​Bob, in turn, took care of Bowen providing much needed companionship and attracting tourists (and worldwide attention) when he would accompany Bowen as he busked or, later, sold newspapers on the streets of London. It was a storied love affair that illuminated the bumper sticker question, “who saved whom?” when it comes to the bond between humans and animals. The story struck a chord in me, perhaps because I read it soon after my mom’s passing and around the time that my own cat, Angel, became ill. All I knew is that I wanted to go to London to meet this dynamic duo. So I did, at a black-tie, $200+-a-ticket, charity dinner at London’s historic House of Lords.
 
I guess when you travel 5,000 miles to see a cat good fortune is going to smile a little. My boyfriend, Derek, and I found ourselves dining at the same table as Bowen and his fiancée, Monika; Bowen’s friend Lucy and her husband, Sean; the executive director of the Barons Court Project, the organization that benefited from the evening’s proceeds; and Emma, who I credit as the reason I was seated at the VIP table in the first place and who, the next day, took me around London to see the sites where Bowen and Bob hung out, including Covent Garden and Waterstones in London – Islington, the bookstore where Bowen, with Bob always in tow, spent much time penning his books with the help of author Garry Jenkins.
 
A painfully shy child, I am blessed as an adult to be quite the opposite, so when seated next to Sean, also an extrovert, we immediately hit it off. When Sean asked me at intermission between dinner and the program “if I had a minute,” I thought nothing of going with him, not knowing where we would be going. Where we would be going was the greenroom of sorts where Bob, decked out in a bow tie, was sitting serenely on a pillow in the center of the room, with three or four staff nearby watching over him, though he needed little watching. I approached him timidly. Would I scare him? Was I allowed to pet him? I kneeled down, at first just sitting by him, talking to him. Cautiously I put out my hand to pet his head. All the while Bob sat there unfazed, a tiny ginger Buddha in a bow tie. For anyone who views cats as aloof, unsocial creatures who run away the moment a stranger walks into a room, this is not Bob. He was clearly comfortable with people. I knew the moment was special and reminded myself to stop and take it in: The opportunity to have even five minutes with Bob was something most of his millions of fans throughout the world would never have, yet here I was having it.
 
I returned to the dining room in a daze. A few minutes later when Bob was brought out, the crowd—mainly women—rushed to the stage to fawn over him and snap photos. I stood back. I knew I had something they did not. The evening ensued; the trip continued; I had already gotten what I had come for—and more.

I was 12 when Samantha died of parvo. She was my brother’s dog, but I loved her better than he ever could. I was the one who comforted her after my brother forcefully ejected her from his newly washed cat. “Don’t worry,” I told her when I found her cowering in the garden. “I won’t let him hurt you.” I was too young to fully grasp the death of Tinkerbell; I was too young to fully grasp Tinkerbell. However, Samantha was a different story. I sobbed hysterically on my parents’ bed on a hot June evening, my mother unable to soothe me. I felt like I was being severed in two, the pain so wrenching. Up until that point, I had never experienced such a profound loss.

I was 24 when Sabrina died. She was Samantha's sister, given to me by my brother shortly after Samantha died. Sabrina saw me through the turbulent (and sometimes lonely) teens and early adulthood. She had cancer, or something similar, and had been at the vet hospital for a few days when my parents made the decision it was “time.” Sabrina wagged her tail when we went to her kennel to say goodbye. For a few moments, we all wondered if she was rallying. But like a terminally ill patient who provides loved ones with a few moments of lucid conversation before dying, Sabrina was not rallying; she was giving us one last hurrah. My mom stayed with her as the veterinarian administered whatever it is veterinarians administer when you put animals to sleep. My dad and I waited out by the car. I wept openly; my dad wept stoically. I went to work that afternoon.

Samson was technically my parents' dog. That didn’t stop me from considering him every bit my dog. I'd “talk” to Samson when I called home to California from Kansas, where I was attending graduate school; 1 showered him with gifts on his birthday and Christmas; I took him to see Santa. Samson died four yean after my dad died and was my mother’s faithful companion as she learned to navigate widowhood. Samson’s decline was prominently evidenced by his frequent inability to control his bowels, but Mom wavered back and forth for a month before deciding it was time to let him go. Finally, she scheduled him to be euthanized on a Thursday. (“I waited too long,” she lamented afterward, up until her own death seven years later.) The night before, I slept in my childhood bedroom, and Sampson stayed with me, as if knowing tomorrow was the day.  The next day, he mustered up some strength and heaved his bloated body into the car, signaling, “I’m ready. It’s time.” I stayed in the vet’s waiting room as my mom, once again, stayed with the dog. Two strangers consoled me; they knew exactly what was going on without me saying a word.

I adopted Angel after fostering her for three months through a local cat rescue, and she was all mine, until Derek came into the picture six years later and won her heart as well. Angel was with me through a cross-country move to New York and back, and the death of my mother. 

Angel was my traveling companion, at ease in cars, subways, trains and planes. At parties she could be found among the throng of people, soliciting pets or simply soaking it all in. She never, ever hid. Her death, though not unexpected (she outlived her prognosis by a year), gutted me. She was the first pet that was solely my responsibility. Thus, she was the first pet I had to make the decision to euthanize.

For months, I marked the weekly anniversary of her death, refused to watch anything but comedies, and swore up and down that when a song came on the radio with the word “angel” in the lyric, she was saying hello. (Note: I still believe this.) I refused to order Chinese food for delivery on Sunday evenings because we ordered Chinese food for delivery on a Sunday evening—and Angel died the next day. I cried when I heard Alison Krauss perform “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground” at a concert a month after Angel died. I experienced poignant, if somewhat perplexing, feelings of longing and sadness when I’d see parents with infants or young children, for it drove home the point that I no longer had a “child” to cafe for. I put on a brave face, but I was a wreck until the day—eight months later—we adopted two new cats from a local rescue. Ladybug and Mama Kitty are the soothing balm my heart desperately needed, and their presence, I believe, was divinely orchestrated.

I’ve experienced the loss of human loved ones, including both of my parents, but somehow nothing quite jolts me like the death of a pet. Maybe it’s because we cannot talk to them about death. Maybe it’s because of the painful awareness their lives are so much shorter than is fair. Maybe it’s because oftentimes we are the ones who need to make the decision to end their lives. 

“It’s so unfair!” my friend Cindy, who put down her beloved dog just nine months before I put down Angel, said to me soon after Angel died. It is, so unfair.

Each time a pet dies, I fear I won’t be able to love the next one as deeply as I did the one that just passed.

And yet, each time I do.
​Each time I do.

Eat at a diner

Sure, Manhattan is known for having world-class, five-star restaurants with world-class, five-star prices. If you are a foodie, it will be worth your while to budget a nice dinner or two into the equation. However, you don't have to spend a fortune every time you dine out. Diners abound in 
Manhattan, and while some of the more famous ones—such as Ellen's Stardust Diner, where the wait staff doubles as entertainers belting out Broadway tunes—are pricey, most of the ones you find on the corner are pretty darn reasonable. One of my faves is Madison Restaurant (yes, I 
know it says "restaurant;" it's a diner) on the corner of 53rd Street and First Avenue in Midtown East where most meals come with both soup and salad, a couple of sides and generous enough portions to keep you (or Fido) well fed for a couple of more meals.
    
Shop at Trader Joe's

Trader Joe's is a nationwide grocery store chain that is known for keeping its prices low, no matter where in the country they are located. A bag of lettuce that cost $1.99 in Sacramento,Calif. is still $1.99 in Manhattan. You'll find most everyday items at Trader Joe's: raisin bran, mac 
and cheese, yogurt, but most items are packaged under the Trader Joe's label—this helps keep costs down. So if you are looking for Kellogg's or Kraft, you'll need to look elsewhere. There are three Trader Joe's to choose from in Manhattan—Chelsea, Union Square and the Upper West 
Side—but be forewarned, the stores' competitive prices make them popular, so bring a big dose of patience with you when you shop.

Ride the subway

The NYC subway system can be daunting to the uninitiated. Throngs of people are hustling and bustling about from one train to the next. It can seem like a chore just to stay upright in the station let alone figure out which train to catch! But at $2.75 per ride, the subway can be your
money-saving friend. And, truly, it is not that hard to navigate, especially if you download one of a zillion apps (Embark NYC Subway is a good one—and it's free) that provide everything from routes and maps to real-time service advisories.

Walk!

There is no better way to see a city than to walk its streets, and Manhattan is a very walker-friendly place. The borough of Manhattan covers roughly 23 miles (not including rivers). No, you might not want to walk everywhere, but if your feet and gams are healthy, pound the pavement.

Not only will walking save you money and get you exercise, you'll get to see a lot more than you would on a subway and it's a lot cheaper than a cab. And I know from personal experience, in some cases it's just plain faster!

1. Take your photos out of albums and scan them or put them in photo boxes

I had nearly a dozen boxes of photo albums stored in a bedroom closet at my Mom's house. One of my first tasks on my mission to scale down my stuff was to remove the photos from the albums and store them in photo boxes. The result? I went from 12 boxes of photos to two boxes. An added bonus: I was able to go through all of the photos and get rid of ones that no longer held meaning or that were so awful they would be blackmail worthy.

2. Go through your keepsake box

I had about six to eight boxes full of keepsakes ranging from a tablecloth my aunt made me to school art projects. Going through the boxes provided me a trip down memory lane, and, similar to the photos, it also allowed me to reconsider what items were still important and to let the rest go. For example, my favorite baby doll—so well loved when I was a child, her dress is now stained and she no longer "sings" when you pull the attached chord—stayed. Report cards from elementary school that said, "Elena is a lovely girl who tries her best but she could use help with her arithmetic"? Those could go. 

3. Find a new way to store sentimental stuff

Having trouble letting go of an item or a group of items—your children's artwork, greeting cards from loved ones, travel keepsakes that remind you of the great trips you took? Scan or take photos of the items and store them digitally. Or, find a more space-friendly way to store them such as putting the special artwork and cards in plastic sleeves and storing them in a binder. Just try to be judicious with what you deem "must-haves," and capture the rest via scan or photo.

4. Keep the prize; get rid of the junk

I used to take our dog Samson to a local pet store to get his picture taken with Santa every year. The pictures were put into cute but cheap plastic frames emblazoned with the store's logo. To save space, I discarded the frames but kept the photos—major space saver. Take a look around. Can you get rid of the "casing" of an item? For example, do you really need to keep the shoe boxes your shoes came in?

5. Don't forget the pets

People love to pamper pets—even other people's pets! In the corner of my home office I have a pile of unused toys that my cat, Angel, has never touched. For one, she has a lot of other toys, and, similar to a child who has a lot of fancy toys but much prefers banging pots and pans around, Angel's favorite "toy" is some heavy-duty plastic strapping that came from a delivery box. My point? Just as you go through and donate your child's unused and outgrown toys, do the same for your pet.

6. Enlist the help of a professional organizer

There are people who are pros at helping you pare down. Your first thought might be, "I don't need to pay someone to go through my junk!" (After all, you are a faithful Clark Howard follower.) However, it might be worth shelling out a little bit of dough to help with the task. There are organizers who specialize in helping you with moving and estate sales, organizers to transfer your hard-copy photos to an online database, organizers who work with people with ADHD . . .the list goes on. Money well spent, I say! Check out the National Association of Professional Organizers to find a reputable professional organizer in your area.

7. Buy a book

If you would rather do it yourself, there are books to help guide you. One book that has come highly recommended by a couple of folks is The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo, whose "KonMari Method" instructs readers to become introspective about each item they are deciding whether to keep. In a nutshell: If the item no longer "sparks joy," let it go.

8. Let go of a time frame for getting done

Except for some glaring examples—you're clearing out an estate or you're moving—there are no hard deadlines for decluttering your home. Take the burden off yourself and remember this. Chunk down large tasks, set aside 15 minutes a few times a week or one Saturday a month, you get the idea. It doesn't have to get done all at once. In fact, trying to do it all at once may overwhelm you and you may abandon the project, stuffing everything back into a box, drawer or closet. And if that happens, just hope you don't have to move into or out of a fifth-floor walk-up apartment.

The man in the blouse was smug, as if silently saying, “we both know you stole the glass, but I’ll do you a favor and won’t cause a scene if you hand it over.”

“I paid for the glass!” my friend told him. “I checked with the waitress to make sure I had the right glass! I paid for the glass!”

The man in the blouse acquiesced but never apologized. 

My friend was mortified.

My friend paid for the glass.

My friend double checked with the waitress to make sure she had the right glass, which she left behind in the hotel room the next day, the glass now too richly associated with the man in the blouse.

Gratitude

Every good letter expresses gratitude for what you do have. For "Amazing Andy," we expressed gratitude that Andy has defied the odds for five years and lived. And there is gratitude for the multitude of blessings already showered on the family, which include everything from an understanding boss to unexpected financial help to a community of neighbors who showered the family with food and supplies during the most dire moments.

Heart

When I raised money for the American Stoke Association, I had two people in the forefront of my mind: My graduate school journalism instructor and my father, both stroke survivors. Knowing that I was asking on behalf of these two people who are powerfully dear to my heart made asking for the money easier, a lot easier. I wasn't asking for money for me, I was asking for them, and others like them. This came through in the letter.

Pain

Let's be honest, people are not going to be motivated to donate to your cause unless you show them the pain and the struggle. with "Amazing Andy," we spoke of Andy's continued daily struggles with vocabulary, feeding himself and using the bathroom on his own, things most 5-year-olds (and their parents) take for granted. Accompanying the letter were images of Andy with tubes sticking out of his tiny body and the scars of multiple surgeries. These images are not easy to look at. They're not intended to be. People have to feel the pain and then be motivated to do what they can to help alleviate it.

Hope

Despite the despair, people want to know that there is hope and that their donation can help provide it. For the American Stroke Association, I quoted stroke statistics, including the number of Americans who would suffer a stroke that year, but I also told potential donors what their money would do, via the ASA—things like fund research, education, advocacy programs and patient services.

For "Amazing Andy," we made sure to explain what this alternative therapy—called the Anat Baniel Method—had already done for Andy and others, and what else it could do. We also included links to YouTube clips demonstrating the therapy, so potential donors could see for themselves what their donation could do for Andy.

Humor

If I can work humor into an otherwise serious situation, I will. At the end of my campaign letter for the American Stroke Association, I jokingly told prospective donors that, if after donating to the ASA, they had money left over and wanted to donate to my "Lexus fund," they were welcome to make those checks out to me. It was silly, but it also drove home the fact that while I was asking them for money, an uncomfortable thing for most people to do, the money was going to a worthy cause.

Ease

Back in 2004, when I wrote my American Stroke Association fundraising letter, I included a self addressed stamped envelope. These days, donating is much easier, faster and cheaper via online campaigns—click on a link, fill in some information and it's done. Just make sure to include the link and make sure it works! If donors have to work too hard to support your cause, they might walk away.

1. Produce

I don't need to pay top-end prices, but I am not going to the bargain mart for my strawberries and spinach. Fresh fruits and veggies are important to a healthy diet—provided we eat them, something we are less likely to do with a mealy apple or a wilted piece of lettuce. Your local farmers market is a great place to get fresh produce at a good price, but if that is not an option, find a supermarket with quality produce.
   
2. High-end shampoo and conditioner

A little goes a long way with these more expensive products—I cannot even recall the last time I had to buy a bottle of shampoo or conditioner. And they make my color last longer, saving me money in the long run.

3. Good running or walking shoes

I will spend top dollar at a specialty running store—where staff is trained on how to properly fit you for size, gait and use—for my running and walking shoes. My theory: Bad shoes lead to bad injuries. Bad injuries lead to bad medical bills from the cost of treatment, not to mention bad moods due to missed workouts.

4. A good mattress

Much the way running shoes support your feet, a good mattress supports your body and helps ensure a restful night's sleep, vital to your overall health. Prices run the gamut from ultra cheap ($200 or lower) to crazy expensive ($30,000 or more),but according to Consumer Reports, the "sweet spot" is between $600 and $1,500. Six hundred plus may sound like a lot when 
comparing a more expensive mattress to a cheaper model, but like one friend said when asked why she spends top dollar on a mattress: "Because I like to be able to get a good night's sleep and not feel like I'm 127 years old when I get up in the morning." Yep. I agree. And when you consider the amount of time you spend on your mattress (most people keep their mattresses for five to 10 years), is it all that expensive?

5. Auto or home insurance

Shop around for a deal, but make sure the company you end up going with is going to be with you when you need it most. Sure, it may hurt to pay a high premium for something that you hope to never use, but should you need to tap into that policy, the last thing you want is a hassle or a headache.

6. A good bra

OK, this is for ladies only, but it's worth mentioning. You do not want to let the girls down, because if you do, down they will go. This is especially important when purchasing a sports bra. In addition, a properly fitting bra can eliminate pain and make you look slimmer, if that's a concern. Oh, and if you think you can get away with cheaping out because you are an A or a B cup, no such luck!

1. Invite friends

When it comes to holding a garage sale, the more people selling, the merrier. For one thing, more stuff to sell piques more interest from passers-by-turned-potential-customers. Second, if you need to take a potty break, your friend can watch your goods for you and let interested parties know that you'll be right back while at the same time ward off thieves. Lastly, it's just plain more fun. After all, you'll have someone to joke with when "Bargain Betty" tries to talk down your $1 autographed hardcover book to 25 cents!

2. Don't price your items too high in anticipation of a "fight" 

Sure, some people are going to want to haggle. In fact, some people go to garage sales with the sole intent of haggling down the price and then bragging to their friends about how they haggled down the price. But while you might want to allow some wiggle room for the bargainers in your crowd, if you price something too high, people may just walk away.

3. Don't forget the change! 

This may seem obvious but you would be surprised how easy it can be in the hustle and bustle of sorting and pricing items, putting up signs, and advertising your sale to forget to get change. A good rule of thumb: $50 in fives, $25 in ones and a role each of quarters, dimes and nickels.

4. Schedule the sale near the start of the month

The logic is simple with this one: People who get paid once a month at the beginning of the month will have more money.

5. Merchandise your items

First of all, prior to your sale, collect as many tables as possible so your stuff isn't sitting out on a comforter in your driveway. (Been there. Done that.) Then, use baskets and trays to house small items such as jewelry, knickknacks and the like, and create an eye-catching display. Hang clothes from hangers or fold neatly. Dust, polish, press, even spray paint an item to make it look better.

6. Prior to your sale, attend a few garage sales, even if you don't buy anything

This is especially good if you have never held a sale or don't hold sales very often. The idea is to get a feel for how a garage sale is run and to assess the going rate for items. Learn from others.

7. Finally, don't do the math on how long you spent gathering and pricing items, setting up, or holding the sale versus how much you made

The numbers may be disappointing. But remember, the idea of having the sale is to make a little dough while you unload unwanted stuff. To that end, ask yourself: Is the bigger goal to make money or unload stuff? If it is to make money, price items a little higher but be prepared to hold a few sales or come down in price. If the goal is to get rid of stuff, price the items low—but be OK with letting them go for a song. And if you really want to get rid of your stuff, have a plan to load up unwanted items at the end of the sale and take them straight to your local donation center. Do not let them back in the house.

1. I get all of my bills out of the way, right away

Getting paid monthly forces me to pay my bills first. No longer can I push off the cell phone bill, figuring that I can "catch it next paycheck."

Paying all my bills upfront allows me to really see my budget: how much is going out each month and where it is going.

As a personal finance blogger, I am chagrined to admit that I have not always been the best budgeter. When I got paid every two weeks, I might pay my rent and some bills with one paycheck and then more bills with the next paycheck. But having it all go out at once gives me a better sense of what I spend — and gives me clues to where I can cut back.

2. I actually save more money

When you have that fear that all of your money could be gone by the 20th (or the 10th!), you start to act as if that might happen, or at least I did.

So I found that I was not spending as much at the beginning of the month. Those thrifty ways became thrifty habits, and I soon found I could (easily) carry those habits through the whole month.

This seems a good time to caution you against a scarcity mindset. It's not healthy to have a true fear of running out of money, so instead, I made it a game: "How much money can I still have on the 10th? The 15th? The 20th? The 25th?"

Once I started viewing saving money like a fun challenge, it became a form of play, no fear involved.

3. I do not procrastinate

On the whole I am not a big procrastinator, but getting paid once a month forces me to plan better.

For example, if I have something big coming up in the next month or two — a loved one's birthday, a weekend getaway, even scheduled car maintenance — I get on it and get'er done early.

I will have a few choices this holiday season:

1. Buy gifts throughout the year as I see them and have funds allotted
2. Buy them in early December (if I lump that money into my "bill money")
3. Use credit cards (dangerous for me!)
4. Wait until January 1 to pay off credit cards I used to buy those gifts

I think most people would agree that the first option is best, and with my once-a-month pay schedule, I have an added incentive to put it into action. (Happy to report that I already have a couple of gifts purchased and wrapped.)

Those are three ways that I have made going from a twice-a-month paycheck to a once-a-month paycheck work for me. I would like to hear what works for you. I am always looking to pick up smart money-saving tips!