A New Chapter - Another Cat Story

It was ten weeks, almost to the hour, after losing Andre (our Senior Cat) when we walked up to the counter at the S.P.C.A. and said, "One of your cats has adopted us..."

And so a new chapter begins.

Andre will never be replaced. I wouldn't even want to try. No other cat could hold a candle to who he was and how he grew into our family with each purr, each adventure, each cuddle and each endearing story he created during fifteen years of loving him.

My Youngest suggested we consider getting a dog. I agreed. A different species. A loving little critter who would draw us out of ourselves, our home and old habits.

We aren't "dog people". Dogs require so much attention and exercise and one-on-one loving. They are so needy. Could we do this?

We considered the idea separate and apart and talked of the responsibilities of dog ownership. We decided if we adopted a dog, it would have full reign of the house. Our last dog was sorely neglected and we found him a new family because he deserved so much more than we had to offer.

Have we changed? Do we have what it takes to love a dog the way he/she deserves? Can we wholeheartedly commit to a dog?

We thought it over. I had been reading dog bios written by the foster families of a few different dog rescue groups. I thought if we were going to follow through on the idea of adopting a dog, I really wanted to know as much as we could about the dog and making sure we were a good "fit" before we brought a dog into our lives.

I think we missed the boat on a dog who could have been the one for us. But if I wasn't ready to commit, it was good we missed that opportunity. 

What I did want to see was exactly how it felt to meet and greet some dogs and see if the right feelings came to the surface when we spent some one-on-one time with a dog. Thus, our trip to the S.P.C.A.

There were only four dogs available to be adopted. Two of the four seemed like possible contenders. My youngest had her eye on one in particular, so we took her into the socialization room. And she ignored us. She just wanted out! She cried and whined and had her eye on everything besides us. Clearly, we weren't her dream family either.

I think the dog interview added more doubts than reassurances. I wasn't ready to adopt a dog without knowing more about their personality and whether or not they were good with children. The only thing I felt after we met "Stella" was that we had to be more certain than I felt in that moment.

Then I asked my youngest, "So do you want to check out the cats?"

Well, as they say, the rest is history. We wandered into the first cat room and there was no more room at the inn. They were filled to capacity and we had no idea there was an incentive to clear out as many cats as possible before our New Cat adopted us and made it impossible to leave without him.

There were so many cats. My immediate thought was to get a cat who did not resemble Andre in any way. Andre was one of a kind. I did not want to look for any cat to walk in the paw prints he left in our hearts. 

Orange cats, tabbies, tortoiseshell and every color of cat you could hope to find. And who saw us and immediately started beckoning us to let us out and love him? Another little black kitty.

He was the only cat who came to the window and tried to find his way out of his confined space and into our hearts. He "knew" we were his family. He called to us.

My youngest opened the door and this little black kitty immediately started loving her. Then me. He snuggled. He purred a quiet but steady little purr. And he drooled. There was no going back. "Jet" had found the family he wanted to go home with.

We brought him into our home and introduced him to "Ray", aka "Junior Cat" and recently delegated to our "Only Cat". 

There wasn't one hiss. I would have loved to know what Ray thought when Jet walked out of the cat carrier and into our lives. It seems to me that for a millisecond he may have wondered if Andre had finally come home again, before he picked up his scent and realized this little black furball was an imposter.

There has been a little cat "posturing" going on around here to determine who falls where, in the hierarchy of cats. 

Ray is a beta cat, through and through, and the last thing we want is a bossy little cat taking over his well deserved designation of "King Cat". From every interaction we saw between them, it didn't appear that was going to happen. It was sort of sad to see Ray, our passive, beta cat, fighting to hold onto his title. He made a few aggressive moves (only in voice and stature - I never saw him lift a paw to his new little buddy) to ensure this New Cat knew where he fell in the cat ranks within our home.

But a mere twenty four hours later, the lines in the sand seem to have been drawn. I sat back and enjoyed a little "cat chase" around the house. Jet has brought the kitten back out of Ray and it appears that each of them are falling into a comfortable spot within this two cat family home.

Andre, we could never in a million years replace you. Never.

But when this little cat started speaking to us, from the confines of his cage at the S.P.C.A., it was almost as if a little bit of your spirit came back into our home with this tiny young one-year-old cat. We have missed your snuggling nature ever-so-much. And a cat who loves to curl up on top of, beside and even jumps from one set of arms into another has found his way home to us.

I like to think we saved a life when we adopted our young, new cat. It feels like he has breathed life back into this quiet, one-cat-home. We are so grateful he found us.

Meet "Jet" - a little cat, with a big, fluffy tail

Ray meets Jet

Jet loves this new forest within his new home. Ray supervises

A whole new chapter has begun.
We are ready.

Stop Thinking So Much!

I love to dance. I look back on my years of ballroom dancing fondly and don't regret a moment, nor a dollar, I spent on my most favorite sport in the world. The world of dance.

I learned to follow and I was shown how to lead but I am a follower at heart. So that is when I danced my "best".

When you invest that much time and money in something, your teacher will try to help you improve your skills by continuing to introduce new steps and technique into the mix. When learning a dance routine, the follower should know their part inside and out, with or without their partner. So you have to start concentrating. That is when I ran into trouble.

Some dance lessons were better than others. The lessons where I relaxed, had fun and just followed the lead of my instructor were filled with laughter and good hearted fun.

Then there were the ones where I was frustrated with myself because I couldn't learn or remember my part. I stopped running on autopilot and started thinking.

"You are thinking too much!" was my instructor's light hearted comment as he nudged me out of my head and into the moment and just let his lead, muscle memory and the beat of the music wash over me and let the dance flow.

Every time I started thinking too much, nothing came easy, it showed in my shoulders. They would inch up, I would stop breathing and everything tensed.

"Remember to breath" was another tip my instructor continued to tell me when he could feel my concentration levels take me out of the dance zone and into my head.

Breathe.

Keep your shoulders down.

Stop thinking so much.

Three simple lessons I learned from dancing. Three simple tips which work off the dance floor just as well.

I have been over thinking things an awful lot lately. Too much alone-time can do that to a person. Add that to the flaw in my personality that believes I am personally responsible for all that goes wrong for all those whose lives abut mine and it is a toxic mixture.

I am having a hard time making decisions that involve a second party at the moment.

Ask me to commit to something a week in advance and I shut down. Call me up and ask me to meet for coffee and I'm there. Setting up an appointment that requires two willing parties and me as mediator and I start sweating buckets. Suggest an elusive "maybe sometime next month" message and I'm all over that.

Commitments that fall on the days I normally mow the grass and wash my hair send me into a frenzy. Close all access by road to our home, so my Fence Guy cannot come fix my fence, and block me in so I can't make it to my blood donation appointment, and I am over the moon because I "have" to stay home and not share my evening with anyone else.

Tell me I have to make muffins and bring them, and a family photo to a reunion and I forget how to look up a recipe and think I need to get my family together to update our last family picture (from 2009). "This is too much work!!" my loud inner voice screams in my ear. And I shut down.

I do well when I don't have time to over-think. Set a date, a place and a time and I'll be there. Give me a day to make a batch of muffins and I'll have the job done within the hour.

"You are thinking too much!"

Yesterday morning, I woke up full of doubts over an upcoming trip. I checked into various options. Should I cancel or revise or find a substitute traveller? I polled the masses. Then I called the one who instilled the doubt in my mind to start with. And what was I told? "I think we should just go with 'Plan A' ".

What? It is that simple? Just do what we had planned all along?!

Yes, I am thinking too much. I will try to lower my shoulders, breathe deeply and just dance in the moment.

I'll let you know how it goes...

To Plan or Not to Plan

I am feeling like "planning ahead" is simply not working for me these days.

My frivolous trip to Las Vegas, to see "Dancing With the Stars - Live" in the dead of winter, felt like the most ill-timed trip ever, as Mom's appointment at the cancer clinic was the day before our date of our departure.

It all turned out well. Mom's appointment was light and easy and breezy and she sent us on our way with the best possible news we could have hoped for on that leg of her journey.

I came home and had little on my agenda for the year ahead other than a family reunion. As soon as I got the green light from Mom, I booked us a "room at the inn" (actually a suite at a school which has been converted to rooms) and that was all I could do for sure.

Then Mom hinted she wouldn't mind going out to see my uncle.

I took that cue and ran with it. I found out all the information and all Mom had to do was say "yes". And she did.

We are booked to leave in a week and a half.

Suddenly, my "plan" doesn't sound so good. Mom seems to be having reservations about the flight, with good reason. She has had a long time issue with a "funny feeling" head which doctors have been unable to resolve. Add that existing condition to a 3.5 hour plane ride and I can see Mom's reason for questioning if this is a good idea.

Add to that, the fact that my uncle will be moving into his new apartment the very day we are scheduled to arrive and that just seems like an awful lot of "stuff" for him to be dealing with in one day.

My cousin assured me that she thought it was still a good idea. She said the company would probably be a good diversion for him throughout his transition.

Then I talked with my uncle and I heard the hesitation in his voice. My immediate reaction was "hold your horses". This is too much, all at once.

He is planning on coming out here for a family reunion the weekend following our visit, so our pending visit feels ill timed all around.

If he was the kind of uncle who would be content with just a few quiet visits and maybe a shared meal or three, it would still seem okay to go and visit at this busy juncture of his life. But he is the "host with the most" and he seems to feel he has to gad about and entertain Mom & I while we are out there.

I am seriously considering backing out of everything at the moment. Or make some revisions to "Plan A". But most of all, I am feeling like "planning" is something I just can't/shouldn't be doing right now. It is impossible to know what tomorrow brings, let alone two months ahead of time.

I feel suffocated at times, when I plan too much yet I thrive on the "dream state" of looking ahead and making headway towards a goal.

Maybe I have found my own answer. Maybe I should redirect my plans should be inward or at least close to home.

Maybe I should paint a bedroom or a hallway. Maybe I should finish cleaning the garage or kitchen cupboards. Maybe I should return an email or two and plan to go out for supper or a movie.

Short term planning, close to home may be where it's at for me.

Why are those plans the ones I am shunning most of all? Is it because they are too close to home when I am dreaming outside of that particular box? Or is it because I am in a state of "running away" from what needs the most work.

I think I just may need to plan to be still and complete just one small project. Perhaps if I started taking better care of my home, I wouldn't feel the need to run away from it ...

Running Out of Storylines

When my life is very still and quiet and a tad on the boring side, I sometimes get the feeling like this life I am living is all something that I have made up as I have went along.

All the drama, the thrills and chills or the lack of them. Made up. A figment of my imagination.

Then I recoil inside of myself and think of what a self absorbed soul I am. How dare I believe that the world revolves around me?!

As I walked through the quietness this past little while, I am beginning to wonder if I have been right all along.

Just think of it. When you are a child, you are the centre of your universe. I remember feeling responsible for every action and reaction of those who touched my world. I didn't see (or look) any further than my own reactions and feelings to understand others were a complete and totally separate entity from myself.

Fleeting moments of my childhood flash before my eyes as I write those words. Embarrassing moments that caused me no end of worry. Tears I didn't understand but felt personally responsible for.

Perhaps the first real memory I have that is completely separate and apart from me being the central character within my own story is when my brother lost the tip of his finger due to a lawnmower mishap.

I had nothing to do with the accident and all I remember is mom and dad rushing out of the house with my brother and I believe I called a friend in their absence. I remember feeling empathy for my brother as he healed and came to terms with his loss afterwards.

Then I went about my merry little life, creating drama out of nothing, worrying over things that never happened, thinking ever-so-much-more than I ever spoke and getting all wrapped up in my self absorbed world.

As I made my way through my sheltered and very safe life, I tiptoed into places I had never seen or felt before.

My marriage was filled with honeymoon periods, tension and explosions. It had thrills and chills at every turn, not to mention a baby and a whole new adult world of responsibilities to contend with.

My life was anything but boring. Any time things did get a little tedious, I seemed to reconcile with the current love-of-my-life and that spiced things up a notch. Eventually, my teenage children provided new, yet familiar, challenges ...

I wrote that sentence and suddenly I was back in the thick of raising my oldest son. I am embarrassed to admit that I had not yet evolved out of the "everything revolves around me" stage of my life. I didn't see beyond my own point of view and it was (again) another very self involved state, filled with drama and it didn't go smoothly.

Once again, another turning point comes clearly into focus. It is when I started walking through those teen years with my second son, when I finally started seeing the world through his vantage point a little more. There was still a fair bit of excitement but I didn't take everything personally.

Life got very calm sometime in and around this phase. Is it surprising that I reconciled (again) with my third son's father? Is it a surprise that did not end with a "happily ever after"? Is it a shock that I decided to change things up a bit and go back to school and change careers at age 50? Then reel with the reality of how tough life in the trenches can be?

I found my way back to solid ground again and once my feet were firmly planted, I completed "part two" of the biggest projects (outside of raising my family) of my life. I finished compiling the stories of my dad's family.

That was eight months ago.

Life has become very quiet once again. I don't seem to have the energy it takes to interact with the world and be a vital part of a friendship or conversation or project of any sort. I have become an island.

I have been walking around in my little self absorbed state for a little while again. Then it hit me. It is like I am tired of writing my own story. I've run out of storylines that I want to pursue. "New" is not some place I want to go right now. I want to sit here in my comfortable little life, dust it off (literally), fix it up and just sit here and see how it ends.

I don't have the imagination to start the next chapter.

I believe this is the phase of my life where I should start to play a supporting role instead of the lead.

Perhaps this is part of the reason I have had clips of my past, with old "co-stars" wafting through my head. I cannot imagine a new co-star at this point in my story so I have brushed up old memories and focused on the good parts. Thankfully "life" is very good at providing me with the information I require, just when I need it the most, to remind me there is a reason those partnerships did not endure the test of time.

Perhaps this is why I have been thinking of "grandchildren". I am very grateful my own children did not become parents prematurely, but I sort of thought a mature fatherhood role would be cast one day. Just because I think I am ready for the supportive grandmother role, does not mean that will happen on cue.

Perhaps the role of "supporting person" is that of "mother", "daughter", "sister", "friend" and "daycare provider" to name a few.

Supporting roles take a bit of energy that ebbs and flows with the tides. I believe "the more you give, the more you have to give" rings true to me as I sit here and write these words. I have been too selfish lately.

My pen seems to have run dry. I don't have a new storyline in me and I'm not quite prepared to hop into someone else's "story" and take on a leading role.

Maybe I'm just lazy. Maybe my imagination ran dry. Maybe it's time to get a new pen and start writing again.

Or maybe I should just adopt a dog ....

Life at the Playground

Every now and again, I think everyone should walk a few steps in my shoes and see what I see in a day. 

Perhaps someone else's perspective on those very days are exactly what I need to hear just as much. 

But lately, many times throughout my day, I take a step back and look at my little world in "panoramic view". And this is what I see.

I see four (or five, depending on the day) little individual humans making their way throughout their days here at daycare.

Some days are tougher than others. The days when they are tired or not feeling well or missing being at home with their parents don't usually start out all sunshine and roses.

But most days are a version of yesterday.

I sat still in the living room and just listened to the banter. The girls were immersed in their make believe world and creating yet another new storyline to their never-ending soap opera. The boys bounce in and out and through those imaginative games and become the "monster" or "dragon" or "daddy", depending on the moment. They wear a box on their head (then the girls will notice and follow suit) and each of them investigate the very same world in their own unique ways.

We walked over to the park and that same little group played different versions of the same games as they honed their climbing skills, collected rocks and other assorted "treasures"  and sifted through the fresh, new sand that was added to the playground. 

We came home, dumped the sand out of their shoes and clothes and washed it out from between their toes and moved ourselves back indoors.

The banter throughout the day sounded a little like this:

A moment at the breakfast table:

I can't remember how or exactly what happened but my little 2-1/2 year old by must have bumped his elbow. 

Me: "What did you hurt?"

My Little Man: "My Elmo"

Moment at the lunch table:

I can't remember who was doing what to whom or what party was taking offence to it, as we sat and ate our lunch. But it was a minor little thing and I didn't want it to get blown out of proportion, so I just told (whoever seemed to be having issue with it) "Just let it go ..." Then my little 2 year old girl & I exchanged glances and I started to sing a phrase or two from the "Frozen" sound track: 

♪♫ Let it go, let it go ...♪♫

and she just smiled the biggest smile (like she "got" my humor) and 

her four-year-old partner in play said, "See, Colleen? I told you that you knew how to sing "Let it Go"!"

Moment after snack time:

The same little four-year-old, shouted with glee: "[Our new little one-year-old] knows how to 'high five'!"

Sure enough, I watched and there was our New Guy, "high fiving" everyone, saying "Ha fave!" and just as pleased as punch with himself.

Somehow, I have a feeling he has a whole bunch of tricks up his sleeve that he has been waiting to pull out and show us.

Sure enough, there are little blips in the day that offset the fairy tale quality of some moments.

One such moment was an argument of epic proportions between my two girls. Over "rocks".

These guys have a huge fascination with collecting little stones. My Little Guy found a little stone and my Little Man wanted it. Lucky for Little Man, he had brought two "rocks" with him at the onset of our day and I had put them up (we don't play with rocks in the house). So I retrieved his rocks for him. 

This did not go over well with the girls, so I went outside the yard and came back with a pebble for each of them. End of story. Right? Wrong.

Within minutes my Little Girl was screaming like a banshee. I investigated and my Bigger Girl had three rocks in her hand and her Little Friend had none.

I just didn't have the patience to do it by the books of New Age Parenting. 

I took all three rocks and tossed them out of the play area. There was extreme screaming by my Little Girl and (apparently) some extreme pouting by her Older Friend.

Soon enough, we moved out of that moment and brought out the bikes and cars and tools and within no time, everyone was playing happily once again.

I thought the "Rockgate" issue was behind us.

Then my Oldest Girl went home and as her mom was buckling her into her car seat and asked about her day, her daughter burst into tears over the story where her and her Daycare Buddy "had a big fight".

Oh dear.

Life is tough.

You can go through the day, singing and playing and imagining all kinds of scenarios. And it can all go to pieces in a New York Minute, over the smallest of things.

Life at the playground isn't so different than Real Life, is it?

A Quilt in the Making

My thoughts are as scattered as the individual pieces of a quilt strewn across the floor before they are sewn together to create something unique and personal and beautiful.

I have hoarded too many quiet Sundays to myself. I feel there is purpose behind this solitude. Different thoughts are wafting through my mind due to the quiet. That is something, isn't it?

I know it is time to reach out and share my down-time with friends. It is one thing to think it, another to say (or write) it. It is a whole different thing altogether to do it. Why does it feel so hard?

I'm feeling like a mother-failure in many ways. Maybe it is because I have felt so greedy with my time but in reality that has little to do with it. My boys are all spreading their wings in different ways and this is good. Our family seems to have an "elastic" quality to it. We can pull away from one another but the elasticity of our relationships bring us back to one another in good times and in bad.

I have been looking back and romanticizing my past. I am grateful for that but I don't want to get stuck here. I am happy that I can look back and remember the good stuff, while keeping my feet on solid ground in the present, at the same time. The secret is to look back fondly, have no regrets and move forward.

I have been beating myself up on a rather regular basis lately and I'm tired of that nagging little voice inside my head. I recognize the truth within and know I have to listen to some of what that voice is saying, otherwise I could easily get stuck here.

I've been sitting in "this place" for quite some time now and I have run  out of excuses. It is up to me, and no one else, to start shifting the tides.

I stumbled across this on my Facebook page:

OWN: Oprah Winfrey Network

I think "Facebook" is trying to steer me in a better direction.

I have lost my focus. I don't have a dream to push and drive me. I think I need to open up the gates to the possibilities that are out there.

I think I need to sit down with all the pieces of this "quilt" and see what kind of design I can come up with.

I think it's time for a little Friend Therapy. A good dose of conversation intermixed with laughter and shared history will guide us to where we most need to be.

I say "we" because as I sit and write this, I just received an email from a very good sister-friend of mine and I hear she is sitting in a place very similar to me. Different "pieces" to assemble but feeling a little lost just the same.

Give Them "The World" (and they are happy with bugs and boxes)

Some days I sit still and all I see is all I need to do and fix within our house. The chips in the paint, the wear and tear on the baseboards, doors, walls, carpets and floors. Then I go outside and think of what I would like to do with our prior "dog pen" area and the fact that I should do something about the eaves troughs and windows on the garage.

Then I shake my head and think "Just take care of what you have!" and my focus becomes cleaning, decluttering, sorting, organizing and the multitude of tasks I have put off for far too long.

Then comes a day like yesterday. A day when I sat still, listened to the happy little voices of my daycare family as they played and got along and just made the most of what we had sitting right before us on the deck.

I blurred the edges of my vision and zoomed in on what we have, more specifically I concentrated on the "world" I have created for my little daycare family.

I listened to their banter as they all nestled in the playhouse sitting on the deck, with a little picnic table off to the side and a mat of foam puzzle pieces to create a "carpet" underneath their feet (or soon, a bed and a blanket and eventually a patterned set of "stepping stones" as they ripped apart the mats and created their own version of how they could be best utilized).

I gazed out into the yard and focused on the playground which has paid for itself time and time and time again over the past sixteen years.

Sure enough, the grass is greener on the other side of our fence (a fence which needs to be repaired due do an accident in the alley the other day). But suddenly my gaze was redirected towards what "works" and what is pretty much a dream-come-true for the child version of myself.

I remember playing in the basement of my friend's home and creating a world of make believe with boxes. I remember creating a pretend "house" out of a place in a barn at the bottom of the hill with a childhood friend. I remember wishing for child-sized furniture for this land of make believe.

Then I thought of the little kitchen, indoor picnic table, doll tending centre, dolls and all the accessories I could have ever wished for, that I have accumulated for my imaginative young daycare family.

We have Fisher Price toys bursting out the seams here. Castles, princes and princesses, houses, farms, circuses, a zoo, fences, accessories and all the Little Animals and People one could ever hope for.

We have cars, plains, boats, helicopters, an airport, car mats and a plethora of car ramps. We have trikes, scooters, wagons and little "Fred Flintstone" cars. Yes. Plural. There is more than one of almost every little thing we have.

I have created my own childhood dream within our home.

I would have given anything to live in this "world" when I was a young girl.

I grew up watching "Bewitched" and wishing that I could watch episode after episode of my most favorite show. I also wished I could twitch my nose and make my wishes come true.

And that is almost exactly what has happened.

Children can watch episode after episode after episode of their favorite TV show and not even have to wait for its once-per-week arrival on a television that receives only two channels, three at best.

Saturday morning cartoons? Our kids have cartoons-on-demand at the flick of a few buttons.

Special outings to the beach and visiting the playground that had the "twirly slide" were rare treats in my day. Now we have a minimum of six parks within walking distance of our home; two of which have a paddling pool; two others have spray parks. And every park is new and different and exciting. Heavens, we even have a "park" right in our own back yard!

I dreamed of being able to walk to school (we lived on the farm until I was halfway through Grade 4); now I can see the school from our living room window. I remember having a basketball hoop in behind the garage and thinking we were in heaven. Now, there are two paved basketball courts in the school ground that we can see from here.

Kids these days can entertain themselves by turning on the TV, watching a movie of their choice, electronic gadgets geared from ages "zero" to a "hundred" and tune into the world wide web at a keystroke. And kids know how to do this! 

I take care of an 18 month old who entertains himself by watching videos of himself on an iPad they bring to daycare. Movies?!! Wow!! Home movies were unheard of in "my day". In fact we had to take our pictures on a roll of film which held twelve pictures and you had to send them out in the mail to be developed. And you had NO idea whether those pictures would turn out or not. Now-a-days? Kids expect to see the pictures I take immediately.

All of this. Kids are living in a dream state and they don't even know it.

But the most amazing part of all of this? Do you know what captivates their interest every time? Lady bugs, ants, butterflies and caterpillars. Boxes, margarine containers, rocks and dandelions. 

Give a child "the world" and that is exactly what they expect. Open up the doors and let them explore the world and there is no end to what they can find to amuse themselves.

Here I am, sitting and believing I am living the dream in my dilapidated, neglected house which is filled to the brim with "daycare supplies". I have created the world I have always wanted and opened my doors to share it with my young little daycare family.

And they would have been content with boxes and bugs. Go figure...