It is with PROFOUND grief, a plethora of AGONY, a MASSIVE hole in my heart & soul, I tell you that MY baby, Lola Chante Battiste crossed the Rainbow Bridge at 11:17am cradled in her Ma’s arms. Her Pa, Lucien Battiste was on video chat, her Ganny, her Cuddy Fomica & Sissy Mim Beth sitting with us when she drew her last breath, walked across the rainbow bridge & into the arms of Jesus.My heart is shattered into a million pieces, my soul is empty. My eyes red & burning from a continual flowing of tears. She was a Pisces like her Ma, moody, could be bitchy at times, just a little bit sassy! Liked very few people & could raise 10 kinds of hell. She was spoiled ( I say LOVED), had a closet full of clothes, bows of every kind & color, pink leather coach collar, tons of toys, a tempur-pedic pillow “pidda” & mattress, all of which to lay her 10lb royal bum. She had a BIG bed that she “shared with her Ma & Pa”.  She never went to be groomed or to doggy day care as there were NO strangers that I trusted with the most precious “goggy” in the whole entire world!
Podie Foo Foo was a hot mess, hated most people, known to bite a time or 4 in her life. Was the best PROTECTION “tection goggy”, all 10lbs of her. You even think about touching ANYTHING of mine she was on you like stink on dog. You couldn’t go near my shoes, my purse, anything. In her world, possession was 10/10ths of the law, EVERYTHING was hers! She was my “guard goggy”. She had quirks, she loved her Pa’s dirty socks, loved to hide pieces of her pood (food) everywhere, her was the best nest maker of the south, her could dig a pretend hole & cover it with pretend dirt just like a professional.  She growled like the predator when she didn’t want to be bothered. We often referred to her as a “mean as a nake (snake) bebe”. She drove the “mean bus” at least 5 times a week, the other few days she was just a passenger. The past year she has mellowed, had health problems that I monitored & gave meds for everyday. Gone was my spunky, sassy durl, as cataracts clouded her vision & her hearing worsened a little more each day. I caught glimpses of my baby durl every now & then this past year, but the last few months showed a rapid decline. Sadly she stopped eating 4 days ago, today would have been the 5th. Her earthly body was tired & my mother/nurse intuition told me the time had come. She would have been 17 yrs old this coming February 28th. I had meds, I refused to allow her to be poked/prodded or kept in a hospital with strangers & possibly die alone. NOT on my watch, I am her Ma & no matter what it does to me mentally/physically, I would do her end of life care. The LOVE, JOY & HAPPINESS she has given me could never be repaid.
As the death watch started, memories came flooding back. Oh how I wanted to take her back to that 1lb goggy & start all over. I stayed with her 24/7, told her how loved she was & that she was not replaceable. Yesterday afternoon, I went thru my usual nightly dissertation with her. My OCD always told me that if I didn’t do this she would die, except yesterday at 2:07pm, I told her if she needed to go, her Ma would be ok. (I LIED)
The I love yous, the tissues, the snuggles, the hugs, all the things I said to her, all of her nicknames & the goodbyes were done.
This morning my baby left me in a puddle of tears & disbelief. The death watch was over. I cleaned her up, “fixed her wig” one last time. Put her in her satin red Christmas dress with bow to match & swaddled her in her Christmas bankie.

Hug & kiss your furkids tonight, tell them you love them. This time last night I still had my podie foo foo, tonight my arms are empty. My precious Lola is waiting to be cremated, the thought of her being alone in physical form on a cold slab makes me physically ill. Oh how my heart hurts, my soul aches. Life will never be the same, my foofie foofie is gone & I feel dead inside.
Wait for your Ma my sweet durl, I will miss you everyday that I’m alive!!! I also thank the Lord that he showed US MERCY & didn’t make me have to take you to have you PTS.

Listening to the radio on the way to the crematorium, BARRY WHITE comes on the radio singing, “You’re the first, my last, my everything!”
He wrote the Banana Split songs that I loved as a child & I was hooked on his music from then on. His music is right on time, thank you to the Maestro of Love!

Good-bye my sweet precious Poda, until we meet again at the Rainbow Bridge.

WAIT FOR YOUR MA!

We love you forever & always,

Ma & Pa