Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Author: barbiepc

  • AT&T — Another No Show!!!


    I suppose all of my FB friends are curious as to what happened during the ‘scheduled appointment with AT&T’ yesterday. I reported ‘the technician is scheduled to arrive between 4pm – 8pm,’ according to the text sent to my cell phone at 9:02am yesterday… Well, the plot thickens. We waited from 4-8pm… I had a headache and exhaustion from three nights of no sleep. The clock ticked away…finally at 8:15pm I simply gave up…so, AT&T STRIKES AGAIN! There were no phone calls made to us to inform us when the technician would show…No follow up…Nothing! The customer service rep is supposed to phone me today to inquire about how the repair went…I can’t wait… I shall fill his ears full with my complaints.

    So, FB friends, who should I contract with to end this joke with AT&T…I’m simply tired of tolerating this form of customer service. I’ve had AT&T thru several name changes for my home phone, better known now as a landline. Let’s see, at first it was Southern Bell, then Bell South and now, AT&T… Whatever happened to customer service in America…has it been outsourced too? When they phone me today I WILL GET A CREDIT ON MY PHONE BILL, and I will not book another appointment with them. I’m tired of AT&T! It is now “America’s Terrible and Tumultuous” phone service — perhaps AT&T’s new name! Can’t wait for their phone call today! Don’t mess with me, AT&T!

  • Welcome to Bibb City / Columbus, Georgia


    Chattahoochee Child
    Barbie Perkins-Cooper
    Copyright April, 2013

    Arriving in Columbus, Georgia on Wednesday, April 10, 2013, I struggled not to allow depression to overtake my mood. Exhausted from an eight hour drive, I plopped on to the tiny sofa, attempting to relax. “How can I relax,’ I whispered to myself. ‘This is the city that struggled to destroy me.’

    Phil watched a CSI marathon. I chose to bathe. Remembering those troubled years of my youth, when sadness captivated me, I practiced the art of positive thinking. ‘So much of Columbus has changed. This is a different time, a different setting, and now, my mother is gone. She can’t hurt me now…’

    Exhausted, I went to bed, praying silently that this week all will be fine. ‘It’s a new day,’ I said. ‘A new journey. A new chapter.’

    The next morning, Phil and I drove to Bibb City. Phil touched my hand and face and kissed me on the cheek. “It’ll be OK,” he said. “Today is a new day.”

    I smiled. “Those are the exact words I told myself last night.”

    Driving on the roads leading to Bibb City, I exhaled deeply. Wanting only silence, I turned the radio down. My mind drifted back to my childhood in Bibb City.

    The Village my grandparents called Bibb City is framed by the setting of The Bibb Manufacturing Company, a tall brick building with a clock edged into the masonry work. The tiny brick houses in Anderson Village looked the same, with exception of the clutter on many of the porches and around the small lots. The white houses in Bibb City were now painted a variety of colors. Some of the houses were attractive and well cared for; other homes still looked the same, with exception of junk in the yards and the porches cluttered with boxes and other essentials the residents could not store or put away.

    Serving as the focal point of Bibb City during the textile era in America, the Bill Mill dates back to 1920. The Bibb, as elders called the mill, is located on 38th Street and First Avenue.

    The tranquil, close knit mill community called Bibb City encompasses north from 35th Street to 44th Street, and west from Second Avenue to the Chattahoochee River. The streets are narrow and winding. Mill houses consist of approximately 247 dwellings, located within walking distance of the mill. Most are constructed of wood, painted white, landscaped with magnolia trees, sweet gum trees and other varieties, some laced with Spanish moss.

    Bibb City includes the mill acreage along with a smaller area called Anderson Village. The houses in Anderson Village are brick with interior walls of stucco. According to elders who still live in the Village, Bibb City is one of the best planned mill villages ever built, because of the quality of the residential developments and how they were maintained for mill workers. In the 1960’s the mill chose to sell the homes to mill workers. My grandparents jumped at the chance to own a home.

    The dwelling my grandparents bought was located in the middle of Walnut Street, a solid brick structure, containing two small bedrooms, a living room, one miniature bathroom, and a kitchen. The house was less than 1,000 square feet, total living space. Mill workers were accustomed to living in small settlements. ‘We made do with what the Good Lord provided us,’ according to Papa and Grammy.

    The car approached the monstrous skeleton of the remains of Bibb Manufacturing Company. Staring at the entrance, the mill was vacant of mill workers. What remained now was the front entrance standing alone. The mill closed its doors in 1998, leaving fingerprints and footprints of mill workers. In October 2008, the mill burned to the ground.

    I replayed my grandfather’s words when I was a rebellious teenager desperate to break away from Bibb City.

    Papa said, “You stay here. Marry a mill kid and if you want to work, go to work at the mill. Bibb Mill takes care of its workers. All you have to do in life is marry and have babies.”

    My reply, “Bibb Mill makes you a slave…and I don’t want to live my life here. I don’t want to be a baby machine. I want to sing…”

    Papa laughed, placing a piece of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit gum in his mouth.

    As a child, I was already a feminist!

    I parked the car, grabbed my Nikon digital camera, inhaled…exhaled… My fingers were shaking. Phil remained in the car, downloading software on to his Ipad.

    Clicking my camera, I took several images, recognizing some parts of Bibb City while realizing I had blocked most of the memories away. Gone was the white house where I spent the hot summers with my grandparents. At the site, was an abandoned parking lot. I did not see anyone walking along the sidewalks. Images of mill workers, dressed in Bibb overalls, danced in my mind.

    ‘Bibb City is a ghost town now,’ I whispered. ‘Like the mill, gone are the memories of my youth. I glanced up, wiped a tear while glancing at the Bibb water tower. ‘All that is left are the charred remains of a building where workers strove to make a better life, only to discover the mill controlled and dictated their lives and future. Now, the mill is a ghostly, charred remnant of their hard work. Gone are their footprints and fingerprints.

  • The Journey of Cleet…Cleet Continues…


    Good morning, World. It is a beautiful, sunshiny day in Charleston, SC — a beautiful day where I can see clearly now! What a relief! Thank you, God. To all who have asked, my foster child, Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet… is doing well with his new family. The moment I met them, I knew they were indeed the perfect family for him. His new name is Buddy and every day he takes a ‘baby step’ to his happiness. Truly, he was the hardest foster for me to let go of…but I learned something significant with him…I learned how to communicate with an animal. Occasionally, I will hear his bark and he and I will chat a bit.

    Yesterday, he told me he was getting better…The confusion of my giving him to another family is easing, and he recognizes that he was loved by me, but he had to find a true, forever home. My mission was to teach him that humans are trustworthy, and many are loving, wanting only the best for him, a well deserving, gentle but fearful foster child. He said he was sad for a few days, and he watched the actions of his adoptive family, seeing many of the behaviors he saw in our home…the gentleness, kindness, the sweet, soft stroking of his skin…the soft whispers…no shouts…the encouragement. He said he still missed me, but he understands that he needed to go to another home where he could continue his journey to love and trust ‘humans.’ I am so happy for him. Tears drip down my face when I remember how dreadfully sad and terrified he was of me and my husband…at first…and that is probably why he chose to run away. When he saw the posters with his picture on the poles, signs and every location we could post, he recognized that someone actually cared enough to find him…to search and show that he was worthy of love. And when he returned, three weeks later, that is why he was different to us. No longer did he pull his face away, and he learned to look into my eyes! From a dog’s perspective, looking into a human’s eyes is a significant sign of trust! To quote the adoptive mommy, “Baby Steps!”

    Today is a beautiful day for us, and for sweet little Buddy. Continue your journey while knowing that you are loved by many…and you are indeed worthy of L-O-V-E!

  • The Eyes Have It – Contacts, Eye Infections, Losing Sight


    Dearest Readers:

    It is a late and wet morning for me within the City of Charleston, SC. Originally, my plans for today were to walk the dogs, afterward, I planned to walk the Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge. The dampness of such a wet day has dictated that I cannot honor my plans. Deciding it is the perfect day to clean my home, I sprinkle carpet deodorizer on the carpets and relax while eating strawberry Greek yogurt and another cup of coffee. Time to write in my blog, I decide…and so…here we go!

    Today, I will discuss an important issue. A frightening experience I recently had, giving me a major scare! In early February, I awoke with a pink eye in my right eye. Strange, I thought, Before when I’ve had pink eye, aka Conjunctivitis, I’ve had pink eyes — in BOTH eyes, not one! I used eye drops. I removed my contact, tossing it in the trash. I rested my eye, covering it with a satan facial mask. I doctored it with ice cold packs. Nothing helped. Two days later, with the right eye a bit swollen, and the inability to look into anything bright, I recognized that my diagnosis of Conjunctivitis needed to be confirmed professionally, especially since now, I could not stand bright light of any type hitting the right eye. The pain was unbearable.

    Phil drove me to Nason Medical. Their diagnosis was I might have an infection in the retina. They referred me to an ophthalmologist. Early Monday Phil drove me to Mount Pleasant Ophthalmology. After many tests, the diagnosis was an eye virus. For many weeks, I returned to them twice weekly, using a variety of prescription eye drops. At first, the eye appeared to get worse. Testing my eye with the eye chart, all I saw was a blob — a white, foggy blanket, nothing more. I could not see an image at all! I was horrified. Additional prescription eye drops were prescribed. Now I was taking four eye drops throughout the day — four to five times daily. Reluctantly, I stopped wearing eye makeup.

    Due to the condition of my eye, I remained at home, afraid to go outside since the sunshine felt as if it exploded inside my right eye, and I was horrified to drive anywhere simply because I could not see properly. I managed to drive to the eye doctor visits — carefully and slowly.

    Depression sat in. During the day I cried, recognizing the tears would only aggravate my eye more. I tried to read, to catch up on a collection of magazines on my desk…how could I read them, when I really could not see the words or images? For the first time in my life, all I did was sit around and rest. No wonder I was depressed…my life was not my life anymore.

    Finally, the eye virus cleared up, only to have the cornea irritated from some of the eye drops. Still, I struggled to read the eye charts. Forget the contact, or independence now…I felt my life was that of a wilting vegetable. Cooking was a struggle since I could not see to chop vegetables… On one occasion, I almost burned the pasta. “How is it you burn pasta?” I screamed. Simple. When you cannot see what you are doing, anything can happen!

    I confess, I have taken the luxury of eye sight for granted, but not anymore. Every time I saw the doctor I asked her “when can I wear my contact again?” Her reply wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I decided it was best to follow her advice. On one visit, she mentioned that my cornea looked like sandpaper. This condition sounded a bit too serious. I drove myself home, researched on the Internet, deciding that the information I was reading would only horrify me more. I walked to the bedroom, spoke with my dogs, threw myself on the bed and I cried like a newborn baby. My pups moved closer to comfort me. I prayed, and prayed. Dear God, please don’t let me lose my eye sight. I have so much to do and say. Please God, touch and heal my eye.

    On the next eye visit, my doctor removed me from all of the prescriptions, deciding to use natural tears, rest and a lot of TLC. Today, I am happy to report, my eye is much improved. The cornea is ‘healing well now.’ Natural tears are helping so much. My last checkup was on Monday and I’m happy to report I could actually read the eye chart! What a relief. Over the week I tested my eye, covering my left eye to see if the right eye could actually see something besides a blanket of fog. Like a little child, I recognized the beauty of green trees. Even the pollen blowing in the wind looked inviting, until I sneezed! What a relief. I could see again! Trees. Flowers. My dogs. A TV screen. The sky. The beauty of life. My eyes could see! I danced a happy dance…I CAN SEE AGAIN!

    I must see the eye doctor in two weeks, and I’m happy with that. As for my contacts? They are still in the package. I haven’t opened my last box for fear that I would weaken and let temptation get the best of me. For now, I have reading glasses on my desk — two pairs are inside my handbag…one pair is in the den. One pair in the kitchen…and one pair by my bed. Yes, I’m vain…I don’t like wearing glasses. I find them uncomfortable and a bit difficult to walk in. The strange thing about this experience with my right eye is this — since the eye is able to focus and see things again, occasionally I can actually read something without glasses, or contacts. Isn’t that strange…maybe the eye exercises I’ve been doing are helping me, along with the eye vitamins and the sheer stubbornness of this modern day feminist who refuses to allow something to knock me down for long. Funny! My Julia Sugarbaker style has returned!!!

    Eye health.

  • The Top 10 Workout Songs For April


    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

    The Top 10 Workout Songs For April

    Fort Wayne, IN – April 1, 2013 – Collaborations reign in this month’s workout playlist. Justin Bieber lent Will.I.Am a hand on the latter’s latest. Italian super producer Alex Gaudino turned the mic over to Jordin Sparks. Lastly, Pitbull and Christina Aguilera urged folks to seize the day–while seizing, for themselves, the hook from ’80s classic “Take On Me.”
    Here’s the full list, according to votes placed at Run Hundred–the web’s most popular workout music blog.
    Alex Gaudino & Jordin Sparks – Is This Love – 129 BPM
    Miranda Lambert – Mama’s Broken Heart – 112 BPM
    Of Monsters and Men – Little Talks – 107 BPM
    Will.I.Am & Justin Bieber – #thatPOWER – 129 BPM
    Kylie Minogue – Timebomb – 128 BPM
    Afrojack & Chris Brown – As Your Friend – 128 BPM
    One Direction – One Way or Another (Teenage Kicks) – 163 BPM
    Pitbull & Christina Aguilera – Feel This Moment – 137 BPM
    Avicii – Silhouettes (Syn Cole Creamfields Mix Radio Edit) – 128 BPM
    Macklemore, Ryan Lewis & Ray Dalton – Can’t Hold Us – 148 BPM
    To find more workout songs, folks can check out the free database at RunHundred.com. Visitors can browse the song selections there by genre, tempo, and era—to find the music that best fits with their particular workout routine.

    Contact:
    Chris Lawhorn
    Run Hundred
    Email: Admin@RunHundred.com

  • Happy Easter


    Sunday, March 31, 2013

    Dearest Readers:

    Today is Easter, so as the tradition goes, I would like to wish all of you a most Happy Easter. The religious holiday of Easter is early this year. Normally, I look for it after the warm spring holidays begin. For this year, in the Holy City of Charleston, SC, we haven’t had many warm days this month. Most days, the mornings were chilly where you needed to wear a sweater or jacket in the mornings, and sometimes, throughout the day. Our spring fling hasn’t begun. This morning, I awaken to 61 degrees outside. Hello Spring Time! Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, just to awaken, I saw the morning sunshine in the midst of dark clouds. The weather forecast for today is rain, and now, as I look outside my windows while writing this, I see only gray clouds, darkness, and I believe I hear raindrops. But it’s Easter, you say…the day for me to wear my Easter bonnet and “Sunday best” just for Easter….

    Easter is the Christian celebration of the resurrection of Christ. Christians believe (and I am definitely a Christian) that Jesus was crucified for our sins. Burying his body in a large cave, a boulder blocked the entrance. According to traditional stories in the Bible, and beyond, on Sunday the entrance to Jesus’ gravesite was open and “Jesus has risen!” was discovered by a few women, including the Virgin Mary.

    As a child, I was taught to celebrate Easter, like most children are taught. Living in a mill village for many of those years, my family did not have the money to splurge on Easter bonnets, frilly dresses, and pumps and Easter baskets. Our grandparents catered to the four girls in my family by buying us these pretty items. So, on Easter Sunday, I made certain I was dressed to impress in my Easter dress. I’ve always enjoyed dressing lacy and glitzy, so Easter Sunday was a day I wore my new dress until the evening. Colorful bows, matching my outfit were worn in my hair. I wanted to shine! Easter Sunday, my family went to church and if my memory is correct, we celebrated an Easter feast at the fellowship hall of Beallwood Assembly of God Church. After we ate, the Easter Egg Hunt began. I did not wish to get myself dirty, so instead of looking for Easter eggs, I spent time with the boys. Imagine that!

    Today, I will have a quiet Easter with my husband and neighbors. Since 2010, there has been a new tradition in our neighborhood with one of our greatest neighbors inviting us to an Easter feast with the neighbors. I look forward to seeing all of them again, enjoying a quiet, relaxing Easter day celebration, while remembering why the world celebrates Easter.

    To all of you reading this, I hope your Easter is filled with the traditions of the season – the belief in Christianity, the Resurrection of Christ, the symbolism of life and death and the passing into a new divine life. As for traditions, may you enjoy the traditions you practice with your family and friends. May you feast on lamb, baked ham, and all the delicious foods of Easter. May your children find the Easter eggs while enjoying all the goodies the Easter bunny gave them. Still, I reflect on the Easter holidays I celebrated with my grandparents and the traditions they instilled upon us, their bratty, spoiled granddaughters. My grandmother truly believed in spoiling us, while teaching us about religion and the power of faith. Grammy taught me wisely, as I watched her actions. My belief in the power of prayer is a credit to her and watching her bowing at her knees, while looking up into the sky as she folded her hands and prayed for God to help her with the burdens in her life. Sometimes, I listened to her praying, hiding behind a curtain so she could not see, or hear me. Once, she caught me. When she asked why I was hiding I looked up at her, tears dripping down my face.

    “Grammy,” I said…”I was listening to you praying. I wanted to know why you are so sad and praying all the time.”

    “I have a burden. God listens to it. He will help me with the burdens I have.”

    Now older and wiser, I understand a bit about her burdens. Our family life was not a happy time. Now, as I look back, I feel blessed that I had such a significant role model within the hands, faith and body of my precious grandmother. She instilled in me the power of prayer, and the belief that God is always listening to us, hearing our burdens, while at times, He may test us, just to see IF we still believe.

    On Easter Sunday 2013, I will say, I still believe. I have faith. I have strength. During my lifetime, God has guided me during times of trouble, and during times of sheer faith. I hope your Easter Sunday will be blessed. Please take a moment to look up into the skyline, even if it is laced with gray clouds and raindrops. Look at it this way. The raindrops are washing the blanket of pollen away, along with the cleansing of cobwebs from our minds. Today, Easter Sunday, is the day to believe that there is a new day blooming inside of us. A new chapter, or a new journey in our lives may start today. Have your faith. Dress your finest, share those beautifully decorated Easter eggs with your children and loved ones while knowing Easter Sunday is truly symbolic — a new beginning, on a new horizon! Happy Easter!

  • Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet Finds a New Home


    Dearest Readers:

    If you read my posts on a regular basis, you will know our sweet little foster Schnauzer/Maltese mix now has a happy home, filled with much love. His adoption day was Friday, March 15. After I took him to his new home, I sat down on the couch, talking with his adoptive parents, Cindy and Jeff, sharing the bits and pieces I learned while caring for him. While I was there, I watched sweet little Cleet, Cleet, moving around a bit. He kept coming to me, wanting me to pick him up, which I did, holding him close, stroking his fur for perhaps the last time. No, I did not cry. I was happy for him, knowing that this family was the most special family I had prayed so hard for Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas to find for Cleet…Cleet.

    A few moments later, I left, confident and happy for him. Arriving home, I gathered my group of pups, telling them that their foster brother, sweet little Cleet…Cleet had a new home. Sandy Bear kept going to the bed that Cleet, Cleet slept in during the day. He curled his little blonde body into a tight ball, perhaps talking with Cleet Cleet.

    Since his adoption, I have communicated with Cindy, the adoptive mom. After I left him, Cletus kept going to the corner of the sofa where I sat and to the front door. When I read this, I was heartbroken. In his little mind, he felt abandoned. I decided it was time to speak to Cletus…to attempt to reach out to him and communicate, just like Karen, the animal communicator, communicated to him when he was lost. I had a bit of knowledge about clairvoyancy since my grandmother had this gift, so I sat by my window, tears rushing down my face, making the attempt to contact sweet little Cleet, Cleet, to let him know it was OK to accept and love his new parents. I was thankful that my husband was asleep during this time. He has never understood how I receive visions, sometimes in dreams, other times, throughout the day. I curled my body into a restful position. My children were outside, so quiet meditation could occur. Softly, I spoke to Cleet…Cleet like I did on Thursday while bathing him.

    Two days later, I heard a happy bark in the house. All of my children were outside, playing. I recognized the happy bark — Cleet…Cleet. Again I spoke with him. This time, he was telling me how nice the people were. I let him know he was in a new home now, a safe and caring home. Silence for a few moments, then he barked again…a distinctive bark that only comes from Cletus, now known as “Little Buddy.” He shared with me that he was feeling a bit better now. I asked him if he felt abandoned by me. He paused, processing his thoughts carefully. “No,” he said. “When you left I did feel abandoned, and I stayed by the couch where you sat. Then, I remembered your conversation with me when you bathed me, and I must say, I loved that bath time together. I remembered you said you loved me, and your job was to teach me that I could trust some humans. I didn’t trust humans for a long time, because they were so mean to me…and when I ran away, I was afraid that you might hurt me too…but when I came back, you smiled at me, you held me close, you kissed my head, and I knew you really were happy that I was back. I told you I’d never run away again…Remember.”

    I nodded. We were communicating like I hoped we would. He understood why I had to find him a really good home, and with Cindy and Jeff, he would have a happy, caring and loving family. My job as the foster mom was successfully completed. A few nights later, I dreamed that Cletus needed a new name. The name I dreamed of was “Romeo.” That morning when I checked e-mail, I read an e-mail from Cindy. They decided to change his name to “Buddy.” They called him several different names, which he did not respond to. When they said, “Little Buddy,” he turned his head and responded. Simple…his new name is Buddy.

    During his time in our home, I called him Little Buddy when I picked him up in the mornings. His new name was perfect for him! He is a sweet, timid little Buddy.

    Last week, Cindy and Jeff took Little Buddy for his wellness check-up. The veterinarian gave him a complete exam, with blood work. Buddy is in great health, and the vet thinks he could be a cairn terrier. Cindy shared that she thought he was a Norfolk terrier. When I pulled the website for Norfolk terrier, I looked at a pup that was identical to “Buddy,” including the docked tail and blonde coat.

    As a foster mom, it is easy to fall in love with the animal that you foster. I fell head over hills with “Cleet…Cleet…Little Buddy…” and I miss him terribly; nevertheless, my job was to care for him. To teach him that humans will not thrust a water hose in his face, to make him move…to feed him, keep him clean, and brushed…and to show him that there are humans who will treat him with respect and love. Our job at this house was completed when we found him a new, adoptive home. Yes, it was hard to give him up, but that is what fostering is about… Little Buddy is taking baby steps now to adjust to a new life. I am certain he is watching how their Schnauzer responds to them, and he will learn much from their actions. I am so happy for him.

    Perhaps now, I will take a bit of time away from fostering… I grew to love Cleet…Cleet probably more than I should, but who wouldn’t love him. He was so gentle…so quiet, at first…and when I heard his happy bark one afternoon when I returned from errands, I smiled at him…so happy that he was expressing happiness. My wish for Cindy and Jeff is that Little Buddy will soon bark that happy bark. Baby steps. Patience. Love. Affection…Tenderness… only a few of the ingredients to be a foster mom.

    My job is done. Sweet little Cleet…Cleet now has a new home. Wishing you much happiness, good health and much love, Little Buddy!

  • Treatment at Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital — So Much Improved!


    Thursday, March 15, 2013, my husband and I had dinner with friends at a local Mexican restaurant. This has been a tradition of ours since the early 1990’s, perhaps about 1992 or so. After dinner, my husband became extremely quiet. His face was pale, almost ghostly. I asked him if he was all right. His reply, “I feel sick.”

    Arriving at another restaurant for a bit of Karaoke, my husband rushed to the men’s room. There, he stayed for such a long time I was searching for someone to see if he was OK. Moments later, he walked over to our table, a bit slumped over. I decided it was time to leave, take him home and give him a bit of TLC.

    Since I do not like trash or junk inside my car, I have one of those trash cans in the back floorboard – the type that you can roll up, or toss. My husband grabbed it. Driving home to Mt. Pleasant, sickness overtook Phil again, and again. When we got home, the continuous nausea captured him. “Ok, Phil. You’ve got two choices…One, I drive you to E-R, or I call 911. Which do you choose…it isn’t negotiable.”

    We arrived at E-R at Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital at about 9:30 or 10pm. The time isn’t the issue…what happened and the treatment is something I truly believe I should report on, since previously I have reported about the ‘lack of care and professionalism at VA hospitals.’

    We checked in to the triage unit. Directing us to the waiting room, I grabbed my cell phone, placed it on quiet mode, anticipating I would have a significant amount of time to delete e-mails.

    “Mr. Cooper…” A nurse arrived.

    They escorted Phil back to E-R. Since it happened so quickly, I turned in the wrong direction, losing sight of my husband.

    Another nice employee stopped me. He probably noticed the lost look on my face. He did not direct me to E-R, like a Wal Mart of K Mart employee would do. This kind, sympathetic gentleman escorted me to E-R and did not leave me until I found my husband. That kind of excellent service was not to be expected. I should’ve gotten his name, but my focus at the time was my husband. He’s a heart patient, with Diabetes, PTSD and other issues, and when he is sick, believe me, nothing pleases him!

    Phil was resting in a bed, or a gurney. Who knows. His face was whiter than the sheets. A nurse was checking his vitals, asking questions and Phil groaned. Another nurse brought him something to throw up in, in the event he had to. Funny…what is it about arriving at a hospital? The nausea escaped him as quickly as it arrived!

    Blood work was ordered, additional questions asked. Vitals checked and since he was a heart patient, an EKG was ordered.  I was still amazed at how quickly the entire staff worked on and with my husband. All the questions, discussions. The EKG was fine…nothing interesting to report related to the heart. I sighed as I watched the E-R crew. I was amazed! Everyone was totally professional, appearing to care about the patients — so unlike my last experience! Dressed in scrubs, with bedside mannerisms that I certainly did not anticipate. When the blood tests arrived, my husband was diagnosed with gastroenteritis, or possible food poisoning. He was dehydrated now, so he was treated with IV’s, and other medications to ease the nausea. The IV would take a while so we knew we would be here for a bit.

    What a difference a new visit to Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital, Charleston, SC has made. Never did I hear anything negative. The staff joked with each other, but still did their jobs. Truly customer and patient service at its finest. They appeared to be well trained to know what to do, and when and how to work with the patient. Thank you, to all of the staff at E-R, Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital. You certainly made a long and exhausting night at E-R more than I expected. Your quality of service, on a scale of 1-10, with 10 the best — I’d give it a 10!

    Thank you so much! My husband was discharged about 1:30am. He rested all weekend and is feeling better today — all to the quality of medical service you gave him. I cannot thank you enough!

  • A New, Happy Life for Cletus, Sweet Little Cleet, Cleet…


    Today, our foster Schnauzer/Maltese mix, Cletus, was taken to meet his new parents. Exhausted from spending a late portion of last night and the early morning of today with my husband in E-R, I completely forgot to take a picture of the new, happy family.

    My husband was much too sick to go to work today, suffering from gastroenteritis, either food poisoning, or a severe stomach virus, so I asked him if he felt like helping me find the subdivision since my eye is still weak from the eye virus I’m battling. We must be the perfect couple together now, since we are depending on one another in this respect.

    When we arrived, my husband was asleep in the car. Entering the home of the excited couple, Cletus hugged me tight. He knew something was up, and I suspect he understood the conversations we shared yesterday while bathing him. “You’re going to a new home, Cleet…Cleet. There you’ll have a loving, caring family that will take care of you, and accept you, just like we have.” His docked tail wagged as he looked in my eyes. No doubt, we were communicating!

    Sitting on the couch, I introduced myself, feeling right at home with this loving couple. I placed Cletus down, to run and play with their beautiful and feisty Schnauzer. Cletus ran around for a few minutes, then rushed to me, patting at my legs. He watched their dog running around the room, but not approaching us. I felt comfortable and thankful that God had provided Cletus such a wonderful family with another dog to become his brother and mentor.

    I stayed for a few minutes, chatting and sharing the history of Cletus in our home. “Just give him time,” I advised. “He will come to you and accept you with love, all in time.”

    The adoptive daddy sat down. “Think he’ll let me hold him?”

    I nodded, realizing this would be the perfect time for me to exit. I kissed Sweet Little Cleet, Cleet, on the forehead, and told him I loved him. Fortunately, I did not cry. My tears were shared yesterday while bathing and talking to him. During the five months we shared together, Cletus taught me so much about what fostering an animal is truly about…acceptance…and patience. Most rescue animals have issues they must overcome before they can develop or reveal their true personalities. Cletus was no exception. He arrived with many issues…fears…and he was stubborn and protective of himself – simply because his history was that of a ‘stud’ in a puppy mill. He refused to look me in the eyes, a signal that he did not trust humans. He communicated that he needed time. Mornings started with screams and shouts from grumpy, impatient puppy mill people who only considered the ‘benefits’ of Cletus. The afternoon meal included the food bowl tossed at him. At first, Cletus was hesitant to eat around us. He hovered down, lifted his head to see if we were looking, and if we were, he sniffed the bowl but would not eat. We learned to move away from him after placing his bowl beside him. And when we moved, Cletus ate every bite of food. Cletus taught us that he would not come to us with love until he was ready. We were willing to give him the time. His favorite spot in our home was in the corner of the breakfast room. I placed his doggy bed in that corner, with a blanket.

    There were more issues with Cletus. Watching his personality developing, I fell in love with him, so thankful that occasionally he would sneak into the den, to enjoy family time. This morning, Cletus did not look into my eyes — he stared, locking his eyes with mine. I picked him up, kissed him and told him I loved him. His eyes still stared deeply into mine. Our last communication!

    Cletus will do well with this family, and I am certain that they will love him as much as we did. Once a lonely, lost and frightened little boy, Cletus grew into an amazing animal. A bit stubborn and shy, I truly believe Cletus will become an amazing dog, happy and thankful to find such a wonderful home. This story is shared to let others who might consider adopting a foster to understand exactly what fostering and adopting is for a mistreated animal. Today was a new day for me, and for Cletus. While watching his new daddy cuddling him, I took my cue to exit.

    Cletus was now part of a loving couple who would give him a loving, gentle home…all in time…on his terms. I thanked them for being such wonderful, caring people.

    Now, the next happy chapter starts for Sweet Little Cleet Cleet with my love and the love of an amazing couple willing to give him time, with the guidance of another Schnauzer family.

    Happy Tails for Cletus…Happy Tales for this foster Mom! As for me, I am happy and honored that our household, our silly and loving troop of pups, were able to show Cletus it was AOK to step into another chapter of his life — only this time, this chapter is a happy one, with Cletus as the star!

  • Cletus Has a New Home


    Dearest Readers:

    I am pleased to announce my little foster child, Sweet little, Cleet, Cleet, has a new home. Tomorrow morning I will take him to his new home. He has been such an interesting little character, and he has taught me much about acceptance, trust, gentleness and kindness. After he came into our lives in October, 2012, I felt like such a failure when he refused to come to me…how his eyes quickly glanced away when I touched him, how he jumped away to get away from me when I simply reached to touch him. One week after arriving here, as you will remember, he ran away and was gone for three weeks.

    Since his return, I’ve seen a new Cletus. Still skittish, at first, he stopped playing the game of here we go around the table and chairs again. Instead, he would slide down, allowing me or my husband to pick him up.

    Today is our final day together. Yes, I’ve cried. I’ve grown to love this beautiful, gentle and sweet, little guy, and I do believe, he’s grown to love me, as he showed on one occasion when he jumped up to touch my leg, wanting me closer to him.

    Like all things in life, we have to grow, to accept the things we cannot change. Cletus was my foster child. When he needed someone to accept and love him the most, he came into our lives and our home. Here, he has learned to play with other dogs, and to cuddle up next to Shadow, Shakespeare and Sandy. No doubt all of them have communicated. Perhaps that is why he has responded to me recently.

    Tomorrow, he will have a new home. I am certain he will see that there are humans who will accept and love him, not because he was a stud, or because he was so mistreated….they will love him because he is easy to love. When he came to us, he was frightened. Now, he’s learned to trust.

    I wish his new parents the best. Fortunately, they have a puppy family member at their house. It will be easier for Cletus to adjust with another animal to sniff, play with and communicate with. Animals do communicate. How I’d love to know what my little crew has told Cleet…Cleet. I do believe it’s been positive doggy talks as they shared how we love and spoil each and every member of our Schnauzer and Maltese family.

    Cletus, go with love, knowing only good things are coming your way. Never will you have food thrown at you, ugly words shouted at you, and water splashed in your face to make you move to the next ‘stud puppy’ environment. Your life is changing to a happy life. Go with my love and best wishes for your happiness, Cletus. I wish you more “Happy Tails!”