Good kitties

My stepmother would shake her head when I would talk to my cats, saying, "You know that they can't understand you..." I told her that I have always been very intuitive with my pets, and that they seem to understand more than people give them credit for.

I used to have a cat named Mr. Penny, who was more like a friend to me than a pet. Sometimes I would be in my room with friends, and he would come to the door and glance at me. I would then say, "He needs more food" or "he wants to go outside." They would ask in amazement, "How do you know that?" and I would shrug and say, "Oh, I know my cat."

Once while we were living in the house in Citrus Heights, I gasped, thinking that I had seen a mouse. (I've had pet mice before, but am not thrilled by rodents who might have rabies). I realized that it was only Sabrina and Tabby's pet toy. They glanced at me (as if to ask if I was okay) and I laughed, saying, "Thank goodness it wasn't real."

Then I looked at them and said solemnly, "Okay you two... if a rat ever tries to get inside this house, I want you to stop him before he ever can." They seemed to be listening intently, but I laughed and shook my head, thinking, "As if they could understand me..."

I let them go outside into the backyard, and 20 minutes later, my mouth dropped open in surprise. There, on the threshold, was a dead rat.

I looked at my cats, who seemed to be proud of themselves, saying, "We did what you asked us to." I couldn't be sure that it had simply been a coincidence and so I patted them on the heads, saying, "Good kitties."

Then, unfortunately, it was my job to dispose of the rat. Ugh! At least he hadn't gotten inside the house...

Naughty kitty

My cats are typically well behaved, but sometimes they are disobedient. Frankly they sometimes listen... like a cat.

They were born in the bushes, and a neighbor girl brought them to me when they were only around 4 weeks old. I took them to the store to buy milk - only until I could take them to the animal shelter. I placed them in a basket and after buying a couple of items, opened it up and saw them curled up together, glancing up at me. I thought, "Oh no... I'm hooked", and ended up buying toys and other items for my new kittens. Once I bottle fed them, and heard their meows with the milk flowing down their face, I knew for sure that I was in for the long haul.

Tabby is the brother to Sabrina, and has always had an independent streak. When he was only about 7 weeks old, he ran through the front door when someone opened it. He learned quickly that we didn't want him to go outside, so he would climb a tree and stay just out of my reach in order to obtain a bit of freedom. He didn't know how to get down, and so a neighbor girl (the one who gave them to me) would have to rescue them. Soon Sabrina would follow her brother out the door, and I would have two kitties in a tree who didn't know how to get down.

Once a hawk flew overhead when Tabby was stuck, and I prayed, "Oh God, please save my foolish kitty. I couldn't bear to see him carried away by a bird." He was saved from harm, but another time when I was able to grab him, he had a bit of fur plucked away by a bird who got a bit too close. Tabby survived his escapades and soon became a friend to many of the neighbors in our apartment. He was a small kitty, but would take on any alley cat who attempted to come into the yard. Yet a mama kitty - half the size of him - earned his respect when he got too close, and she bopped him on the nose. My cat - who wasn't afraid of bigger tom cats - learned to stay a respectful distance from her.

Tabby still loves to go outside, and will come inside periodically. Yet when the sun starts to go down, he will run off if I call him, and kind of look at me as if to say, "You can't catch me." And it's true. I wouldn't be able to. (I've tried, and it only frustrated me.)

When we lived in Kansas he learned to come inside during a thunderstorm, though a few times he seemed to feel brave enough to hide under some bushes.

During a recent California storm, my roommate called for him frantically. I'm sure that he was thinking, "What's the big deal? That distant thunder doesn't frighten me."

Our first winter in Kansas he was startled by the snow on the porch, and tried to shake it off his paw after he ran back inside. He glanced at me as if asking me to please get rid of the snow so that he could go outside. I told him that I couldn't do that, and he would have to wait for it to melt. He never went outside during snow days, but would look longingly out the window until he could explore the outside again.

The next winter he happened to see a rabbit hopping through the snow. He decided that if the rabbit could do it, so could he. I was surprised to see him walk gingerly down the steps, jumping onto some bricks, and then somehow finding a spot under a bush without any snow. He would stay outside for about twenty minutes at a time and then come back in.

Now that we are back in California, he seems to feel that just about any weather is okay to venture out into. About the only thing that stops him is a stronger wind, usually if accompanied by heavier rain.

Tabby still tries to run off at night, and if he ever comes in late I'm sure to keep him in for a longer time in the morning. I tell him that he has to say he is sorry for being naughty, and he will then nuzzle my hand and give me kisses. I know it's an act, but he has to show at least some humility before I will let him out again. Sometimes he will even come in on his own, in order to ensure a bright and early start the next day. He is allowed to wake me in the morning (which he does by sitting very close and staring into my eyes until I look at him) but only if he has behaved himself the night before. Otherwise, he knows that I will simply ignore him, and so he lets me sleep in.

Back home again

I'm back home again, and grateful to be here.

I can't easily explain the turn of events that led me here. Things changed at work: my nice boss relocated, a new (indifferent) boss took his place, and suddenly through a series of unfortunate events, I found myself unemployed. Sometimes God has a way of closing one door if he is ready to open another. At any rate, I took advantage of my new "free time" and chose to come home. I packed up my kitties and set out for California again. I will miss seeing my Kansas family, but it is so good to be near my kids again.

Can you imagine the anticipation I felt as I saw the "Sacramento, 328 miles" (or whatever it says) sign post in Nevada? I remembered from previous experiences that the Nevada side is brown and then things suddenly turn green in California. The sun was just beginning to set as I drove through the Sierras, and into the state that I have grown to love. I wished I had time to stop in Lake Tahoe to admire the beauty of the pine trees, and the lake, but I had to keep going before it became too dark. I said to my kitties, "We're almost there..." and they looked at me quizzically through their cages. They had traveled enough to know that when it became dark we would find a place to settle down for the night.

For a few days after we arrived at my roommate's trailer, they kept looking at me as if to say, "Will we be going again?" They kept expecting me to put them in their turquoise cat carriers. Finally they realized that we were here to stay.

Hugging my kids again was the greatest thing. For any parent who has lost a child (or I suppose for anyone who has lost someone that they love), its the never being able to do certain things with them again that hurts the most. I can't hug Jeremiah again until I'm in heaven, though I will always remember his last, enthusiastic embrace that he shared with me. I had stopped by his father's house to say hello, and he ran out of the front door to me with a big smile on his face, with his eyes lit up in love.

I had shared a letter with him, challenging him to take his hurts and frustrations to the God he used to walk with so closely. He read my letter, and it seemed that he had taken my advice. The change in his countenance was very apparent. When he came over to me that last night, his eyes were shining, just as they did in a portrait of him as a small child, when they shone in innocence and pure delight.

I marveled at how beautiful he was, and the joy that I could see in his eyes. I said, "You did what I asked you to do..." He nodded his head in affirmation, with a smile, and then gave me a hug, saying, "I love you, Mom." My last moment with him, forever etched into my heart and mind.

And so yes (as I blink away the tears that are pooling in my eyes), I was able to come home to Bethany and Joshua, and had the opportunity to hug them again. Life's pleasures are truly the simplest ones, aren't they?

I wonder what God has planned for me. It must be something big, because he certainly has given me time to prepare for it.

I look forward to sharing my adventures with those who care about me, as they unfold.

God is good...no matter what.