Everything Sirious
This was amazing. I was doubtful just because of the olive oil for no good reason – I used Wegmans extra virgin lemon olive oil and subbed almond milk for the whole milk. Absolutely yummy, very moist, great taste, lovely tea or breakfast cake. (And I love this site for recipes as well).
https://www.thepioneerwoman.com/food-cooking/recipes/a44950730/olive-oil-cake-recipe/
For 25+ years, our job has been to help the cat who needed a new situation find a new home. During those 25 years, we encountered every single reason imaginable for needing to find a new home. Some were unavoidable – the owner died with no family to take the cat. The new baby in the family had repeated allergic reactions that resulted in hospitalizations. The family lost their home and went to a homeless shelter that didn’t allow pets.
Others, not so understandable. One man told me his cat ‘purred too much’. Another lady said that the cat didn’t match the new sofa. And of course there was always the ‘we got a kitten and the older cat is unhappy.’
While at first our emotions bubbled over as we listened to the reasons, we quickly came to several big conclusions:
If the person wasn’t happy, and in particular wasn’t happy with the cat, then the cat wasn’t happy.
Cats are amazingly resilient. We’d like to think that no one is as great at being an owner as we are. But give them another excellent situation with enough love and adoration, and they can be happy again.
People tend to focus on themselves – what do “I” want that makes me happy. That is not always the same as what makes the cat happy. A person may have 12 cats and that fills their heart with joy. But for the one of those cats that is always hiding and tormented by the other cats, their heart may be filled with fear.
Social media allows just a snapshot of the real world. You see a beautiful garden, but not the rusty fence next door. You see a gorgeous beach, but not the pile of garbage washed up on the sand. We crop pictures, adjust backgrounds, frame our subject so that people ‘like’ our photo. You never see the whole story unless you are right there. And with rehoming of animals, there is always more to the story than what we see presented.
Each of us has X amount of energy to use each day. We can use it in any way we see fit – being helpful, being kind, being supportive, or we can use it being critical, throwing stones, casting blame. In the case of animals needing new homes, our focus should be on the animal itself. What can we do to help? Can we share the post? Do we know someone who might help? Can we donate to their cause? Or can we just offer some words of kindness to a stranger who is likely going through a lot tougher time than is presented?
The world needs more kindness and compassion. Not hatred and criticism. If you can’t say something nice and supportive, or help in some way, then scroll on by. Let’s strive to have our actions and words have positive reactions. There’s enough unhappiness as it is without any one of us contributing more.
I SO miss you.
https://youtu.be/cGBrwi8WJzM
(Did anyone else cry their eyes out when Rex Harrison sang this to Sophie the seal in the original Dr. Doolittle? One of my most tearful movie moments ever. Age 8 in NYC, I remember it clearly.)
I knew he didn’t have long to live. And he was nothing like I wanted. I wanted someone I could mold – someone I could grow with, who could grow with me. I was going to shape their personality – going to make them just like my last one – going to create a replica of my first soulmate I had growing up. I had to have a kitten.
I had searched everywhere. Watched the classified ads. Scanned the bulletin boards. Even posted a few “Wanted” ads. Nowhere could I find that perfectly pointed, bat-eared complainer to be my bud. True, it wasn’t the heart of kitten season. But they were still being born, I knew it. The neighbor down the road had a slew of them – black, orange, tabbies, calicos – but no Siamese. The dumpster at the Landfill was overflowing with them – and I even saw one that mimicked a tortie – but they were feral. I had never imagined it could be this hard.
And then I came of age. The internet. But of course. They had everything, or at least, a way to find it. And so I did my search.
Low and behold, there it was. A goldmine. The candy shop of all candy shops. One stop shopping. I scanned the pictures, all 115 of them. Available in every color, shape and size. My eyes glistened. I could feel him calling to me. Just a click away, the address loomed larger than life. There was a local rescue that was jam packed with cats – who knew?
The tips of my fingers tingled as I scanned the photos. Would he be there waiting for me? Would I know when I saw him? Would I see it in his eyes?
My heart sank. “Left in a basement for 8 years, I nip for attention.” “Got given up for eating the dog’s food and throwing up everywhere.” “Sensitive stomach, special diet needed.” Oh no. None of these sounded right. They were too old. Too encumbered with issues. Too behaviorally involved. I had just lost one, the heartache had been so deep. I just couldn’t go there again. Besides, they would never bond with me. They had loved someone else – I could never be the apple of their eye.
Maybe if I called. Maybe there were other cats not yet on the website. Maybe they had my soulmate waiting in the wings. Maybe I could explain just what I needed and someone would understand. What did I have to lose?
“… an application process. We don’t get kittens that often…..We concentrate on matchmaking of personalities….. 3-5 days to get approved….. You’ll be assigned an Interviewer….You should be approved before visiting…..” Goodness. I wasn’t adopting a child. This sounded like an incredible amount of work. Since none of the other adoption avenues were fruitful, I guess I didn’t have much to lose. Might as well start the process, though it certainly seemed more tedious than necessary.
(Five days pass by…….)
So I’m finally approved. While I know they are only concerned I provide a good home, I feel as if they have checked me inside, outside and upside down. I’m on my way to the Rescue Center where I’m hoping the cat of my dreams will be waiting. Someone small, cute, bouncy, silly and mischievous, all wrapped up into one. Someone who will pounce on my shoelace and climb on my shoulder and snuggle in my hair. He’s out there, I just know it……
The cats know why I’m here. Some of them come running, having mastered Adoption 101. A few amble nonchalantly in my direction. Several peer from atop perches scattered around the room. My heart beats fast. I talk with each one, and we carefully size each other up. Introductions are made. I wait for that moment – that clicking of souls as we search each other’s eyes for the sign. An edge of panic creeps in. What if he’s not here? What if, of all these cats, my soulmate hasn’t yet arrived?
The Director is patient. She discusses each cat in depth – their likes and dislikes, their quirks and idiosyncrasies. They all seem nice, but no one fits quite right. Just as I was afraid – they’re all too much of this, too little of that. I try to squelch my disappointment. I can wait, there’ll be another time. I have to work hard to keep my tears in check, as I listen bravely to the Director telling me not to worry, that someone will come along….
As I turn to leave, a twitching ear poking from under a blanket-covered lump catches the corner of my eye. Not holding out much hope, I figure ‘what the heck’ and point to the lump. “Not the best candidate,” says the Director. “An older gentleman, medically involved and behaviorally challenged, he’s on his umpteenth home in the same number of years. We figure he’s probably here to stay, which is fine, but he will be close to impossible to place.” My curiosity is peaked. I lower myself to ear level and gently lift the corner of the blanket…………
Three years later, and I still haven’t gotten the kitten who will pounce on my shoelace and climb on my shoulder and snuggle in my hair. Instead, I got a cat who upchucks when he’s bothered, who pulls his hair out when he gets nervous, and who often doesn’t make it to the litterbox. I got an old guy who sits on the side of the tub and holds deep, meaningful conversations with me, who snuggles in my arm with his head on my pillow every night, and who, without reservation, adores me for me. While he looks nothing like what I expected, I truly have found my soulmate.
You’re getting slower my friend, but that’s okay. You look a bit confused, a bit dazzled at times by the same environment. The light in your eyes is there, yet it is blurred. Your voice is raspy – you ramble on and on about things that were, and are, and should have been. You look up, ever so loving, ever so needing, yet ever so confused. Your daily sojourns become residences; your historical curiosity becomes confusion. You enjoy, and appreciate, and bask in the warmth of a kind hand, a warm heart, a soft voice – yet you are bewildered. Each visit is a trek of immense proportions; a journey with destination unknown. You appreciate yet question, determine yet query, navigate yet search the horizons. A soft touch, a reassuring sound, a gentle whisper, and all is calm.
You may question; I will answer. You may be lost; I will find you. You may search for dinner; I will bring it to you. If you can’t find the litter, I will show you, and if I can’t, I will clean up for you. I have made a commitment to you – I will honor that commitment; I will encourage, protect, provide for and support your needs. I am there for you, because you are you, and I love you.
Don’t ask me why, but I love frogs. This isn’t an early childhood thing, as a matter of fact it came about within the last 20 years, when I became really serious about gardening. We have a small garden pond and every year, it is inhabited by one giant frog and sometimes, if we’re lucky, an offspring or two. We put a heater in the pond in winter to keep it from freezing over, and the frog(s) (or their offspring) show up again in the spring. When I found one deceased in the pond one year, I was sad for days. Another year during fall clean up I found one hunkered down under piles of leaves near the pond, and felt awful about disturbing him. I’ve gotten some great pictures over the years; some years he/she is quite tame, and lets me get quite close, other years not so much. Don’t know what it is about them, but they are just so spectacular!
I have had multiple dogs in my life – as a matter of fact, when we moved to this house, we brought two dogs with us, acquired a dog from a neighbor within the first month of living here, lost a dog, and then acquired three more from various rescues shortly thereafter. Which brought us to a total of FIVE which was way too many with all we had going on with rescuing cats. After all five passed from age-related issues, we were dog-less for awhile. Then I came across a picture on the internet – and who could resist! This gal is just the best! Suffice it to say that all of my best buds – best dog, best cat, best friend and best husband – I have found on the internet! If you’ve had dogs, which one is/was your favorite ever?
So who am I, anyway? A question that many of us spend a lifetime trying to figure out . . .
The older I get, the more introspective I have become. On the surface, I love baking and flower gardening, reading, staying fit and being an introvert – hunkering down at home and feeling cozy. As I reflect on these hobbies, I realize I like to create and cultivate pleasing things – be they flowers or desserts – to keep my world in order, under my control, and pleasing to my eye. I spend quite a bit of time reading, often gravitating to the stories where the protagonist overcomes some sort of trauma – clearly a reflection of my childhood. I work hard to stay active and fit, finding a great release in physical activities such as karate and the punching bag. And I love my home of 30+ years, a quiet, comforting environment where I can feel nurtured and safe. A number of deep things going on there, but then, don’t we all have some kind of trauma we struggle to overcome?
I feel both appreciative and accomplished – a nice double whammy. After heading in several different directions, I was ever so fortunate to have built and led a rescue organization for 20+ years that saved 12,000+ cats. Not everyone gets to have a career that they love while working out of their home, and in the process meet not only their soulmate (as in hubby), but to make some amazing lifelong friends.
I have written a book about my experiences (Rescue Meez, very pleased with it); gotten my black belt (just recently, in my 60’s); and am finally in a place where I feel comfortable slowing down enough to appreciate the little things. I am also very proud that despite a family history of alcoholism that stretches miles and miles back through the generations, I have broken with tradition. As much as I bake, this was not necessarily a piece of cake, and has made an enormous difference in my search for happiness.
I look forward to sharing my recent-found love of life through nature, culinary arts, great books and appreciation of the world around us.