Tag Archives: life

The Wandering Tzippy

Posted on June 6, 2026 by rachelmankowitz

            I don’t remember when Tzipporah started to run out of the room each time I sat down at the computer, maybe sometime in February or March, after that one time when I tried to bring her to my zoom Hebrew class and she knocked my juice onto the keyboard in her desperate attempt to flee. She’d already made it clear by then that she didn’t want to come to Bible study sessions on zoom either (Ellie used to love to sit on my lap and watch the rabbi make faces on the screen), so any sign of the computer moving, or me moving towards the computer, made Tzippy very nervous.

“Computers are dangerous.”

But, more recently, I realized that Tzippy was also leaving the room when I wasn’t sitting at the computer. I’d be on the couch, minding my own business (staring at my phone), and suddenly she had somewhere else to be, often running straight to my bedroom to pee on the exercise mat. Or, apropos of nothing at all, she would leave the living room just to get a drink of water or to sniff something in the hallway or even to pee on the actual wee wee pad. For most of the year and a half that she’d been living with us, she’d refused to leave her bed as long as I was in the living room with her, often waiting hours and hours before daring to pee or to look for her dinner, but suddenly, she was free.

            I can’t find any reliable patterns in her new behaviors, though. Sometimes she still sits in her bed and stares at me like I’m a bomb about to explode, and sometimes she casually walks into the hallway for a snack in the middle of Murder, She Wrote. Sometimes she steps out of her bed at random to take a long stretch, before starting her next nap, and sometimes if I even look in her direction she runs for her life. And I really don’t love that she’s going to my room to pee (though at least she’s peeing on the rubber mat instead of on the rug, so it’s easier to clean), but there’s something about this new wandering version of Tzippy that’s fun to watch. It feels like we’re on season two of a really good TV show and even though I’m not sure where the story is going, I’m already fascinated by the plot twists. And, honestly, I can’t wait to see what happens in season three!

“I’m still the star of the show, Mommy.”

If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.

            Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?

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Tzipporah’s First Official Walk

Posted on February 28, 2026 by rachelmankowitz

            In the past, when I’ve tried to take Tzipporah for a walk she just sat on the ground and shivered, and if I dared to tug on her leash she fought like a wild animal to get away, burrowing under the bench by the retaining wall or trying to climb the wall itself. I was still taking her with me to therapy once a week, but I hadn’t tried putting her toes on the ground in months, and then last weekend something changed. Usually when we return home from therapy, Tzippy is exhausted, waiting just long enough to eat her chicken treat before stretching out in her bed for a long nap, but the day before the big blizzard she seemed more awake and aware, as if she was waiting for her next adventure.

            I’m not sure what convinced me to try again, maybe just knowing that we would be snowed in for the next few days, but I bundled her back up in her winter coat, and put her leash back on, and carried her down the stairs and outside. At first, when I put her down on the walkway, she just sat down and waited as usual, shivering and looking around in alarm. But when Grandma started to walk ahead of us, Tzippy actually followed her. She only took a few steps before sitting back down again, but when I gave her some head scratches and encouragement, she took another few steps, and then a few more and a few more.

            We managed the equivalent of one block – between our front door and the next building in the complex – and then she sat down more firmly and refused to go any further. I was sure I’d have to carry her, but when I turned back towards home Tzippy stood up and followed me, taking five steps at a time instead of three. She finally hit her limit about ten feet away from our front door, and then she sat down in front of me and refused to go another step. I picked her up and gave her kisses and so much praise for her amazing accomplishment, and she seemed to understand that she’d done something special, but she was also exhausted. As soon as I carried her upstairs and gave her a treat, she ran back to her bed to eat it and then stretched out for a long nap.

            I’m sure it sounds like the tiniest of accomplishments, but it felt like a huge breakthrough. I’d almost given up on the possibility of change after more than a year of trying everything, and I have no idea what made this breakthrough possible; maybe it was all of those hours in therapy, or maybe her new food changed something, or maybe she was just ready.

            The next day, after the snow had started to fall but before the real blizzard kicked in, we decided to try another walk just to see if the first one was a fluke. Tzippy was not at all sure about putting her paws down on the snowy walkway, but once again, when Grandma walked ahead of her, Tzippy followed.  We walked twice as far, because Grandma insisted, but Tzippy wasn’t thrilled with the extra distance and kept trying to crawl under and through my legs to convince me to pick her up. With frequent breaks for head scratches and encouragement, we made it all the way back to our building, but the two steps up to the door were a no-go. When I picked her up, I touched her toes to each step to show her how it was done, but she was not at all interested and just wanted to get back inside.

Once the blizzard kicked in, we were content to stay indoors for the duration, and we didn’t go back outside until all of the shoveling and plowing had been done (by other people). But then we tried walking again. The third walk was short, and Tzippy was not enthusiastic, but she did it, so as the snow melts, I see a lot of short walks in Tzippy’s future. And if she needs to complain, I’m sure my therapist is ready to listen, and Grandma will hand out chicken treats by the handful as needed. I just hope it doesn’t take another year before Tzippy is ready to try the stairs.

If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.

            Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?

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Cricket is the Most Stubborn Person I Know

Posted on July 15, 2023 by rachelmankowitz

            A few weeks ago I was afraid Cricket was on the edge of life, diagnosed with kidney disease, struggling to walk, knocking into things. We started giving her subcutaneous fluids on the off chance that it would help extend her life, and it’s actually working. Though in order to give her the fluids we have to medicate her with a combination of gabapentin and ACE, which makes her woozy for hours. At times, she seems like a wraith, her feet slipping out from under her, not even protesting when the needle slips under her skin.

            Ideally, she would have gotten used to the whole procedure by now, and she wouldn’t try to pull off the muzzle, or lift up her head to get away from the needle. Ideally, I’d never have to give her any calming meds at all and she would just accept the fluids as a necessary evil and get it over with and get back to living her life. But then she wouldn’t be Cricket, and all of this effort is to make sure she gets to be Cricket for as long as possible.

“Oh, I can be even more Cricket-y. Just wait.”

            Every day, at the beginning of all of this, I was afraid she was going to die overnight, and when she actually woke up in the morning, and ate her breakfast, I was surprised, and afraid to be hopeful. But with each day she seems to improve a little bit. The meds make her into a rag doll, yes, but then the next morning, after she’s slept it off, it’s like she’s been brought back to life, refilled with her fluids and her spirit, and ready to sniff the whole world again.

            It’s still nerve-wracking to watch her skin fill up with the fluids. I even worry sometimes that her neck is going to explode (I’ve seen too many movies), and I worry that I’m going to put the needle in the wrong place and puncture something vital. I was worried for a while that I was inserting the needle the wrong way and causing scar tissue to form because I could feel these quarter-sized bumps under her skin and I was afraid I would run out of loose skin and not be able to give her the fluids anymore, but then the bumps started to dissolve, and that worry, at least, went away. So much of this is trial and error and the circumstances seem to change every day. It feels like a magic trick each time she wakes up in the morning and walks and barks and eats and acts like herself, but a magic trick that is unreliable and hard won.

            I’ve been thinking about my friend Teddy, the miniature poodle, who died from kidney disease a few years ago. His death came as a surprise, at least to me. He hadn’t been diagnosed with the disease ahead of time, and by the time they caught it he was too far gone to be helped by fluids or anything else. When Cricket was diagnosed I was afraid it would be the same thing, and every day, even though I knew her case was different, I expected the same results.

            Some days are better than others. Every once in while she has a bad night, her breathing is shallow, she pees on the floor because she can’t get to the wee wee pad in time, or she’s not up to climbing the stairs, but other days she seems to be getting better, growing stronger, and enjoying her life.

I was telling myself that I just needed Cricket to reach her sixteenth birthday, but now that she’s accomplished that goal, I need more. I need to feel like I did everything I could possibly do for her. I need to not have any regrets, and not feel like if only I had been stronger or smarter or kinder or more loving, she would have lived longer.

I’m also doing my best to make sure Ellie doesn’t feel left out, and gets extra hugs and scratchies and treats to make up for all of the attention her sister is getting. But when Cricket feels better she goes back to taunting Ellie, so then I feel guilty for taking such good care of Cricket and, at the same time, I feel guilty for not taking good enough care of her.

“If I keep my eyes closed she won’t bother me. Right?”

            The thing is, Cricket isn’t giving up. She doesn’t think sixteen years is enough, even if each day is a little harder than it used to be.  And if she’s going to be this stubborn, then I guess I’m going to have to be stubborn too.

If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my Young Adult novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.

            Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?

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