
Lily: Hello everybody. My mailbag has been flooded so I have sorted the letters into topics; this way I’ll address everything and nearly everyone of you who wrote me will relate.
Let me tell you: I do not know where this household would be without me!! Welcome to Sick Bay. My Mam has been sick with the flu, then Covid, then eye surgeries and a kidney stone since early December. Sister Anita has a very bad sore throat and Sr. Helen’s migraines are finally quieting down. One of my jobs, as Nurse Lily, has been to check on each Sister throughout the night. Yep. Two hours at a time in each bedroom. Usually, I sleep in my own bed in Mam’s room, and she closes a gate to keep me in. But we’ve had open gate nights the last several weeks so I can make my rounds. During the day, I keep Helen’s walker-wheels straight by stopping when they are caught and then she straightens them. I jump on Anita’s lap when she sips her tea, and I sound my amazing barking alarm when someone comes to the door. I interrogate every visitor who comes to the house before they are let in. I try to keep my Mam from walking into open doors, and I watch carefully when she is searching for something so I can spring into action should she fall. And fall she did, last week. I was all over her in nano seconds. Fortunately, it was a ‘soft fall.’ I also provide entertainment by playing fetch every evening. She never gets sick so she’s the major challenge here. And when Mam goes to her doctor appointments, I wait by the window until she returns. I’m at the door for her as she turns the key to come inside and I want to know everything the doc said, which she tells me in detail. After all, I am the house nurse. Now for your letters.
Callie, the femme fatale of felines from Columbus, asked if it’s alright to jump on her human’s lap when she’s praying. I say: Go for it, Callie. You are adding to the God-experience for your human. I understand she strained her ankle last week, so she needs you to comfort her in the quiet of prayer. You’re a blessing to her Callie. Bean, our pug pal in Manhattan wondered if he was wrong in wrestling with the bully dog who attacked him and his human during a recent walk. What? I yell! You weren’t wrong; the bully was!! You defended your human and sent the bully running, along with his wimpy owner who couldn’t face the consequences. You got 12 stitches in your neck. A mark of greatness! The Purple Heart of canine valor! That bad guy had gone for the jugular! Remember Bean, pug is short for pugnacious! And you were one pugnacious lifesaver. Duke in Connecticut feels guilty because he has such a good home and family. He watches too many ASPCA appeals on television highlighting starving and abandoned pets. Makes him feel guilty and sad that he has it so good. On one of the family vacations, Duke was filmed for an advertisement for the resort where the family stayed. Don’t feel guilty Duke. Revel in your fame. You’re handsome, if I must say so, and my Mam doesn’t call you Mick Jagger for nothing when it comes to entertainment and your ‘punk’ haircut. Don’t feel guilty. Finally, Angel in Cincinnati wants to handle ‘separation anxiety’ a little better. Angel is totally pure and good from what I hear; she just doesn’t like it when her Mam goes somewhere without her. Angel, my Mam received a picture of you praying. It’s adorable. I will save it for when we start your canonization process. It will make a beautiful holy card. My advice? Offer up your little bit of loneliness on behalf of the many pets who are dispatched to a shelter or simply dumped somewhere because someone determined they could not care for them any longer. I know you love your human who simply loves you as well.
Reflection
Mam: When a pet senses your illness, he or she will stay by your side and provide the care only they can provide. It might be a warm nap together. Watching TV, playing fetch, taking a short walk. The human makes the pet feel worthwhile, a contributor to the family welfare when a bond takes place between the ill human and the pet. Recently, I confessed to Lily that I was feeling down. She perched on my lap and gave me those tender eyes mixed with a bit of a scolding.
Lily: “Yes, I Iet Mam have it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Mam, I said. Think of all the people you encourage on a daily basis telling them to think outside the box of themselves when they are suffering. You tell them to lift their pain into an awareness of God’s love. You need to do the same for yourself. You even tell me that God is with each of us; we only need to trust this more. I miss my walks with you, my car rides with you, our playing fetch in the yard. Even our running in the snow. Oh gosh! I miss all of this. So please get better and start with your attitude!”
Mam: Well, I guess that was pretty clear. She nestled her head on my chest, and I felt God’s touch, soft and tender in that moment from an animal whose love is sincere and loyal, almost to a fault. I hope each of us will renew ourselves in some way this Lent by reaching deep down inside to places we never examined before. I am joining the effort with you. Let’s keep each other in prayer as we do it.
As Lily jumped from my lap, I caught that mischievous look in her expression and knew immediately what she wanted: “How about a raise?” And off she scurried to Sr. Helen’s call.
I will let you know next week if more surgery is required. Remember, my prayers are connecting with yours and sent as an offering to a loving God.
(TIME FOR MY NAP!)

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