Dogs Are Kids, Too

Published December 25, 2017 by paulandpaulasbooks



15281040_728464620635909_1563054788_nI gave my dogs their Christmas chewy and new food bowl.  All four were excited about the feed bowls – of course, food memories are attached.  The chewy – eh, not so much.


Like in Christmas past, Shadow, then the main (alpha) dog, the serious chewer of the bunch, took all the chew ropes, gathered into a neat pile, next to his pile of balls to engage a human in bowing to his wish to retrieve.  Another loss to us this year as he went on to join his master Paul, at the age of seventeen or 119 if counting dog years.


The four remaining dogs are getting up there in age for their breeds but we are hoping that they will stick around as did Shadow years beyond expectation.  All the dogs went into mourning when my husband died shortly followed by Shadow.


The youngest dog, a Pitt Terrier who is mostly white and ninety percent deaf was welcomed into the home when ‘Bridgegate’ in New Jersey was occurring – she was only eighteen months and Shadow was taken to meet her before we adopted her. He liked her, she liked him, so she came home to meet the rest of the crew, another part Pitt/Lab, a Beagle/Dachshund, and a cock-a-poo. All rescued animals, set for the needle, unwanted, unloved.


Serafina has the imprint of angel wings on her back and on her butt.  She and Shadow would play in the yard with a tug toy or with balls as they were thrown.  The last year Shadow changed in personality and got more puppy-like but decided he would no longer play with Sera and her too in mourning that Paul, at rehab, was too sick to be home.


After Shadow passed in May, she found the ball he no longer played with her.  She took it and slept with it, but did not attempt to play with it.  One afternoon I glanced up and thought I saw Shadow. I blinked and it was Sera.  Soon after that, I heard a racket and looking saw Sera throwing the ball, and running to catch it, returning and doing it again.


When I gave the dogs their Christmas presents early, I gave her first choice of the chewies – she picked the one I had thought would be hers.  As did the other dogs, but, Shadow’s spirit is back.  Each of the dogs gave their toys a cursory chew and gave them to Sera.


Even with tears in our eyes and heart, we know there is hope and for that, we celebrate.   


Merry Christmas!




Wreath shared on Facebook



Dear Teri

Published November 21, 2017 by paulandpaulasbooks

Prose and poetry of dear heart

The Pat Piper

Dear Teri

Oh Teri.
I debated writing you a letter, but you were such a dear sister.
You were a hero of mine and warrior of faith.
Do they still wipe away the tears, there?
I can’t wait.
Will I merely tell you of things you’ve already seen?
You’re brightest, silver eyes in my cloud of witness.
Did you have a hand with this?
I think it was your joy in me when dad died.
I didn’t expect such peace.
I wished you’da met the ones that have held onto me.
I have only been by father’s heart a few times.
Dropping off coats and hugs for Robin, Pam and the like.
I wished you’da met Nadine and Peety.
Jenna and Kayla almost brought flowers and me.
But I was so sick and hesitated.
You threw out a last text and caught me in time.
I miss you terribly.

View original post 40 more words

Who Broke Me

Published July 2, 2017 by paulandpaulasbooks

Different Man Once Again

Friday, June 30th, 2017 – 4:48 pm

“Who Broke Me”

If you’ve sat in my writers den, you’ve smelled one two-three-oh p.m. as easily as in a.m. again and again, any pair o’ empathetic systems can. Welcome on in, freely, if you would and will, if you’re experienced, you’ve already heard my story in fits and sparks, so much better than sun and sin impart. I’m tragicomedied wrong order from stop to stem to stammer lives stamen to start. I must’ve ordered it thus colored when the blood of us still acted like brothers.

I saw hell and heaven and tripped their liars in their own lairs, incognito in the lovely inbetweens. Why weren’t you there? I made a pact and a vow to save a killer, warm without whine and crushed by my own plush pushed pillars. I’ve met principalities you pretend to command. They’re not amused, mortal…

View original post 186 more words

Cuvfefe’ Mystery Solved…

Published June 8, 2017 by paulandpaulasbooks



Covfefe’ (pronounced “cuv – fee- fae”) is an Antediluvian term for “In the end we win.” It was commonly used by the sons of Adam to rail against the evil actions of the fallen who had led man astray.

The term gained popularity  prior to the great deluge and was rarely used after the flood subsided. It regained favor around the time Nimrod was building his tower, after which it was entirely lost in translation at Babel.


Next question….



View original post


Published May 14, 2017 by paulandpaulasbooks

She married young
Lived life to the fullest
A pearl surrounded by sand*

I am from sturdy stock, an American with roots homegrown and from places once considered far away. My sons consider me strong, stubborn, and steadfast.

My maternal grandmother and my mother’s eldest sister were my models as I grew to be the person my mother in law met the night her oldest son asked her to take a drive to get to know me without family around to comment.

We drove to the entrance of the beach access in East Quogue, out on Dune road in the Hamptons on Long Island in New York. We were far enough from houses or condos, so traffic intrusion was unlikely to disturb.

It was a chilly starlit night in mid-May of ‘65. Paul and I had been dating nine weeks. Early on in our relationship, we determined we wanted to have a life together. We never seemed to run out of topics to discuss, nor an end to wit or laughter. We thought we would marry in the Fall because we didn’t want to preempt the marriage of a cousin.

Paul felt that his mother could handle our news and convey to his dad that we were to marry and sooner than anticipated because I was pregnant. We had decided on a Justice of the Peace because, thou Christian, we were from different sects. Neither of us wanted a large wedding or wanted to insist on our own church Our first compromise.

Jeanette aka Mom was not shocked. We had spent every evening together in night college and into the wee hours of the morning from the night we first dated with one night off to do taxes. Her reaction was, “The first child arrives at any time. The rest take nine months.” She welcomed me to the family. The only thing she insisted on was that we marry in church. Our second compromise.

I wore my mother in law’s veil, my borrowed and old, my suit was new, white and powder blue. Never to me, in the start or throughout our marriage, did a cross word ever pass her lips towards me.  I have attempted and at times failed to follow in her footsteps.

She arranged to call their Pastor for our meeting to marry. She arranged inviting local family and she opened her home and provided our reception. Graciousness personified.

Everyone called her Mom, so I followed likewise. Several years later she handed us the key to their home upstate so Paul could return to college at Plattsburgh. During our marriage, she and I wrote a letter to each other once a week, a void never filled after her abrupt passing back to God, twenty-four years ago.

She bore seven children and always loved her children around her. We were her gypsies and not only followed in her and Dad’s tire tracks, we traveled the US and lived in six states.

She already has one daughter, and this year, two sons, one being my husband, back with her in eternity.