What Maverick means to us

Hello and welcome back:

I know it has been some time since I last wrote a blog, a year to be exact but things have been hectic and at times have left me busier then a 3 legged dog digging a turd from a frozen pond. So sit back and get comfy and while your at it grab your favorite beverage and join me on an adventure of"what Maverick means to us"

 Picture it, a sunny day June 2004 to be exact. We opened our arms and our hearts to a 7 1/2 week old, 7 lb 4oz ball of fluff, sky blue eyes and the ever fragrant aroma of puppy breath. The moment I held him I knew he was the one, I whispered in his little floppy ear, hi Maverick, I'm your mom. He buried his nose into my neck and promptly fell asleep. His first parents went on to say that he was the youngest of 12 puppies, his mom and dad were both very laid back easy going german sheperds and they like their babies were raised with kids. Maverick's mom was born with one floppy ear so I was told to expect perhaps Maverick would be afflicted with this condition as well. I replied I like "squishey ears" and because I was not expecting him to trot laps at the next west minster dog show I was not concerned with "floppy ear syndrome". It was a good thing I was not concerned because Maverick not only has one floppy ear,,, he has two floppy ears and we love him even more because of it. His soft ears match his soft heart, he truly is a gentle giant.

 I brought home our new baby and showed him around our palace, he quickly decided the couch looked like a dandy spot to have yet another nap but perhaps he would need some assistance on the whole "how the hell do I get on it theory" Up in my arms he went and once on the couch he "claimed his spot" with his belly against mine and his head against my heart he was out like a light and truth to be told,,, so was I.

 As he grew bigger, and boy did he ever. He was quick to learn the basics of house training. At the old age of 3 months he was accident free all day and all night. He quickly learned his commands in both voice and hand commands as well as sheep herding commands(german sheperds are working dogs, they herd) his hearding skills were so good the boys could not run around outside if Maverick was with them, he would have them and their friends herded into a little group and god forbid they moved half an inch, he would nip at their feet and do the "stare down". The kids would bellow, mommmmmm hes doing it again. A quick, "that'll do" would hence stop the "herding". 

 Maverick has always been quick to know when something is not right, and would go above and beyond to let us know something was up. Luke our middle son was a sleep walker, for a time we thought we were going to have to install an alarm system in case during a sleep walking episode he went outside while we were sleeping. Our worries were soon eased when during the night Maverick flew into our room, barked and ran to the hallway. There stood Luke all set to go down 15 stairs while sound asleep, and there blocking his path was our beloved Maverick. He gently licked Luke's hand as not to startle him and as Luke woke up he was led back to his bed. From that night on when the boys went to bed, Maverick went with them. He would kiss them goodnight and then lay between their bedroom doors. His bed all these years later is still there and he still tries to tuck in his boys, even though they are teenagers now.

 Maverick as you all may know has also been a "mother" to 10 neonate foster kittens and 6 foster puppies, he also helped rehibilitate the mother dog who lived her whole existing life in a puppy mill. Maverick taught her that our hands never hurt, the food and water dish will always be full and there will always be a spot on the couch to lay your head down. Because of him the mother dog learned how to trust and probably for the first time in her life, she also learned how to love and be loved. She is now legally our dog and Maverick's best friend, she used to have a number, now she has a name. Her name is Piper and I think if she could talk she would say Maverick is as much her hero as he is ours.

 Last January Maverick alerted us to another situation. He got on the couch with Trevor and began licking his face, whining and then laying his head on Trevor's chest. It was then I knew,,,, it was another heart attack. Thankfully he was ok  and after a few days in the hospital was able to come back home and be greeted by his gentle giant. That first week Trevor was home from the hospital, Maverick would not leave his side. He even made sure he was in the bathroom with him while Trevor would be taking a shower, Maverick would lay on the floor against the tub making sure his dad was ok.

 You often hear people say " we will never get another dog like this one" and I can tell you I know this to be a fact. Our gentle giant is almost 10 years old and I guess maybe because for his whole life his heart has been so big and full of love that it is getting tired. Maverick now has congestive heart failure and as heart breaking as it is to watch and to hear him cough so hard at times he loses his breath. He will look at us as if to say" I'm not dead yet dont treat me any differently". We have decided to let him spend his last months, weeks or days the way he always did. Being with his family, sleeping on his brand new leather couch, eating all of his favorite foods and being given the love that he has given us all these years. Every night before I go to bed I lean down and whisper, "hi maverick, I'm your mom". If the pain gets to be to much and your getting tired, it's ok to let go. I will always love you, I will always miss you and thank you for everything you have taught us and for letting us be your family. 

 I do this not because I want him to die, but because if that time should come I want him to be able to run across that rainbow bridge knowing how very loved, wanted and needed he was. I give thanks every morning that I am woken up by slobbery kisses and prepare myself for the morning those kisses are no longer there. If I have learned anything since becoming maverick's mom its this. If your willing to open your heart, love will flow. If your willing to open your eyes, you will see beauty surrounding you and if you get down on your knees and pray, god grants you one more day with your faithful companion, but shows you along the way that not every prayer can be answered and to make the best of the time you have. 

 May you all be blessed to have an animal show you what life and love is about and may it make you so happy you to can say "I'm so happy, I could shit rainbows, and fart fairy dust"

Greetings From Moses

Greetings Infidels, it is I Moses the cat. I have hijacked the humans blog while she is busy cleaning my cat sized toilet. I am guessing by the gagging noises shes making, she is either retching on a fur ball or she has discovered my recently dropped meadow muffin, oh this is to funny I am dying with laughter as my human is dying from the fumes. While surfing the interweb  the other day I noticed there is a cat calling himself "grumpy cat" well mr grumpy cat you have nothing on me I was born an asshole, I will die an asshole or so the human tells me. I am guessing you all want to know what has been happening here in "the love shack" ugh I think I just puked a little saying that. 

 Well as you all may know "my god" proposed to the human back in December. All the shouting and jumping up and down woke me from my nap. I waddled down the stairs to see what all the fuss was about and saw the human dancing like nobody was watching, so I decided to let her know I was watching and her dancing skills suck.  I reached out ever so carefully and swatted her leg. The horse aka Maverick didnt seem to like that so much and he chased me up the stairs. I swear I heard him yelling "run fat boy run" I will get back at him later, perhaps when hes sleeping. Back to this wedding ordeal, the human is busy making plans as is "my god", hes really getting into this I often ask him if he knows what hes getting himself into, but because he doesnt speak cat he just thinks Im being extra friendly and pats me on the head and calls me a good boy. Ugh there goes 20 seconds of my life I will never get back.

 Spirit the "golden child" now has two pipsqueaks to play with from what I gather from the human they are here to stay and I will just have to live with it. The one named Violet is like Dolly Parton's coat of many colours but she leaves me alone, I guess I can handle her. The kid they say is oriental looks kinda funny, bright blue eyes with a white coat that looks like the human spilled her double double on but again she leaves me alone so not to much I can do. Besides "my god" told me shes "special" so I have to be extra kind to her, its not her fault she cant hear me yell SCRAM thats my food dish, or beat it kid Im trying to take a poop. Personally I think she may have dipped into the humans bottle of fireball, she kind of wobbles when she walks and her head moves from side to side. The human used to do that quite a bit but now tells me shes getting to old for that and now sticks to pop. 

I guess your also wondering about Ella, the cat whos afraid of everything. Well we are still arch enemies, she just makes it to easy not to be. God forbid if I look at her as I swagger on by, she begins to hiss and runs for cover , so of course I have to chase after her. Now the new dog the humans just had to adopt chases after me, she tells me even though shes old shes still got pep in her step. I run as not to make her feel like a geriatric but whisper in an evil voice, my precioussssssss  I am so getting back at her, I will wait until shes not looking and with a couple of hand gestures I will take the fur right off of her butt. Of course I will have to wait until Maverick is nowhere around when I do this, he is very protective over his lady friend his sloppy kisses to her make me want to retch and yack up a fur ball into the humans shoe. 

 Well the human is done cleaning not only my toilet but hers as well so I had better get off of the computer before she catches me again, last time she caught me watching kitty porn and well that went over like a lead fart, she banned me from the computer and made me listen to country music. Something about "Heavens just a sin away". I was yowling I surrender just turn that crap off, she thought it was funny and jacked it to Jesus. So there you have it, I am still a miserable asshole making everyone's lives hell, but as the human and "my god" say life wouldnt be the same without me. 

 May you be so blessed to have a cat with so much attitude and so little time and may it make you so happy you can say "I am so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairy dust". 

Disclaimer, no animals were harmed in the making of this blog.

A Teacher's Love, Elementary My Dear

Hello and welcome back, seeing as this is the first blog entry for 2013 I hope I don't disappoint you. By now you should all know the drill but in case you have forgotten or perhaps this is your first time reading my blog I will give furthur instructions. Thats right it's time to sit back, get comfy and grab your favorite beverage of choice and join me on an epic adventure of "A teacher's love, elementary my dear"

 My first day of school will be one to go down in the history books. Picture it, a terrified kid being hauled out the door by her mother and oldest brother. Kicking and screaming arms and legs latched onto the door, an hour later they get me out the front door only to find themselves repeating the process of getting me in the car. I cried the whole way and begged to just be able to go back home but no amount of begging was going to get me out of this horrific state, no ideed. We are soon at the school, my mother is thinking of FREEDOM and I am thinking I am being sentenced to a lifetime of prison, my mother bless her heart reminded me it wasnt a life time, it was only 12 years. 

 I tucked and rolled out of that burgandy K car I was running for home when my brother swooped me up by the back of my pants and promptly handed me over to the teacher on duty and said"have fun shes all yours". I was greeted by the principal his name was Dale Horncastle, a gentle giant I later found out but at the time he scared me to death. He took me by the hand and said you will have fun here, you will learn how to read and make new friends. I replied, I already know how to read and I already have friends, casey and finnigan keep me company. He laughed like I was the next best thing to Lucielle Ball and told me he would take me to my teacher. Off I went carrying my little Sesame street lunch box tighly clenched in my fist and a dont mess with me kind of attitude. Long of the short, grade one was an epic fail, Miss Sparkes told my mother I was a bright child but lacked social skills, this still makes me laugh. The person who had more tongue then a mounties boot(as my father liked to remind me about so much) couldnt stand being away from her family. Keep in mind I was the youngest of 9 kids. Sheltered I was but anti social I was not, I just didnt like to be away from the only people I had ever spent time with. 

 The second year of grade one was totally different, I no longer carried my sesame street lunch box oh no I was way to cool for that, so I opted to use a brown paper bag like all the cool kids, mostly my older siblings. I didnt have to be drug to school that day I was no longer young and naive. I also found out I had Mrs Love as my teacher and that made all the difference in the world. Soft spoken, gentle and she soon discovered not only could I read but I did it well. She made me her reading buddy and I got to help other kids, boy did that feel good. From the moment on the sun rose and set on my beloved Mrs Love. She used to keep her roll of masking tape on her wrist, for easy access I realize now but when your 6 years old it was the fashion statement of the 80's if it looked cool on Mrs Love, it had to have looked just as cool on me. I saved my allowence and bought,,, my very own roll of masking tape as a badge of honor to my idol. 

 Change has never been my friend, back then it could set me into a whirlwind spiral. I walked into class one day all set to tell my Angel of education that I had read "chicken soup with rice" to my nannie after supper and never missed a word. But instead of my strawberry blonde idol greeting me with "theres my smart girl" I was greeted with the dreaded" SUBSTITUTE TEACHER".   Mrs Love had to have an operation Mrs Hickey told us she would be back in a few weeks. After watching soap operas with my nannie I knew often times "operations" meant you never saw the person again or they came back but looked different, even then my imagination ran wild. We made her get well cards and mine had hearts with blurred spots where my tears dripped, that was the longest two weeks of my life. When the day came where she was well enough to come back to us I hugged her (mindless over the fact she just had surgery and was probably sore) she was probably thinking this kid needs help but all I could think about was my hero was back and life could go on.

 Mrs Love taught us great songs, who who who who said the owl whos afraid of halloween was my favorite, we had to make owl eyes where you flip your wrists and make circles with your hands,I was a pro at that. She taught us never to run with scissors and never eat glue. She also taught us "In Flanders Field" She even took me to the grade 6 class and had me recite it to those kids who in the mind of a 6 year old were not only giants, they were super cool. 30 years later and I still remember all the words to who said the owl as well as in Flanders Field and I can still remember the bittersweet feeling of knowing in the fall I would be going into grade two and would have to leave my strawberry blonde angel of education behind. 

Grade two was an exciting year, there was a brand new teacher and I got her. Barb Young believed in magic and imagination. We had a teepee in our classroom as well as a "cave" this cave was a long table with paper all around it, you could go in there and read, it was a magical place which can only be descibed as getting to see Mr Dress up's tickle trunk. On Halloween she made us all caramel apples, its safe to say we were the "popular kids" on the playground that day. Everybody wanted to be your friend even if it was only to get a small smackeral of that delicious caramel apple. Mrs Young was tall and blonde, soft spoken and kind and she saw my potential and always made me feel special. 

Grade three well here was the beginning of what my parents refered to as the "rebel year". I had Kathy Brown and I was on cloud nine. Mrs Brown now Mrs Bowen had a passion for pink peppermints and her favorite red pen. I soon found out the red pen could be a good thing or usually during math class for me, a bad thing. If you did well you got a nice big red smiley face, if for some reason you didnt do so well again in my case with math you got a sad red face with words of encouragement to try your best the next time. I later found out Mrs Brown loved her pink peppermints so much because,,,, she was a smoker !!!! Yes past students of Alexander Gibson Memorial School, the jig is up I saw her one day in the school yard puffing away with a contented smile on her face, its no wonder why she was always so calm after recess and lunch. In my eyes that just made her even more cool, kind of like seeing a teacher wear jeans or seeing them at the grocery store. Mrs Brown taught me cursive writing and she also taught me its never wise to take the fall for someone else. You see there was a teacher who was so strict that her name alone had you shaking in your boots. And one winter day a friend of mine whipped a snowball and hit this teacher upside the head. When she turned around the kid was gone and there I stood. Frozen unable to move, and for the first time in my life,,, speechless. 

 The teacher grabbed me by the hood of my coat and marched me to her classroom and opened the desk drawer where she kept the strap. She grabbed my little hand and just as she was about to come down on her rein of fury I jerked my hand back causing her to hit her own hand. BIG MISTAKE, just sayin. My young life flashed before my eyes because I knew I was going to get it even worse the next time. And then my Angel of Mercy came into the room. Mrs Brown stormed into that room and demanded, not asked why I was being punished. The "warden" told her why and my hero said I cant believe she would do that  I was saved and I learned a valuable lesson. Next time you whip a snowball make sure THAT teacher is not on duty. Confession time, yes Mrs H, it was ME who threw the snowball and I laugh every time I think about how your corporal punishment came back to slap you on the hand. I didnt say every teacher was great, just the one who taught me.

 Grade 4 was an exciting time in my life, I was introduced to the beloved works of Lucy Maude Montgomery, Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary, compliments of Mrs Kathy McBride. She used to read to us so well that I often felt that I was Ramona Quimby, Anne of Green Gables and Fudge from tales of a forth grade nothing. Mrs McBride told me I could be anything I wanted to be I just had to try. All those years that have passed since I sat her in classroom and I can still hear her telling me that. She was pregnant that year for her daughter and because I already had 2 nephews and two nieces I was a pro in that catagory, not only did I know where babies came from, I also knew how they got there. Again everybody wanted to be my friend but I told them to go home and ask their parents, most likely much to Mrs McBride's relief.

Grade 5 came along and I had my very first male teacher. Brian Cornell was larger then life and a fountain of  of information. He would bring in a cassett player and pop in a tape of waves crashing, birds singing and tell us to put our heads on our desks, close our eyes and listen. After a brief meditaton he would get us to write about what we heard. Needless to say I kicked butt in that class and once again failed miserably at math. Mr Cornell told me I showed great strength in writing and encouraged me to do so each day. Once again all these years later and I am happy to report I am doing exacly what that fine man told me to do. 

Grade 6, my last year at Alexander Gibson Memorial School and I am proud to say I was taught by the legend, the larger then life,,, Maggie Gibson. Oh how I loved that gentle lady. She used to do spelling bees with us and the first kid who could rattle off the word got a gold star, bot did I feel special. One of my favorite memeories of Mrs Gibson was on one hot day before school was done for the summer, she gave my friend and I $5 to go to the store next to the school to buy lime popsicals for every kid on our playground. We thought we had the world by the tail that day and everytime I eat a lime popcicle I am taken back to that hot day in the 80's when a teacher reached into her pocket and gave us something so special. 

 I've kept in touch with these beloved teachers of my youth. Mrs Love is now retired and a proud grandmother. I still call her Mrs Love as I find it very strange to call her anything but. She is and always will be my strawberry blonde angel of education.

Barb Young is now retired and not only taught me her first year at AGMS but taught my oldest son Austin her last year before retiring. She told me it was like going back in time teaching him as he was so much like me. He too thought the sun rose and set on Mrs Young.

Kathy Brown now Kathy Bowen, still has a passion for pink peppermints along with her cigarettes, years later at a Y's men function we laughed so hard over that story we both choked on our cigarettes. I still remember never to lift my pen until I'm finished writing a word and I've also learnedwhen your croakin for a smoke, pop in a pink peppermint.

Kathy McBride is now retired and also a grandmother, the daughter she was pregnant for while teaching me in grade 4 also went onto become a teacher and taught my youngest son Isaac in middleschool. Isaac informed me Miss McBride was AWESOME, you know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Brian Cornell also is retired and when I see him he always asks if I still write everyday, I like to think he would read my blog and say she still has a way with words and she still makes me laugh. Thank you for introducing me to writing, I cherish it deeply.

Maggie "the legend" Gibson  has long since retired but her words live on in my heart"treat others as you would have them treat you" A smile is the best gift you can give, its free and it makes everybody including you happy" 

May you all have had the pleasure of having a teacher make you feel extra special and it make you so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows, and fart fairy dust"  

An Angel Named Fred

Hello and Welcome Back:

 It has been sometime, January in fact that I have last wrote a blog entry, for that I apologize. So sit back, get comfy, grab your beverage of choice and join me as I tell you about "An Angel Named Fred"

 I never got to know my grandfathers, my dads father died many years before I was born and my moms dad died when I was 3 but I have no memories of him as I never got to see him much. Instead I had an uncle who I guess was like a grandfather to me. Uncle Fred never married, he lived with my grandmother in the family homestead in Juniper New Brunswick. Uncle Fred was a taxidermist, he was also a guide for americans who would come to Carleton County to hunt and fish,snowshoe maker, canoe builder, furniture maker, he was a legend. Everyone knew uncle Fred. To me he wasnt just a legend, he was my hero. We would go to grams and before the car was even stopped I was running for Uncle Fred's shop. Mom would yell, get your ass back here, get in that house and kiss your grandmother. A quick peck on the cheek and I was off seeking my uncle Fred. The taxidermy shop was in the same yard as the house and it never took me long to reach my destination. I would fly the door open to the shop and yell I'M HERE" as if I needed to make an announcement. Fred would look up from whatever victim he was preparing to "stuff and say welllllllllllllll its about time, been waitin since 5am. I could touch anything in that shop and the choices were endless, at any given time you would find beavers, bear, deer, coyotes you name it, he had it and the best part was there was never any fear of being bitten because well,,,, they were all dead. My favorite place in the shop was the drawer that held the glass eyes. To most small kids seeing dead animals alone would scare the bejesus out of you let alone a whole drawer filled with glass eyes. But I was an exception to that rule I guess. His only "rule" was I had to wash my hands good when I was done, because as he put it there was no way in hell he was having the wrath of my mother on his case if I didnt. A quick wash up in the cold Mirimichi river would kill any germs and off I would race to grab a cookie from Gram's cookie jar.

 Uncle Fred took me hunting once, and only once. We got up at the first crack of a sparrows fart , ate pancakes and trout caught from the river before I had even woke up, and we were ready to go shoot something. We walked for what seemed like hours me talking the whole time, even when I was little I had the gift of gab. Uncle Fred had a studder that would appear more often if he were excited or in this case pissed off. He turned and looked at me and said welllllllllll if you want to be able to sho sho shoot somethin you gotta stop talking and learn how to listen. Long of the short we never did shoot anything but we did stop and watch a deer eating. Uncle Fred told me later on the only reasons he didnt shoot that deer was A it wasnt deer season and B it was a goddamn miracle my yacking didnt scare it away. He always had a way with words, poet laurier he wasnt but when he spoke, you listened because behind each story there was a lesson to be learned, mine was talk less, listen more.

 When I was 6 I got my very first cabbage patch doll, I was proudly showing that my doll was an original because his little bum had a signiture. Uncle Fred said come here for a minute, so over I went an innocent 6 year old kid. He said you want to be a cabbage patch doll, he grabbed me and quicker then you can say holy crap on a cracker there was I laying over his legs, my little bare ass showing for all the world to see and with a red pen he wrote on my ass FRED D GRANT. He slapped my ass, yanked my pants back up kissed me on the head and said there,,,, now your a cabbage patch doll. Memories, sweet sweet memories.

 When my gram took a turn in her health Uncle Fred took over making the meals and let me tell you nobody could come close to making his homemade beans. Mishy Comeau asked him one time Fred how do you make those beans. Fred held up a bag of beans, Mishy poor guy didnt get what Fred was trying to tell him and said well how do you make them. Quick as a wink Fred said you open the bag and follow the instructions you stupid frenchman, that was our uncle Fred he told it as he saw it, if you didnt get it well that was your problem not his.  Fred had a bunch of Americans in his shop one day along with a guy I would later in life work with in the veterinary clinic. Tony tells me this story one day while we are in a cat neauter surgery and he had me laughing so hard I ended up dropping the poor cats nuts that we had just removed onto the floor. He said this one american man kept rubbing and feeling these balls that Fred had on a string on the wall, the american was so infatuated with these objects he practically had them in his face rubbing them. He says hey Fred what are these things. Fred looks up over his glasses and says their ba ba ba the guy says jesus Fred spit it out what are they. Fred yells their BEAVER NUTS !!!! Tony went on to tell me that american dropped the beaver nuts as fast as I did the cats nuts but for different reasons. Lesson one while being in Fred's shop dont put anything in your hand and especially near your mouth without first finding out what they are.

 Uncle Fred was able to spoil our kids as much as he did us. With my son Austin he took him fishing and like he did with me he gave Austin a nickname, Austin will always be known as "the little Indian Boy" I dont think he ever called him anything other then that and Austin never took offence besides saying Uncle Fred the proper term is Aboriginal boy, Uncle Fred said well Im not proper your my little indian boy. My niece Nicole went to uncle fred's for the first time when she was only 3 weeks old. He was uncle Frevvy for a long time and then Uncle Fred. He would buy makeup from Avon for her and never forgot her when he would go to the dollar store. He bought duck cookie cutters so he could make her gingerbread cookies in the shape of duckies. Her response was oh uncle Fred you are so very kind to me. That was our uncle Fred he was kind. I will never forget the first time Trevor got to meet uncle Fred. We all got together for a family potluck. Keep in mind my grandmother had 15 kids and they all went on to have large familes, even going there and just having the aunts and uncles is a houseful let alone when us crazy cousins join in on the fun and the food. 

 We are driving along and I said to Trevor, we are almost there, I can smell it. His reply was hun I know I keep telling you your family is from the woods but we cant be close yet there are no power lines is there indoor toilets or an outhouse. I reassured him that yes there is indoor plumbing along with woods on one side of the road, the river flowing by the house and yup you guessed it woods on the other side of the river. I also told him its a little piece of Heaven and your going to love it. For once I was right, he agreed it is a little piece of Heaven and he loves it there. We finally arrive and amongst all the people out comes uncle Fred to greet his latest guests. I say Uncle Fred this is my boyfriend Trevor, the men shake hands and Fred says so your the one whos going to marry "TITS" someday, she likes to talk alot,but we love her anyways. I guess I should have also mentioned to Trevor that uncle Fred gave me a nickname and yup you guessed it TITS it was. Trevor and Uncle Fred were fast friends from that moment on. 

 When we would all get together for a potluck uncle fred always made his beloved homemade beans and you knew it was time to eat when you saw Fred going with his plate. No need for a dinner bell just watch for uncle Fred. The last time we got together was for his 80th birthday and to say he had a party was an understatement everyone from near and far came to wish him a happy birthday.

 Fred loved the outdoors, he was always out hunting, fishing or cutting wood. If you got there and he wasnt home you would find a sign on the door that simply said in his hen scratch writing"Gone Fishing" I remember sitting around the huge table one night eating supper, I was at the back of the table by the window eating away when all of a sudden Fred jumped up, grabbed his gun, reached over me threw open the window and KABOOM shot a partridge. I was in shock, half deaf and most likely sitting in shit stained underwear. He looked at me, smiled and said there we will have partridge and pancakes for breakfast. Being a city kid this gave a whole new meaning to knowing where your food comes from, I had a front row seat !!!!. 

Fred always said that when it was his time to die he wanted to be doing what he loved most..... Fishing. He wanted to meet his maker in his boat, his fishing rod in his hand and ever present rubber boots on his feet. On July 3rd 2011 Fred put the sign on his door "Gone Fishing" one last time. A while later fishermen found him in his boat, fishing rod in his hand and his rubber boots on his feet. The man who had so much love in his heart for his family his friends, for the beauty of what was around him died peacefully of a heart attack doing what he loved to do most. I wont tell you I didnt cry, I sobbed like a baby when I heard of his passing yet I couldnt help but give thanks for the man I considered a grandfather who gave so much, was granted his wish of going to Heaven as if he was off for the best fishing trip of his life.

Fred's funeral service was standing room only and through the tears there was laughter just as Fred wanted it to be. We laughed about times gone by, each niece and nephew talking about the special times they had with Fred and when the soloist sang the song "suppertime" I looked at my sister Janet and said there was no better song for Uncle Fred, you always knew when it was suppertime when you were with Uncle Fred. My second cousin gave Fred's eulogy and when she said each of us have special memories and for one cousin especially the drawer in the shop with the glass eyes I couldnt help but think even in death Uncle Fred can make me laugh. Thats how Fred was he surrounded himself with laughter, with love and with his family. God Speed sweet dreams.

 May you all be able to have a person in your life half as special as my uncle Fred was to me and may it make you all so happy you to can say "I'm so happy I could shit rainbows and fart fairydust"