Lately I’ve felt overwhelmed. Between our crazy political situation, the virus that never ends, being separated for way too long from my children and grandchildren, and the heartbreaking loss of our beloved kitty, Scout, I’ve been tempted to just go to bed and not get up until life feels worth living again.
My husband, Studly Doright has always been a “glass that’s more than half full” kind of guy, but he has been devastated by Scout’s death—so much so that he seriously considered dropping out of a golf tournament. That’s just unheard of, and he finally decided he’d go ahead and play because other golfers were depending on him.
Yesterday morning, before he left for the tournament he kissed me goodbye and with tears in his eyes said, “We really don’t want to live in a house without a cat, do we?”
I could only shake my head.
“Go find a cat who needs us,” he said.
And so I did. Meet Gracie:
Gracie
This precious rescue kitty was languishing in a showcase at PetCo when we first met. When I spoke to her she stuck her nose through one of the holes and said “hi!”
Now, she’s keeping me company on the sofa.
Gracie is just over a year old and came to a local shelter as a pregnant feral cat. After her kittens were weaned, each one found a home, leaving Gracie on her own in the shelter.
She’d been adopted twice, and returned both times. The first family discovered that their child was allergic to cats, the other family had a dog who felt threatened by her. We’re her lucky third chance.
Gracie is doing well here at Doright Manor, but we can tell she’s a bit reluctant to go all in. And who could blame her? She really likes our screened-in back porch, and spent much of the evening perched on the cat tree Studly made for Scout.
When we turned in for the night she sat at the foot of the bed watching us for a long time. Studly tried to coax her to come closer, but she snubbed his efforts. I thought maybe in a week or so she’d feel comfortable enough to snuggle with us.
But I woke up around one a.m. and her sweet little face was just inches from mine. She’d curled up next to my head and was so deeply asleep that she didn’t even twitch when I extricated myself from the covers to make a trip to the bathroom. When I returned and slid back into bed she opened one eye as if to say, “Make up your mind, lady.”
I must admit to feeling like we rushed into adopting a new cat so soon after losing Scout. There was a moment of panic after I’d paid the adoption fee and realized I was now in a committed relationship with this little girl. But, Studly was right. I really don’t want to live in a house without a cat. And magically, I feel like I have a reason to get out of bed again.
We are missing our Scout, but my blogging friend at Savoring Sixty and Beyond savoringsixty.com reminded me of this A.A. Milne quote.
We really were so lucky to have known this special cat who never met a stranger. If you were a guest in our home, you were a recipient of her affections.
She enjoyed playing endless games of fetch. Her favorite activity was “helping” me make the bed, making that activity last at least twice as long as was necessary.
She felt she needed to be present when either David or I took a shower, and she loved being wrapped up in a towel. She danced with me and gave me kitty kisses. For much of her life she thought my left ear was something to suckle on. Even after she’d outgrown that need to nurse, every now and then she’d nudge my earlobe as if to say, “Remember, Mommy?” She loved to lay across my neck and massage my shoulders. Her purrs were epic.
Studly Doright was the recipient of many head butts (aka, kitty kisses). Scout had to help him any time his computer was being used. She often made him choose between her and work. He always chose her. During Hurricane Michael, when I was in Texas, she kept Studly company. The two of them patrolled the grounds, watching trees fall and hunkering down like good Floridians. She slept beside him while I was gone.
She adored her stuffed toys: mice, birds, candy canes, small bears, catnip pillows. But her favorite toy was a stick with feathers on the end. She loved “feathers” as we called it at one time. Over the years, the feathers fell out. Then we called it “feather” until finally, when every feather was gone, we just called it “stick”. She still loved it and up until her last couple of weeks of life Scout would bring “stick” to us for play time.
The day before she died she insisted on going out on the screened-in porch. She’d refused food for more than 24 hours, and could barely walk, but still she wanted to go out one last time to enjoy her favorite place. I’m certain she was remembering all of the lizards she’d chased in her lifetime.
And her last morning on earth, she found the strength to join Studly as he finished his shower. “See, Daddy, I remembered.”
We will miss this sweet kitty for the rest of our lives, but we were so lucky to have known her.
(Note: I wrote this and published it on another page several years ago; however, someone reported it as spam and Facebook now refuses to post it under the original link. I can’t imagine why anyone considered it as spam.)
When the tiny black kitten came into the world her mother licked her clean and gathered her close for warmth. Another kitten soon followed. This one was a boy, grey with black stripes, and the mother cat cleaned her newborn son and snuggled him next to his sister.
Outside the box in which the mother cat had taken shelter a storm raged. Thanks to good instincts or perhaps just good luck the mother had found a place untouched by the heavy winds and rain that humans would call a hurricane.
Inside the box the mother and her two babies were safe and snug. She wrapped her tail around both of them and sighed as they began to nurse. Soon she would need to find food for herself, but for the moment everything in her world was just right. So she slept.
The mother cat was not sure how much time had passed when she awoke, but she knew she was hungry. Gently she pressed her nose to each of her kittens and licked their fur with her rough tongue. With great care she eased herself away from the squirming infants and stepped out into the wet and windy world. It seemed to her that the storm was not as strong as it had been on the night her kittens were born.
While the mother was an excellent hunter the storm had forced all of the animals to seek shelter, so she had to search for a long time before finding her prey. Once her hunger was satisfied she began her journey back to her babies.
On their own in the box the kittens stirred restlessly. They were hungry and cold. Outside the box the wind had died down. With their little eyes still tightly shut they could do nothing but wait for their mother to return. Finally, meowing her special meow the mother came hurrying back to her little ones. She was still hungry but knew that after her meal she would be able to take care of her kittens for awhile before leaving them again.
As the days passed the kittens grew stronger. Now their little legs were able to hold them up, and their eyes had begun to open. Mother cat was able to leave them alone for longer periods of time while she looked for food. It seemed to their mother that her babies were always hungry. “Mew! Mew! Mew!” They both cried when they were not busy eating or sleeping snugly next to her.
One day while mother cat was out hunting the kittens grew especially anxious. They were old enough now to see dim shapes, and they could see bits of the world outside their box. Poking their little heads outside they blinked at the bright sunshine that had replaced the clouds. The little black kitten was very brave and she put one paw outside the box to pat playfully at a droplet of water. Her brother scampered backward afraid to get his paw wet. The sister braved a full step into the world when strange sounds came to her ears, and she retreated, as well.
“Look! There’s one! No, two!” cried a voice.
“Oh, you’re tiny little ones,” said another.
The kittens had never heard the voices of humans, and they were more frightened than they had ever been. They both backed up against the back of the box.
“I’ll bet these babies were born during the hurricane,” said the first voice. “It looks like they’re doing ok, though.”
“Mother must be out searching for food. She won’t come back while we’re here, though. Let’s back away so we can take all three.”
The kittens shivered in the box, but at least the voices had gone away. “Mew! Mew!” they called. Maybe their mother would hurry back and move them to safety. Finally they heard their mother’s special meow. They ran to the front of their box and reached their tiny paws up to pat her face. Their mother was so eager to feed her babies that she didn’t sense the humans nearby until it was too late.
“Here you are!” crooned the first human, as he reached to hold the mother cat by the scruff of her neck. She hissed and clawed, but the man had gloves on his hands, and he held her very firmly, but gently.
“Just pick up the box with the little ones in it,” he said to the other man.”
“Good idea. This will work until we get the little fellas back to the shelter.”
The cats did not realize they were in caring hands, so they fought and cried all the way back to the rescue shelter. Once there they were bathed by volunteers. A veterinarian looked in their ears and noses and made sure they were well. All three were pronounced healthy, and the little family was reunited in a comfortable crate.
After two weeks of love and affection the mother and her babies had become accustomed to the touch of human hands. The time had come for all three to find homes. On a bright Saturday morning one of the humans loaded up his van with crates carrying cats and kittens of all ages. He drove his special cargo to a shopping mall where people could adopt a shelter pet.
Throughout the day many strange people came to the adoption area. The little black kitten watched as her mother was adopted by a woman who said, “You look just like the cat I had as a little girl.”
Then her brother was adopted by a little girl who exclaimed, “Oh, Daddy, he is the cutest thing in the whole world! I promise I will take very good care of him!”
The little black kitten was confused. She did not like all of the people talking, and she did not like it when her mother and brother were taken away from her.
“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart,” said a woman. The little kitten looked up and cocked her head. “May I pick this one up?” asked the woman.
“Sure. This one is special. We found her along with her brother and mother living in a box in an area devastated by the hurricane. It’s a miracle any of them survived. She was scouting out the territory on the day she was found, or we wouldn’t have seen her or her brother.”
“Scouting, you say?” smiled the woman. The little black kitten touched her nose to the woman’s nose and purred loudly. “What a brave little cat you are. I think I’ll call you Scout.”
Happily, Scout snuggled against her friend. She had a very good feeling about this new adventure.
This morning we said our final goodbyes to our beloved cat, Scout. She had been struggling for several days, and after many tears we decided to let her go. I’m a mess, so that’s all for now. Peace, people.
My 64th birthday was wonderful! Studly Doright surprised me by taking a day off of work, and we enjoyed a late breakfast at a local restaurant. Afterwards we dressed in our riding gear and took a motorcycle ride to Seminole State Park.
It was supposed to be a short ride—no more than sixty miles round trip, but a section of the road was closed due to a bridge being under repair. Did we give up? Hell, no. Studly programmed a different route into his gps and off we went.
Many, many miles later we reached the state park. There, we found a shady spot to park our bikes and hiked for a bit. The weather was perfect—temperatures in the mid-70’s and an almost cloudless blue sky. Studly posed for me in the “chapel.” See the steeple?
Afterwards we stopped at Spring Creek Resort somewhere near Donalson, Georgia, for a terrific lunch. I ate way too much, but hey, calories do not count on one’s birthday. That’s a fact.
The ride home was easy and uneventful. That is, until we turned into our housing development. The road to Doright Manor is filled with curves and hills, and for some reason, going around one curve I rolled on the throttle and came mere inches from becoming an off-road rider. Fortunately, I corrected my path and stayed on the pavement. The alternative wouldn’t have been pretty, and I likely wouldn’t be writing this blog post right now. 😳
Still congratulating myself for avoiding a major disaster I rolled into the driveway and up to the ramp into Studly’s garage. The bike was at an awkward angle, so I killed the engine and asked Studly if he’d ride the bike into the garage for me. Of course he said he would. That’s why I call him Studly Doright!
But guess who tried to get off the bike without putting her kickstand down? Yes, that would be me. In the blink of an eye I was hitting the driveway, my helmet bouncing off the asphalt and the bike laying on top of me.
Miraculously, only the windshield was damaged in the fall, and we’d already decided the aftermarket shield was too tall for my liking, so we will just replace it sooner rather than later.
My helmet saved my noggin from serious injury. My head literally bounced when I landed. And I landed on my right side. That’s the same side I injured when I fell into/out of bed a few weeks ago, so at least I still have one operational side.
So maybe it’s time I got a stunt double. Contact me if you’re interested. I can’t pay much, but you’ll never be bored.
Does anyone other than me go off the deep end when it comes to adapting to new technology?
For my birthday Studly Doright bought me a lovely new Mac Book Air. Within ten minutes of opening it I was ready to throw it out the window.
My password didn’t work. I called Apple Support and got a guy who was brusque and not at all helpful. A Google search proved to be much more productive.
The new laptop doesn’t have Microsoft Word installed, so I’ll need to figure all that out if I’m to transfer my documents from my HP. And, how does one transfer files when the Mac Book doesn’t have a slot to insert a thumb drive? My manuscripts are all on the HP. Argh!
As of today, I’m 64 years old. I want things to be easy. New tech is never easy. Will there be a point when I say, “Enough!”? How will I know?
Pardon me now. I need to retrieve my new Mac Book from the trash heap.
When I was in my teens, Ringo Starr’s song, “You’re 16,” was a big hit. I even created a goofy dance number to the tune and performed it for my mom and the guy I was dating at the time. Now, I feel compelled to create a special dance for “When I’m Sixty-four.” It could be epic.
Yesterday I had my annual physical. It was supposed to have taken place in July, but COVID got in the way. COVID still played a big part in the visit. When I arrived I had to call the office to let them know I was there. The receptionist put a nurse on the phone who proceeded to ask me approximately 9,375,069 questions as I stood on the porch in front of their building.
One of the questions was, “Do you feel safe at home?” I thought she’d asked, “Do you have a new phone?” to which I answered “no.” Well that set off a whole flurry of additional questions. Finally it dawned on me what she’d asked and I set the record straight. I think I need closed captioning for phone calls.
Then, once I’d been cleared to see the doctor they allowed me to enter the building and showed me to an exam room. Again I was asked an avalanche of questions. One was, “Have you noticed a change in your hearing?” to which I replied “Huh?”
Praying for Eyebrowz 