I was recently diagnosed with Stage IV nasopharyngeal carcinoma, after a period of remission. 

I restarted treatment on June 16th and that means 6 cycles of chemo-immunotherapy. 

I am scared. But I’m going to do this. 

I’m not really sure what else to say right now. 

Let’s call this story, Molly and Me, because Molly is going to stay right here, burrowed under blankets when it’s cold and soaking in the sunshine on the warm days. Loving life in all the ways.

Molly has several health issues, including congestive heart failure and poor oral health. She’s on medication for her heart condition and will be for life. She is also not a candidate for anesthesia given her age and heart condition and might need antibiotics in the future. These factors mean her life expectancy is likely not going to be as long as normal.

What Molly does have now is a zest for those little moments — going outside and basking in the sun, the excitement of food and treat time, the awe of little strolls up to the park for photos and ever so many more perfect and peaceful moments. Her quality of life right now is excellent, considering her health conditions. This is an area her foster papa will monitor closely.

Molly will live the rest of her life with her foster papa, Jason and her foster sister, Pepper. They all get along so well and Jason has even caught Molly and Pepper sleeping together on occasion, so we’re already on a roll here.

So that’s why for the rest of her life, it’s Molly and Me and her sister Pepper, taking on the world, one treat (or maybe two 🤭), at a time.

I wrote this the morning after losing my dog Gordie, to cancer.

On this first morning without you, I sit here, I can’t believe it, but I know it’s true. The window is not that clear through the tears dotting my glasses, but I look outside and see signs of springs becoming.

On this first morning without you, I recognize, what I became with you.

Embedded in your fur was a hidden map to a new story - one you helped me write. In your fur was the warmth of July in January. In your fur was that of a being I strive to be like everyday. I’ll let these tears douse me because it’s spring and with tears, come tulips.

On this first morning without you, I miss watching you sniff the grass while I sip my coffee.

You soaking up the first flakes of morning air. In wind and rain, snow or sun, every start to the day was perfect with you, Gordie.

“Let’s get the leash”, I’d say, and off we’d go. Ready for that first adventure. Whether to the mailbox or the mountain, that smile of yours told me just how excited and ready you were.

But first, breakfast. Your bowl I made you, the one with mountains and sunsets and trees and trails, now empty and still.

More tears.

I guess it’s true, the high of love is so worth the depth of pain in the aftermath. If someone said, “let’s do this all over again…”, my answer would be a resounding: Yes.

Yes, Gordie I would do it all over again because a love that strong is worth it. A love this strong is lifelong.

And yes Gordie, Pepper and I will be okay. The lessons you taught me. The way you showed me how to live. Because animals do have words and Gordie, I can hear you say, keep going and keep loving and keep striving for that northern light.

I love you so much my little northern light.

There will come a time when

We will no longer feel the warmth of a rising sun slipping over the waters edge.

Or sense our backs push into a soft grass as we gaze at glittering stars above.

Or hear a tree bend in a midnight gust.

Or feel our toes print memories into that summer sand.

Or watch as an afternoon wind rustles the pages of the book we write.

Sometimes, the typewriter ink dries up before we finish writing our story.

We are not entitled to anything.

So this is our moment

Because truly, we are here for all but a blink of time.

To write however many new lines we can with the time we have.

that time

between dinner and a movie

when the plates are soaking

and hints of leftovers warm the coming attractions

of cuddling and loving.

of being here to do it again.

this is when

the most important moments

play their recording.

that time

when I unbunckle their harness

back from the waterfall

more memories to hang on the wall

moments like this

anything but small.

that time

when eyes open to a new day

squinting at sunlight sliding through the doorway

seriousy, this

in every way.

that time

folding laundry

watching the dog

turn it all into a mess

it’s to this new world

i continue saying yes

that time

when the day starts with coffee and oatmeal

this entire ordeal

is about living

for the moments smaller than a watermeal.