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.

 

On Waking up Laughing ...

I hate waking up in the morning; I always want to turn over and go back to sleep. Today, I woke up laughing - and what a difference it made.

Woody woke me up to tell me he was leaving the house and taking the cell phone with him.  I was having trouble focusing on him around the CPAP - but, I sat up, and took his report.  Before I could lay back down, he started giggling.

"What?" I yelled through the mask.  I was yelling because no one can understand what I'm staying through my mask - and taking it off starts an aggravating re-seating procedure. 

When he could catch his breath, he said, "I'm sorry, but every time I see you in that - all I hear is 'Danger Zone' playing in my head."

I started laughing, broke the seal on my mask, and shot both of my eyes full of air.

When the air started hissing around the edges of the mask, Woody's giggles grew louder, "Now you sound like a flat tire."

I love my kid, he's so funny and quick witted.  Waking up laughing sure gets the day off to a good start.

On Maggie's new trick ...

I have a kitten of above average intelligence.  In fact, she's so smart - we have a very difficult time keeping things "kitten proofed."

Caught in the act trying to open the door!

It only took her about a week to figure out how to unlatch the screen door - and about two weeks to figure out how the door opens.  She can't turn the knob yet, but, we catch her on the baker's rack by the door trying her best!

Her newest trick is annoying, but funny!  One day, a small piece of trash on the floor was sucked into my fan - and the resulting noise was fascinating to her.  She ran around the fan - investigating the cause of the commotion. That was all it took to set her imagination on fire.

The next days were filled with her "testing" different types of paper to see which made the best noise.  She would get in the kitchen trash can and find something that looked promising, then run into the living room to try it out.  I even found her inside a trash bag I was using to clean the house one day!

She prefers the sound of cellophane - it makes the loudest, crispest noise.  Anytime we open a pack of cigarettes, or a snack - she watches to see where the trash goes, then retrieves it for a trip through the fan.  As I write this, I'm watching her attempt to force the wrapper from a snack cake through the back of the fan.

It's funny, and cute - but extremely annoying in the middle of the night!

On Harry Potter ...

Well, the most important literary series in my time has come to an end with the release of the last Harry Potter movie.

It was a wonderful movie.  Well acted, beautifully filmed, perfectly directed, and fantastic special effects.  I couldn't resist seeing it in IMAX 3D - and it was very well done.  Many said they didn't notice a difference for the most part - but I beg to differ.  While there weren't a lot of things flying out at the audience, it gives depth to the scenes.  In other words, the characters look like real people and not flat images.  And the things that did fly out at you were really great - the best scene was when Valdemort exploded.  As a matter of fact - I leaned over to my husband, breaking the "no talking during movies" rule, and said it was the best 3D scene ever.   The movie was awesome, and well worth the wait. 

I discovered Harry Potter when I was in college.  I was taking a class called "Writing for Children and Families" taught by the lovely Toran Isom, at UALR.  She brought in a section to share with the class.  It was only a couple of paragraphs, but, I was immediately smitten with the story.

My son, Woody, was about 9 at the time, and I thought it was something we might enjoy sharing.  As soon as I left school, I went to the local Barnes and Noble and purchased Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  That night, Woody and I began reading it together.  Woody and I would take turns reading aloud to each other.  I used it as a way to monitor his reading skills, pronunciation, and vocabulary.  Not to mention, it was a great way to spend family time.

As soon as we finished Sorcerer's Stone, I head back to the book store for the next installment, Chamber of Secrets.  While we were reading that book, he went to visit his dad and stepmother for the weekend.  He carried Harry along with him, excited to get the chance to share it with his dad.  During his visit, his stepmonster burned our cherished book, saying it was satanic.  Woody was crushed, and a bit confused.

I rushed to the bookstore and immediately purchased another copy - and we finished it within a few days.  But, unfortunately, Woody's love for Harry fizzled with the last book.  I'm not sure if the incident with his stepmonster was responsible - or if, being a tween, he had become too "jaded" to enjoy the stories anymore.

I continued to devour every page J.K. Rowling wrote.  At the end of each offering, I was immediately hungry for more.  I proudly attended the "release" parties for each - fighting the crowds of kids to get my copy. 

Between Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows, I started a job where I had nothing to do 98% of the day.  So, I started the series again, reading one after another in anticipation of the release of Deathly Hallows.  Two days after the release of Deathly Hallows, I had to travel for work.  When I boarded the plane, I started laughing hysterically.  Every single person on the plane had their copy, waiting until take off for the chance to dive in to the anticipated final.

By the time I returned home, I had read all but the last chapter - and I couldn't bring myself to finish.  I knew as soon as I read that last page, it was all over.  I carried the book around the house, tucked under my arm.  But, I couldn't open it.  Finally, late on Sunday night, I decided it was time and through tears, I read the final chapter - the end of one of the greatest stories ever told.

I was a bit apprehensive about going to see Deathly Hallows Part 2 at the theater for much the same reason. I finally gave in, so hubby and I went to see it Sunday night after it's opening.  There was not a peep out of any of the audience members - a rare occurrence in the movie world. 

When the movie ended, I sat quietly, wiping away the tears.  It was the end of an era - and what an era it was.

Thank you J.K. Rowling for the laughs, the tears, and a story like none other. 

On Destiny ...

Destiny Marie Shireman

Destiny was a rescue.  We adopted her when Stinkerbelle Stanley was 2 years old - as a companion for both my son, Woody, and Stinker.  Woody loved her, but Stinker ... not so much.

When I was a student at UALR, we discovered a little family of cats living on campus.  Destiny's momma was a cute little calico and there were five kittens in all - a couple of gray tabbies, a couple of black kittens, and one tortoise shell calico.  Their den was under the Student Union B Building.

When the kittens were discovered, one of the secretaries on campus contacted me, as she knew I was a cat person.  She asked if I would help in the efforts to establish a feral cat colony.  We petitioned the Chancellor to allow us to start, and maintain the colony.  Unfortunately, the Chancellor was afraid the cats would eat the squirrels - an odd idea, but one he stuck to none the less.  To be honest, the UALR squirrels need some natural control - they are very destructive little buggers.  They gnaw at the corners of trash cans, and get into anything they feel might harbor something good to eat, or fun to play with.

When our efforts to establish the colony failed, we each agreed to adopt a kitten.  A local vet agreed to spay the Momma Cat free of charge.  We originally planned to re-release her on campus, but, one of the group decided to take her home instead (we weren't really sure what the Chancellor would do to her).

We monitored the little family closely.  Once the kittens were old enough to be weened, we planned to trap Mamma Cat and take her to the vet. Then, the next day, as the kittens got hungry and ventured out of their den, we would trap them and they would go to their forever homes.

There was a little area between the building and the bushes where the kittens played every afternoon - safe from the passing students, but still able to enjoy the sunshine outside the den.  

I'm not a fan of male cats, as I mentioned in my earlier blog - they have a tendency to spray.  Sometimes, neutering the kitten will stop this habit, but it's just the luck of the draw.  For that reason, I prefer female felines.  I agreed to adopt the little tortie, for the simple fact that they are predominately female (only 1 in 3000 are male). 

A couple of weeks before "Operation Relocation" began, I would go to Student Union B and stand in the bushes to watch the little ones at play.  After a few visits, I began to talk to Destiny.  She would sit and listen, but she never approached me.  The other kittens would run and hide, but not Destiny.  I thought this was a good omen, that we were bonding.  I would soon find out it was because our little Desi was not very bright.

The big day came, and Momma Cat was trapped and whisked off to the vet's for her surgery.  We waited until the next morning to set traps for the kittens.  One of the girls arrived on campus to set the traps at 7 a.m.  As I was getting ready to leave for class, I got a call at 7:15.

"Bring a box!" I was told - Destiny was the first kitten trapped.  I got to school at 7:45 and took custody of our new little family member.  She was sweet, but very scared.  She didn't mind being held and loved on - which is very unusual for a feral kitten.  When she arrived home that afternoon, she introduced herself to Stinker - and received a swift slap and a hiss for her efforts.  Stinker never did warm up to her - but, she did tolerate her.

Destiny was a pretty good cat.  She was relatively easy to train - but, only because she wasn't smart enough to get into much mischief.  When some one would come to the door, she would run and hide in the cabinets.  But, once our visitor was inside and settled, Destiny would be all over them.  I had to finally teach her that she couldn't get in some one's lap until she first asked permission.  She would sit next to them and meow - it sounded like she was saying, "Now?"  I would explain to our company the procedure - "if you didn't want her in your lap, say, 'Not now.'"  She would repeat the request about every five minutes.  The instant you failed to answer her - she assumed that was permission and she would climb aboard.

Cat Loaf

Destiny was my little chunky monkey - so when she climbed in your lap, her little paws felt like steel tipped stilettos!  But, once in your lap, she would sit for hours, happy as could be.

She and Stinker were quite a contrast - Stinker was long and lean - a beautiful cat.  Then there was little Desi, the chunky little sister - but, still a beautiful little girl.

Now, I've made no secret of the fact that Destiny wasn't the smartest cat.  I think the story that best shows this is the day I introduced her to the laser pointer.  As a planetarium director, I always carried a laser pointer with me.  One day, I was trying to do my physics homework, and Destiny wanted to play.  She sat on the table, and every few minutes, she would reach out and hook my pencil with one paw and pull it away from me.  She was such a sweet little kittie - I could never bring myself to fuss at her - so I would find ways to deal with bad behavior without upsetting her.

After about 30 minutes of wrestling with her for my pencil - I reached over and picked up the laser pointer.  I pointed it at the wall next to the table.  It took a few minutes before she saw the steady red beam - but once she did - she took off after it.  I ran the laser all around the living room and dining room and she chased it as fast as her little fat body would carry her.  It was always fun to watch Destiny run - her belly fat (what we affectionately referred to as her "fat pads") would swing back and forth. 

After a few minutes, she flopped down on the floor, exhausted.  I returned to my homework, and after a while, I realized she was no longer flopped on the rug.  She returned to the wall where the spot first appeared - and there she stayed ... for days.  Leaving only to eat and use her box. 

I tried to show her where the laser came from, but she didn't get it!  I would point the laser at the floor to try and redirect her attention - but, she didn't understand.  So, I let her stand in the dining room and guard us against the return of the evil red light.  Eventually, she realized we were all safe from the red alien dot and wandered away from her post.

Aww, I can't reach my toy.

And so, our little family settled into life - Woody, Stinkerbelle, Destiny, and I.  The girls, as I called them, had a grudging peace, but, on occasion, I would catch them sleeping close to each other - not touching, but close.  When they passed in the hall way - it always ended with Destiny getting tapped by Stinker.

As they got older, Destiny would aggravate Stinker on purpose - she would get as close she dared, then sit blinking as she waited for the inevitable slap.  Eventually, Destiny learned to use this to gain access to the best sleeping spots, or toys.  And Stinker, even though she was the alpha cat, would always cede the disputed territory.  Now, I know you are thinking, that doesn't sound like the actions of a stupid cat - but, it took her 12 years to figure this out.  So, yes, Destiny was a slow learner!

She did learn a couple of tricks, though.  She would "bonk" on command.  When loving on you, she would butt heads, an action cats use to scent mark.  After about 10 years, and hearing "bonk" millions of times, you could ask her to give you a bonk - and she would oblige.  But, her sweetest trick was "pet Mama on the face."  While loving on me, she would invariably take her little paw and stroke the side of my face.  I repeated the command "pet Mama on the face," and when the words didn't prompt her, I would stroke her on the head saying, "Mama pet Desi" then dropping my hand to my lap, I would say "Desi pet Mama."  It took a while, but she finally learned.

Though she wasn't smart, Destiny was a sweet, loving little cat.  She may have taken a back seat to Stinker, but she was never deprived of love and affection (or food).  She loved us, and we gladly repaid that undying love to her.  She would sit for hours,  purring as we stroked and brushed her coarse black and brown fur.  She was a talker, though.  She would carry on conversations with us over anything - food, fresh water, a new toy, and that cat thing - asking us why we wanted to let the water get all over us at bath time.  She loved to chatter at birds outside the window, and wasn't real sure what to think of the squirrels.  She wasn't sure if they were friend or foe - so she would chatter, and meow at them for hours on end.

On the day Stinker died, I was not at home, something I will regret the rest of my life.  Woody and his girlfriend arrived home to find Stinker on my bed where she had curled up on my pillow to sleep and never woke.  But, Destiny was no where to be found.  It took the kids a while to coax her out of her hiding spot.  She was in a cabinet, devastated by the passing of her big sister.

In the days and weeks to follow, she grieved Stinker's passing.  She would walk around the house, calling for her sister.  When Stinker didn't answer, Destiny would sit and cry - a low, mournful, wailing call.

This broke my heart - not only for Stinker's passing, but for Destiny's grief.  Each time she would start, I would cry along with her.  I tried comforting her, but to no avail.  I would put her in my lap and brush her, talking softly to her, but this did nothing to ease her grief.

I found myself in a bad situation in life.  I was laid off, and couldn't find work.  I made the difficult decision to return to my home town and move in with a friend.  Not knowing what the future held for me, I was unsure what to do for Destiny.  A friend of a friend was looking for a cat of her own.  Her daughter had a colony of outdoor cats, but Ms. Sara wanted her own house cat - a fuzzball to spend time sitting in her lap, keeping her company.

I made the difficult decision to re-home Destiny.  I felt it was best for us both, we needed a clean slate.  When Destiny arrived at her new home for the first time, she stayed in the truck while Mickey went to get Ms. Sara.  When her new Mama approached the truck, Destiny sat up on her hind legs and reached for Ms. Sara - as if she had been waiting for this moment.

They became fast friends, and for once, Destiny ruled her roost.  She bossed the other cats, as well as Ms. Sara's daughter - like the fussy old woman she was.  Destiny's new Mama had to put a TV in her bedroom, because Destiny would loudly decide when it was bedtime, and Ms. Sara didn't want to miss the end of her favorite shows!  They had their routine, and they loved each other's company. 

Then one day, Destiny climbed in Ms. Sara's lap and curled up.  Sara suddenly realized Desi hadn't moved in about an hour.  It was then she discovered that little Destiny had quietly slipped away in her sleep.
 
I am so grateful that our sweet, loving little Destiny Marie had such a long happy life - with two Mamas, and two happy families that loved and adored her.  She lived to the ripe old age of 15, pretty good for a cat. 

Destiny Marie

It was tough hearing the news about her passing, I felt as if I lost her twice, and in a way I did.  My little Destiny Marie passed away and I wasn't there for her, but she was not alone, she was safe and warm in Ms. Sara's loving embrace.  

Goodbye, my chunky monkey, you were a bright spot in my life and I will never forget you.  May you rest in peace, little one.

On Ryan Roulette ...

We lost a friend.  Ryan Roulette, my Jazzie girl's big brother, died in a motorcycle accident yesterday in California.

The first time I met Ryan, I was speechless.  He was stunningly handsome, with the most incredible eyes and beautiful complexion.  And then he spoke ...

At that moment, I wished I was 25 years younger and many pounds lighter!

Ryan had the whole package - good lucks, a good personality, and a voice like no other.  Anytime Ryan's name came up in conversation - I would tell everyone I could listen to that man read the phone book.

His voice was creamy, and rich - and rivaled the uniqueness of James Earl Jones.  But, Ryan's voice didn't have the rumbling timbre of Jones'.  His voice was velvety and smooth - truly the voice of an angel.

Ryan had been through hard times, but he turned around.  Once he got to California, he changed his ways - had a job he seemed to enjoy.  It finally looked as though he was going to make it.  Then in a blink of the eye ... it's all over. 

My heart goes out to my little Jazzie girl and Ryan's children.

Rest in peace, Ryan.  We love you and we will miss you.

On Super 8 ...

I thought Super 8 was going to be another cheesy sci-fi movie - boy was I wrong!

Stephen Spielberg and J.J. Abrams teamed up to make a pretty good film.  They used typical Hollywood formulas: alien comes to Earth and battles the Air Force - and the geeky boy gets the pretty girl.  But, putting aside the formulaic script - it was a pretty good flick.  I really liked the fact that the kids were younger, making this a blending of sci-fi and coming of age story.

The cast was good - no top stars - but, some accomplished character actors. In the leading adult role is Kyle Chandler (Friday Night Lights and Early Edition).  He's a talented actor, and it's good to see him in a starring role.  I think his boyish looks have long held him back, and now with age, he's still "cute" but perhaps more marketable.

The surprise was Dan Castellaneta, of Homer Simpson fame, as the pot head manager of the local camera store.  I didn't recognize him as a hippy with long hair!  It wasn't until my husband saw his name in the credits that I made the connection. There are other actors you will recognize, but probably not know their names.

Most notably in the kids' roles were Elle Fanning and Joel Courtney.  This appears to be Courtney's first role - and he did a decent job.  I look to see good things from him in the future.

Elle Fanning (Dakota's younger sister) is a prolific actress even at the tender age of twelve.  She began her career at the age of 11 months, playing the younger version of her sister's character in the award winning I Am Sam.  She has blossomed into a good actress in her own right.

Thankfully, they didn't go over the top with special effects.  The effects were proportional, and well done.  The alien was kept hidden through most of the movie, building suspense until it's unveiling.

There were a couple of goofs - script errors, but these are minor and don't interfere with the story.  Although they never actually state a specific time frame - a news program playing in the background places the storyline in March of 1979.  I doubt many people will realize that the Rubik's Cube was not introduced in the U.S. until a year later.  There were a couple of other minor gaffs, but nothing that destroyed the illusion or credibility.

All in all, it's worth the time.  It doesn't have the heart of E.T. and other Spielberg films, but, it is still a good story, and well made.  Let's put it this way, I was able to stay awake during the entire movie - and for me, that's a feat in itself.

On Cats ...

Stinkerbelle Stanley

In the great cat vs. dog debate, there's no question on which side I land.  Anyone that knows me knows I love all creatures - even snakes and some spiders.  And though I have a special fondness for dogs - I just prefer to be owned by a cat.

Cats are easier.  You can put down food for them to eat when they want, they deliver their poop neatly in a box, and they very rarely require much attention.  Dogs, on the other hand are incredibly needy.  They want attention, you have to walk them in the rain or sleet or snow, they fill your yard with piles of steaming poo, and they can't be trusted with more than one meal at a time - or your favorite pair of shoes. 

I've been the property of some great cats in my life.  There was Woody’s first cat - a little gray tabby named Teazer, a pretty cool cat.  Teazer liked to talk, and we often had long conversations.  To the casual listener, it sounded as if we knew what the other was saying, and maybe we did.  Once she was spayed, she was convinced she was a tomcat.  She spent her nights prowling the neighborhood and her days curled up in dirty laundry.  

For those who aren't familiar, the Amish call the black and white cats, magpies.  Many people call them tuxedo cats.  Just like the magpie bird, the magpie cat has the black saddle on their backs and a pure, white belly - and they talk ... a lot - too much sometimes!

I kept one of Teazer's offspring, a fluffy little magpie named Smudge.  She was so sweet and lovable.  But, unlike most magpies, the quietest cat I've ever owned.  She never caused any problems, and unlike her mom, didn't like the outside world.  Anytime she ended up outside - she would stand at the door, screaming "Ow Mee Ow" which sounded a lot like "Let me out."  That was the only time she voiced her opinion on anything.

I lost Teazer and Smudge when Woody and I left his dad.  We had to stay with my parents until we could get on our feet.  My mother, aside from hating cats - is allergic.  I know - how can anyone hate something so fuzzy and sweet?

I thought my heart was going to break as I put Smudge in a box for her new owners.  She looked at me with those huge gold eyes, confused by what was going on.  But, she and Teazer went to live on a farm where they would have lots of friends and room to roam.  I've often wondered if Smudge adjusted to the outside world.  But, I won't let myself dwell on it - I know she was with good people and they helped her with the transition.

After Woody and I left Mom and Dad's, we found a great little house of our own.  Woody was alone in the afternoons for about an hour, so we adopted Stinkerbelle Stanley.  Stinker was a very unique cat - what I called a tortoise shell calico tuxedo.  I won't lie - she was the love of my life, my soul mate.  My friend, now my husband, often said she was my "familiar."  I let him get by with the witch joke - because in many ways, it was true. She was originally meant to be Woody's cat, but, like all cats - she bonded with the person that fed her and cleaned her box.  There is so much more to say about my little Stinker, but she deserves her own story.

When Stinky was about 2 years old - we adopted Destiny.  Destiny came from UALR - her Mama was a campus cat.  We petitioned the Dean to start a feral cat colony, but he turned us down (evidently he was a dog person).  So a group of cat lovers banded together and made plans for the mama cat and her kittens.  When the kittens were old enough to be weaned, we trapped mama cat.  A local vet spayed "Little Mama" at no cost.  The next morning, we set traps for the kittens. 

Now, I prefer female cats - for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because males will spray your house.  I chose Destiny in advance because she was a tortoise shell calico, assuring she would be a female.  For weeks before the trappings, I would go to the building where our little feline family lived, stand in the bushes, and talk to her.  Everyone could see me, but not Destiny.  Soon, the rumor started on campus that I finally snapped and began conversing with foliage!

All the other kittens would scram - but not Destiny.  She would sit and listen.  She never approached, but listened none the less.  I thought it was because we had a special bond.  I found out later it was because she wasn't very smart.  I often characterized her as having the IQ of a bag of rice.  And, as she was so simple minded, she was the first kitten trapped.  She came to live with us and became Woody's cat.  Incidentally, Stinker hated her, but they co-existed for many years.

Stinkerbelle Stanley died July 7th, 2010 at the age of 16 1/2.  I was devastated.  Surprisingly, so was Destiny.  For weeks, she would walk around our little house and cry, looking for Stinker.  Every time she did - my heart would break all over again, and I would cry along with her.

I was laid off, and made the decision to move in with my future husband.  A friend of a friend was looking for a house cat.  Her daughter had a multitude of outside cats - but she wanted her own ball of fur.  When she and Destiny met, it was love at first sight.  So Destiny went to her new home and became the queen of the castle.  I felt good about the decision, still do.  She had always taken a back seat to Stinker, and needed to be the alpha cat for a change.  I get reports every month or so:  Destiny and her new mom are doing great - a match made in heaven.

After a few months in Little Rock, I began to miss having a cat.  I have always had a feline at my side throughout my adult life - and I felt terribly empty.  There was a hole in my heart caused by Stinker's death, and though I knew I could never replace my soul mate - I had to have that feline presence. My husband would take me to local shelters and I would pet all the cats and kittens.  I called it my weekly dose of fur and purr.

The empty feeling was too great, and the gaping hole only grew.  I was getting depressed, and began missing Stinkerbelle more and more.  The tears came more often, and lasted longer.  I cried for hours when my husband was at work.

We arrived home after one of our trips to visit my surrogate furry friends, and as I got out of the car - it finally came crashing down.  I turned to my husband, stomped my foot and screamed, "Moyer, I need pussy."  The neighbors, sitting on their porch, were stunned at my outburst - and giggled a bit.  My husband got tickled and laughed until he cried.

Maggie The Cat

The next week, I went to a local shelter and there she was ... a little magpie just waiting for me.  I picked her up, held her nose to nose, and asked her if she wanted to come home with me.  She answered in the affirmative and within minutes, her adoption was arranged. 

I told her she could never replace Stinkerbelle and that she had some pretty big paw prints to fill.  She instantly wormed her way into my heart.  Thus began the saga of Maggie The Cat.

On Writing ...

I am a writer.  I love to write, and if I may say so - I'm pretty good at it.

The problem is I can't get started. I have plenty of ideas, but for some reason - the muse doesn't settle long enough for me to put pen to paper. Pretty silly, huh? Thinking I need some mythical outside stimulus to get started. But in a way, it's true. I need inspiration. I need a reason. I need a safe, comfortable place to write.

Rants. Boy, do I have a plethora of rants. Everything from lousy waitresses to the bum that asks if I have an "extra" cigarette. (I've been smoking off and on for forty years - and I have never opened a pack of cigarettes that had an extra one inside) But, everyone does rants. However, I can be funny - and cynical - and thought provoking.

Pets. I've had some pretty cool pets in my life. But, the internet is full of cute pictures and stories of pets. Are my stories cuter? Or more inspirational?

Kids. I raised my son by myself, with help from my parents. There are a lot of single Moms out there - what makes my story special?

Astronomy. I love the stars, I love the night sky - but, I'm no PhD, so what can I add to a field full of writers much more qualified than I?

Pool - Billiards. I used to be a good player, not great - but I shot a good stick. Now, the nerve damage in my neck has made that nothing more than a memory. It was special to my son, Woody, and I. Maybe that's my angle. I called it our father/son time. My time at the table may be a memory - but, his has just began. As his "backer" I go every night and watch him practice for hours on end. He qualified for the National 8 Ball Championships in Las Vegas in August. My goal is to get him ready. Is this a story worth writing? I think so, but when it comes to my boy - I'll be the first to admit, I'm very partial.

Ad Infinitum. There are other things I could write about - TV/Movie reviews, restaurant reviews, the severely screwed up medical system (and how I'm paying for that now), or ... Friends. Life. Death. Politics. News. History ... ugh, I get a headache thinking about it.

So, this is the beginning. I may not write every day, I may write 10 times a day. But, I am going to start right here. Putting real words on virtual paper. Maybe, over time, my story will emerge. You are more than welcome to join me, and even more welcome to comment. In fact, I beg you to visit. I would love input, constructive criticism, or perhaps just an occasional "I enjoyed that" or "good job."