Annie

Our neighborhood is mourning Annie, a sweet little Yorkie who recently passed away. Like many tiny dogs, she had a really big personality - and very fancy hairdo. Annie had the canine equivalent of a Napoleon complex. Everyone adored her.

Annie’s person (note to people who don’t have dogs, most of your neighbors will never know your name, always referring to you as Rover's mom or dad) is a lovely older woman, who lives a wonderful, full life. Several years ago, after being diagnosed with cancer, she confided in me that she wasn’t going anywhere, as Annie needed her. I’m so happy that she was able to hang in there, holding her little friend peacefully in her arms as Annie passed from this earth.

All of this talk of death has my family debating what will happen to us when our time comes. Not to sound like a Drama Queen, but I want to be cremated, and have my ashes scattered with Tex and Maggie's ashes someday. Our son Tyler agrees that cremation is the only way to go.

Thing is, even though my husband Tom is not very religious (anymore), he still carries around the baggage that comes with growing up in the Catholic church, he still feels that burial is the only option. Our good friend Josie has assured him that the church has loosened it’s rules, allowing cremation under certain conditions. Truth is, Tom isn’t really sure why the church of his childhood banned cremation in the first place, and on one level he just feels it’s better to, you know, Cover Your Ass...... just in case.

Tom's thinking reminds me of the Jesuits who said "Give me the child, and I’ll have the man for life."

Some things just never leave us.