It’s Sunday, and time to play with The Paper Players! This week, the lovely Nance Leedy has a spring inspired color challenge for us: Midnight Muse, Crisp Cantaloupe, and Gold. If you don’t have these exact colors, feel free to use a similar hue. At The Paper Players, it’s all about having fun!
The Stampin’ Schach Design Tips: Feminine Thank You
This finished card measures 4-1/4″ wide by 5-1/2″ long.
Poor Lexi
This card was designed for a very special person, Amy Bieri. Amy is Lexi’s trainer and handler. She loves this naughty little girl as if she were her own. Unfortunately, it has been a very rough week for all three of us. Lexi was scheduled to show in Indianapolis this week and weekend. With the forecasted winter storm, I knew that I would not be able to drive Lexi that far, especially by myself. However, I was able to get her to Amy’s last weekend. She would simply travel with Amy to the show site, and stay with Amy. They left Wednesday for the nearly four hour drive from Island Lake, IL in anticipation of the shows. That is when Lexi’s problems began. She could not keep anything down or in. Amy immediately started her on meds. She was pulled from the show Thursday. By Friday, Lexi had dropped so much weight that she was not in show condition. Amy took her to the show vet, who gave her a thorough exam. She was not running a temperature, and thankfully she was not dehydrated. But she was having trouble kicking this “24-Hour” virus. As a “dog mother”, it was hard to leave Lexi, and now it is even more difficult knowing that she is sick. However, she could not be in better hands. Amy has kept in contact with me several times a day. She is feeding Lexi small portions of a special bland, medicated food, four times a day. As of Saturday evening, Lexi has finally been able to keep something in her tummy. Here is a picture of my baby, on her “hospital” bed, that Amy sent:
For all that Amy has done to make Lexi comfortable and for nursing her through her sickness, for her compassion and for her caring, I thank her, from the bottom of my heart…
What do you think of today’s card? For some reason, the section with the vellum overlay looks “pink” in the photo, but in real life, it is a beautiful, muted cantaloupe color. I hate it when that happens, and I even used the “neutral picker” tool to try to get true colors. And would you believe that I even removed pearls from this card? Yep! I did! Can you guess where they were? No fair peeking at the photo which follows. Did you guess correctly? Let me know in your comment today. As always, your comments are important to me. And remember, if you ever have a question about the cards I create or the techniques I use, I am only an email away. Until next time…
My first Boxer, a rescue, left me four years ago today. While the sadness is still there, she taught me a lot at a time I was ready to listen…
February 4, 2010 started like any other day. I was up at 6 AM to get ready for another day of school. Brady was away at college, and my husband was already on his 45 minute commute to work. It was just Missy the Boxer and me. It was that time of the day when we felt the closest. She dutifully watched me as I put on my make-up…waiting for me to “attack” her with my blush brush and waiting for the moment when I would spritz her with a smidge of perfume and declare, “You smell mah-vel-ous”. Her Boxer butt would explode into wiggles and jiggles, as she kidney-beaned around in exuberance. Although the beautiful black mask was now silver, at those times she was a puppy again.
Down the stairs she ran, as we headed in to eat breakfast. I would have my oatmeal and toast, and Missy would have her kibble…and some of my oatmeal and toast. She had gained a few extra pounds, and was no longer the youthful beauty she was in her prime. But at 11 years of age (old for a Boxer), she had earned the right to bask in the sun and enjoy an extra treat or two.
Missy had worked hard during the ten years she owned us. Playing hide and go seek with Brady was one of her favorite jobs. How it broke my heart when he left for college, and she would search in all of his favorite hiding places to no avail. It also broke my heart when she would hear a trumpet, either on TV or on one of the CDs I would play. Off to his bedroom she would run to listen to him practice. She soon learned that he was gone, and would not be coming back often. But when he did come home for a visit, they would still play hide and seek, and she would still stand guard as he practiced his trumpet. In his absence, she became my constant companion. She would lay at my feet, chewing on a chewy, as I created cards.
As I headed out the door that morning, I bid her good-by. “Be a good girl. See you when school’s out. Love you.” And she ambled over to her favorite chair to drink up the rays of the morning sun and watch me through the window as I pulled out of the drive, waiting for me to wave to her.
As I walked in the door that afternoon, I knew something was wrong. No Missy greeted me. I called to her, but no Missy came running. That’s when I found her beside her favorite chair, unable to get up. Her head raised slightly to greet me, as her tail wagged feebly. At that moment, I knew. Deep in my heart, I knew. As I looked in those dark eyes, I knew this was the day I had dreaded. I knew that she had waited with the last ounce of her being for me to come home and say good-by. I knelt beside her and caressed her head. My first call was to my vet, and my second call was to my husband. We were to rush her to the vet immediately. Luckily my husband was just minutes away. In those few minutes, I told her that she was a good girl. A smart girl. A beautiful girl. I also told her that it was OK for her to go, and that we would be together again at the Rainbow Bridge. And then I cried, my tears wetting the fur of her neck.
My husband carried her to the car, and later into the vet’s office. We were taken immediately into an examination room, where her vet gave us the sad news. She suspected that Missy had suffered a heart attack. This brave dog, who had suffered unspeakable cruelty before we rescued her…who conquered heartworm and cancer…was at the end of her journey. “Ann,” she said gently, “it is time to say good-by. She will not make it through the night. We need to end her suffering…”
Missy passed, cradled in the arms of my husband and I, while the lights in the room flickered. I will always believe that this was her sign that she was going to be fine…and that I would be fine. But that did little to heal the hurt I was feeling.
I will never forget Missy the Boxer. She taught me so much at a time I was ready to learn:
Thank you so much for allowing me to share my memories on this day. Until next time…
