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Since we lost our cat Bella two weeks ago, the house seems empty. The irony is, we still have three cats. They are elderly, quiet, less active than they used to be. They are also the last three of a “pride” that once numbered eleven. Going from 11 to three is a dramatic decline. We feel like empty nesters.
Two feelings have arisen in me simultaneously: A desire to adopt more cats plus an equal desire to never adopt again. It is difficult for me to not want to help every stray and needy animal that’s out there. On the other hand, every time we lose one, it hurts dreadfully. I don’t want to hurt again, even though I know I will as three becomes two becomes one becomes zero. Each of our adoptees filled a special space in my heart. They taught me about patience, nurturing, joy and love. As they leave the earth, they take that piece of me with them.
I’ve had to analyze why it is I want to reopen what’s left of my heart to another animal. I think it’s because it’s easier to love animals than to love people. Cats appreciate the smallest luxuries, especially after a life on the streets: a warm bed, plentiful food, a clean box. But people? They’re complicated. Jealous. They come with baggage. It’s harder to please them. It’s harder to show them love. There’s no guarantee that they’ll purr in response to your efforts.
I clearly have a lot of love to give or I wouldn’t have adopted so many animals in my lifetime. What makes it so difficult to transfer that loving from animals to people? Maybe it’s because I understand cats. I can communicate with them. People, not so much, even though we do share a species, language and culture. You’d think it would be the other way round.
And it brings up the following question: Why can’t we accept the simplest acts of love from one another? Why do we look into every gesture, every word, for subtext, motive, hidden agendas? Probably because we’ve been hurt by those things before. If we could give and receive love as easily and freely as animals do, we’d probably be a lot better off. If all it took to restore someone’s good mood was a scratch behind the ears, I’d be doing a lot more scratching. And those good moods would be creating a mountain of good will.
So don’t be put off if some lonely looking woman comes up to you and offers you a sardine or rub under the chin. It’s just me, looking for connections in a simpler, stranger language. Take it as a compliment. Or hand me a kitten. Either way, I’m good.
It’s a lazy Sunday, and I didn’t go anywhere at all today. Kept my pajamas on. Kept my hair in its Bedhead-Blowout configuration. Even kept my “sleep socks” on – the ones so soft and plush that they don’t even fit into shoes. I can only wear them when “lounging.”
Walked into the kitchen because I felt like a sweet snack + a warm cuppa, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.” Opened the refrigerator and had to look past all the food to find the specific treat I wanted, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.”
Walked into the sunroom, saw the light streaming through the bamboo blinds onto the comfy couch, gazed upon the upside-down, snoozing cat, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.”
Walked into the living room, felt the cool air coming from the ducts, looked out at the sweltering summer day, and – for no reason at all – said to myself, “I am so blessed.”
Maybe I did go somewhere, after all – to the place where my heart resides. Luckily, the commute is only a stone’s throw. I just puttered around, watching old movies, knitting, noshing, and feeling blessed.
Had time to gaze at my navel, and didn’t even give myself a hard time about my muffin top!
Had time to wax philosophical, and didn’t even chide myself that the floor needs waxing!
I thought about nothing and everything, like the idea of kin. The people who just get you in life. For me, it’s writing people. Praying people. Knitting people. Kitten people. Kind-hearted folks with a sense of humor and a sense of purpose.
There was nothing happening at all at my house today, but – for some reason – there was nowhere on Earth I would rather have been. I accomplished nothing at all, except a trail of snack wrappers on the counter, a low-level of energy and a high level of contentment.
No, I didn’t go out at all today, and I didn’t miss a thing. Yep, I stayed in today.
Stayed in grace today.
Stayed in faith today.
Stayed in a positive place today.
It’s true what they say, don’t you think? There really is no place like home.
Isn’t it obnoxious when people talk about their kids and pets all the time?
As if theirs are the cutest. When my son is obviously the most wonderful young man ever to walk the planet and my cat is nothing short of a furry phenom! ☺
Okay, I realize I’m always mentioning KitKat in my blog posts, and the things I’ve learned while raising my son, Cole. But I suppose one could say, at least I’m aware of it.
How about all the things people do that they don’t realize are off-putting? For example, I really have a problem with vocal-fry – that thing some do where their words trail off and it sounds like they’re creaking.
The other issue I have is with “up-talk.” That’s when every sentence being spoken goes up at the end? So everything sounds like a question?
Generally speaking, adolescents are the ones engaging in these habits. Maybe that’s why it bothers me. It could be that, with younger people, some trigger in me switches on, and I feel the need to “mother” them – if, by “mother,” I mean “badger” and “bother.”
After all, the older generation engages in plenty of our own bad habits. I used to work with a woman who would finish your sentences for you, and it was exasperating. It would go something like this:
Me: So I need to get this work done by-
IC: Next week?
Me: No. I was going to say by the end of the day. But I also need to-
IC: Go to the meeting?
Me: No. I was going to say make some phone calls.
By the way, IC stands for “Interrupting Co-worker.” Or maybe “Intensely Crazy-making.”
When you think about it, these problems really aren’t such a big deal, in the scheme of things. We live in a world with other people and sometimes we overlap. You might say that it’s just the cost of living. So any time I’m bothered by other peoples’ ways, I crack my knuckles, clink the spoon in my coffee cup repeatedly, and remember that we’re all only human.
Our Gus died this week. He was a common-looking tabby with uncommonly sweet green eyes, filled with the same uncomplaining gratitude as his mother’s, a stray named Elsa whom we also adopted and lost too soon. But I suppose all death feels too soon; Gus was a senior citizen by kitty standards. Still, we were not prepared for the tumor that quickly overtook his lymph node, growing monstrously in a week, and slowly choking him to death.
Gus was unbelievably kind-natured. He could not sleep alone; he had to be snuggled up against at least one other member of our household, and preferably several. He liked nothing better than to be petted, to bump his striped head against a person, or if necessary, any random soft thing. They say cats are loners. Gussie was proof positive that people say a lot of wrong-headed things about cats.
Although I love autumn — as do so many of us — I find that quite a bit of mourning is associated with this time. So many people I know have lost someone dear to them during these months, and the falling of the leaves, the dying of the light, all remind them of this loss. My friends Alice and Gina lost their mothers in the autumn. I lost my father, as did my friend Maureen.
Some say animals don’t belong in heaven; they have no souls. I cannot countenance such remarks. I think animals know God in a different way than we do, perhaps a more primal way — which is not to say a lesser way. In fact, they may know God more intimately than we can ever hope to. And I cannot believe in a heaven that does not include our pet friends. The day after Gus died, my husband wrote me the following message: “I like to think that when Gus-Gus isn’t teaching “Headbutting With Love” seminars and chasing featherstrings for hours without getting winded, he is snuggled in the middle of the biggest catpile ever.” It helped. But nothing can take away the pain right now. And nothing should. Every life should be mourned, however small, however furry.
Gus taught me that to be loving is a life’s work. And a darned good one, at that. I just hope that his passage was quick and painless, that in an instant, he found himself in that great catpile in the sky. In this season of death, sweet whiskered friend, I pray you found safe passage.
My son and I ordered Chinese food last week, and the fortune cookie read, “That thing you did recently was a big mistake. Now what will you do?!?”
I realized later the big mistake was ordering the chow mein. Ba-dum-bum!
The horoscope for my sign yesterday said, “Well, you may as well just pull up the covers and stay in bed today! Nothing’s going to work out as planned!”
The only bad thing that happened was that my local farm market had closed down. Bad luck for them, I think, but for me? No Jersey tomatoes today. Whatever will I do?!?
So much of life is about screening out the static in your day. Somebody is always griping about something. It seems that the ones yelling the loudest get the most attention. And often, there’s an “expert” around to tell you how you should be living, eating, dressing…even thinking.
An article the other day told me that my cat probably doesn’t really love me after all. I also read another post that said it’s uncommon for cats to snore. Oh, my stars. Studies have shown, so what’re you gonna do? Guess I’ll have to take their word for it! Feh.
It’s fine to take in information from all sources, but never discount the depth of your own experience. For example, I know for a fact that some cats snore. In fact, my cat snores so much – and in so many different “tones”, if you will – that his full name is KitKat J. Snorington. Because his “thing” is snoring. A ton.
KitKat snores at the drop of a hat. Eyes open, at times. Mouth open, often. He snores in a singsong tone, or with a guttural growl. Once, I thought someone was talking to me. I actually walked around the room to see what the heck was going on, until I realized my cat was talk-snoring, like a person. Must be a multi-tasker, because he was sleep-running at the same time.
So let the experts write their articles and tell you what they’ve learned. But form your own opinions about how to live. Before long, the pointless punditry may have to find another way to earn a living. PS Today, you will receive an unexpected windfall, you’ll have a good hair day, and we recommend the Moo-Shu.
1I will praise the Lord no matter what happens. I will constantly speak of his glories and grace. 2 I will boast of all his kindness to me. Let all who are discouraged take heart. 3 Let us praise the Lord together and exalt his name.
Psalm 34:1-3 (The Living Bible)
When my son was younger, I’d sit with him and his friends in our sunroom and we’d chat about whatever was on their minds. Sometimes, it seemed as if this was the only time in their lives an adult had ever asked them, “So how are you doing, son?”
Once, during “Sunroom Time,” one of my son’s friends plopped down on the couch and started flailing a long, sharp stick around. “Honey, put that down. You might hit your brother by mistake,” I said. Problem was, as someone with ADHD, he really wasn’t able to stop. His brother, sitting next to him, grabbed his hand and held it down. Even while restrained, the stick was madly moving around, making “whooshing” sounds.
“Wait, let him go,” I told his brother. “He’s not being heard. He’s speaking through the stick.” For some reason, it seemed that his body was telling him it was urgent to do this, and that he must not stop. I told him to aim it away from the others, which he did. Eventually, the flailing subsided and he was able to calm down.
Communication comes in many different forms. Earlier this year, my cat woke up one day unable to “meow.” He’d open his mouth and no sound would come out. His furry face looked so sad. After a visit to the vet, his voice was restored. That night, at 3 AM, when KitKat “meowed” to wake me up so we could play the Stealth NinjaCat Game (barrel roll into bathtub, dash down hall, slide under rocking chair and zoom up onto bed), I wondered if I’d made the right decision to give him back his voice!
People also speak without words. Waking my son in the morning, I am greeted with a fair dose of “side-eye,” as if his body is communicating: This is madness! You’re trying to wake me up?!? It’s summer, for Pete’s sake! Have you lost your mind, woman?
This picture of Warren Harding’s mistress and their “love child” says more than the entire article. I can only imagine she had a hard life and never really felt the “love” as a child.
Sometimes words can say too much. This neighbors’ dispute over barking dogs lead to an obnoxious sign. I was amazed to read that the couple hoped that writing disparaging remarks on a posted sign would make their neighbor apologize – even though he appears to have done nothing wrong. That sign doesn’t communicate, it exacerbates.
Often, words are merely ill-chosen. When I read this headline on Yahoo News, I was certain that an announcer had been shot during a football game, but it was just a very poor choice of words.
It seems like the Tower of Babel in the world today, with everyone talking a different language, and many with forked tongue. Not everyone has the best intentions when they speak, but here are some words you can count on: God said it. We believe it. That settles it!
Suddenly in the middle of the kitchen, there was a speedbump. I hadn’t put it there, mind you; it was in the shape of a perfectly life-like feline, sitting serenely as I prepared my coffee. It was my cat, looking at me, waiting for some scrap of sustenance in a dog-eat-dog world!
I hadn’t expected KitKat to be there, and was really startled.
“Oh!” I said. KitKat’s mouth formed an “O” as well.
My eyes got wide. KitKat’s eyes opened to maximum capacity. Like two big moon pies.
I pulled my head back in reflex. KitKat’s ears went all flat. Like Napoleon’s hat.
Then it occurred to me. He was reacting to my energy.
“Oh, it’s only you,” I said, nodding reassuringly, and went back to preparing my coffee. KitKat went back to his normal, Trying to Give a Heck facial setting, and moseyed over to his bowl to scout the offerings. Later, he’d stretch across the couch by the window, scoping out upstart squirrels and tracking the flight patterns of rogue birds. You know, his day job.
So much of life is about energy, isn’t it?
Last month, I tried to put a bell on KitKat so I wouldn’t be surprised by his sudden cameo appearances, but the ringing drove him crazy. Not just his ears, but his whole energy flattened. He ran around the house low to the ground, tail tucked, trying to escape the infernal noise.
You can see – and feel – energy interactions everywhere you go.
Once at a drug store, the pharmacist had apparently gotten into a heated argument with a customer. My son and I were joking around as we walked down the aisle, into this moment of friction. The customer turned his head abruptly and glared, thinking that we were laughing at him. He realized that we were just talking to each other and turned back to shoot daggers with his eyes at the pharmacist.
Energy is also malleable. At times, even fluid.
Last week, I got a package in the mail. KitKat sat nearby, on his default setting: bored/nothing-to-see-here-keep-it-moving. I tossed the box aside and in a flash, KitKat had climbed in and curled up contentedly, forming a furry ball. This is the life! his energy said, as he settled in, purring, for a nice afternoon nap. To some, it might seem like a standard-issue box. But if you read the energy meter right, you’ll see it’s really a cat-condo filled with creature comforts. Not bad for a former street-cat!
They say a cat’s meow resembles the cry of an infant, that this little trick of genetics helps our bewhiskered companions get their needs met. Of course, like babies, cats cry for different reasons: hunger, discomfort, the desire for attention. And then there are the cries that mean, “I’m bored.” Or, “Why don’t you have a lap right now?” Or, “You know what’s good? Catnip. You should get some of that for me.” In other words, cries that denote no immediate necessity. The annoying kind. At such times, I have been known to call out (to one or another members of my feline flock), “You’re all right!” Alternatively, when the wailing has progressed past the line of my patient resolve, I might shout, “Enough already!” There are times, however, when my tongue gets twisted, and out comes the following bit of inexplicability: “You’re enough!”
You’re enough. It’s not quite a Freudian slip, but worthy of examination nonetheless. How often do you feel a lack in yourself, that frightening feeling that you are not up to the challenge at hand, that you are not good enough, strong enough, enough enough? If you’re anything like me, you experience it far too often. Our own self-doubt can cripple, can keep us from moving forward in those resolutions we make at this time of year. It can keep us from moving forward, period.
So what should you do when you feel you are not enough? Remember this: God made you, and God does not make inadequate things. You ARE enough. You are capable. You are courageous. You can do it, and do you know why? Because God will be with you. All you have to do is ask. God will more than make up for any perceived lack in yourself. This is the God that marched Daniel through the lion’s den, remember? The God that enabled a kid with a slingshot to pulverize a giant! The God that made the impossible possible: Just ask Mary. Or Paul. Or Lazarus.
You really are enough to tackle whatever this new year threatens to throw at you. You are enough to surmount all difficulties. You are enough to work miracles. And if you doubt it for a second, just picture me calling out to you. You are in my prayers, whether I know you or not. Your needs will be met; I truly believe it.
Now excuse me while I rustle up some catnip. Someone just won’t shut up about it.