The Total Femme

We came home from Women’s Week this year to a terminally ill dog. He’d been having spells of feeling yucky, but it turned out our sweet Cairn boy was sicker than we knew. We got home Sunday. Vet on Monday where we got the devastating news. A home euthanasia vet on Wednesday.

Thatcher came to us as a puppy 13 ½ years ago, from a breeder in Vermont situated right near Thatcher Brook, thus his name. I carried him home on my lap, wee little fellow that he was. We promised him we would take care of him for his entire life. We knew that responsibility would hold many surprises – both of us have children in our lives, after all, and elderly parents – but we knew we would stay true to our promise.

Wednesday evening, Thatcher snuggled in Tex’s arms. The truly wonderful, compassionate vet administered a sedative. His chewing slowed, he slept. He snored as Tex gently cradled his beloved body. The vet did what she needed to do. Thatcher snored. Then he stopped. I’m weeping as I write this, but we couldn’t have asked for a better, more peaceful death.

As we navigate our way through the grief of losing such a dear friend, I keep thinking back to how completely Thatcher was surrounded by love. Promise fulfilled, responsibilities carried out to the best of our abilities. Safe in his most favorite person’s arms.

These days, for so many reasons – you have your own, my darlings, I know – Tex and I have less vim and vigor than we once did. Our reach is not as long, our capacity for dealing with stress, negative or positive, much diminished. This is a hard thing to parse through, and we make mistakes all the time trying to do more than we actually are able to enjoy. The events leading up to and including Thatcher’s death have given me the inspiration to look inward. Look at who’s in my arms. Recommit to my responsibilities to them. To myself. To making the time and allowing for the energy, which can often mean not doing that next wonderful thing to make room for the wonderful thing already in motion.

Angels and angels, who do you carry with you? Who needs you in ways that no one else can provide? How are you managing? Some of those we hold can’t or won’t reciprocate, I know this. Others, perhaps, hold you just as tightly. Are you at peace with the bundle in your arms, in your heart? Are you holding it in a way that allows you to also tend to your own deepest and most sacred needs?

Today, precious pets, take stock. Readjust the weight a bit, perhaps. Anyone or anything you need to gently put down? Or pick up? Look in your generous, lively, beating hearts, my loves. It’s all there, the information you need.

And you, my queer femme community. Feather light and rock solid.

We are in each other’s arms.

Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.

Since 2016, I here at The Total Femme have done my best to post thrice a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy Dingy on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on you know when. I’m pulling back the reins now, darlings, and going down to once a week, this Meditation. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear from you. Send me your poetry, your musings, your art, your wonderful you, and I will love you and hold you and feature you right here. So let me hear from you! thetotalfemme@gmail.com. And stop by on Mondays for a bit of sacred femme space.