Two weeks ago my significant otter passed. She had been sick for five months, in a state of respiratory failure resulting from pneumonia and other factors, with no hope of recovery.

What started out as walking pneumonia seemed to respond to antibiotics but she relapsed and had to go to the emergency room. There she was intubated and admitted to the ICU. After two weeks in ICU we had the choice to send her to hospice care right then or opt for long term care. We opted for long term care and she was transferred to a nursing home.

Initially she seemed to be making progress, but then she started having relapses. Each time she would have to go to the hospital, sometimes the ICU but usually the stepdown unit, where she'd stay a few days or sometimes a week or more. Each time they'd get her better and send her back to the nursing home.

Despite all the efforts of various respiratory therapists to get her weaned off the ventilator, there was no such luck. Complications continued arising such as kidney failure (she'd had a kidney removed nine years ago due to cancer) heart failure, recurring pneumonia, etc. We went through many cycles of this, each time continuing to hope for recovery, and being encouraged each time it seemed there was a significant improvement in her condition.

Eventually her dad and I had frank talks with the pulmonologist and the infections diseases doctor. We were told that the infections in her body had colonized, that no amount of treatment could eradicate them and they would simply recur each time despite treatment with antibiotics to the point of eliminating all symptoms.

We made the sad decision that she would have to be transferred to hospice care, and worked on breaking the news to her. She agreed that she understood, she was only, in her words, laying in a bed waiting to die. At this point we notified medical staff that we would be transitioning her treatment to comfort care only.

From this point forward the hospital staff did everything they could to make her last couple days as comfortable as possible. The level of compassion they displayed was outstanding. She had been craving food the whole time she'd been since being on a ventilator typically precludes eating and requires tube feeding. They very quickly brought in a speech therapist who cleared her to eat pureed foods, and so she was able to eat three actual meals before she passed. Her reaction to being able to eat, with myself or her dad assisting, was priceless. Pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, coffee, tea, pudding, etc., for dinner. Waffles and yogurt for breakfast. The culinary staff worked wonders to present pureed foods in an appetizing manner resembling the foods they were prespared from.

All to soon it was time. The ambulance was there to transfer her to the hospice facility, where she was removed from ventilator support and passed within a couple hours.

I held her hand to the end.

I will be going to the Arizona Fur Con this year. This is quite a sudden decision, and follows a long overdue conversation this morning. Basically I've been living with other furries for years but no one had gotten around to admitting it. So anyway it's me, along with a river otter, a fruit bat, and an aardwolf. I'm still rather in shock. and I hope to meet a number of furs there that I've been following on FA, twitter and FB.

Talked to Mum today. Dad is in rehab, undergoing tests. Motor control issues and also some loss of cognition. She's home now and the rehab facility is only 15 miles away. She sounded very tired and only spoke to me briefly.

I got a call from my sister this morning on my way to work. My Dad had his heart surgery on Monday. The surgery itself went really well, but unfortunately he had a small stroke either during the surgery or during the recovery. I'm sort of upset that she waited until today to give me the news. He's still in the cardiac ICU but he's doing better, walking around a little but weak and having difficulty talking, trouble with his left side. He is left-handed just as I am. I will be calling my mother in the morning to find out more and maybe talk to him if I can.

I got a call from my Dad this morning. His last scan came back negative, so his lymphoma is in remission. This is excellent news. He still has his heart murmur to worry about, but now he has the green light to schedule the open-heart surgery that will be needed to repair it. He has an excellent surgeon lined up, and a first-class facility selected where they perform a certain volume of this procedure, so there is a lot of confidance that this will go well.

He didn't sound quite as perky as normal, but not too bad on the whole. There was a time several years ago when he didn't sound good at all.

Here's wishing a Merry Christmas to my 18 loyal followers, hope everyone is enjoying a joyous and peaceful day.

I called my parents today. My dad is doing quite well. He has gone through chemo to treat his lymphoma, and is now scheduled to have a new scan to see how well the treatment has performed. I am hoping that it will be all clear so he can move on. There is however, a new problem. He has developed a heart murmur in the valve where blood from the lungs enters the heart. This valve is leaking and allowing some fluid to escape back into the lungs. Unfortunately this means open-heart surgery, tentatively scheduled for early March, and presumably contingent on the lymphoma being in remission.

Another year older, starting my second year as a senior citizen although nobody believes I'm that old. Not a very exciting day -- I have to go to work. Oh well, at least I'm getting my hours.

I just called my Dad and spoke to him for a bit. He's doing okay, recovering from the first 2-day round of chemo, with another in a week or two. He's in good spirits, sounds great, and gets out walking every day, even climbed a small mountain yesterday. His excellent physical condition is a plus and it sounds like the oncologist sees that as a good sign. Apparently Wikipedia is a little out-of-date regarding lymphoma -- terms like Hodgkins and non-Hodgkins aren't used anymore. However his prognosis is apparently good, just rather early in the game yet to tell. And as a positive, the chemo they're using isn't making his hair fall out.

So, it's been just over a year now that I've been on FurAffinity. I created an account here to facilitate looking at people's profiles that were linked to in a con report, but once I was here, I was hooked. I set about creating a fursona, and after some soul-searching, came up with Bernie the Wolf. You can read the older journals and story snippets to find out all about him.

Anyway, I didn't just arbitrarily choose to be a wolf. The wolf in me goes a long way back, to childhood in fact. I enjoyed reading a number of books with personified and/or anthropomorphic animal characters, typical canine or feline, with a side interest in eagles. The walls of my bedroom were covered with posters showing pictures and drawings of various wildlife. I went with the wolf character, especially since reading David Eddings' books, and his depictions of wolves therein.

Lately I have been spending a lot of time in IRC, and feeling ever more in touch with my alter ego, something that seems to be spilling over into real life somewhat. The more time I spend in tune with my fursona, the easier and more natural it becomes.

I got a call from my parents yesterday. Not good. My dad has lymphoma, and has just started chemotherapy. The good news is, they caught it relatively early, he's been in superb physical shape up to this point, and there's a 65% or better survival rate. He's in good spirits, even went for a walk that morning. But the first round of chemo was rough, and I can imagine that this will take a lot out of him, and he won't ever be as healthy as before.

Both my parents have been avid mountain climbers, both in the US and overseas. When I was a kid I climbed the 4000-footers of New England with them, and they have since gone on to climb taller mountains in the US, as well as in Asia. But since his small stroke a couple of years ago he has been restricted to elevations below 9000 feet.

I haven't been keeping in regular contact with my parents recently but I'm going to make an effort to keep in touch more regularly from now on.

So I sold a copy of my book at work yesterday. I was writing out a rain check when someone observed that I was left-handed, and asked me if I was artistic (I thought they said autistic at first) and I said, "I'm a writer, does that count?" So I mentioned that I had published a book, and pulled the flier I printed up of the book's cover out of my pocket. Anyway the next customer pulled out his phone, looked it up on Amazon, and proceeded to order a copy.

The first book in my Cross Roads series is in the process of being published and will be available on Amazon soon. It's not particularly furry in nature, but there are some references that will be followed up in a later book which is decidedly furry:

Watch this space: http://www.amazon.com/Cross-Roads-P...../dp/1508814112

It should be available in a few days in the US, UK and Europe.

The words are flowing today. "Two Wolves" is four pages into Chapter Two now, except I have to stop now and get ready for work. I think I might post another snippet soon. I finished a committee meeting, wrote a construction scene, and now I'm writing Bernie's interview where he gets hired to be a wolf.

I have ten watchers now, I see. I've resumed working on my latest novel, now titled "A Tale of Two Wolves." -- various snippets of this are posted in my gallery. It's very much a work in progress, and I've resumed work on the main story, which will eventually incorporate those snippets. I've been working a lot of hours at work lately. So far this week stands at 51 hours. I'm really tired, and looking forward to going on vacation to Florida next month.

I'm tired but I can't sleep. I'm feeling creative, and I'm working on the main story line of "Two Wolves" -- the beginning part, eventually to tie in the snippets that I've written and posted here that will follow later in the time line. Now I need to go back over the outline of the previous book as I make references to some events to make sure I'm remembering them correctly.

So I thought I was the only furry in my household. It turns out my mate is a River Otter, and the other two are an Aardwolf and a Mouse. I don't think we all have the same notion of what furry is, but at least it's something.

It's been a crazy year, really. Both good and bad happened. Lost some pets, saw my parents for the first time in several years, had some setbacks at work. At any rate, here is a new year to do new things. First on my list is getting my treadmill going again and getting back in shape. My parents gave me some money to help with that, yay! I want to get more of an audience for my stories and keep up the writing.

Anyways, hope everyone has a wonderful new year!

Well, I'm trying to have a merry Christmas this year. There's been good and bad happening so it's kind of mixed. My daughters and my parents are here visiting which is a good thing. I haven't seen my parents in four years since they live on the other side of the country and don't get out this way very often. My daughters get here more often.

We all went to church last night for the candle-light service, making my father-in-law very happy since it's his church and he's very active in it. Even the kids went, although I suspect that it was not terribly high on their agenda.

I'm still mourning the loss of my old dog, although I am grateful for the dogs that I still have. From others' journals I have seen people with similar losses. These things happen, but it doesn't make it any better or any easier.

Anyway, everyone have the best possible holiday, however you celebrate it!

I picked up Pepper's ashes today. It's just been a week since we had him put to sleep, but I've been too emotional to write anything, plus trying to keep my composure and still be able to go to work. The vet handled it very professionally and compassionately, charged a very reasonable fee, and now I have a clay impression of his paw print plus a nice little cedar box with his ashes in it.

For at least two weeks we'd known there wasn't really any hope. He was sick, and didn't get better as we hoped. He wasn't able to keep any food or liquids down, and there wasn't anything that could be done.

This is the first time in my life we've had a pet from puppy all the way to old age. He was our baby, and will be forever missed. Our three remaining dogs will be getting lots of extra pets and attention from now, and I don't know where we'd be without them, but it will never be the same without Pepper. One less bark greeting us when we get home, one less warm lump in the bed at night.

We have shed many tears these past few weeks, watching Pepper struggle to get around, struggle to keep his food down. It was heartbreaking to see him that way. I held him in my arms, wrapped in his favorite blanket, as the vet performed the final injections. Tears come anew to my eyes today as I picked up his remains, and again as I write these words.

Eleven years we had him, eleven years during which many things happened, both good and bad, but Pepper was our constant companion during this time. In recent years we have acquired three additional dogs who are also wonderful companions, but they just won't ever be the same as he was.

It was love at first sight when we bought him. We had just wandered into a pet store, my woman and I, and there he was. More of an excitable breed than we realized, and there are many people out there who have decided that Jacks are just too much for them, but we would never give up our baby. He had mellowed a bit over the years, gone blind, gone gray in the muzzle, and finally developing dementia which grew worse with time.

The vet thinks it might have been cancer that made him sick at the end, but whatever it was, it developed fast. Six months ago at his checkup he was fine, and even last August he was well. Whatever the cause, he had reached the end.

There is a emptiness in my heart, and a vacant spot next to me on the recliner. Other dogs may sit in my lap, but they won't take his place.

Pepper, may you rest in peace.

I have changed the name of my fifth novel, a work in progress, to "A Tale of Two Wolves" to better reflect the direction the story seems to be heading. The first few pages which are now Chapter 1 will become the prologue, then the time will jump about six months or a year into the future and I will begin piecing the story snippets you see posted here into something approaching a coherent story line, albeit with flashbacks and other jumps in the time sequence.

Well, it's good to see FA back again. I guess I went into a bit of withdrawal during the downtime, but I enjoyed some good animated discussions over on the Facebook FA page, and made a few new friends.

I have been accused of being a dog-whisperer. I shall take this as a compliment.

I've just spent a couple of hours putting myself in Bernie's paws, working on yet another story arc. I still haven't figured out totally how to string all these snippets into a single story yet, but I haven't had much luck lately writing a single story from start to finish. I'm hoping that enough of these arcs can be joined together into a single story. I see that my submissions are continuing to garner views although I am seeing very little in the way of faves or comments. I'm new here and all, but after looking at some of the material people have submitted, mine doesn't sound far fetched at all.

I am currently reading David Eddings' Belgariad series. I will follow up by reading the Malloreon, Belgarath's Tower, and then Polgara the Sorceress. I have read these books many times before, but I've had a sudden desire to re-read them of late. They had been packed away for a couple years owing to our recent move, but now they have been discovered again.

Belgarath is, among other things, a shape-shifter, who has spent considerable time in the shape of a wolf. Once a particular shape has been attained, it is easier to assume that form in the future. And, furthermore, other wolves have a way of knowing that one had once been a wolf. To the lupine way of thinking, once you have been a wolf, you continue to be seen and accepted as such even when you resume your individual form.

I can't remember when I first read this series. Probably shortly after my first marriage, I think my first wife introduced me. I had read books growing up that were written almost entirely from the point of view of animals, wolves, cougars, big dogs, etc. Something in me identified with this, and I did some of my own writing in the same vein, either writing alternate endings to books or just short disorganized pieces.

So there was planted a seed of an idea which has lain fallow for a long time. Other things, indescribable feelings, etc., going back into my childhood, waiting for the right moment to crystallize into something concrete.