Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Living Life in the Country As A Writer, Photographer


Dearest Readers: Like many women, there have been many road blocks and detours in my life. Marrying at a young age — much too young — I recognized that happiness does not come from marriage, or from living with someone, or from the temptations of food. I have battled with weight problems all of my …

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Dearest Readers: Yes, today is Friday. A day to reflect and appreciate life. A day to give thanks and be thankful for another great week of life. If you are a regular reader of my blog, you will recall I am on a Weight Watchers journey. Thursday is my weigh-in day, so reluctantly, yesterday, I …

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Today appeared to be a good day. After paying the monthly bills, I settled down, thankful that life was going my way – finally. I looked up to the blue skies, whispering a silent prayer to God, thankful that I could pay the monthly bills and still have a bit left over, just in the …

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Dearest Readers: I confess, today is my weigh in day at Weight Watchers, only I am not going today. I’ve decided it is in my best interest to remain at home today — moping…groaning…arguing with myself…I’m certain you get the picture, especially IF you are working hard to lose weight. This week hasn’t been a …

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Dearest Readers: Good afternoon. How I hope all of you who watched the Oscars last night enjoyed some mesmerizing acceptance speeches. As a screenwriter, I’ve always dreamed of attending the Oscars, but so far — that dream is not reality; nevertheless, I still write screenplays — even IF I haven’t sent any of them out …

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Dearest Readers: If you are reading this, and either you know me, or follow my blog, you will know the struggles I have just writing “Chattahoochee Child.” Years ago, at a writer’s meeting, I shared the premise of this story, receiving much encouragement. At the time, I had no idea where the story would go, …

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Dearest Readers: Yes, I know…I’ve been quiet. As you recall, the new year started with a loss…not at Weight Watchers, but a loss of a loved one — our precious little Maltese, Shasta Daisy Shampagne. She was at least ten-years-old, probably closer to twelve. For approximately six months we watched her slowly fading away from …

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Dearest Readers: My last post, Saturday, January 4, 2014 was written with a broken heart after we lost our precious Maltese, Shasta Daisy Shampagne. To say it has been a stressful, depressing and an almost unbearable week is an understatement. I have caught myself bursting into tears as the sea of grief rushes over me …

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In Memory of Precious Shasta Daisy Shampagne, Our Adorable Maltese

January 4, 2014


Dearest Readers:

Only moments ago, when I awoke, I rushed to check on our precious, weakened little girl, our adorable Maltese, Shasta Daisy Shampagne. Today, when I touched her to whisper love words and good morning to her, she did not respond. I uncovered her from the blankets keeping her warm. Only this time, she did not move her head. Carefully, I lifted her into my arms, discovering her spirit and fight were gone. Over the night, Shasta left us, crossing Rainbow Bridge. I cannot stop crying.

If you read my blog regularly, you will remember little Shasta and her battle to survive while having seizures. We spoke with the vet about the seizures. He felt she was much too weak to survive any treatments. We were told to make her comfortable and to help her work thru the seizures. “She will let you know when she’s ready,” he said. Christmas Day was a rough day for Shasta. She suffered three long seizures. Her head rolled back. She gasped for breath and her tongue turned as blue as the sky at dark. We cradled her in our arms. I sang to her. With each seizure, she used all of the strength she could find, just to survive.

“Dear God,” I prayed. “Please don’t let her die on Christmas Day.” She survived, sleeping comfortably next to Phil. When she walked around, her walk was more of a weakened, confusing crawl, her body turned to the right. Her tongue hung out, but later, she was back to almost normal. She drank water, and she ate every bite of her food, wanting more. She wasn’t ready to go.

Phil and I discussed her situation. We agreed it was time. We decided we would call the vet, the day after Christmas to find out what he would suggest. We anticipated it would be to ‘let her go.’ The day after Christmas, she appeared better. We didn’t make the call. Carefully, we watched Shasta, counting her intake and her body functions. She drank water. She pottied. She kissed us. She loved us. She played with our boys, so it appeared that for now, Shasta was back. Remembering our vets words, “She’ll let you know when she’s ready,” we cared for Shasta, carrying her outside to potty and bringing her back inside to rest. After Christmas, she walked around the back yard, and she snapped at our newest family member, Toby, another rambunctious Maltese. After Christmas Day, no seizures.

We rescued Shasta from a shelter in July, 2005. She was about two or three years old and had been left at a shelter in Florida. She was tiny, as white as snow, fluffy, with only one minor problem. She had a crooked neck. Her face always appeared to be cocked to one side. When I met her, her face was cocked to the left, but she was just adorable. I drove to Jacksonville to adopt her. Full of spunk when I met her, she jumped into my arms, as if to say, “Hey there. I’m your new girl!” Phil fell in love with her the moment he met her. We massaged her neck and she appeared to enjoy our touch and she moved her neck a bit straighter.

Our vet checked her over, telling us to massage her neck. “It might help her straighten a bit.” She did not have any difficulty with her spine and he thought she was born with a slight disability; however, for Shasta, the crooked neck only added to her charm. It never stopped her! Over the years, she loved to walk. She was the little princess on the right. Shakespeare walked next to her, and to the left, Prince Marmaduke Shamus guided us as we walked for 2.5 miles. Last year, when Shasta started having the seizures, I stopped walking her. She wasn’t strong enough anymore. Slowly, I watched Shasta fading away from us, and although at times I thought about letting her go, Phil and I agreed we were not ready, nor was Shasta.

Today, Shasta has crossed Rainbow Bridge. She was ready, so she left us. I pray that Shamus was waiting for her and that they are playing together again, or maybe they are walking together. I will miss Little Miss Shasta Daisy Shampagne, but I am thankful that now, she will not suffer any more seizures. Now, she can run and play, eat and rest, while knowing she was loved by Phil and I and our children. Rest in peace, Little Miss. Mommy and Daddy love you and miss you terribly.


Dearest Readers: Today, I awaken to another gray day in Charleston. Now, it is raining outside. Raindrops tap, tap, tap, on the windows and I’m thankful I called my four-legged family members inside only moments ago. They are so funny when it rains. When the back door opens, they rush inside, only to stop as …

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