Jeremiah Was NOT A Bullfrog

I used to have a tree frog that would come in every night and watch me write. He would always announce himself, sit quietly for hours, then he would say "Goodbye!" and slip away. I named him Jeremiah. I told him I truly did realize he wasn't a bullfrog, but the temptation was too great. Evidently, he didn't mind a good, strong name like Jeremiah, because he continued his nightly visits.

Isn't it amazing what wonders writing opens our minds to? As writers, we seem to be a little better at stopping to smell the roses and see the frogs, for it is their story that helps bring ours into being.

*This a response to a Facebook post from C. Hope Clark. 

  

Synchronized Sprawling

Last night was Dancing With the Stars Elimination night so I was glued to the television.

Woody came into my room and burst into laughter ... "Ya'll are laying exactly alike."

I was sprawled across the bed, glued to the TV.  I could feel Maggie at my feet, and every few minutes, I would rub her with my foot, but I hadn't looked at how she was sleeping.

As Woody was laughing, I raised up and glanced at my little Maggie - and sure enough, we were synchronized sprawling!

Sprawling on the bed with Momma

Subtlety is not in her wheelhouse.

As I have written many times before, Maggie has food issues.  She was a street kitty before being trapped at the tender age of 3 months.  Even after a year and a half in her forever home, she worries she won't get her next meal.

When Maggie first came to rule her new forever home, she wasn't bonding with my hubby - so I put him in charge of feeding.  He works nights, and gets in at 5.30 am - so he feeds her breakfast.  Then feeds her dinner on his way out every evening.

Every day, it is a new tactic to get Daddy's attention.  If I'm awake, we always chat a few minutes.  You know, just catching up before he turns in for his rest, and I start my day.   He gets so little sleep as it is - our conversations are usually very short.  But, if Maggie hasn't been fed first, it's always a hoot to see what stunts she will pull to get her message across that "Da Queen is first."

Her favorite is to rub against his legs, then flop on his feet, assuring he's not going anywhere without her knowledge or consent.  When he is preparing her plate of putty heaven, she stands between his legs and bonks his "jewels" with her head, as if to say, "Hurry, or I'll make the next one count."

This morning, I was awake when he came in, and we were having our usual good morning chat.  I was sitting in my bed, and he was standing at the foot of the bed.

Maggie was perturbed that she wasn't getting her food, and we didn't seem to be in a hurry to rush it out to her.  That's when the antics began.  At first we ignored her to see how long it would last.  Then, it got the better of us and we collapsed into gales of giggles.

She would climb up on the very edge of my bed, sit for a minute, then leap to the other side of the bed.  She was sure to leap high, so she would cross our lines of sight.  Then she would simply slip off the side, and go sit at the door.  She waited a moment or two, then seeing we weren't rushing to the big box with all the food, she would cross the room again, climb up on the side of the bed.  Wait semi-patiently, then again launch herself into a high arc across the bed, return to the door - and gaze back at us.

We pretended we didn't see her.  After the fifth time, we couldn't hold the giggles in any more.  We decided it was torture to make her wait any longer, after all, she is the Queen and undisputed ruler of the household.

Food encrusted nose!

This picture was taken when she was much younger, but you can see the evidence of her morning breakfast.  Notice the food encrusted around her pink little nose!

Maggie and the ghost of Stinker past

A post from a friend brought to mind an incident from a few months ago.

I was asleep on the couch, and Maggie was lying on top of me, and I had my arm around her, cradling her to me.  My other arm was cradled as well.

When I awoke, Woody commented on my sleep position, saying I thought I was holding Maggie in both arms.  I told him I was holding Stinkerbelle.  He didn't understand what I was saying ... in my dreams, I held not only Maggie, but I was also cradling my long lost Stinkerbelle Stanley.

After a year and a half, she is still so present with me, every day.  There have been times when I've looked at Maggie across the room, and saw my Stinky sitting there.  I close my eyes for a moment, then look again to see my beautiful little Maggie.

Stinkerbelle waits at the Rainbow Bridge for me.  In the meantime, little Maggie The Cat is here to keep me company, and love me just as Stinker did, will all her little putty heart.  In return, I will love her just as I loved Stinkerbelle Stanley ... with all my heart. 

Stinkerbelle Stanley

Maggie The Cat

On Stinky's Big Adventure ...

Stinkerbelle hiding in the laundry room.

Woody, the girls, and I had just moved into a new apartment.  One night, we discovered the front porch light was burned out, so Woody and I went out to change the bulb.

Now, Stinker was not one to try to get out - and when she did, she had a little routine we called "stop, drop, and flop."  She would flop down on the porch, and roll around - but she never tried to run off.

This particular night, we didn't see her slip out the door.  Later, when I looked for her, I just assumed she was sleeping in a box or closet somewhere - so I didn't really think about it.  She was getting older, and liked to sneak off and snooze in some of the weirdest places.  We were used to her hiding for hours at a time.  I just assumed I'd find her the next day in a drawer or closet - or when she came slinking down the hall to use her box or eat.  

The next morning, I became worried in earnest, and began searching around 6 am.  Woody and I tore the apartment up looking for her - but, she was no where to be found.  It was then I realized she wasn't in the house and I became frantic.

I started searching the apartment complex.  The first person I encountered was headed out to work and said he hadn't seen her.  The next person brought the news that made my heart sink - he had seen her, the night before, sitting in front of our apartment. He was walking his dog before bedtime, and when they came down the sidewalk - she refused to let them pass, they had to detour around her. 

This was the news I hadn't wanted to hear - she was out and now she was lost.  I searched every square inch of the complex - no Stinky.  I went home and made up fliers and hung them around, asking everyone I encountered if they'd seen her - but, there were no other reports.  My heart sunk further with every passing minute.

I finally let Destiny out and asked her to find Stinkerbelle.  I followed as she circled the building, and went to a parking place behind our patio and sat down.  Now, Destiny wasn't known for being very smart so I decided she just didn't know what I was asking her to do.

The search began.  I covered miles and miles on foot, looking under every thing I encountered.  I looked in drainage pipes, ditches - you name it, I checked it.  As I got too tired to continue - I would return to the house, but as soon as I sat down I would start crying and headed back to search.

At the time, I had a cast on my left arm from injuries I'd sustained in a car accident.  While tromping around in the wooded areas around the apartment, I managed to catch a chigger or two.  A week later, when they removed the cast, my arm under it was covered with bites - they had feasted on me! 

Our old house was close, so I went back there to see if she had perhaps wandered "home."  But, no such luck.  There was no stone unturned as the sun began to set.  I was devastated, with each passing hour - I felt as if my little Stinky was gone, and I couldn't bear the thought of life without her.

I had plans with a friend that night.  Jonthy was coming over and we were going to have a frozen pizza and watch a George Carlin HBO special.  I wasn't very good company, but Jonthy understood - having just lost the love of her life, JJ - a sweet little fat cat that had been her companion for many years.

The Princess on her perch. 

I had all the doors in the apartment open, just in case Stinker should find her way back to me.  Around 9:30, the front door swung open as some one tried to knock.  It was the first neighbor I had spoken to that morning.  Behind him was a lady, whom I later learned was his sister - and in her arms, wrapped in a gray towel was my Stinky. I burst into tears as I grabbed my sweetheart.

"She's kind of messy." the lady warned me as I grabbed my kitten.

"I don't care!"   I replied through my tears, hugging and kissing Stinker.  Stinky stood for a minute or two of the loving, then jumped down out of my arms and headed to the litter box.  Destiny was quietly watching from across the room.  About half way to her box, Stinker switched course and went over and slapped Destiny - then continued on her way.

Stinker used her box, gobbled a half a bowl of food, then headed off to Mama's bed to clean herself and sleep for a long while.  Stinkerbelle Stanley found her way home.

My neighbor told the story of Stinky's big adventure.  He left for work immediately after I saw him that morning.  He drove all the way across town, put in a full day of work, then headed further out to have dinner with relatives.

While they were all inside enjoying their family event, his brother in law came in and said, "Dude, my dog won't stop barking at your truck!"  They all went outside to see what the hubbub was - only to find Stinker stowed away in the spare tire well under his truck.  Stinker never liked men, so when they found her, she wouldn't budge from her spot.  His sister was able to coax her out, and lovingly wrapped her in a towel. 

Stinker had a very tiny voice - so if she tried to let us know she was locked out - we never heard her soft calls.  She crawled in the truck to hide until we were up and around the next day.  When our neighbor started the truck to head for work, she didn't have time to jump out.  Even though she was scared, she didn't move.  She'd had an accident that left her covered with poo.  But, she stayed in her spot.  Had she left the truck at any point during the day, she may never have made it home. 

My neighbor said he'd called the complex, but the answering service didn't know what he was talking about, so he took the chance and brought her to me, just in case.  I hugged Stinkerbelle's rescuers and thanked them for bringing her home.  We talked for a while, then they headed back to their party.

It was then I saw Destiny, still sitting quietly in the corner of the dining room.  I swept her up and apologized to her.  To this day, I have no idea why Stinkerbelle felt the need to slap her upon her arrival!  But, what I realized is that Destiny did "find" Stinker - or at least followed her trail to where Stinkerbelle's scent disappeared.  I thanked her for trying to help her Sissy.

Stinky's big adventure turned out okay, and she was none the worse for the wear.  That night, Stinker slept closer to me than she had since she was a kitten.  We snuggled all night, both so happy she'd found her way home.

Stinkerbelle Stanley

On All The Little Ones ...

I'm sitting here, watching my little magpie in the midst of what I affectionately refer to as the "midnight crazies" - where she just lets loose and goes full tilt boogy.  She tears around the house like the devil himself is chasing her - jumping, and flipping, and twisting, and into everything. 

Every time she passes, she stops and turns that fabulously cute face up to me, eyes wide - and my heart is filled with so much love.  To call her a pet is an understatement.  She is so much more than that.  She is my best friend, my soul mate, my private clown, my littlest sweetheart.

I see so much hateful and horrible things done to cats - without a thought to the heinous acts they are committing.  How can any one do these things?  Dexter and Drake kitties lost their lives, Bernice is fighting ... how can this happen?

Then I take another look at my little furbaby, and I say a quiet prayer, thanking God for giving her to me.   She saved me in so many ways - I needed her in my life.  The feel of her soft fur, the sound of her sweet purr helps me go on. 

So tonight, I send out a prayer for all the little ones that need help, that need a forever home.  I pray for justice for Dexter, Drake, and Bernice.  I pray for more homes, more food, more happiness for all the little guys that didn't ask to be born - but deserve a chance to live.

This I ask in the name of all that is Holy.

On Maggie's first days in her forever home ...

Maggie's very first minutes in her forever home. 

One look was all it took.  I picked her up and asked if I could be her servant, and she accepted the promise of my undying devotion.

The shelter wouldn't let me take her home until she'd been spayed, so I had to wait four days to pick her up.  I was absolutely silly when the big day came to bring my feisty little Mistress home.  Because of our schedules, we couldn't get her until 4:30 pm.  Trust me, a day never lasted so long!  But, it was time, and I almost ran in the door when we arrived.

When the attendant brought her out of the back room of the shelter, she immediately tried to put Maggie in a box without me seeing her.  I stepped forward to give her a reassuring love pat - and almost didn't recognize the kitten she was holding. 

She was salivating profusely.  There was blood caked around her mouth and nose, as well as blood stains on her paws where she rested her head. 

I asked what happened, and the attendant said, "She might have had a seizure coming out of anesthesia, it happens.  She'll be okay.  But, if she's not better by Monday, you might want to take her to the vet."

That night I realized she wouldn't live until Monday unless she got help.  The first thing the next morning, we took a flying trip to the vet.  The seizure was pretty severe - she bit through her tongue and cheeks.  Her little tongue was black from bruising.  She was such a sick little baby.

The vet prescribed antibiotics, and I had to force feed her gruel with a syringe.  It was so traumatic for her because her little mouth was so sore, but without the food and medicine - she would quickly face dehydration and kidney failure.

Fighting for her life. 

It was a battle to get her meds and food down.  Her mouth hurt so badly and it hurt me to have to force her.  She fought like a tigress - and I have all the scars to prove it!  For days, she lay cuddled in my arms or close to me on the couch.  At night, she slept on my shoulder, her mouth pressed against mine. 

A week later on a return trip to the vet, she was given a steroid shot.  Later that night she perked up, and jumped off the couch for the first time.  She began eating on her own.  And little by little, she became a fiery little clown - silly, snuggly, happy, and in love with her life in her forever home. 

It's hard to believe the little waif hiding in the corner is the little clown I snuggle with today.

Sleepy, snuggly, and safe in her furever home.