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Is it true that love never dies?
Erik's Hope: The Leash that Led Me to Freedom is a fictional account based on the true story of Andrea Chilcote's transformational journey, assisted by her beloved dog, Erik. The book chronicles Andrea's shift from a high-potential professional with little regard for matters of the heart to a passionate and caring advocate for personal change, growth and healing.
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What if many of the things we hear, see and experience, outside of ourselves, are just reflections of our own inner state? In each of our lives there exist other people and situations acting as mirrors for the aspects of ourselves that we either dislike or admire. If you believe, as I do, that all living things are part of a mass consciousness, separate in personality and possessing free will but connected energetically - spiritually in fact, then this 'mirror' principle makes sense . . .
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Erik's Hope is a primer for navigating the emotional tides of life, disguised as a page-turning story. Readers relate to its everyday themes and take away meaningful insights for their own lives. The lessons include:
• Life's answers lie inside of us and are available in any moment.
• The present moment is the key to transcending suffering.
• Each one of us is part of a collective fabric. This connectedness combined with genuine self acceptance and compassion for other living beings can change the world, one moment at a time.
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Andrea Chilcote
Andrea Chilcote is Erik'’s person, the woman who experienced and documented Erik'’s real life love, loss and rebirth. She credits much of her work today to the lessons received from her teacher, Erik.
Andrea is an author, executive coach, and leadership development expert. She brings to the reader current practical knowledge of the issues and concerns people are facing at this difficult time. She has a keen skilled and intuitive ability to facilitate transformational change in individuals, and her writing offers this opportunity to the reader.
Andrea has authored numerous personal development articles and programs, and designs and delivers leadership curriculum for diverse businesses through her consulting practice, Morningstar Ventures . Andrea lives in Cave Creek, Arizona with her husband, dogs and horses.
Sara Burden
Sara Burden added fantasy and adventure to Erik and Andrea's true-life story. Equipped with creative imagination and her love for the Chilcote canine family, she helped bring the characters to life. When Andrea asked Sara to collaborate in the writing of Erik'’s Hope , she was delighted to do so.
As Vice President of Walden Businesses , a prominent southeastern mergers and acquisitions firm, Sara is featured speaker on numerous talk radio shows and conducts accounting and law firm seminars and workshops. She has addressed women'’s professional business groups and has taught educational classes at international conferences for the mergers and acquisitions industry. Sara lives in Atlanta, Georgia.
In the early days, it was tempting to think of Erik as incorrigible--impossible to tame or train, a wild thing that only a mother could love. And love him I did, from the moment I set eyes on his matted dreadlocks. Think of the famous dog Marley ( Marley and Me by John Grogan), and you'll start to get the picture. If Erik had his way, he would roam free by day, getting into all manner of trouble, then curl up next to me in bed at night like a sweet angel who would never stray from my side.
When I adopted Erik from the county shelter in Phoenix, I was naïve to say the least. Nearly a year after he joined our family, a veterinarian was finally bold enough to offer advice.
"Erik needs leadership, Andrea," he stated bluntly. "From you. Dogs are happiest when they know the rules and boundaries. He wants to please you, but he gets mixed messages."
I took his advice to heart, though we stumbled through the next few years taking two steps forward, one step back. At least I was making progress. Little did I know I was really the student and Erik the wise teacher.
I'm not sure if Erik mellowed as he aged, if I became more comfortable as alpha dog, or if his body simply didn't move fast enough for him to run away or wreak havoc when unsupervised. What I am clear about is that Erik was a special angel sent to help me discover who I am and what my life could mean.
Erik was the first of my canine teachers and his lessons transformed me. He was at once a stately and wise white wolf and simultaneously a mischievous coyote. I have come to appreciate that he used whichever was appropriate for the job at hand. I was a tough student and Erik was up to the task in life and beyond.
When Amigo was a young adolescent, a friend and animal communicator commented that she had never known a dog with his level of self esteem. "He has no doubt who he is, or how loved and appreciated he is. He knows his purpose here, in partnership with you."
While this was admirable, another validation of the gift he was here to share, I was troubled on a mundane level. "Then why is he a runaway?" I asked. Amigo was a daredevil, flirting with danger at every turn. "Why won't he obey me when it's for his own safety--which in turn ensures our mission together?"
"Andrea," my wise friend responded. "There are three elements at play: breed, personality and soul. As a Siberian Husky, he has a nomadic instinct, and a sense of wanderlust and adventure. His genes compel him to roam, seeking excitement." She continued. "His personality is that of alpha wolf. He may be small in stature, but he is full of confidence and feels invincible. He's rather proud of his beautiful looks too."
I smiled at the last remark, as I had been amused by how he seemed to pose for photographs. And while I can't document it, I often caught him looking at himself as we passed by storefronts in which the window acted as a mirror.
My friend concluded her assessment. "Andrea, the third factor may be the most compelling reason he doesn't heed your wishes for safety. He is an evolved soul. To Amigo, death is not something to be feared. In fact, if he were to accidentally die, prematurely, he would return to you without a doubt."
"I see," I responded. "Well, he may be an evolved soul, but I am a mere human at this time. I would grieve and suffer needlessly if he left at this point. So perhaps he is all of those things you describe, and another."
"What's that?" she asked.
"A reckless teenager who I am responsible for keeping safe." We both sighed.
"I will do my best," I said. And I did, for twelve more years.
Erik's rescue from the Phoenix animal shelter is far from happenstance, though Andrea could not comprehend the impact of her decision to adopt the mangy wolf-dog. He's a handful from the start, immediately testing her readiness to fully engage in life's joys and trials.
Slowly Erik begins to thaw Andrea's heart as she experiences his unconditional love. The dog has secret 'conversations' each evening with his spirit guide, White Wolf. White Wolf coaches Erik and in turn Erik translates White Wolf's wise
counsel into lessons for Andrea.
The biggest lesson of all comes with Erik's eventual death, which proves to be Andrea's moment of truth, her test of faith. At rock bottom, suffering the wellspring of grief from every loss she had experienced to date in her life, White Wolf appears to Andrea in a dream, offering a hopeful promise.
• Each one of us is part of a collective fabric. This connectedness combined with genuine self
acceptance and compassion for other living beings can change the world, one moment at a
time.
Events coming soon, so check back . . .
What if many of the things we hear, see and
experience, outside of ourselves, are just
reflections of our own inner state? In each of our
lives there exist other people and situations acting
as mirrors for the aspects of ourselves that we
either dislike or admire. If you believe, as I do, that
all living things are part of a mass consciousness,
separate in personality and possessing free will
but connected energetically - spiritually in fact,
then this "“mirror"” principle makes sense. And, as
is the case with many of my life lessons, a dog is
teaching me just how closely connected we all are.
This past year, I have learned that I have a four-
legged mirror living in our home, sharing my life.
Her name is Whisper. She'’s a Malamute -‒ my husband'’s Malamute to be precise, and she’'s been our companion for eight years. I can hear her comment now, if only she could read a blog: "“Yes, it’s taken Andrea eight years to get the message. Pitiful humans!"”
The truth is, I'’ve always been aware that Whisper reflects my feelings and fears. Whisper shows her sweet and loving demeanor to every human she meets. Other dogs? Not so much. So when we hike in the desert and inevitably run into other dogs, she often takes an aggressive stance, testing my physical strength (a Malamute is a strong creature) and frustrating me as a supposed leader. It would be easy to write her off as impossibly dog-aggressive or rationalize her behavior as protective of me or her handler, but there'’s more at play here. Whisper mirrors my feelings. If I can remain present, calm and objective, there is usually no trouble. If I feel the fear of a potential fight, or, as is more likely the case, judgment of people who can'’t or won'’t control their own dogs, Whisper acts out my emotions. Knowing this, the solution seems simple -‒ yet managing feelings is far from easy. Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan, advocates calling up a calm-assertive state of being, using an inside-out approach of managing one’s thoughts and feelings before taking outward action. I challenge you to try it now.
Imagine some person or group for whom you feel judgment ‒ from mild superiority to true disdain or contempt ‒ the degree does not matter. We all have these feelings at times. Okay, now that you’ve got it, try to release it. Stop feeling judgment, quickly. Tough, yes? For me, it can be very difficult and at the same time, a very worthwhile pursuit. If I can manage my thoughts and feelings, then I can manage my actions ‒ and this, in my opinion, is the key to the universe.
Go back to the judgmental state you just identified. What is this person or situation reflecting that is true for you? Do you feel a fear that was previously unrecognized? Is there some aspect of the other person’s behavior that triggers a memory of your own shortcomings, a mistake you made, a lesson you learned? Identify it, feel it, and -‒ here'’s the magic -‒ it will be transformed.
Once a previously unconscious emotion is brought to the surface, your logical mind can make sense of it, and you can act appropriately. Take the feeling of fear, for example. If the fear represents a real threat, you can act on that. If the fear is based on history or a habit of thought, you can let it go. The truth will indeed set us free.
There'’s a bonus to this process, given that we are all connected. When we transform our inner state, others respond in new ways. It makes for a more peaceful hike, as well as a better world.
Have you made a New Year's resolution? If so, stop right now and notice how it feels to you.
Did you sigh wistfully, thinking "the party's over soon," or sense a need to buck up and get discipline? Did the feeling energize you or deflate you? It's estimated that only 10% of New Year's resolutions are achieved. And it's no wonder, given that they are often uninspired.
The Latin root of the word resolution is resolutionem - the process of reducing things into simpler forms, loosening or "unbinding." In his Word Power blog, Gregory Rineberg points out that in the last 500 or so years, we have used the word resolution to mean just the opposite - holding firm in determination, resolute in pursuing a course of action.
Perhaps we can take a lesson from etymology. Consider as a metaphor the loosening or unbinding of your passions and true desires before taking resolved action. In my last post, I spoke of how intuition can work in tandem with our clever mind to manifest success if we allow our heart to take the lead. "Here is what I want and need," we say from the higher self, our creative center, and then the mind responds, "Okay, let's figure out how to get that for you -here's the right action step to take."
When we lead with our head vs. our heart, we pursue faux goals. A faux goal is a pursuit disguised as noble, but does not truly reflect our heart's desire. Many New Years resolutions fall into this category. Of course, it sounds honorable to start exercising, get organized or save money . . . but what's the real reason for taking these actions? Ask yourself these questions:
• Does my goal or resolution reflect a "should" something I think or have been told I should do?
• Is the goal more important to someone else than it is to me?
• Does the thought of doing or achieving it give me energy or take the wind out of my sails?
• Have I pursued this before without lasting success?
Sometimes we formulate resolutions as some sort of punishment for our supposed failures ("I ate too many holiday desserts . . ." or "I took too much time off"). A goal born out of regret is handicapped from the start.
Examine Your Goals
What higher purpose is achieved when you get what you say you want?
Is that your true heart's desire?
Recently, I met a man who was preparing for a second heart bypass surgery. He was disciplined enough to exercise regularly and eat a heart-healthy diet, yet 15 years after the first surgery, he had to endure it again. I asked him where he got the courage and resolve. His reply, "I have five grandchildren and I want to be here as they grow up."
Take Inspired Action
Lead from your heart. Decide first what you desire, what purpose you are pursuing, then, and only then, define the action steps. Test the actions with the question, "What will that get me?" and include positive effects as well as negative ones - before resolving to achieve them. A helpful hint regarding purposeful action: you'll know it when you feel it, not when you think it.
Our new book, Erik's Hope , is the culmination of my 13-year pursuit to share the lessons of a shelter dog named Erik with the rest of the world. At the same time the goal of publication has been achieved the journey is just now beginning. I have never been filled with more resolve to have this story reach others who can consider and apply the lessons in ways that transform their own lives. My resolve is born out of my deep knowledge that this experience with Erik, this message of hope and inspiration, is purpose-based. It's one of the things I'm here to do in this life, and it gives me joy.
So, go ahead, resolve to lose weight, save for retirement or leave work earlier. These are noble pursuits for sure. But first ask yourself the question, What will that get me? If the answer fills you with passion, if you feel a sense of purpose or meaning, you're on the road to success.
This life we are leading here on planet Earth is finite. While it's fleeting by eternal standards, we all are here now for a reason. Make 2012 the year of your heart 's desire.
I am on my way from Arizona to Toronto, sans winter coat. This is despite having purchased a new down-filled dress coat just last week while in New York, in the midst of yet another experience of being ill prepared for winter wind chills.
So, the question I am asking myself is this: “Was I so present to the mild winter pre-dawn in Cave Creek that I didn’t realize I left the house in just a light business jacket (didn'’t realize it until entering the airport actually), or was I consumed by a cluttered mind, flotsam and jetsam taking the space allotted for clear thinking?”
I'm going with the latter, the former being an admittedly clever rationalization. Despite a life-long commitment to staying present in the moment, I still succumb to the pull of my analytical mind, oblivious to my surroundings or the task at hand.
Some view being present as a virtue. I don't see it that way. In my opinion, it’s just an available choice, a minute-by-minute choice as to how to walk through one’s day. It's a way of fully engaging in life’'s joyful moments as well as managing inevitable stressors. And it’'s a requirement for true connection with other human beings.
The dogs teach me the lesson of presence anytime I'’m awake enough to notice. Those familiar with the story of the sand dollars in our new book Erik's Hope will recall how I learned to access my creative intuition through Erik's gift of a day of play on a beach in South Carolina, as well as how I learned to truly treasure precious time with him when the end was near.
That lesson is ongoing. When Amigo suddenly became ill in January of this year, he required intense care. We had hope that he would recover, and of course I wanted to be with him; offering the kind of care only a mother could give. I have a vivid memory of sitting on my bathroom floor as dear Dr. Kit tended to him shortly after surgery. We began to talk of my travel schedule that week, and what I would do. I stopped mid-sentence and said: “I cannot worry about Wednesday, or even tomorrow. I can only manage right now, and now, today, I am here, available and present.” That philosophy carried me for three months as Amigo rallied and regressed until his inevitable death. People came along to help when needed and things got done, as they always do. I look back on times like this in my life (and there have been a few this year) and wonder where my stamina came from. I am certain that I channeled my energy wisely, allowing only the matter at hand to matter.
The mind is a useful yet tricky tool. Our capacity for conceptualizing, analyzing and calculating is unrivaled in the animal kingdom, and this ability easily seduces our attention away from the matter at hand. It can craft fears and contingencies, and infer meanings that do not exist. Or it can be a brilliant partner to the creative process. Working in tandem, it’s as if our heart says “Here'’s what I want and need,” and our mind says, “Okay, let'’s figure out how to get that for you.”
This summer, a wise friend met my new pup, Kairos. She said, “"Andrea, Kairos has an important purpose in your life. He is here to help you tame your ‘'eagle mind,'’ and remind you to lead with your heart."” One need only look into the depths of his blue eyes to understand that is true.
Yes, I am willing to allow my heart to take the lead. And perhaps I'’ll remember my coat on the next trip.
Today as I awoke, I was struck by the quickening occurring in my life and the lives of those around me. I am in awe of the physical, emotional and spiritual resilience we are demonstrating in the face of challenges and change.
My dear friend, Amigo, left the earth on April 27. Sweet Kairos showed up in my life just two weeks later on May 12, and arrived home at Morningstar six weeks after that. Since then, many have asked me, "How can you love a puppy so soon after Amigo's passing?"
My answer is the same each time I'm asked. Loving Kairos does not diminish my grief for the loss of Amigo. I have the capacity to love in the midst of loss, maintain faith in moments of fear, and laugh while I cry. All of us have this capacity and it’s being strengthened by the roller coaster experience of life in 2011.
Since Amigo'’s departure and Kairos'’ arrival, my husband miraculously survived emergency heart bypass surgery and our new book, Erik’'s Hope , was released. Asked many times how I was feeling, my answers included anxiety and anger as well as relief and exhilaration. What has prevailed? Faith, love and gratitude.
In midst of any suffering, there is joy to be found in our lives. I am not referring to the metaphorical "silver lining" that accompanies what appear to be negative experiences. Oh, silver linings indeed exist, though they usually show themselves much later, a result of mental perspective rather than emotional experience. Kairos' arrival was not a silver lining in Amigo's death. Rather, it was a rich reminder of the range of experiences available when we stop, look, listen—and feel. When we open our eyes and hearts fully, we can access all that our lives contain, present and potential.
On Thanksgiving Day, we ceremoniously retired Amigo's harness and spread a portion of his ashes in a remote area of our beloved Cave Creek. Twice, when I was overcome by the emotion of remembering Amigo’s love for that spot and longed to have him there with me, Kairos, (out of character, even though he's a pup) acted the clown and provided comic relief.
Kairos, like many children, puts everything he sees into his mouth. Fortunately not all is swallowed, but most is at least tasted. As I was digging a hole to bury Amigo'’s harness in sand and rocks, Kairos buried his face in the sand. He emerged, his white face masked with black granules, with a prized weed hanging from both sides of his mouth. "Look Mom," his innocent and earnest eyes said. "I can help you find what you’re looking for. Was is this?"”
I was reminded in that moment that one can experience gut-wrenching loss, take in the heady beauty of a pristine natural setting, accept the warm love of a friend, and laugh out loud at the antics of an innocent young dog. All at once, each contributed to the experience of the precious present moment and none was more important than the other.
Erik's Hope chronicles my awakening to simple feelings; feelings that had been buried deep in the sand of my consciousness. It took raw grief to jolt me alive again. I feel truly alive today as I draw upon my own creative intuition to guide me through the rapids. We are being bombarded by experiences and the lesson appears to be, simply, to experience them. Life vests on, enjoy the ride!
I am on vacation. Vacation . . . that time for rest and relaxation, catching up on sleep, leisurely reading materials of personal interest, and enjoying my favorite things: my husband, great friends, good food and wine, and the foggy ocean air of Cambria, California. This years vacation has all those qualities, and yet its different. Sweeter because of Kairos, my 11-week-old Siberian Husky.
Kairos is already a seasoned traveler, having made a car trip from Mississippi to Arizona at seven weeks of age. So it's no surprise that he was perfectly well behaved on the late night trip from our home in Cave Creek to a stop in Ventura, California Thursday night. We arrived at the hotel at 2 in the morning and kindly, Kairos allowed me to sleep until 6. Fortified with four hours of power sleep, I arose, threw on acceptable clothing and hurried to walk the puppy in the lush grassy area in front of the hotel. I had to be back before Whisper, our adult Malamute, arose in similar need.
In my groggy state, I smiled as I watched Kairos frolic in the green grass, an experience he had not had since leaving Mississippi. I thought of how a mother's care for a baby takes priority over sleep and other personal needs, and felt a sense of that same selfless commitment. I asked myself, "What do dogs really do to endear us so?" My answer came rapidly.
We were running laps around the large circle of grass when Kairos stopped abruptly. He sat at attention, and I looked up to see a young woman approaching. "Oh my," she said. "Oh my." She bent down to touch my pup, who greeted her gently and lovingly. She put her hand over her heart. There it remained as she looked into my eyes and said, "Thank you. I am so blessed." The woman disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. In that short meeting, Kairos had touched her heart.
In the days that have followed, Kairos has touched many more hearts. All were strangers, all fleeting instants. He brought smiles to scowling faces, softened the pain of loneliness, and brought a distracted young man to a moment of awareness. The latter simply touched the pups downy fur and said, "This made my day." His young companion replied: "It made my life."
I'll never know how or if the young woman's life was changed, but the shift in her energy was palpable. Dogs touch hearts that seem untouchable. They connect us to a source that is always available yet often hidden by the trappings of our minds.
Kairos is my little magnet, touching the heart of each person he meets. Who needs sleep?
I've been around and cared for animals since early childhood, and have had the honor of sharing my life with many wonderful animal spirits. I should have been a vet instead of a business person.
A few years ago, I was actively involved in assisting not one but several pet organizations, including those for horses. I received an email from the lead officer of Animal Control here in Atlanta, Georgia. A family had turned in their dog, Hunter, because they had to move and couldn't take him with them. Hunter was a big dog we believed him to be a black coat retriever - mix. He already had grey on his face when I adopted him. The Control officers told me that every time they came around to give the "big shot," they just couldn't do so because he didn't deserve to die there...he needed a home. I KNEW he was supposed to come into my family and be loved, nurtured and taken care of.
Hunter came to work with me every day. He was a fixture at my business and became a favorite for many photographs during pet-related events that he loved to attend. One day he started having difficulty getting up and had to use his front legs to do so. His breathing was labored. A trip to the vet ended with the suggestion that I take him to a specialist, which I did. Things didn't look bright. They kept him overnight and when I went to visit him the next afternoon, they brought him into the exam room. His muzzle had been taped and his front legs bound. At this stage with his health, the only way he could get up was by using his front legs. I was terribly upset. They reported that his paperwork had come in from the other clinic stating that he was aggressive, therefore requiring taping his muzzle and legs. He was not aggressive. I asked how long it would take them to get the paperwork completed so I could take him home. When they said five minutes, I said you have two!
We drove together to my lake house that he loved so much. I used a towel to help him walk. As we walked into the house, he started barking. I allowed him to lead me to his favorite place where he always liked to lay. We did this all night long. We were a team. He would bark when he was ready to go to another favorite place and I would wait for him to bark and show me where he wanted to go next. At 7:00 a.m., he led me out to the back door. I knew this was his way of letting me know that it was time for him to go.
I was alone, and he was so large. I constructed a platform of two garbage cans and a piece of plywood to gently roll him into the back of my SUV. I called my regular vet and told them I was driving in, and would appreciate having him put to sleep in my car.
Unbelievably, I went to work that day. I sat at my desk and couldn't stop thinking of Hunter. I finally took the rest of the day off and drove back to the lake house. The property has a long winding road through the woods to the house. As I came around the last curve I saw the ramp that I had used to get him into the car. I got out of the car and sat next to the ramp, crying.
Finally, I was able to express and feel my emotions. Spent from the emotional release, I looked up and out over the trees. There, was the most beautiful white, puffy cloud formation that looked exactly like Hunter. I ran to the house to get my camera and quickly took pictures. Then it was gone. I know it was Hunter's way of saying good-bye. I feel truly blessed to have had him in my life.
Submitted by Ann King
Hidden behind closed blinds, I carefully separated the louvers and peeked out -– being careful not to make a sudden move and frighten the little kitten playing in my back garden. Surely feral -– it was pawing at the leaves and jumping over them as kittens do to entertain themselves. It looked to be about 4 weeks old - fat, fluffy and in good condition. It couldn'’t have been on its own very long. My heart warmed as I watched it play.
I had convinced myself last year that I would not get sucked in again to taking care of the wild cats that seemed to be prolific in my neighborhood. There was plenty of food for the grown ones with an abundance of squirrels, birds and chipmunks, and a river nearby for water. But the little ones seemed to perish quickly once the mothers abandoned them. “"Where was this one'’s mother?”"
“"Leave it alone for now,"” I told myself. "“If it stays around a few more weeks, I can try to catch it and have it spayed or neutered; then release it again."” I went back to my work in the kitchen, trying to put the kitten out of my mind.
As the evening sky began to darken, I checked outside –- jjuuussst to see if it was there. “" Yes!”" The momma had not abandoned it! It was nestled in the inside curve of her belly, nursing. "“Thank goodness, it was not on its own."” I thought, relieved.
But the mother looked very thin. Maybe the five weeks of temperatures above 90° here in Atlanta had taken its toll on her natural food supply. “" Wham!" ” That thought gave a punch to my heart. I quickly chopped up leftover chicken and put it outside with a bowl of fresh, cool water. As soon as I opened the back door, both momma and baby darted out of the garden immediately and crouched outside the fence, staring at me. I softly encouraged them to come and eat, left the food out in the open, and quickly disappeared back into the kitchen. I assumed my spying position behind the blinds.
It took a few minutes before they returned to check out the food. The little one seemed to appreciate the broth I’'d added to moisten the chicken. The mom began eating and kept a cautious eye toward the door. I left them to enjoy their meal, checking back a few minutes later.
“"Another kitten! Where had it been?"” While it didn’'t try to nurse the mother at all, it appeared to be the same age as the first kitten, though much thinner. It worked on the remains in the bowl. The mother didn'’t try to run it off. “"Is it hers?"” Puzzled, I thought, “"Why doesn’t it nurse her like the fluffy one?”"
I kept telling myself: “"Don’t get involved. They are wild and the most you can do is help feed the kittens. Go to bed."
”
The next morning, the count went up to three little kittens and a skinny momma. The little ones took turns sleeping in the parsley pot and underneath the oregano canopy on the garden table. But, they all scat as soon as a door was opened. I kept a vigil.
I lost sight of the babies on Sunday. The mom was sleeping under the swing, but they were nowhere in sight. “"Did she think I was being too curious, and moved them? I hope they'’re safe,"” I fretted.
Monday afternoon, I discovered one of them again sleeping among the herb pots! “"That means the babies are okay!"” I listened to myself –- regardless of what I’'d said last year and thought, “I’'m now emotionally committed.” I went out and bought kitten food and filled up the bowls with fresh food and water. As the past week progressed, my forensic skills improved. At this writing, the garden is now “safe haven” to two separate mommas and five kittens -– four with one skinny mom and the fluffy one with another.
The message in this: We need to help control the inbreeding and over population of these wild animals. It'’s not fair to them, or to those whose lives they touch. My goal is to catch, spay/neuter and release them, as soon as they are old enough. But for now, I see more cat food in my life. I can always buy parsley at the grocery store.
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