Monday, November 03, 2014

THE CATS WHO LOVED ME

From early childhood to present day I've always been a cat lover.  And over the course of my life, I’ve owned a variety of breeds. Since 1994 Himalayans have most graciously allowed me the privilege of living in the house with them and feeding them. I often told people they ate better than I did because the cat food they consumed is Science Diet @ more than $30 per bag. If you aren't familiar with the breed, Himalayans have Siamese markings called “points” and like Siamese cats, they're highly intelligent, have a melodious voice and beautiful blue eyes, but they unlike a Siamese cat their bodies and fur were of a Persian cat.  A few characteristic I've always found to be fascinating with this breed is their love to pose and their need to act regal in all situations.   

This breed is not overly active, but they do like to play and be involved in whatever activity I'm doing. For example during my computer time, I always had company nestled around me in various spots. Draped on the tower when I owned a desktop computer, positioned on the stool next to my desk, strategically positioned on top of the printer and on the back of the sofa positioned behind where I sat, they all found a spot to best “help” me type.  Not only did they assist me at the computer, but they scrutinized all my activities and followed me from room to room. I had about a two minute window of time to return if I left before they'd seek me out where ever I was. If I went to the bathroom, they'd have to “bond” with me while I was in there. It was senseless for me to attempt having any privacy because they'd thump and cry at the door until I let them in. My bathroom time usually consists of grooming, petting and sweet talking them.  Too much togetherness just wasn't a concept any of them seemed to grasp. 

I first got involved with this breed in a breeder capacity. When my breeding days were over, I kept the mother and father along with two males from two different litters about a year apart from each other. My clan consisted of Dixie, a small tortie-point female, Beavis, a very large blue-point male and their two sons, Chewy, a large seal point male and Whitey (Dwight Cat), a beautiful flame point male who was a stereotypical "blonde" in every sense of the word.

Dixie was the resident schizophrenic who developed a strong dislike for her two sons who loved to aggravate her. When her space was invaded she lunged at the violator. The older she got the wider her personal space got.  It was comical to watch the males walk way out around her to avoid getting snapped at and/or bitten. Her "husband", Beavis was the only one she tolerated and allowed near her and although she appears to have a dislike for all other cats, she was always very affectionate towards humans and loved to talk to everyone and tell them about the horrible males she had to live with.  That sounds like a typical female to me! 

Beavis was a gentle giant with the softest little voice I’ve ever heard, yet his purr sounded like a loud motor boat. Beavis didn't need to be petted to purr. Sometimes merely looking at him or talking to him would trigger it. One of the funniest things Beavis would do is growl like a dog when someone would knock on the door or ring the doorbell.  He was definitely the Alpha male and at the very top of the pecking order in all feline matters.  He had a very gentle, loving demeanor, but about once a month he kicked ass to make sure everyone knew who was the boss!  What usually started out as him giving them a bath turned into a kitty wrestling match.  As soon as they'd tap out and show submission all would go back to normal until next time.  It was hilarious to watch 3 large tom cats give each other baths and no matter how old they got, Whitey remained the baby of the family and was treated as such by his entire family...humans included. 

Chewy (named after Chewbacca from Star Wars) reminded me of an Ewok not a Wookie when he was a kitten.  It didn't take him long to train me to his liking and he deemed himself “my cat”.  That position was his until the day he died from cancer.  He knew exactly how to get his point across and as long as I complied everything was all sunshine and rainbows. His loud voice freakishly resembled Chewbacca's voice. He did tricks like a dog and “flopped” on command.  Flopping consisted of falling over and landing with his head on my foot. The maneuver took skill and grace and was funny to watch.  Chewy never learned to purr until he was around 7 and when he finally did learn it was in an erratic, unnatural pattern.   It was something he never got the hang of doing, but that was okay because he after all was Chewy.

Whitey was the baby of the family and the cat Chewy picked out to keep. When Whitey was just a small kitten Chewy kept separating him from the other kittens as the time grew near to sell them.  He tended to Whitey like a mother cat would and never stopped mothering him even when he became an adult cat. Instead of selling Whitey, I kept him because that's what Chewy wanted and Chewy always got everything he wanted.  Whitey was very vocal from an early age and has a wide range of cries and noises he made. His most memorable sound sounded like he was saying “momma”.  This was cute except at 2 am when he got on a rant and would tear through the house running upstairs and downstairs crying for “momma”. Whitey also loved to be “spanked” and talked while he received a spanking.  His favorite "spank me, baby" tool was the back scratcher I keep on my desk.  I would gently spank him and he would tell me all about it with such fervor.

Last night, Whitey passed away at the age of 18.  His mother, father and brother who had died several years ago had been cremated and their ashes had been stored in my closet until they were all buried together early this morning.  Yes, I'm sad, but feel blessed because they filled my life with such love and joy for so many years.  They are and always shall be the cats who loved me. 

Thursday, October 23, 2014

IS IGNORANCE REALLY BLISS?

I was just thinking about how quickly so many people seem to jump on the paranoia bandwagon when it comes to things like the threat of a possible Ebola outbreak in the United States or the dreaded, yet over-hyped Avian influenza (bird flu) from a few years ago. They'll run out and buy hand sanitizer and face masks, yet when the AIDS epidemic hit about 30 years ago it was and still is in many cases next to impossible to get people to practice safe sex. Wear a condom? I don't think so!

So what is it about sex that seems to make a person's judgment fly out the window? Does playing Russian Roulette heighten the sexual experience? Do people's keen sense of denial keep them from believing that something like AIDS happens to other people and not to them? I guess it's the same thing with someone who smokes and then is actually surprised when they're diagnosed with lung cancer or people who eat nothing but junk food and sit on their butts and then wonder why they've developed Type II diabetes or heart disease. So what does it take to make people actually connect the dots and realize that health warnings whatever they are pertain to everyone and not just an unlucky few? Is ignorance really bliss or is ignorance a silent ninja assassin?

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

A RESILIENT HEART

I'm sure a therapist would have a ball analyzing my poetry.  Some say the eyes are the mirrors to a person's soul, but since you can't see my eyes, I offer up my written words as testament to who I am and what I have lurking in the darkest recesses of my being.  I seem to always be very closely connected to what the heart feels and how truly resilient it is.  A person's healing capacity always amazes me...especially my own.

This week's Words for Wednesday again brought me mental images of love and struggle, but also of somehow being a better more open person because of that pain and struggle.  The words this week in which I wove a poem were: 

Utopian
plagiarism
necktie
automatic
spinster
devout

OR

navigation
tribulation
propagation
explanation
sensation
adulation


A Resilient Heart
 


She had many days of Utopian love
Where her heart’s plagiarism was written proudly
With many empty, unanswered "I love you’s"
A stabbing sensation to be broadcasted loudly.


Love at first sight was the automatic explanation
For adulation on love’s battle field so gory
She was a decorated warrior, a lonely spinster
Upon whose chest she wore tribulation with such glory.

Although navigation along the sensual garden path
Without propagation she was barren and deemed quite empty
But rich without love’s flowery neckties and glittery things
This devout spinster’s heart was resilient, pure and free.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

THE UNSHUTTABLE PIE HOLE

I took my mother to see Gone Girl yesterday. The movie definitely had a different twist to it and Ben Affleck is easy on the eyes so it was enjoyable/entertaining on a several levels.  But what I admire most about Mr. Affleck isn't the ease at which he does with any onscreen nudity or his obvious eye candy appearance, it was that he wouldn't/couldn't be filmed wearing a NY Yankees baseball cap (some things just aren't done under any circumstances especially if you're a Boston Red Sox fan).  I also admire his extensive political knowledge and wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't throw his hat into the political arena someday.  Let's face it, stranger things have happened. 

While my mother and I were at the theatre for our girls' afternoon out, we encountered what probably is a quite common problem for people attending any movie regardless of the time of day. Let me ask everyone a rhetorical question...why do people to go to the movies only to sit there and talk all the way through the movie? Furthermore, if you are going to talk all the way through the movie, why not sit up back in an almost empty theatre so you won't bother those people sitting close by with your constant talking?  Perhaps that makes too much sense for someone who obviously has a problem with playing well with others and coloring within the lines!

We had a couple behind us that drove us crazy because they wouldn't stop talking. I shushed them a few times to no avail. I guess I've gotten soft in my old age, but since you never know when you're pushing anyone too far and you can't second guess anyone's reaction to confrontation, I probably should have gone out and gotten the manager to do my bidding for me, but honestly, I didn't want to miss any of the movie. 

I really think along with the before movie announcement to turn off your cell phone, it should include an announcement about keeping your pie hole shut throughout the movie.  I know, I really need to stop being so idealistic, but hoping and dreaming seems to be part of my basic genetic make up. My idea probably wouldn't be much help because some people are just plain rude and think rules, laws and common courtesies apply to everyone else and not to them.  So where are the Duck Tape Police (DTP) when you really need them and what would Emily Post do in this situation?  Does the Emily Post Movie Etiqutte Manual have a section covering the unshuttable pie holes of the world?  If not, Ms. Post, it's time to update your material.

Friday, October 17, 2014

THE CIRCLE OF LOVE


I've been "away" for awhile and it feels like I really have come home in more ways than one. Jumping back into Words For Wednesday, the words for this week are:

insubordination


inducted
despair
plethora
museum
retribution

0r the phrase, 

coldly clinical...cunningly calculating

In lieu of my recent family drama, I felt it was appropriate to use the words to express the emotions and  journey my heart has travelled recently. 

 
 
















Was it just life’s insubordination
A lack of emotional coordination
An imbalanced heart
Caused by an unbalanced start
Love can be so tilted and twisted
We’re inducted then resisted
A plethora of our heart’s delights
At times range from despair and fright
Walls are built and become a museum
A place to observe, but never just be them
Our heart begs to think, but don’t feel
Because nothing is real
Nothing is real
Nothing is real
And then retribution
Our brain’s contribution
For love gone bad
When we’re sadly mad or madly sad
Whichever we are
Our heart’s gone too far
When that line is crossed
And our feeling are tossed
To the wind
To the wind
To the wind
Then we reset and begin
Again and
Again and
Again.
Endlessly we love
Infinitely above
My heart has endured
And my pain has been cured
Again and
Again and
Again.