I just want to see you be brave...

This blog has been through a couple of purposes since 2011 but this year, we're going back to our  roots. You can read everything you need to know about how that blog started here but all you really need to know is this space was originally created to write about enjoying one live event every month of the year. This month, I am resolving to continue that original goal.

There a couple of reasons for that. I went to some great concerts this year (The Rolling Freaking Stones) and didn't blog about that. Unacceptable. Also, 2015 hasn't been the best year for me for many, many reasons. I don't know if 2016 will be any better, but I am trying to be optimistic. And finally, I have a bucket list concert scheduled for next year (no spoilers) and I have to write about that!

I'm starting the resolution a little early this year, thanks to a birthday present from my friend Jean. Even though she couldn't attend the Amy Schumer show in Charlotte Dec. 19, she bought me tickets and encouraged me to take a friend. I invited my friend Maya, who now lives in Columbia. My strengthening friendship with Maya is one of the good things that happened in 2015.

I've been obsessed with Amy Schumer since 1997 when she lost to local comedian John Reap. And was forever on her side because she was so much better than him. It's been fascinating to watch her career grow and her show, Inside Amy Schumer, really sealed our girl crush.

The parody that she did about Friday Night Lights, one of my favorite TV shows of all times, proves that rape jokes can work when done correctly.




Maya came to visit. We went to Fahrenheit Charlotte for cocktails, but mostly for the skyline views.

Then we walked over to Time Warner Arena. Jean was kind enough to purchase seats at the front of our row, so we had a little room for our cocktails.

Amy had a couple of opening acts. This first was her brother, a jazz musician. That was kind of weird and out of place. As first the music was good, then it started to sound like noise.

Her second opener was comedian Rachel Feinstein who I'd heard before and was pretty funny.

Then came Amy. Maya and I both love her, but weren't really sure what to expect because we've seen everything she's in, including her latest HBO schedule and we were worried about repeat jokes. That was not a problem! Maya and I only heard one joke we'd head before. Everything else was new material.

I think Maya and I both thoroughly enjoyed Amy's discussion about her recent nude photos. She was so frustrated that she was called "brave" by the media and she threaded that joke throughout her entire performance. Amy is a hard-core feminist and that was particularly fun for Maya and me to hear her rants. It was even more awesome to have the guys around me cheering in support.

What really surprised me was her decision to talk about gun control. She mentioned, by name, the two women who died while watching Trainwreck in Louisiana this summer. Mayci Breaux, 21, and 33 year-old Jillian Johnson inspired Schumer to learn more about gun control laws. "I don't want to take away anyone's guns," she said. "I just think maybe people from the terrorist watch list shouldn't have guns. Also, did you know that Stevie Wonder can just buy any gun he wants?"

After Amy's performance, she brought out her cabaret singing friend Bridget Everett. I almost didn't mention her because I wasn't sure what say. But Charlotte Observer columnist Theoden James had this to say, "Her only misstep was ending the show with a bizarre performance by a six-foot tall and fairly wide comic Bridget Everett, who spend 20 awkward minutes singing, dancing, instigating wardrobe malfunctions and sitting on one male audience member's face."

The dude sitting beside me was laughing non-stop and kept shouting out things like, "I don't know what is going on!"

Maya's official review: " I was shocked, I guess, since I didn't know what to expect. I laughed a lot. I don't know what that means."

Another running theme of Schumer's set was that she is on minute 14 of being famous. I couldn't possible disagree more. In what's turning into a golden age of comedy for women, I think Schumer has a lot more fuckable days in her future. And many more minutes on her fame clock.

People let me tell you about my best friend...

Winnie swimming on Feb, 8, 2015

Sunday, Feb. 8 was one of the most beautiful winter days I've ever seen. It was nearly 70 degrees. I spent my entire day taking Winnie and Daisy for swims and then sitting in the swing with my Kindle while they played. As I was toweling Winnie off after her second swim, I noticed that she looked particularly thin. She’d thrown up the day before, but she always had a sensitive stomach. I didn’t think much about it.

The next morning, she refused to eat and got sick again. I took her to the vet Monday. Tuesday, we were at a specialty vet and by Friday, my best friend was gone. 

On Saturday, her detailed reports from the specialist vet arrived in the mail. “Winnie is an 11 year-old Labrador Retriever,” the doctor wrote. “After anorexia and vomiting, we located a large mass is in her intestines and many other masses throughout her abdominal area. After review of cytology results, palliative care is recommended.”

All these things he wrote about her were true. She was 11. She was a Labrador Retriever. And sadly, she was very, very sick. But no piece of paper can ever describe what she truly was: My confidant, my therapist, my dance partner, my unrelenting source of unconditional love. My best friend.  I am going to try to write about who she really was and not the disease she had. She deserves that and I deserve to remember her that way.

This was in June 2004: the second time I met Winnie

When my parents surprised me with the gift of a puppy in 2004, I was 22 years old. I was about to graduate from college and I had no idea where I would work or live. I fell in love with her sweet face and her soft ears. I had to take her home with me immediately, wherever that home would be. The week after graduation, I loaded her into the back on my Malibu, secured in a special doggie seat belt. Before we hit the highway, she chewed her way out of the seat belt and peed in my car. I wondered what I’d gotten myself into and debated returning her to my parents.

That summer, I dropped her off at the vet to be spayed. That was my first taste of really being Winnie’s mom. I worried about her all day long. I couldn't stop checking my phone for messages and I was completely unable to focus on work. When I was finally able to pick her up, she walked on four unsteady paws out to the lobby, wobbling and blinking when the light hit her eyes. When she was finally able to focus her eyes on me, she started wagging her tail so enthusiastically she fell over. “Are you Winnie’s mom?” asked the exhausted vet tech.

Winnie sleeping her first night in our new apartment.

“Yep, that’s me,” I said and scooped her up off the floor. From the moment on, Winnie was mine and I was hers. I have a sign that says, "Home is where your dog is." And that was true. But we had some rough homes!We lived with my friend Misty in an apartment that was so awful, our neighbor downstairs not only abused his wife but threatened us too. One night, the neighbor came up to confront us. Misty was done with the conversation and tried to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in and wouldn’t leave. Winnie came running with a growl I’d never heard and grabbed his jeans with her strong teeth. He left immediately.

After a year, Misty and I decided to find a house to rent just so Winnie would have more room to play. Misty and I took Winnie house hunting with us. She stopped on the way to the car to pull the fringes of a blanket she’d been chewing out of her butt. This went on for 20 minutes. Misty and I had no clue what to do. She finally got it out and we got in the car to go look for houses. Misty put the car in reverse and turned her head to look backwards, her mouth opened slightly. Winnie recognized that as an opportunity and stuck her tongue right in Misty’s mouth. It was truly horrifying for Misty but I laughed until I couldn't breathe.

We did find a house that day and in hindsight, it was a pretty crappy house but to us at the time it was heaven. We didn’t have a fenced-in back yard but there was plenty of property including a creek that Winnie could enjoy.

Winnie loved Alex so much she gave him her chair.

One day, Misty and I went to Petsmart and came home with a tiny little yellow ball named Alex. He was an extraordinarily tiny puppy who’d been abandoned on the side of the road. Winnie immediately went into mommy mode and cared for Alex like he was her own. She loved and cuddled him when he needed it and attacked him like a snapping turtle when he got out of line. Winnie’s favorite form of discipline was to put Alex’s entire head in her mouth.

Winnie took her time to love Daisy, but when she did she was all in.

When Misty made the decision to move out, I decided Winnie would be lonely without a doggie companion. So, I found a yellow lab puppy from a breeder at a farm in the middle of nowhere.
                                                             My friend Elizabeth was visiting that

weekend and we hopped in the car with Winnie to go pick her up. I held Daisy in front of Winnie, Lion King-style and Winnie refused to look at her. She continued that refusal for two weeks. Daisy was weaned from her mother too soon and cried like a newborn all night long. Sometimes, around 2 a.m. Winnie would look at me and sigh deeply as if she couldn't believe what I’d done to us. I can’t quite put my finger on the exact moment things turned around, but one day I caught them cuddling and a sisterhood was formed. I think Daisy assumed from a very early age that Winnie was her mother.

Up until the day before she died, Winnie would grab Daisy by the scruff of her neck if she got out of line. If Daisy had my attention and Winnie wanted it, she’d simply shove her out of the way. One day, Daisy was lost for about 45 minutes and when we found her, Winnie lifted a paw and hit her in the face. Daisy never did it again.

Winnie and Daisy explore their new yard Dec. 17, 2007.

Over the years, Winnie became an amazing dance partner. After a year-long process of trying to find a house, I finally bought one mostly because it had a great backyard for the girls. I grabbed the keys from closing, drove to the old house and grabbed my girls and we unlocked the door to our first real home. After the girls took the backyard for a test run, the three of us danced together and celebrated as our footsteps echoed through the empty house.

Winnie loved to go places, meet people and play with other dogs, but her favorite thing was to be with me: the closer the better. Whether it was other dogs, another person, my Kindle, my laptop or my phone, she would push anything that came between us out of her way.  She followed me everywhere. If I walked to the mailbox, she came with me. She hung out right outside the bathroom while I showered. Even if I petted her for an hour straight, the second I stopped, she would immediately take her paw and prod me to pet her more. For almost two years, I had a job that allowed me to almost always work from home and she would beg and plead for my attention, especially though conference calls.

Together, Winnie and I grew up. She supported me through some major disappointments and losses and celebrated with me during some amazing times. Coming home to her sweet face and wagging tail always made me smile. Some days would be awful and I would lie on the floor with my head on her chest. She’d wrap a paw around me in comfort. She would get so upset if I cried and lick my tears while she snuggled with me. Winnie had the softest ears of any dog on the planet. Her Aunt Misty called her “The Velveteen Labrador.”

Even in 2014, Winnie was not excited about my Christmas Card.

Taking Christmas photos with Winnie, then Winnie and Daisy, became an annual tradition for me. Winnie hated it. I could always get amazing candid photos of her, but when I dressed her up and tried to make her pose, she would become a total diva and literally turn her back on me. For her first Christmas in 2004, I saw that my hometown Walmart was offering free pet photos with Santa. I loaded Winnie and Maggie, her sister and my parents’ dog, into the car along with my mom’s friend’s daughter Erica who was a very small 10 year-old girl at the time. We quickly realized the Santa thing was a scam. A plastic Santa was set up along with some faint poinsettias and a cardboard fireplace. 

Winnie reluctantly took her photo and Erica held her leash while I tried to pose Maggie. From behind the cardboard façade, I heard Erica begging for help. “Randi, she is so strong!” she shouted.

“OK, Erica,” I yelled. “Just hang on! We are almost done!” At that second, Winnie came crashing through the fake fireplace, dragging Erica on her stomach. “Whatever you do, Erica, do not let go of her leash!” I screamed.

I heard her Erica screaming, “Not the rocks, Winnie, not the rocks!” But Winnie did drag poor Erica right over a pile of rocks. To her credit, Erica never let go. Not even when her jeans ripped and her knees started to bleed. After that year, we started doing our Christmas card photos at home.

Winnie licking me on her last birthday.

Another annual tradition was the celebration of Winnie's birthday. Beginning on her first birthday, I would go online, find a doggie birthday cake recipe and make her a cake. She would have to wear a Winnie the Pooh birthday hat. Even though she always ripped it off, I managed to keep the same set of hats for 11 years. Alex and Daisy soon joined our birthday celebrations. On Feb. 4, 2015, I picked up a birthday cake for my girl from Barbara's K9 Cafe. I had no idea it would be her last birthday, but I am so glad she got a fancy cake for her last one.

Winnie, Daisy and Maggie on my parents' deck

My parents chose another black lab, Maggie, for themselves. There is no doubt in my mind that Winnie knew Maggie was her sister. They played together in a totally different, sister smack-down kind of way. Whenever we'd go visit my parents, I would ask if she wanted to see Maggie and she would run to the car. She stood up the entire visit and would jump out of the car and come looking for her sister.

Winnie, excited the snow is coming,takes a big sniff

Winnie loved fresh air. Even if it was just in our backyard, she would put her nose in the air and take these big, long sniffs of the air. If it was going to rain or snow, she’d get especially excited. Sometimes I would just ask, “What do you smell, Winnie?” She’d just look at me with that wise face and take another sniff. 

Winnie loved three things about the great outdoors: snow, water and rolling around in the grass. If it was snowing, she would adopt a child-like glee and run and leap. She would bury her head in the snow and roll around like a budding gymnast. Daisy wasn’t really into it, but Winnie would drag her along for the fun.

Winnie and Daisy enjoy the beach in 2009.

She also loved to swim. We were frequent visitors to Dragon Tail pond at Reedy Creek Park and she would swim and swim until she could find a good stick. She even went for a quick dip the day before she died. For my 29^th birthday, Misty treated us to a beach trip and Winnie was so happy to be in the ocean. She got so excited, she inhaled a ton of salt water and projectile vomited right on the beach. Misty and I just stared, not even sure how to begin cleaning this up. But it’s still one of my favorite memories.

Winnie rolled in the grass while I decorated for Christmas.

Winnie loved to roll in the grass. The dirtier she could get, the happier she was. She especially loved to roll down hills. Her favorite time to go for a good roll was right after a bath. She hated to be brushed, but was jealous when Daisy was being brushed, so she’d roll off and find a toy to try to distract Daisy. She didn’t want to be brushed but she didn’t want anyone else being brushed by her mommy either!

There are so many things that are special and wonderful that I don’t ever want to forget. I ended up making a list of them. Some things probably won’t mean much to anyone else, but they are things and memories that I want to treasure for the rest of my life. I've listed them here.

Winnie and Daisy Feb. 13, 2015 after a swim.

On Thursday, Feb. 12, I took the girls for a walk. That day, I felt like Winnie still had more time. Both vets felt like maybe I could get a few weeks. I’d planned a beach trip for her to see the ocean one more time. I was buying her prime ribs and rabbit meat that she refused to eat. Before our walk, I tried to give her the new anti-nausea and appetite stimulating medicine. We walked, she went swimming and let me take a few good photos of her with her sister. When we got back to the house, she threw up her pills. She hadn't eaten any solid food at this point for more than 48 hours.

I'm ashamed to say that at this point, I started freaking out. I sent Daisy outside and joined Winnie on the floor. I put my head next to hers, looked into those beautiful brown eyes and begged her not to leave me yet.  “I need you to give me some more time,” I told her, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I am not ready. I want to take you to the beach. I want more time. Please don’t leave me. You’re my best friend.”

About an hour later, I apologized to Winnie. I knew I was being selfish. “I promise you, I won’t let you suffer. I owe you that. You have been so good to me. I will never let you suffer. I was selfish to ask you to say. You just tell me when you are ready.”

For her entire life, Winnie had a special song: The Winnie the Pooh theme. I would sing it to her in happy times while we danced around, during sad times as we cuddled on the couch and sometimes just into her ear while she went to sleep. It was her lullaby and she knew it. I set her up on a pallet on my bed where she’d been sleeping all week and we settled in for the night.

On Feb. 12, I wrapped Winnie up in her Panthers blanket.

I softly sang that song to her as we drifted off to sleep. About an hour later, she started throwing up blood. After the third time, I called my mom around one a.m. and said, “I need you to come tomorrow.” She hit the road a few hours later and was at my house before 8 a.m.

I settled Winnie downstairs one a little pallet for her on the couch and wrapped her up in comforter. We stayed up all night, taking short 15 minutes naps. I spent the night singing to her, thanking her for what she meant to me and promising her that Daisy and I would be OK. 

Around 5 a.m., I finally realized that sleep just wasn't meant to be. I went upstairs to shower. When I got out, Winnie wasn’t waiting for me for the first time ever. But by the time I went to brush my teeth, I saw that old grey face watching me from around the corner. She was even standing up and, of course, wagging her tail. I could tell, though, that it took a lot out of her to come up the stairs. “It’s OK, baby,” I promised her. “You don’t ever have to do that again.” That was the last time Winnie came upstairs.

It felt like the sun would never rise and when it finally did, Mom arrived shortly after. We took turns cuddling and comforting her. I’d spent the last week telling her what she meant to me and thanking her for everything she’d done, so I basically sang to her until it was time to leave for the vet. We did fall asleep together one last time and Mom took a photo.

My last nap with Winnie

 Winnie was so quiet and still. Her breathing became very soft. There were several times I thought she might be gone already. At one point, she finally opened her eyes and I sighed with relief. 

Then I made Mom sit with her and I went outside and sobbed until I could get under control. My greatest wish was to give Winnie a peaceful death and I wanted to get it all out before we had to go to the vet. I didn’t want to cry and make her upset.

I went outside to move the car and make a pallet for her in the back.  I figured Winnie would probably need to be carried. Mom said Winnie struggled to get off the couch, so she helped her. Winnie got up to stand in the window just to watch me. Mom took a photo of that too, one I will always treasure.

Winnie watching me from the window one last time.

I took Winnie outside for a moment and walked with her around the house. One thing that’d really been bothering me was that she hadn't licked my face, not even my tears, for a few days. I sat down with her on the grass and explained what was going to happen and why. “I hope you understand why I am doing this,” I said. “It’s because I love you.” She licked my tear-soaked face.  I knew for sure I was doing the right thing.

We took one final photo in front of Winnie and me right outside her house. I thanked her for making our house a home. I rode in the back of my car with her one last time and she stood up the whole time, even taking a moment to poke her grey muzzle out the window. We love our vet’s office and the kind staff at Hickory Grove Animal Hospital and would recommend them to anyone who loves their pet.

The week leading up to that Friday had been frenzied and terrible. When the vet who did Winnie’s ultrasound came in to have a private conversation with me, I knew we were in trouble. “Are you Winnie’s mom?” he asked. And again, I said yes. We were in this together.

Three days after that, I ran into the vet alone to get her a temporary leash and pay the bill. The team had already set up our room. I got to lie with her on the floor. Mom brought in her comforter so she could have a nice warm place to relax. Before they took her back for her IV, I held her face in my hands and said, “Thank you for being my best friend. You are the love of my life.” Again she licked my face.  Mom thanked her for taking such good care of her daughter.

The vet tech came in with some Cheese-Its left over from her snack. Winnie started sniffing at them. “I am sure she won’t eat,” I said. “She just refuses.” That little rascal ate at least 20 Cheese-Its. I even got to give her a few.

And then it was time. Winnie laid down when I asked her to. She leaned her elbows on my knees. I didn’t want to cry. I prayed for the strength not to. Dr. Husky started giving her the injection. “Winnie says talk to me mommy,” she said.

Yes, I am Winnie's mommy. And will always be no matter if she's on this earth or not. I'd already told her everything I wanted her to know. I am who I am today because of her. What was there left to say? I held her face in my hands and put her mouth close to her mouth and started singing softly. I found out later the lyrics were wrong! But this is the song she knew.

“She’s Winnie the Pooh. Chubby little fuzzy, all stuffed with fluff, she’s Winnie the Pooh. Chubby little, fuzzy little bear.” The vet cried. My mom cried. The vet teach cried. I did not. I just kept singing. As I started the song again, she laid her head on my knee. She looked at me one last time and her eyes were filled with peace and understanding. And then she was gone. 

And now a week and a half later, I'm still shocked. How did this happen so fast? How are Daisy and I going to live without her? Daisy and I went to the beach this past weekend since Winnie couldn't. And it was the happiest we've both been since we lost Winnie.

Me and Daisy at Myrtle Beach Feb. 22.

But it’s been hard. Our house feels so empty. Daisy has changed so much. She’s matured and is much more affectionate with me. I think Winnie probably gave her a to-do-list for taking care of me and she’s done a great job. We've taken care of each other.

Winnie was cremated and my mom helped me order a plaque for her urn. “Anyone who says diamonds are a girl’s best friend never had a dog.” Winnie Davis was worth more than all the diamonds in the world. And I will always be her mommy.

Winnie, Daisy and me in Wilmington Nov. 2009

Ten things I don't ever want to forget about Winnie

She made friends everywhere: For a couple of years, I worked part-time at a doggie daycare. Winnie and Daisy would often accompany me to work. There was a 150-lb Mastiff that some horrible owner left to live there for two years. Her name was Stella and she had major aggression issues. I was one of the few people who could feed her and give her medicine. She was not allowed around other dogs. One day, I took her out of the kennel to introduce her to Winnie. “She’s mine, Stella,” I told her. “Please don’t hurt her.” A couple of minutes later, I heard a noise and turned around to find Winnie chasing this massive beast like they’d always been best friends.

She loved to stand up in the car. Before I upgraded to an SUV, Winnie would stand in the backseat for an entire car ride with her head on my shoulder. People in cars passing us on the highway would laugh.

She was an attempted murderer: Last fall, Winnie and Daisy became obsessed with killing an entire nest of rabbits in the backyard. One day, a baby bunny was trying to make an escape. He tried to jump the fence instead of go under it. He missed and went right into Winnie’s mouth. I yelled at her and she let him go, but was mad at me all day about her missed opportunity.

Winnie and Daisy couldn't be separated. When I took the girls to Petsmart for baths, they refused to be separated. They would tear down the kennel separators to get to each other. When I came to pick them up, they’d say, “Are you Winnie’s mom?” And Winnie would tear down the gate herself to get to me.

She would take a dip in any water she could find. A few years ago, Alisa helped me take the dogs to Bark in the Park, a festival for doggies. It was only April but it was over 100 degrees. The dogs had a watering hole tent, filled with recycling bins to drink. That wasn’t good enough for my water lover, who climbed her entire 80-lb self into the recycling bin, splashing it everywhere. She even did a little doggie paddle in the bin.

She loved me. When Winnie was still being crate trained, I somehow left the bottom latch open. When I got home, she’d made herself a nest of my dirty clothes to sleep on.

She was so maternal. She mothered Daisy, Alex and a smorgasbord of dogs I’d bring home from doggie daycare. She was tough, but firm, and the queen of our house.

Winnie hated to take selfies. Every time I tried, she would lick my face. So we ended up with a lot of photos of my face and her tongue.

She was an early riser. Winnie would always get up before me and stand by my bed and stare at me, stalker-like, until I would get up and let her out. If that didn’t work, she would sigh heavily until I complied.

She could take out a power suit. There was a weird woman who always wore a business suit to the dog park. One day, she wore a white suit. Winnie covered it with muddy puppy prints.

Nashville ya'll

I’ve really been terrible about blogging about events. And writing about Nashville has been on my to-do list for almost two months now and I just haven’t gotten around to it. But a new year is a great time to start fresh and I do want to write about this trip while I can still remember the details.

About a year ago, my parents talked about wanting to go to Nashville, which was weird because all three of us are never interested in going to the same place. We decided that would be my parental present for my 33^rd birthday. 

The only issue was getting to Nashville. After lots of Xanax, a shot and nearly breaking my dad’s fingers from squeezing his hand too tight, we made it to Nashville.

We did a lot of touristy things, including visiting the Johnny Cash museum where I wanted to sob because I never got the chance to see Johnny live. The highlights of the trip were definitely a trip to the Grand Ole Opry and our Nashville TV show tour.

First, the Grand Ole Opry. They perform in the famed Ryman Auditorium during the winter months. We had amazing seats, third row (Thanks, Mom!) The host for the evening was Ricky Skaggs, who I probably wouldn’t recognize if I ran into on the street, but was fabulous none the less. The environment of the old-school radio show was great and so fun to participate in. The final performer of the evening was Vince Gill, another childhood favorite of mine, who sounded better than ever.

The next day, Dad watched NASCAR while Mom and I went on a tour of the Nashville TV show sets. We went to all the places that are famous from the show, like the Bluebird Café where Garth Brooks signed his first record contract in the kitchen. We got to see places where they film, scope out the apartment building where Hayden Panettiere lives and even see Deacon’s house.

The best part of the tour, though, was getting to return to the Ryman. That place is completely different in the daylight. The way the sun comes in through the windows is absolutely magical. We got to grab guitars and stand on the original stage, where everyone from Johnny to Garth has stood. It was a special moment and my favorite of the trip. 

When we got back to Raleigh, my dad told me he would remember this trip for the rest of his life. That makes two of us.