Remembering Hana-sama

Hana-sama 1 1/2

Hana-sama the first, passed away Sunday April the 11th of 2010. He will be greatly missed by all who knew him. Most especially by myself who loved him best of all. The world will be less special without his clever, silly, and harmless antics. Though there will surely be more yogis in the world. I know that where he is now he will never want for them, surely there are limitless amounts of yogis in heaven.

He was roughly three years old, a respectable age for a rat. It was likely his heart that gave out while I was gone. The sturdy rat was showing signs of his age, he had put on a lovely amount of fat, and had calmed down a very great deal.

Hana-sama was no ordinary rat, as his name well implies. No he was a Rat-Lord, noble and gentle of spirit. He was a very special creature with the ability to cause joy and laughter with hardly any effort at all. Chewing anything and everything that came into his cage to pieces was one of his very favorite past times, along with nesting, and being a ridiculous rat-fink and or Rattie McRaterson.

Hana means flower and nose in Japanese

This wonderful little Rat-Lord was my first pet. I was lucky enough to hear a co-worker say she had a rat that needed a new home. I went home after work that day and started researching, trying to teach myself how to be a good caretaker for such a friend. When I was able to take him home I continued to learn. I learned that caring for another, person or animal, is rewarding, but that being the soul caretaker for such a wonderful little friend is more fulfilling then I could have ever imagined. Hana-kun, as he was known to his friends, taught me the joys of pet ownership with more grace then I thought possible.

A privet service will be held later today at the Apple Tree Graveyard in Dallas Oregon. Many generations of Noyes pets rest there, though Hana-sama will be the first of his species to retire there. I know that all of you will be with us in spirit.

He is survived by myself, his caretaker, friend, accomplice, and yogi purveyor. He is also survived by James Proestos, his friend and chief admirer, Erin Quirk, friend and namer, Kabo-kun and Choblet-kun his worthy adversaries, and many admirers through out the Willamette Valley of Oregon, and even across the nation.

A prim example of 'Rat-Lord'

Letter to self

    When I look in the mirror I'm not sure what I see. I look as I did the day before, but I feel different. Everyday, I feel that things are changing. And it is just too soon to tell if it is for better or worse. I want to stand up and make a difference, if not for someone else then at lest for me. I want to be my own hero. I'm tired of leaning on someone else. But I' so afraid of what I see in the mirror.

    I'm getting older now. And I'm starting to feel it. Not in my bones, but in the fabric and tissue of my being. I have to stop and think now, instead of simply dashing across the street. And colors, they seem so blurred, pink and red so much the same. I've gotten uncomfortably used to my short comings. And am terrified of the need to change. What if I can't? What if this is the best that I can do? What will become of me then?

    I don't want to lose. Now more then ever I have something to lose. I have him. Wonderful, understanding, kind, considerate, brave, determined, hilarious, tender, him. What if I can never become more then this mere outline of a woman? Could he love that? Can I love that? I'm so afraid of what I see in the mirror.

    It's so hard to look, to see myself beneath all the things I keep up. And it's frightening to confront that little girl, her long wheaten hair falling about her face in feather light curls. She was so beautiful with her chubby, rosie cheeks and her big blue eyes. What happened to her? How did she ever end up so far from where she wanted to be? Why is she hiding underneath all these silly facades? Every glimpse of her is tragic. A painful twist of a blade scraping down my spine. Tears run down my face, down the cheeks that I only just now feel as though I've grown into.

    I'm afraid to look in the mirror. What if I hate me? What if I really hate me? I've made so many bad choices. What if the out come is that I hate who I have become? I just want to have worth. I no longer have any dreams. If I could have a book shelf, and somehow be worth the love and adoration I see in his eyes, that would be enough.

    But what if I'm just too much of a coward? What if I'm just too late? I'm so very afraid to look in the mirror. I want there to be a reason for all the foolish things I've done. I want to know what the lesson is from all the pain I've lead myself into. If I can understand how it makes me stronger, better, then I can embrace it. But all I know is that I'm afraid to look in the mirror.