My Best Friend

I write this with a heavy heart and a light hand while I think about Sunday morning and the time I spent with my one and only, true best friend.  My best friend has seen me through so much in my life and I really don't know where I could start by giving him credit.

We met back in September of 2000 at a Flying J truck stop in Oklahoma.  He was there with a few of his brothers and sisters and he immediately caught my attention.  There were a few people standing around at the side of the gas station and I could hear the faint whimpering of puppies, I knew that sound anywhere.  I practically bolted around to see what was going on and then I saw my future.  It rested in the newly opened eyes of a mutt.  He was beautiful!  Those fresh baby blues captured my heart and I knew I would bring him home with me.  I had recently been through a lot, with the death of 2 babies in a year and I really wanted to mother something.  The miscarriages had turned my life upside down and my hope was that a new project would make it all upright again.

That's how it all started, the beginning of me ruining this poor little mutt.  I named him Bowser, after my favorite video game as a child.  We did the potty training thing, we did it all.  He went with me everywhere and our habit became McDonald's drive thru's and pictures with Santa.  I realized what a mess I created when I took him to the vet and they told me that I should put him to sleep because I had ruined him and he thought he was human.  I said that I would do no such thing!  They prescribed him puppy Prozac and I had to have Dramamine on hand in case I ever had to leave him alone.  He had terrible separation anxiety so I would give him a Dramamine and then take one myself in anticipation of what I would find at home when I would return.  One day I came home and he had eaten most of the glass Christmas ornaments off of the tree.  Another time I came home and found him outside waiting after he had jumped through a closed window to try and find me.  Bowz has had his fair share of vet bills... and probably fifteen other dogs share too!!  Of course all of the eating caused stomach problems so Bowser got to take a special medication that they gave astronauts, another small fortune.  Thankfully, that only lasted a few years.

There is so much more to the story of how we came to be where we are now.  Twice in about a year, I have tried to cope with the possible loss of my best friend and companion for 10 years.  I've spent days at a time completely distraught, with tears in my eyes and not a dime in my pocket because of surgeries and vet bills.  I've tried to come to terms with the fact that one day my trusted confidant will no longer be waiting to catch my tears in his stinky fur or to rip open my side from where he jumps up to hug me when I come home.  He's getting old and it's obvious from the Oklahoma smile when he looks at me with 3 bottom teeth missing.  It's painfully obvious when I see him struggle to walk up the deck stairs because he is in pain or sick again, and it's happening more and more often.

How do you say good bye to something that means so much to you?  How do you try and come to terms with the fact that someday you will come home to an empty house, an intact squeaky or an empty water dish?  Most importantly, just how long should you take to say good bye?  I've decided that I will begin now.  Maybe we will have another year of good bye's or maybe another 5 but I want to make sure that this guy knows just how much I love him.  I want him to feel the love and gratitude that he has given me, the trust that he will always be able to count on me to be there when he needs me.  I want to give him the reason to live, just like he did for me.  I can't promise him the world but I am sure as hell going to try and give it to him.  He deserves that and more.

It's not often in your life that you have the chance to find true and undying love.  Sometimes you find it in another person and sometimes, the first place you find it is in the eyes of a dog.  They will never be too ashamed to walk beside you, in fact, they are honored.  They will always be happy that you are home, even if they did get into the trash and they are hiding unsuccessfully under the living room table.  They will always make you laugh no matter the cost and they can do it so effortlessly.  You will smile often and it will be the kind that reaches your eyes and sets a spark off in all of those around you.  Dogs aren't just happiness for you, they force the joy to spread from person to person.  It's like an amazing STD that you want to catch!

Bowser, you have changed my life and the life of my kids.  You aren't a dog to us.  You are my best friend, my child, my children's "brother" and my friend's favorite pal.  You give me a reason to wake up every morning and curse at how early it is while you sit and wag your tail like it's the best morning ever.  You make me laugh when you give me that "toothless wonder" look or when you start running around the house bouncing off of furniture and banking off the walls like a Nascar driver.  You've taught me responsibility, understanding, faith and compassion.  You've shown me and the kids that it's best to forgive and live happy than to carry around anger every day.  You have shown me that life has it's cycles and it's seasons and that you have to love what you have while you have it and that you don't have forever to do that.  You have caught so many tears that I think we could supply our own river at the rainbow bridge.

Thank you for 10 years and counting of love, faith, strength, courage, understanding and trust in me.  I won't let you down.  I hope that when the time comes and you leave me that I have been able to reflect back to you all that you have given me and that I will be able to share that love with another mangy truck stop mutt, hopeful for a home.  I know the pain will be too much to bare and I will not be ready so I am practicing my "so long Bowz" every day until I can get it right.  I'll know I have it right when the time comes and I am on my final path home and you are at the rainbow bridge waiting for me.  Of everyone I will be anxious to see, it will be you that I need to guide me.  I love you forever.

Gay Gay Gay... My Son Says He's Gay

Written: May 12th, 2010


So, last night my five-year-old was overheard in conversation with his four-year-old brother. It was a “coming out” of sorts. I was sitting in the living room and eavesdropping on Paris telling Bristol that he (Paris) was gay. I became more entertained and listened as closely as I could. Bristol asked what “gay” meant and Paris said, “It’s when boys like boys and girls like girls.” Bristol seemed to not really care about the conversation and really wasn’t interested in hearing about it. His response was “Ok” to basically everything Paris said. Paris said, “Bristol, I’m gay. I like boys.” Again, Bristol, “Ok”.

I called Paris in to talk to me and I asked him what I was overhearing and I wanted him to explain what he was talking about. He said, “Mom, I am gay.” I asked how he knew what “gay” meant and Paris said someone on the bus told him that he was. I told Paris that just because someone said you were that, it didn’t mean it was true. Paris’s reply was simple, “Mom, I know I am gay. I like boys.” I told Paris that it was normal to like boys and girls both. This turned into a long conversation of me trying to tell Paris that he wasn’t gay and him arguing his point that he was. I really felt like I was talking to an adult, it was quite odd. I asked him, “In what ways do you like boys?” and he replied with, “I want to walk with them, grow old with them, buy Halloween stuff with them, go shopping with them, have a dog together…” etc. Paris then said, “Maybe he would have to wear a wig and makeup sometimes because it would be better.” My son already understood that gays are not accepted and he was preparing himself for how he had to be seen!!

After talking to Paris, I had thoughts running through my head. I looked back on all of the times I told someone that Paris would be gay. Random things came to mind that he does… I began listing them.

-He always asks me if I will let him do my hair and makeup. He’s like my own personal assistant. 

-He chooses my clothes and will argue with me! This morning when I got dressed he told me that I should unbutton by sweater because I had too much “pounds” and it looked “bunchy”.

-He is completely loving and sweet and can melt any girl’s heart with just one dimpled smile. A typical stereotype of any gay man is that he is every girl’s best friend and always the best guy.

-He will go out of his way to help anyone and give comfort. He’ll sit for an hour and rub my feet or my back just to make me feel “good”. Sometimes if I am having a bad day he will just come up and automatically start rubbing my feet and talking to me in a soothing voice.

-His best friend quit “being his best friend” when he accused him of being gay because Paris was always touching him and asking to rub his back.

-He likes to carry a purse. Not a “man bag” but a purse.

-He goes around the house asking people if he can cut their fingernails.

-He has terrible OCD and becomes upset and almost frantic if anything changes.

-He cries, A LOT. Over everything imaginable. There is nothing that does not touch this child in some way. His heart is so full of love and compassion.



I instantly turn to blaming myself for the possibility of him being gay, and that list grows in my mind.

-I love the sausage. Maybe I had sex too much when I was pregnant with him. He got poked in the face one too many times by a wiener. I made him gay by me liking men.

-I named him Paris. I did give him a family name that meant very much to me, but I gave him a girl’s name and made him gay.

-I let him put powder on my face once and that made him gay.

-I always told people that he would be gay and therefore, I made him gay.

-I taught him love and compassion for everyone but I taught him so much that I turned him gay.

-I taught him the importance of color coordination and accessories in his wardrobe. Obviously by doing that, I made him gay.

-I failed to attend church every day and so he did not learn the distinction that homosexuality is a sin and being straight is the way, so I made him gay.

-I should have prevented him from listening to Michael Buble. When I realized his favorite song was “Home” and he would sing along at 3 years old, I should have cut him off but instead I made him gay.

-I didn’t smack his older brother every time he referred to something as being “gay”. Paris learned to like the word and become it, so I made him gay.

-I shouldn’t have left my purses lying around. By letting him see them, I made him gay.


After I continued my list silently in my head, I came to terms with the fact that my son could possibly be gay. But you know what? I don’t care. I didn’t do something to make him the way he is. I raised him exactly like my other two children and they don’t have his tendencies. He was born this way, there was not some event in his life, no traumatic experience that changed him. He’s just exactly what he is supposed to be. He is my son and I love him no matter what sexual preference he may have. I know that his life may not be easy because of how our society is. I know that people close to him will shun him when they hear the news, people will run through those same lists that I did, in an attempt to place blame somewhere… I know all of this. While the gay community is making strides in acceptance there is still a long way to go. As long as people chose to ignore the fact that we are all individuals and all make different choices, this world will be at odds. It’s acceptable and encouraged for 2 women to “make out” for the pleasure of a man but that same man is also the first person to shout words like “faggot” and “homo” when he sees 2 gay men walking together. It’s completely ridiculous and I won’t tolerate it. My son is an exceptional example of a human that God created. He is kind, considerate, compassionate, understanding, loving and quite possibly… gay. And frankly, I don’t give a damn.