Archives for November 2012

Ballerina Princess Mermaid

Anna, after several weeks of telling us that you are a princess, you started telling us that you are a ballerina. I asked you what a ballerina is, and you said that a ballerina is for hugging a princess. Then you decided you were a butterfly, and finally a ballerina princess butterfly mermaid. It’s important not to be tied down to any one career at your age, so I am glad to see you keeping all doors open.


Earlier this week, Sonya (the dog) started wheezing quite a bit. She’s an old dog, she’s been healthy so far, but here there is definitely something wrong. Mom and I brought her to the vet-hospital on Wednesday, and it turns out that her lungs are separated from her chest wall. Mom and I are both quite worried about it, but have really not said anything about it to either of you two.

Apparently unrelated, Anna, you have been talking and asking about death for the last week or so, especially in the context of getting old. You ask if Mom and I are going to die. We answer that yes, at some point we will die – not masking the reality of the cycle of life, but also reassuring you that it will not be for a long time.

But today, you said something to Mom about “When Sonya dies, we won’t have a dog anymore?” Yes, she said. Then you followed that with “When Sonya is gone, can I have a kitty?”

Since you were less than one year old, Anna, I have seen you as a cat person, and Lucas as more of a Dog person, but this was probably the most overt sign of the traits associated with those stereotypes. I know you meant nothing inappropriate by your remarks, and that you are just trying to figure this death thing out right along with why the sky is blue.

Meanwhile, Mom and I are rather taxed at the moment as we care for the dog who has been with us since well before either of you were born. Sonya was essentially our first “child” together after we graduated from successfully taking care of plants.

She is still very much with us right now, on antibiotics, and we are hoping that she recovers. We also recognize the reality that she is an old dog, and that her time may well be at hand.