PJ-- July 2001 to May 28, 2013

PJ was my friend Sarah's dog, and I got to know her well while I was pet-sitting when Sarah would travel. Later on PJ spent a fair amount of time with me and always fit in as a sweet, happy member of our family.

It was a kind of grace to be PJ's friend. She came to Sarah as an unsocialized, semi-feral puppy, and Sarah slowly, patiently taught her to trust. Over time PJ became more and more social and ended up loving people, but when I first met her as a two-year-old, she was still quite reserved. I immediately felt an affinity for this shy, camouflaged sprite, who so loved being quietly outside by herself, and I always felt it was a gift and a privilege to have her trust. Sarah often said that PJ had the same personality as I, but in a dog's body. Maybe that is why PJ and I connected right away; I felt as though we understood each other without words.

PJ was an observer. She spent much of her days watching and waiting in eager expectation. Hour by hour contentedly watching a tree in which she knew a squirrel sometimes foraged. Waiting patiently for a woodchuck to come out of its hole. Watching and waiting while a squirrel walked within a few yards of her on the deck. Weather rarely deterred PJ, and she would frequently ask to stay outside when the other dogs came in.

Watching the Horse Chestnut tree on a rainy day

Watching the world with her, whether slowly meandering through the woods on leash, investigating every interesting scent, or roaming fields searching for something moving subtly under the grass, or sitting on the deck with her watching her watch a tree for hours, opened my eyes to much that I may otherwise have missed. During times when I might otherwise have been stressed, PJ often helped cultivate a peaceful spirit in me, attentive to easily-overlooked but fascinating aspects of the natural world around my home.

My shadow and PJ, enjoying a winter woods walk

 I miss the gentle tap on my elbow or soft poke behind my knee that were her quiet ways of saying, "Hi, I'm here with you." I would turn to see those bright eyes, that sweet expression or happy grin, and her wagging tail. I miss the thump, thump, thump of her tail on the floor whenever I'd look in her direction. I miss her uniquely beautiful ears that would twitch slightly in my direction to greet me, when she was "watching."

PJ, beloved scruffy girl, I miss your gentle spirit and quiet zest for life. I will watch and wait and remember all you taught me.

A young PJ, in pencil

watercolor sketch done in the field

How to Appreciate a Tree, by PJ

Silver --- 1998 to May 23, 2013

Snuggling while I was working at my computer

Silver sold a painting for me once. When I first saw dark blue pawprints on my recently finished painting of Stonehenge, my initial response was neither appreciation nor joy. Silver, always energetic, mischievous, and into everything, had taken advantage of my brief absence from my studio to leap onto the table She had walked through the wet blue paint on my palette, across the freshly dried watercolor painting, and then along the table and windowsills, leaving a trail of bright blue prints all around the room. I hurriedly scrubbed as much of the blue as I could off the paper, but faint marks were left in the middle of the sky. Unfortunately not faint enough to qualify as sky, the marks ruined my painting... or so I thought.

After some mulling, it occurred to me that perhaps I could hide the marks by covering them with a flock of birds. Not where I'd normally place birds, but it was the only hope for this painting, so I added them. Someone saw my Stonehenge paintings on facebook and came here to look at them. She decided to buy the painting with the flock of birds, saying she particularly liked that one because of the birds. Thank you, Silver!

 That pretty much encapsulates what Silver's presence in our family was like. Vibrant, playful, and curious, Silver was an active part of nearly everything that went on in our home, adding her own unique personality to the mix. She loved the dogs and enticed the Aussies into chasing her down the hall almost every evening. I wrote this about Silver in an article about our pets a couple of years ago:

Silver, one of my two cats, sashays in front of the dogs, then crouches, swishes her tail wildly back and forth, and suddenly darts down the hall, Petra and Rowan chasing playfully after her. Moments later she confidently strides back into my studio, hops up on the table, and walks through my palette, then leaves a trail of blue paw prints across the bookshelves. I love this cat. I am never bored with her in the house and it would be hard to be lonely. Her mischievous, playful ways are balanced by her quiet poses as she sits on an upside down box or even on a piece of paper and solemnly watches me for long minutes, clearly just wanting to be near.

Silver was Arielle's cat-- a gift for her 11th birthday. Arielle had asked for a kitten for her birthday, and I'd heard that there was a stray kitten at the animal hospital. We went to see it, but the kitten had been adopted. Instead there was a skinny one year old cat who was climbing up the inside of her cage. Arielle took her out, and the cat climbed right up to her shoulder and walked back and forth between our shoulders and heads, constantly on the move, constantly purring. I reminded Arielle that she had wanted a kitten, but was proud of her when she decided that she'd rather give this lonely, affectionate cat a home.

Silver adored Arielle from day one, and even though Arielle hasn't lived at home much for seven years now, whenever she would visit Silver would be either in or just outside Arielle's room. For days afterward, I'd find her hanging out by Arielle's door a couple of times a day. Since Arielle went to college, Silver began to connect more deeply with me as well, and most of the time she was somewhere near me, whether roaming on my desk or painting table, purring on my lap, or sitting beside my chair.

Silver loved all people and often greeted visitors at the door and would beg to be picked up as soon as they settled in a chair. She loved to go to the vet; it was a new place to explore and there were new people to see-- all good in her mind. She even loved her crate and was happy to hop in and go for a car ride.

It is so hard to wrap my mind around the idea that this vibrant, loving cat is no longer here. She was with us for so long and was a warm, loving part of every day for me in the past few years. I miss you so much, my little gray shadow. This house will never be the same without your playing, your pranks, and your purring.

On my lap, watching my face

She loved to sit in baskets, boxes, and wastebaskets

Sketches during Silver's hyperthyroid days (once treated she was calmer)

Helping me with my work

Watching the birds with me

My last sketch of Silver

Painting with Jennifer

I spent a day and a half with my sister, Jennifer Thompson, at her home in South Carolina. Although I had previously visited the area, it was before Jennifer lived there, so this was my first time to visit her there. Jennifer is a wonderful hostess, and we ate delicious meals she prepared, did a bit of sight seeing and gallery-hopping, roamed on a remote driftwood-covered beach taking photos, and mostly, we painted.

Jennifer photographing the dunes

I always love painting with my sister, and it was a special treat to paint her world this time. She took me to a beautiful stretch of road, where we sat on some big rocks and painted the marsh on one side of the road, then turned around to paint the beach on the other side.

 

Looking one way we painted the marsh...

...then turned around and painted the shore.

We painted the marsh and beach till we were hungry, then went to the nearby Lost Dog Cafe for a delightful lunch on the outdoor patio. Dogs are always welcome at this cafe, and there are water bowls beside the tables for the four-footed guests. There are Grackles calling in the trees, watching the diners and waiting for them to leave. When the people at the table next to ours left some food on their plate, a Grackle swooped down and enjoyed a hearty meal of bread and meat.

After lunch Jennifer took me to the Angel Oak, where we painted again. I learn so much from watching Jennifer paint. Our styles are a bit different, and seeing how adventurous she is with color encourages me to branch out.

Jennifer's is on the left; mine is on the right

In the evening we went out to the Old Pitt Street Bridge off of Mt. Pleasant to paint the sunset, where we had an amazing 360 degree view and where we saw birds, dogs, and people strolling. By the time we got back to our car, the moon and stars were shining. A perfect close to a perfect day. Thank you, Jennifer!

You can see Jennifer's account of our day on her blog at http://jenniferashethompson.blogspot.com/

Advent Musings- Week 2

Today is the second Sunday of Advent, and I was just sitting down to think about writing this when my mother-in-law called. When I told her what I was writing on, she said that she really likes Advent, but that it's hard to think about Advent when all around us is Christmas. 

I agree. We're surrounded by Christmas decorations, Christmas music, Christmas shopping advertisements, and Christmas planning. Advent reflection gets lost, as quietness often gets overwhelmed by the noise of our world. It's hard to settle into quiet when we're bombarded externally, and even more, internally, by noise and to-do lists, but the richness of life is not found in checking off to-do lists. 

Richness is found in relationships-- relationships with those we love, and most deeply in relationship with the God who made us and who loves us deeply. Without time and effort, relationships dwindle and become dry. Advent is a time set apart to enrich our relationship with God by preparing ourselves to receive his love revealed in Jesus. Last week we focused on our need for a savior and how Jesus came to be that Savior. Another way we can prepare ourselves is to meditate on who Jesus is and what it means that he is the Christ, which means Messiah or Anointed One.

Let's make some quiet moments for ourselves this week to ponder some passages of Scripture that speak to us of who Jesus is and what he does for us.  

Each day we’ll have a verse or verses to meditate on to expand our picture of what it means that Jesus is the Christ. Let’s dwell on these verses, perhaps printing them out or writing them down to read throughout the day, allowing them to give us a deeper knowledge of Jesus and thus a greater anticipation of his coming again.
   
Monday: The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
   the Spirit of counsel and of power,
the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord...Isaiah 11:2

Tuesday: The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
   because the Lord has anointed me
   to preach good news to the poor. Isaiah 61:1

Wednesday: He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
   to proclaim freedom for the captives
   and release from darkness for the prisoners... Isaiah 61:1

Thursday: ...to comfort all who mourn,
 and provide for those who grieve... Isaiah 61:2-3

Friday: to bestow on them a crown of beauty
   instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
   instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
   instead of a spirit of despair. Isaiah 61:3

Saturday: The first thing Andrew did was find his brother Simon and tell him, “We have found the Messiah” (that is, the Christ). And he brought him to Jesus. John 1:41-42

A Blessing Named Bituminous

A lapful of love, a warm chin in my elbow, a soft paw tapping my chest, green eyes gazing into mine. This was Bituminous for many wonderful years.

This morning his time ran out, and I let him go peacefully before he lost his peace in this life. He snuggled his cheek into my hand right up to the end, enjoying my gentle love that wanted to keep him forever, but even more wanted for him to never know the suffering that would have come soon due to his failing body.

My Bituminous—a mighty hunter in his younger years; a friend small in stature but great in trust; a beloved member of our family for over eighteen years. Somehow, because he had beaten the odds so many times over the years, I thought he would keep on going forever.

I learned much from my little friend. Early on he showed me what trust looks like. I remember stepping outside before bed and calling him to come inside. The night was black and so was he, and all was silent. Then a small piece of the night would step into the circle of light spilling from the windows, and Bituminous would come running joyfully to me from the darkness. A small creature, less than one tenth my size, hurrying toward me without hesitation, with perfect trust. From him I learned to have a greater trust in God, who is so much greater than I.

In recent years Bituminous has helped me learn to slow down and savor quiet moments. Over the past few years I have spent many happy hours with my warm cat on my lap, with him sleeping or watching me, and me reading or watching his calm breathing. Life slowed down as I stepped out of the rat race, into peaceful reflection and silent connection that enriched my days and helped me grow into the person I am today.

Thank you, Bituminous, for the gifts you brought me. You were a gift in every way.