Going Back?

November 23, 2009 by beccar

There is no going back. I feel forever gone. Last year and half of 2008 in the soup kitchen, the streets and the subway have changed me in such a way that it will be very difficult to return to the old me, the me I knew and was so comfortable with. I want to enjoy life, but I am an alien in my past. Who was I in November 2007? I don’t know that anymore and I am afraid to look. I am afraid to look at my dog Chiquito. He was alive and well then.

Black Outfit

November 23, 2009 by beccar

I still am reminded of my Tia. The Hasidic women I see at the Williamsburgh branch of the Brooklyn public library with their black wool coats, their opaque stockings and black moccasin shoes make my Tia be with me even though she’s been dead for over 22 years. They dress just like she used to dress. She has never left me and she never will. I see her wrinkled little face now as it was long ago in another life.

Dogs

November 19, 2009 by beccar

I miss my dogs. I miss Rubio—Rubio, the star German Shepherd, the loyal companion par excellence. Rubio was a dog that should have lived forever. Leo was the dog I had to give up for his own good. Leo was my protector but we had terrible neighbors and they made life very difficult for us. Chiquito—the Pekingese with the soul of an aristocrat. Chiquito, who was a connoisseur of what was beautiful and expensive. Then there was Otranto, my friend Nadia’s older dog. He and I understood each other with just one look. I didn’t even have to say a word—he knew. Niebla, Otranto’s half brother, was such a finicky eater that caviar would not have been good enough for him. They are gone now and I will not forget them. Each brought something to my life that was unique and not to be repeated again.

Nadia

November 17, 2009 by beccar

I don’t know what it was about her, but over 10 years after her death, I am still mourning Nadia. To me, she was/is an unforgettable woman. Her sad brown eyes, the squalor that she lived in, her 3 dogs—all became part of my life, part of the word family. My family–our family.

Oreo’s Death

November 17, 2009 by beccar

Tuesday, November 17, 2009: What happened to Oreo, the Brooklyn dog, must never happen again. She paid with her life for her owner’s cruelty, stupidity and abuse.

The Vein

November 17, 2009 by beccar

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

They couldn’t find the vein in his leg. They had to give him 2 injections. I watched and hoped that he would survive them, just like he had survived so many things. He was my companion, my friend. When he gave up and closed his eyes for good, he looked like a Golden Giant. I kissed him goodbye.

The Kitchen

November 17, 2009 by beccar

A stove, a countertop, a black and white vinyl floor, wooden chairs and a table to match. Spacious kitchen cabinets and a blue and yellow tiled wall. I look at all these from a distance and watch the bright yellow light sheltering the kitchen. It’s like a cocoon, enveloping everything and keeping it safe. Someone opens the fridge and takes out a yogurt. Why, I exclaim, surprised. That was me long ago. Two years seem like forever—like never ago.

Oreo

November 16, 2009 by beccar

Monday, November 16, 2009: I am very sad that Oreo has been put down by the ASPCA. May she rest in Peace! Eugenia Renskoff

Oreo, The Brooklyn Dog

November 15, 2009 by beccar

I was sad to learn that Oreo, the miracle pooch that was thrown from a building in Brooklyn a few months ago had to be put down. She recovered from her physical injuries, but the psychological ones were too much and it is said that she became aggressive with other dogs and her handler. The teenager who owned the dog has pleaded guilty and will be sentenced on December 1st. He deserves to be put in jail for a long time. Oreo was not given the chance to be rehabilitated and at 18 months, she was too young to die.
A few years ago, I had to leave my dog Rubio, a German shepherd, at somebody’s house for a few months. A well meaning person later told me that although I paid this man and his wife well to take care of my dog, he did not get a blanket to sleep on. The man had him sleep on cold tiles even in winter weather. The man’s wife was sharp with Rubio and may have abused him. My dog had a great heart and when we ran into these people on tI was sad to learn that Oreo, the miracle pooch that was thrown from a building in Brooklyn a few months ago had to be put down. She recovered from her physical injuries, but the psychological ones were too much and it is said that she became aggressive with other dogs and her handler. The teenager who owned the dog has pleaded guilty and will be sentenced on December 1st. He deserves to be put in jail for a long time. Oreo was not given the chance to be rehabilitated and at 18 months, she was too young to die.
A few years ago, I had to leave my dog Rubio, a German shepherd, at somebody’s house for a few months. A well meaning person later told me that although I paid this man and his wife well to take care of my dog, he did not get a blanket to sleep on. The man had him sleep on cold tiles even in winter weather. The man’s wife was sharp with Rubio and may have abused him. My dog had a great heart and when we ran into these people on the street, he treated them as old friends.
Animal cruelty in whatever form is a terrible thing. I wish that Oreo had been able to find a home and had been able to trust people. May she Rest in Peace!

he street, he treated them as old friends.
Animal cruelty in whatever form is a terrible thing. I wish that Oreo had been able to find a home and had been able to trust people. May she Rest in Peace!

Remembering a Lost Love

November 13, 2009 by beccar

Friday, November 13, 2009: Today I am remembering a lost love. He was a priest and I was head over heels in love with him. Frankly, I cared nothing about religion, but because we lived in a Peyton Place type neighborhood, I pretended to. I cared deeply about him and I lost him. I will never recover that love and/or that magical feeling. That only came once in my life and it is gone forever. I hope that one day soon, when a woman falls in love with a priest, she can marry him. And I also hope that she won’t have to hide her love and pretend to love someone else–someone who does not exist.Eugenia Renskoff