with a welcoming committee of hugs, smiles and furry devotion.

This morning’s welcoming committee was a lineup of the usual team…

First up–the Hubs. Because my hair is longer and significantly higher maintenance than the Hubs’ close cut fade, I am the first to rise, but his is the first welcome I receive in the morning. He is always ready with the hug and peck on the cheek that starts my day on the right note.

Who wouldn’t want to welcome the day with these two?

As I make my way to the coffee maker, the Furry One (the 10-year-old terrier) drags himself from his spot on the floor to follow me to the kitchen. As the first cup brews, we both head to the treat cabinet, and he proves to me that even in his old age, he can still catch a Canine Carryout on the fly. His happy tail wag is a welcomed site because we almost lost him to autoimmune disease two years ago, and I so happy and grateful that he is still with us.

Happy you’re still here, Furry One!

Next comes the Young One, all sparkly in her glitter shoes and matching headband. A twirling inspection proves to us both that we were spot-on in our pre-K outfit selection the night before–a very welcomed relief because nothing starts the day off poorly than your leggings not going quite right with your bedazzled denim skirt!

There’s nothing quite like glitter on your shirt to get you going in the morning!

The Fluffy One (our newly adopted Maltese puppy) races between our feet for a welcome of her own. “Welcome back from night-night,” she declares as only a puppy can with barks, frantic tail wagging and high-flying jumps. Her enthusiasm for a reunion, no matter how long the separation, brings bright smiles and giggles all around.

Five pounds of fluffy fun!

Finally, I make my way to windows, eager to open the blinds and welcome the new day, hoping to catch a glimpse of deer or bunnies starting their day too.

What I find this morning, however, is definitely and unwelcome member of the welcoming committee.

Eeeeek!!!!!

Thanks for the effort, Creepy Crawly One. I’m sure you worked hard all night on the intricate web you strung for me. I appreciate the industriousness. Really. But I prefer to limit my welcoming committee to those who have no more than four legs. Nothing personal, but please take your hairy body and your extra appendages, and remove yourself from my view.

I refuse to let this shocking member of the morning welcoming committee wipe out the stellar job done by the previous four, so…

Welcome, Friday! I’ve missed you, let’s make this a great day!

Stiletto Momma

*Today’s Five Minute Friday is all about “Welcome”. Check it out, and take five minutes of your own to flex your writing muscles!

Talks with Jack

Once upon a time a young family went in search of the perfect companion.  It was a mom, a dad and a little boy of only three. They found that friend in the puppy room of the second animal shelter they visited that cold Saturday before Thanksgiving. A handsome Jack Russel Terrier with a chip on his shoulder because he was exiled to the Puppy Room when he was really a BIG dog!

My Jack

That was the day I first met my Jack.  He was part of our lives for 10 wonderful years.  I like to say that we all grew up with Jack.  He entered our lives at a time when we were trying to find stability.  The Hubs had just left active duty in the Army, we had bought our first house, and my Crohn’s Disease was running havoc. We NEEDED Jack.

Every year around this time, for the last four years or so, I start feeling out of sorts. Lonely, sad, just not right.  Tonight I was feeling that way again, and, as I do every year, I realized why.  It’s been five years since we lost our Jack.  December 30, 2006, we thanked him for taking care of us and sent him off peacefully.

I think about Jack a lot and tonight, I found an old journal I used to keep.  Before the time of WordPress…when Blogger was in its infancy…when blogging was for “kids”, I wrote an entry in a frilly notebook about my “talks” with Jack, and I thought I’d share it.  I believe in my heart that Jack left us for a reason.  At that time, we were trying to grow our family.  Jack was turning mean in his old age.  We called him the “grumpy old man”, and he was possessive, especially of me.  I knew if we had a baby in the house, there would be trouble.

Jack left us…, and the Young One came. Our adoption referral came almost one year to the day.

My tribute to Jack, written 1/1/07…

The day we brought Jack home, he claimed the Hubs' Army socks as his own!

It’s not a happy new year. I’ve lost my best friend. We put Jack to sleep two days ago, and I miss him so much. I was never alone when he was here. We understood each other. He was my baby. We had long talks.

The day we got him, he bit Nick twice. The next morning, I took him for a walk, and told him that I’d give him one more chance. He never bit Nick again. He went back to the house and started begging for the Reese’s Pieces Nick was eating!

As he got sicker, he was on medicine that made him drink a lot, which made him pee a lot–in the house, in the bed. The Hubs made him sleep in the kitchen and every morning we’d wake to a huge mess. I knew part of that was because he was mad, so I had a talk with him. I told him to show us he could go a whole night without going on the floor…try really hard. He did…no mess the next day!

Then I tried bringing him back into the bed at night. We sat on the bed and talked about not going in the bed. “Wake me up if you have to go.” He did, and he slept with us until the end.

The afternoon after the doctor told us that the immune system disease he thought Jack had was actually him immune system fighting a tumor on his pancreas, we took him home one last time, and we had a talk.

I told him I loved him more than anything, and I wanted him to be happy. He didn’t deserved to be so  sick. He deserved to go to Heaven.

I told him what he would have there–sunny days, warm days, bones to chew and treats. He could run all he wanted and chase squirrels and rabbits and mice. He could bark all he wanted, and no one would yell at him. He would be happy there, and Pop-Pop (the Hubs’ dad) would be waiting for him.

Jack opened his own presents on Christmas and couldn't wait to play!

I held him the rest of the day.  I took him out and let him walk as much as he wanted. We sat in front of the window in the den and watched the kids play in the yard. We went in the living room and watched the Christmas tree–he loved Christmas so much!

I took him upstairs to the bedroom, and he curled up by my pillow. We talked some more about Heaven, and I asked him if we were doing the right thing. He picked up his head and looked me straight in the eye. I think he was telling me , “Yes”.

He pulled this blanket off the back of the couch so many times, we finally just gave it to him!

I told him I loved him so many times that day, and at the vet’s that night night, I told him again and again. I also told him to come greet me next time I see him, and it gives me comfort to know that he will be there for me like he always has been. He died in my arms–12/30/06 8:20 pm.

Right now, I’m lost without my Jackie, my dear sweet baby. He gave me everything, and I grew up with him. He gave me comfort when I needed it, joy and laughter too. He gave me unconditional  love. I have been blessed to have Jack in my life for more than 10 years.

He was my friend, my doctor, my child. I’ll love him forever.

Love your doggies and your kitties and any other critters your call Family,

Stiletto Momma