100

No, not posts, I’m way beyond that. Years. My dear friend lost her mother, age 100.

She’s a hospice nurse/manager of a bunch of people now. When she was an ER nurse years ago she told me to keep all my dog’s stuff right where it was before she died until I was ready to let go of it. She was correct.

I advised her to take her own advice. Wait and find out where your mother, in hopefully a will, told you where things go, or if you have to wing it, choose the daughter who loved that pin or that set of earrings.

Now my old dog is in our favorite park we enjoyed together near a tree our neighbors bought the City in her memory. My mother’s ashes are in the Pacific Ocean.

One story I can tell is that our first “date” 14 years ago included 14 pet visits, including my dear friend’s dog Harley, fish Dave (Harley-Davidson), cats Moccasin and Coppertop and a bird Tweety.

I know what I’ll do, go to the Harley-Davidson Museum in honor of Mom. And herring. Hey, girls, what do you think? Harleys, not herring. All for now, Dee

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