Nomie and Junebug, before and after.

Nomie and Junebug, before and after. The first picture was taken around June 20th, 2012. The second picture was taken on the 4th of July.

My Summer, so far… the summer of the kittens.

My Summer, so far… the summer of the kittens.

It started innocently enough—with a walk. My daughter and I took a walk one evening, and yes, in truth there was a motive behind the walk, but I certainly never expected it to wind up like it did.

First, I suppose, I should tell the back story.

For a brief, shining time, we were lucky enough to know a black tom-cat named Casper (my daughter named him, and since he was all black I thought a name associated mainly with a cartoon ghost was really cute) At any rate, Casper disappeared. His visits had grown less and less frequent, and he was in worse shape each time he arrived on the front porch to say hello. Fighting had left him bloody, scabby and scarred. I tried to “make him stay” by keeping him in the house, but he wasn’t having it. He would meow constantly until he was let out, and if that didn’t work he would spray. Usually in the bathroom, on the shower curtain, and occasionally he would use the dirty clothes hamper as the target of his displeasure. He would make himself as annoying as possible until he was set free once more.

I used to say a silent goodbye to him each time I watched him amble away down the driveway because I had a feeling that sooner or later it would be the last time I watched him go.

And then it was the last time. Casper was gone.

A week went by. I called, out on the porch first thing in the morning, last thing at night, I yelled for him but he never came. After a few weeks passed I was sure that the reason he didn’t come was because he could no longer hear me. He was gone. I still called, but not as often. I knew what I didn’t want to know. He is gone. I cried.

One evening I went outside to check on my birds (chickens, ducks, geese—we have an array here.) From the shadows beneath the weeping willow tree yellow eyes watched me. I caught a glimpse of black fur and my heart soared. Casper! But it wasn’t him. Instead I saw her.

She was too small to be Casper, and her dainty features immediately told me that she was a female. She wanted to be friendly, but couldn’t quite allow it to happen. She’d run, but then turn and meow like she wanted something. We tried feeding her, but she wasn’t really interested.

At some point, either right before or right after this, I heard about a stray cat that had a litter of kittens. The sole purpose of our walk that night was to determine if the little black female was the mother cat we had heard about.

She was. Josey was the first to spot the kittens. One disappeared into waist high weeds, but the other was too slow to escape. My daughter was holding her and I heard the words I knew were coming.

Hey, Mom. Come look at this kitten.

I could see the kitten in her hands, and we all know kittens are cute, so I walk towards them assuming that Josey is going to say Awww, it’s so cute, can we keep it…

I had the word no ready in my mouth. No. A two letter word. Easy to say. No. We can’t keep the kitten. No, we don’t need another cat—

we still have seven cats at home.

Then I saw the kitten. A long-haired calico. Her paws looked big on her little body. I wondered for a second if Casper was her daddy. She was pet shop calendar pretty… except that she was hideous. I was fairly certain she didn’t have eyes. I realized at that point why my daughter wanted me to see the kitten.

We took her home. She smelled like death. I isolated her from the other cats and put her in a big dog crate with food, water and a litter pan. She cried, but mostly she slept. I didn’t—at least not very well. I kept wondering about the kitten’s sister. The short-haired calico that had disappeared in the weeds. It took several more walks before we caught her. She was nearly in the same condition as the long-hair. She had one good eye, the other was horrendous.

I called the vet and on a sweltering afternoon we took two kittens to his office. My husband was less than thrilled. I spent money we didn’t have on kittens we didn’t need. But those kittens needed us. The first time I heard one purr was that day at the vet’s office.

So, having just said my goodbyes to Casper (also known as Cat’sPurr and Prince Caspian) I moved ahead into another chapter of life- taking care of sick kittens.

We have named them Nome and Juneau (Nomie and Junebug). I think it’s safe to say that we all pretty much love them now, and while they still need us (and several more visits to the doctor) I think we need them now too. Funny how life works out that way—you find things you can’t live without when you aren’t looking for them.

I hope you all have a happy summer.

~Melissa

I’m turning- HOW OLD??????????

I haven’t done a blog entry in forever!

I lost my father on October 24th. He passed away relatively quickly, with little time spent in the hospital, and for that I was grateful. He did not want to be there. The second time I went and sat with him he said I hope this doesn’t take too long.

It has taken a while to try to assemble into words the jumble of thoughts in my head. I still don’t know if I am ready, but today I felt like trying.

People call me more now. I probably don’t seem very appreciative of that, but I appreciate all the support I received from family and friends. But I also appreciated the nonsupport. The people who I knew knew, but didn’t say anything. After a while grief is like water, and if you don’t get out you’ll drown in it. Sometimes a well-meaning hug is the last thing you need, because you just don’t want to be reminded. Like when someone calls and says, how are you doing? That’s so much better than How are you doing since your dad died?

Um, I was doing pretty good until you brought it up. I don’t need you to remind me, I’m aware that it happened.

I am doing okay. I have good days and bad days. Little things will remind me, little things will make me cry. I worry about my mom, but I swear there are days when I think she’s tougher than me.

I miss my Daddy.

I’m 7 whole days without anti-depressants. They gave me a whole series of bad side effects. In less than two months I’ve gained almost 20 lbs. That in itself is depressing. Tomorrow I turn 45, which I could be depressed about, but why bother?

I have been married 14 years as of today. I am alive to write books and laugh with my friends. I am here for my kids (and I can hug my raccoon.) I never thought I would get this old, and now suddenly it’s not that old at all. I can play with my goats, I can watch the sun rise. I could write hundreds of pages of the good things I can, and will, still do- but I won’t bore you with all that. I’ll just end this by saying that if you keep your eyes open it isn’t hard to find things that make you happy.

So I have decided that tomorrow will be a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And yes, I really am turning 45 years old.