I have a cat, he's a very sweet cat Henry is his name. He never causes trouble, he never even meows. Just a teeny, tiny "Eh!" is all he ever says. That is, unless he's on his way to the vet, and then the yowling comes deep from his soul, and cuts through my heart. But, this is not about his yowl, this is about his teeny, tiny "Eh!" When caught in an everyday moment of distress. I have another cat, he's a very...different cat Rooney is his name. He was found outdoors, malnourished and alone. We took him in but, he's not used to cats. He doesn't know how to BE a cat. He's learning to play, and even to cuddle, but he just doesn't GET that other cats are his friends. Especially Henry. Henry loves everyone. But Rooney does not love everyone. Nearly every day, Rooney chases Henry, and not in the fun way, and then Rooney gets in trouble. I say his name, and he looks sheepish, "I've done it again." This last time, I was fixing dinner, and I heard that teeny, tiny, "Eh!" and I spun around. Rooney was ready to pounce. I said his name (with LOTS of authority) and he ran off. Henry looked at me, grateful. Then I realized, Henry hadn't shouted, he hadn't yowled, or panicked, he just quietly said, "Eh!" and trusted that I would hear him, and fix the problem. And I did. And then I realized - This applies to me, too. It doesn't take shouting, it doesn't take panic, It just takes trusting that the One who can solve my problems is always, ALWAYS, listening. May we all have the faith of Henry.
I have a confession.
Once a week, every week, I sneak off and visit Mike. I meet up with him and kiss his face and tell him how handsome he is and how much I love him. And then I go into another room and find Wiley and tell him the same thing.
Then I try to make time to give Gigi, Dolly, Bob, Sabrina and many, many others a brief hug or kiss. I tell each of them how special they are, and how good they are, and how loved they are.
This gallery contains 22 photos.
One of my very best friends passed away one year ago today. She shared a name with one of my favorite singers, Dean Martin. When Dean sings, I feel like I’m in the company of an old friend. He’s relaxed and comfortable. Deana was the same. She was quiet, demure, and for the most part, […]
If you’ve ever wondered about the power of positive words, allow me to reintroduce Simon. For those of you who haven’t yet met him, look no further than the article entitled, “Simon Sees A Murder.” It’s two below this one. I’ll wait while you catch up.
Great. Now that you know how he feels about bath time, let me tell you a little bit more about his origin story. When I would visit him at the Humane Society before adopting him, he would run to me, leap into my lap, flip over on his back and purr. I was assured that he had ‘chosen’ me for his owner, and it seemed that was true.
However, when I took him home, something strange happened. He got tiny bumps all over his little body, and whenever I would try to pet him, he would purr furiously and LOUDLY, but immediately begin to choke and run away. I took him to the vet, got some medicine, and his bumps cleared up, but not the purr/choke issue.
I finally figured out that when I tried to pet him, he became so overwhelmed with happiness, that his purr motor was ‘overheating’ and choking him, thus causing him to run away.
He was literally becoming allergic to love.
My cat was the only witness to a murder in a bathroom. Henceforth, he feels it is his loving animal duty to prevent that same kind of murder from happening to me. I don’t mean to be macabre, but that is really the only explanation that makes sense.
Simon is one of my beautiful adult black cats adopted from the Humane Society last year. He had been left on their front porch in a carrier with a note that read: “Friendly neighborhood cat. Keep carrier.”
Simon is many things, and he is friendly, to a degree, but there is no way he was just some ‘friendly’ neighborhood cat. He’s very skittish, and frightens at the least little noise. I don’t think this is the kind of cat that would just wander up to strangers. Actually, this is the kind of cat that hides until he’s certain it’s me that’s calling for him.
This entry is from a journal I keep on occasion called, “Every Day Moments.” It was begun during a time when I needed to see the good in every day situations to cope with grief.
My beloved pet cat Sammy passed away about six weeks prior to this entry. His sister Deana, mentioned below, passed away on January 2nd of this year. Both had kidney issues.
They were only in my life for just over four years, but brought me immeasurable joy, and I miss them. Occasionally, I will share more memories as they come to mind.
May 31st, 2013
“The day after Sammy passed, I started visiting the Humane Society once a week after work. I stood there, desolate, and told them I just needed to hold a black cat. It was the best way I knew how to cope and still function. I met many, many beautiful souls there. I’ll tell their stories another day.
Today, after a long day of work cleaning and being cooped up indoors, I came home and let all my remaining animals outside. Right now that total stands at two dogs and one cat, but tomorrow that will change. Two sweet black male cats are coming home to live with me. I know my two new friends won’t be able to replace Sam, but I’m hoping it will help me move forward.
As I sat down on the ledge of flowers we planted near his grave, I sighed. I know it’s silly and probably pointless, but every time I pass his grave I want to to, or do, say “Hi Sam.” For nearly four years, I said that every time I saw him, and I still miss saying it.
Deana followed close behind me, as usual. Whenever we go to that area of the garden, she always ends up sitting on the stone marker. Do I think she knows Sammy’s there? No; but it moves me when I see her perched there. I do think she sleeps under the couch now because that’s where he slept. Knowing things will change tomorrow, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her tonight.