On Losing Lucca

(I try hard not to post sad stories but I’m struggling with losing my handsome Lucca and writing seems to somehow soothe my sadness… so bear with me…)

It was Easter Saturday 6 years ago. We were driving through the parking lot of our local super WalMart. The girls were happily discussing the upcoming Easter play and subsequent egg hunt. Suddenly, and almost simultaneously, we all spotted an older model pickup truck with a hand printed sign parked in one of the “north forty” spots. These two simple words were printed on the sign “Free Puppies”.

We had recently lost our beloved shepherd of 12 years, and I, for one, was not ready to replace her. I should have known better than to stop… but I stopped.  I should have been more adamant when I told them no… But I wasn’t.  I should not have looked into those beautiful green eyes…. But I did- and we took him home and he became my guy, my dude, my boy, my son!

Now, six years later, after being the most magnificent, loving, loyal and protective “guy” a family could ever have… I had to let him go. I had to make the most  contradictory decision of my life in regards to him. See my guy became ill, the doctor said that it was likely that he had some type of brain issue (perhaps a tumor) that caused him to become aggressive and confused. Call me selfish but I couldn’t bear the thought of watching him lose his light, his bounce, his zest for life!

On that day I cried, I sobbed openly, I slept and I wept. That day was one of the worst days of my life, and silly me, I thought today-  4 days later- would be easier. Oh boy, was I wrong. This is Saturday. The day “Lukey” and I would hang outside together. I am so lost without him. My prayer is that he’s not lost without me!

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Senses

This form of poetry is known as Tanka. It’s a genre of classical Japanese poetry. Tanka poems consist of 5 lines with a total of 31 syllables. The pattern is 5/7/5/7/7. Have a look at the one I’ve written and let me know what you think.

Such Sensual Senses

Eyes for only you

Cologne goaded me so much

My breath caught each time we touched

Sounds of love galore

Should we ever kiss once more

NaPoWriMo Day 19

Today’s prompt: “…challenge you to write a landay. Landays are 22-syllable couplets, generally rhyming. The form comes from Afghanistan, where women often use it in verses that range from the sly and humorous to the deeply sardonic and melancholy.”

 

I cry for you nightly in my head.

         For I lie next to my husband in our wedding bed.

NaPoWriMo Day 7

The following is an excerpt from the  NaPoWriMo prompt for day 5—…”Love poems are a staple of the poetry scene. It’s pretty hard to be a poet and not write a few – or a dozen – or maybe six books’ worth. But because so many love poems have been written, there are lots of clichés. Fill your poems with robins and hearts and flowers, and you’ll sound more like a greeting card than a bard. So today, I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem”.

Here is my poem:

  Goes Without Saying

Who does things this way?

This can’t be real life
No pain no heartache
No equivocal strife
Beautiful, encompassing
Strengthening with time
Circumventing hard spots
With moves of a mime
Binary bliss
A harmonious duet
Exhilaration unparalleled
Euphoria’s silhouette

NaPoWriMo day 3 (late night posting)

“My GB”

My baby came home to surprise me

She told me she wouldn’t be here

I cried when she walked in my room tonight

It seemed like it’d been a whole year

She’s actually been gone just three months

But I missed her as if it’d been longer

Each time that she leaves I think it’ll be easy

But it seems the pain gets that much stronger

She’s my girl, my shoulder, my lifeline

She’s my sunshine, my heartbeat, my rock

She makes me so proud to be her mom

She’s got best daughter on lock

This poem may not be inspiring

To anyone who gives it a read

But it’s not to inspire or to change you

I don’t need you to follow my lead-

I just wanted to put it on paper

My feelings for my girl GB

See without her to keep  me in line

I know not where I’d be.

Rochelle Harris

The Art of Adoption

The art of adoption: FullSizeRender-3

What’s it mean to adopt an idea? That’s simple it means to choose that idea.

Ok, how about a way of life? …simple again, that just means you change your life to fit another mold…

What if you adopt a new way of thinking? Well, that basically means out with the old and in with the new.

So what’s your take on adopting a puppy? (smiles) That means you get to take it home and keep it!

    Adoption is an art in it’s purest most precious form. All the research and book reading in the world could never give you a more clear definition, description or understanding of the feelings you’ll experience through adoption – than simply doing it will give. When you adopt another human being, it’s like receiving the Olympic torch.… either the birth mom hands it to you or it is passed to you through an agency liaison… Either way, once you accept it, it’s your job to keep it burning …for always and forever.

Just our opinion… what’s yours?

A single mom, but not for real——

A single mom, but not for real——-

According to dictionary.com, basically the definition of the word single is as follows:

sole, lone, solitary, by itself/oneself, alone, unaccompanied, unsupported by others

I’ve come to realize quite a few things as a single mom. Among those things this one stands out…

I may be single, but I’m definitely not alone, unaccompanied or unsupported—-

My support system consists of…

(1)my 22 year old daughter (2)Runaway Nun #2 (3) my mom (4)my older brother (5)my younger brother and (6) my daughters’ godmother

Recently we celebrated my 98 pound chocolate Lab, Lucca’s, sixth birthday. I refer to him as my boy because he is such a big part of our family- he loves us and we love him. We had a full fledged birthday party for him, complete with party hats, decorations and a piñata. In a not- so- brilliant move, I gave him one of those foot long Wal Mart bones as a gift. We also have a Morkie and a Yorkie Poo so I put my big guy in his room and put the baby gate up so that they wouldn’t disturb him (or be eaten by him) while he enjoyed his gift.

My 10 year old daughter and Lucca are extremely close. He often sleeps with/on her and I believe he would protect her with his own life. Here’s where things go bad…and my next not- so- brilliant move… I neglected to remind my little girl NOT to disturb him either.  Well, she did and he snapped at her. Unfortunately, his snap was quicker than her jump back and he made contact with her face-with his teeth. Yes, he bit her in her face. He did one of those barking snaps, the kind that would normally serve as a warning (except she was too close and not fast enough to avoid his teeth). She let out a blood curdling scream and when I got to her she was in full panic/pain mode. Initially, I thought he’d merely frightened her, but the moment I saw the blood, I knew better. I immediately yelled at him and quarantined him to his kennel then I grabbed her and tried to console her and check her injuries. She was reluctant to let me get a good look at her face so I ushered her into the bathroom to get a better look and then decided to take her to the hospital to have it checked by a doctor. Before going to the hospital, Runaway Nun #2 vowed to join us as soon as she secured the house and the other dogs, and in my third and final not- so- brilliant move of the evening- I took my little girl to my mom’s house to get a second opinion. She took one look and told me to take her to the hospital.

I called my little girl’s godmother and she met us at the hospital. After checking in, I called my older daughter and told her what happened. She panicked, I calmed her down, then she asked if her little sister was ok (in about 15 different ways). When she was comfortable that she (her little sister) would survive, she asked if Lucca was ok. I assured her that the hospital visit was just a precautionary measure, that Lucca was home, kenneled and lucky to be alive- but alive, and I promised to call after we saw the doctor.

While waiting to see the doctor I received a call from my older brother. He had spoken with my mother and called to

1. ask if his niece was ok and

2. ask if I needed him to come home from the West coast and kill my dog

I calmly told him that

1. I was positive that she was fine and

2. I DID NOT need him to kill my dog

…things went downhill from there…..

Oh my little girl was, in fact, just fine. She suffered some superficial lacerations on her nose, upper lip and just under her eye. We waited over three hours in the ER to see a doctor and finally left without being seen; by then I’d had a chance to get a good look at her face and it was obvious that she didn’t need stitches (some warm soapy water to clean it and some antibiotic ointment, but no stitches).

The fact that we didn’t see a doctor went unchallenged but my unwillingness to either kill or get rid of Lucca became the hot (over heated) topic of the hour…day…and week! I received so many calls from my older brother that night that I stopped answering his calls. The next morning my younger brother called and gave me his advice – saying that obviously Lucca did not regard my little girl as an alpha figure in our house. He said that Lucca should see himself as #5 in the pecking order with the humans representing numbers one thru four. God knows I love that man and although I know Lucca’s a pretty smart fellow, I’ve never seen him count, so this piece of advice sort of fell on deaf ears.

Now on to my older brother-again…. he sent “nasty grams” to me and my older daughter over and over again throughout the next few days and he vowed to “hold us responsible” if Lucca ever injured my little girl again. He also said that “clearly” I wasn’t putting my little girl’s well-being ahead of my love for my dog. He told me (thru text message) to “get rid of the dog”—

God knows I love that man too and I know he’s brilliant and he loves my little girl but damn- NOBODY LOVES HER LIKE I DO-  so I refused to allow him to make this kind of decision for me or to bullyrag me into doing something I would regret.

My little girl cried when I suggested we make Lucca an outside dog and when I told her that my older brother said we should get rid of him she said “he never had a dog or a pet”—-

I took her to her pediatrician the day after the bite for a tetanus shot and Lucca was up to date on all of his shots before the bite.

My older daughter asked my little girl if she is afraid of Lucca now and she said “a little” (I think it’s a healthy fear- she gives him his space when he’s eating and she avoids leaning over in his face- at all). Also, I monitor the two of them (like a hawk) when they’re around one another.

As a single mom I am truly blessed to have such a strong supportive- support system. I love  each and every one of them with all my heart and I am so very grateful to God that they love me and my girls so much—-

P.S. these people are the reason that I am

                      A single mom, but not for real———

A Winning Hand

We were thrilled to be featured on belleofthecarnival.com today. In our haste and excitement, we failed to edit and re-edit our description so there are a couple of grammatical errors. No biggie, we think you’ll get the gist of it and we’re certain that you’ll enjoy the poem “A Winning Hand”.

Belle of the Carnival

I am overjoyed to share with all of you Rochelle Harris’s warm and touching poem “A Winning Hand” on this Poetry Friday.
A winning hand
Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns is a collaborated effort created by me, Rochelle,  the primary writer, the jokester and the wild child and my partner in crime, Yevette, the editor in chief, prayer warrior, and resident heckler.
I grew up in a very small town in Mississippi. My grandmother was the “Mother” of the Baptist church in our rural community. One Sunday during the Easter season, the Sunday school teachers were assigning parts for the upcoming play. I stepped up and said to the teacher “I want one”. Although I was only 4 years old my grandmother assured the teacher that I was capable of memorizing and reciting a poem.
I was so excited that I learned my poem in record time but,,, when I got up the following…

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Storms and Rainbows

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Disclaimer: We have no desire to alter the happy upbeat tempo of our blog but, we think it’s time we shed a bit of light on what makes Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns so beautiful~

                

-from the most horrible of storms come the most beautiful rainbows-

Mississippi is the birthplace and home state of Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns. Our town is located about 200 miles south of the state capitol on the beautiful gulf coast- where pine trees are plenty and beaches and seafood are abound. We have 100+ degree temperatures in the summer and if the winter weather brings ice or snow our schools close. We have no city transit service, no cab service and no bus service so getting around means either walking, biking, skateboarding or driving your own car, truck, SUV, etc.

Even though there are volumes of positive things that go on in Mississippi -discrimination is still alive and well… and it’s home to the Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns. We decided to chronicle a few of our own personal experiences right here right now—-

1. Picture this: a faded white only sign on a bathroom door in the basement of the local courthouse (year- sometime between 1989 and 1996)

2. Think about this: September 8, 1989 – graduation day at a POLICE ACADEMY-

an African American cadet is asked to raise the American flag up the pole and as the graduating cadets stand at attention, watching proudly, a non African American cadet makes this statement “what’s the world coming to when they let a nigger put up the American flag?” The academy commander’s reaction when told about the incident: “well you know there’s racism everywhere”.

3.  A devout Catholic parishioner is denied the right to read during mass by the mass coordinator- because she’d recently returned home from an 18 month prison sentence.

4.  2008: A group of “closeted” racists target an African American female who earned a coveted position in a major state scholastic competition.

5. Here’s another one: the year is 2009; the setting – a classroom; the incident – a Caucasian male brings a homemade noose to school; results -in school isolation- 

The African American female who reported the incident is taunted, teased and ridiculed by numerous members of the student body while the teachers and administrator basically look on. Incidentally, this occurred in a Catholic school where tuition was high, enrollment was and is generally low and (obviously) hate and racism are tolerated.

6. In 2014 during a meeting, the department director talks openly about how “nice queers are” and asks the group if ever any of them have met a “queer who wasn’t nice”. Several of the people present during the meeting are either gay, lesbian or transgender, but none of them dare speak out.    

     These are but a few incidents (the storms) that we, Runaway Nuns and Leprechauns, (the rainbows), two of the most phenomenal women you’ll ever get to know, come from.