I have been a little missing in action lately, making frequent trips to Arizona where my 87-year-old mother is quite ill. She had a recent debriedment surgery, and then entered an assisted living facility. She then acquired an infection, in which she had to be hospitalized for three days. And now she is under hospice care for systemic pains too numerous to mention.

My mother has lived at the base of the Huachuca Mountains in southern Arizona since the late '60s. She didn't always love it but now there is no other place she would rather be in the world. Until January, she and her cat Tiger lived fairly independently -- with help from daily caregivers -- until she could no longer care for herself. It was so difficult for her to accept that she would need to leave the house my father built for her out in the country. She lives in a good-sized house on four acres. She is very stubborn and always said she would not leave.

But after the surgery, when my sister and I slept by her side to help her up to use the bathroom multiple times throughout the night because she could no longer get up herself, we knew the time was opportune. She didn't fight us when we told her she needed to move into assisted living because her wound needed constant care to heal.

Her new facility is beautiful and is less than a mile from her house in the same rural setting. She has the exact same view of her beloved mountains from her room's window as she did at home. But most importantly, she was allowed to have the other love of her life, Tiger, with her.

Tiger has been her best medicine. I assure you that even in her weakened state in January she would never have agreed to move in without him. When her nurse told her she had to move to assisted living, her first words were, "What about Tiger?"

They are completely devoted to one another. She saved his life when she adopted him from the pound, and he most definitely saved hers.

I'm sure you all know how that feels. I do.