In Life and In Dying

Jernee Timid: Fading away from all that she knows.

August 23, 2025, before a short afternoon walk, I came into the living room from our bedroom and found Jernee like this.

If you have followed Jernee & I for a number of years, you know I document it all. From Jernee’s highlights to the downsides of being a pet mom.

She used to have a blog completely dedicated to her and our adventures. I think that is how I met many of you. Funny how I have forgotten what the name of that blog was. If any of you remember, please share it in the comments.

The last few years have been rough. Overall, this Little Monster has been the most magnificent companion. I could not have asked for a better dog.

She has been my peace. She has been my joy. She has been every ounce of love that I’ve needed in the witching hour.

Since my late cousin Chrissy’s death in February of 2022, I have learned a new way to approach death & dying. I face it head on; feel all the emotions that I need to–lose myself in it, and grieve… grieve… grieve.

The morning comes when the mourning is done.

Jernee Timid has been a firecracker since her very first day with me, which was May 28, 2008. She was six weeks old. She cried on the way home to Greensboro, North Carolina (at that time) from Wilmington, North Carolina, which is where she is from.

A reputable breeder sold her to me, and I whisked her away from her remaining brother and sister (Bella & Butler) of their litter. She wailed & wailed, and I thought, “I haven’t heard a dog cry like this since we picked up Nala (Mook’s first baby girl puppy) from her breeder.”

Jernee made such a ruckus, I had to pull over at a gas station about ten miles away, shift her from her doggy bed, and set her up comfortably in my lap for the remainder of the drive to her new home.

From that day, I knew she was going to get any and everything out of me that she wanted. She was spoiled from Day One.

She settled into our family like she belonged here–like she had previously claimed us, and she was just waiting for us to come and bring her home.

I have to remind myself that everyone cannot handle this level of decline in Jernee. Not many can endure the videos I will share. My kid brother, for example, lived with us for three years, and Jernee is his baby.

I’ve seen that kid go to war verbally about her, and I know for a fact he will beat a person down bare-handed if ever they wronged Jernee. He calls her Princess Jay or Jay Nasty (please don’t ask me why, the kid isn’t right! 😆🤣😂).

I’ve been sharing the videos with him, and he told me this evening, “Man, no matter how much we say we are good, we can never prepare for these things. Man, I keep watching this video, I started crying. It’s hard to see Jernee like this, fr, so I know you are exhausted. I’m praying for you, sis. I love you.”

He is the baby boy. I am ten years older than him. He has always had a special place in my heart, but he is the only one who can make me go from Zero to One Hundred in five seconds flat, too.

He cannot deal with the reality of this. He keeps telling me I’m strong and asking how can I record Jernee when she’s fading. My response to him, “How can I not? I love Jernee in life. I’m going to love Jernee in death. This is our reality now, until it’s not. I have recorded many happy times. I find it essential to record the sad times, too.”

So, I will. And if this is not going to be your thing, I get it. I understand it. It’s not easy to digest. But it is my baby girl’s life, and I will immerse myself in it until I have nothing left of her.

Peace and blessings.

Praying for Time

Sunday Microfiction #8

Pictured Microfiction. Praying for Time. Created with Canva.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.


T-Shirt Message #2

Encouraging messages that have been AI-generated as I grow through the messes and joys of life.

AI-Generated T-Shirt Message #2: He’s Still In Control. Created with Canva.

Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Romans 8:28: “All things work together for good for those who love God.” 


Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.

Sick Again

Sunday Microfiction #6

Sick Again. Pictured Microfiction, created with Canva.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.

My Kid Sister Isn’t a Baby Anymore

And I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.

*Sobs uncontrollably all over these photos*
*Sobs uncontrollably all over these photos*
*Sobs uncontrollably all over these photos*

If you’ve been following this blog for a while (or my previous blog before it) or you’ve followed me on Medium, then you’ve likely read about my kid sister. Today is her 26th birthday, and it hit me like a Mack truck that my baby is no longer a baby. She’s closer to 30 now than she is to age 20, and I’m seriously in my feelings about it.

I’m wallowing in crocodile tears, mentally flipping through the memories of us as she was growing up, and reminiscing about her toddler years, and I am NOT okay. Lol!

She’s beautiful. She’s intelligent. She’s talented in so many ways. She has a love for musicality and can sing the socks off most people I know. To say that I’m proud of her is a major understatement. 

Here’s a snippet from her birthday poem:

You are the blessing I
prayed for–my dream come
true. Every day, I am
wowed by the woman you
are becoming, and I bow
before your changes.

You restore all that is
good within me, and there’s
no price for that.
I’ll never be able to repay
you, but I’ll love you until
my last breath.

I wished for a sister for so long. It was one of the things that was HIGH on my list of wants as I was growing up. To have that dream come true and my wish granted when I was 19 years old was one of the happiest moments of my life.

Bless, you are amazing, and I am so proud of the woman you have become, and I look forward to who you will be in the future. Keep shining, kiddo! I love you!

Please join me in wishing the kid a Happy Birthday, folks! 26 years on this earth is a testimony nowadays, and I am over-the-moon that she has one!


We Should Probably Heed the Family Warning

A Book Review

Too Much and Never Enough. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Recently, I finished Mary L. Trump’s book, Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World’s Most Dangerous Man, which I believe everyone in the United States should read. I sat with this book for a few weeks, savoring it. I did not want to rush through it, so I did not. I took everything in, digested all of it as best as I could, and I am happy that I spent as much time with it as I did.

I reviewed it both on Amazon and Goodreads, and the review is as follows:

“Every Family Has a Bit of Dysfunction

But the Trump Family, as it’s told by Mary L. Trump, Donald J. Trump’s niece, is on a whole other level of shadiness, greed, carelessness, and self-fulfilling tactics.

Mary, a Clinical Psychologist, posits that her uncle’s behavior didn’t simply evolve on its own, he had help. The culprit? Her grandfather, Fred Trump.

Donald was a puppet, a means to an end for her grandfather; someone he wanted to abide by his rules and show that he could carry on the family business in the most vindictive ways possible.

If Donald couldn’t satisfy his father’s requirements, his father’s love would be harder to obtain. Imagine knowing your entire life is a circus; that your performance is monitored and calculated, and if you don’t perform well, you mean nothing. You are nothing.

Reading this book gave me a better understanding of the current sitting president’s mental health, and a deeper look into his overall background as a member of the Trump Family.

I remembered his brother Freddy (Mary’s father) and tales of his demise before reading the book, and was recounting the story to my mother a couple months ago.

To thumb through every page pertaining to his involvement in his father’s business and how it brought about his dive into alcoholism and a slow rotting depression, made my heart ache.

If you’re an empath, you’ll read this book and walk away more knowledgeable about people-pleasing and the need to feed our parents’ curiosity into who they want their children to become. You’ll be left with the pain of this world because of the carelessness of a few.

Donald will never seek help from what his past has done to his present self. “Donald today is much as he is at three years old: incapable of growing, learning, or evolving, unable to regulate his emotions, moderate his response, or take in and synthesize information.”

And with this, we have a human being in the highest seat of the land (once again), performing theatrics and skirting around important issues because he is still living to please a person who is no longer alive; his father.

We are all at the mercy of a person who does not care about the American people and never will. The end goal for him is complete and utter power and the ultimate hierarchy status. Dictatorship. Kingship.

“If he can in any way, profit from your death, he’ll facilitate it, and then he’ll ignore the fact that you died.”

For a deeper understanding of the person America wanted as president yet again, I recommend this book. Learn about the mistake we made. Engross yourself in the damage you may have caused if he was your choice during this past presidential election.

Take a look at the baby trapped in an elderly man’s body whose sole purpose is to obliterate anything that stands in his way of getting everything he wants.

Did you make the right choice? I am certain Mary L. Trump, the author of this book and niece of Donald J. Trump, would say, “No, you did not.”


I do not say any of the above with a silver spoon tied to my mouth. I am a hard-working, low-level middle-class, Black, bisexual woman who lives in the South. Basically, I am everything Trump hates. My bones are completely and utterly tired of the drama seeping into my marrow from the daily antics of a man who “doesn’t know any better.” Donald is still operating as a child would; a teenager who will tantrum it out if he or she doesn’t get their way. This is what we’ve been gifted with Trump 2.0.

If you can sleep well at night knowing everything that has occurred since January 20, 2025, has your name stamped all over it, then you and I would not be kissing cousins or good buddies offline. It is telling of the type of person you are with regards to what you want for the American people, what you want for our allies, and any other human being living and breathing on this planet. That shit is contagious, and I don’t want it around me.

As for the book, I plan to read it again and maybe again after that. To know a niece could tell the world all about her uncle while he’s still alive, lets me know his past is his present, and he has no way of differentiating between the two, and we are all going to suffer because of it. We probably should have heeded her warning.