A Kiss of Darkness

~~When you have had a pet since you were eight years old, you really feel the lack of having a warm, little, furry animal to love. When we married, we didn't have a choice to take our beloved elderly pets with us to our apartment. It was clearly a NO PETS ALLOWED sort of place. So my kitty, Etcetera, and John's dog, Trouble, had to stay with our parents. How the two would have gotten along is a question that will never be answered. Neither lasted very long, though, and we were soon truly petless. Until...
~~...1980 when we began to extensive renovation of John's grandparents' house in Temple. It's the lovely lady home you've seen all spring in my posts. We moved on September 1 and on September 5, I had us a new kitten. She was small and all black. In fact, she was too young--only five weeks old, but she was ours. I named her Darkness. No usual name like Blackie nor Midnight for my kitty. ; ) Her yellow eyes glowed in contrast to the glossy fur. The vet did ask me what I paid for her. I told him nothing. He grinned and said, "Good. Because you now owe for flea treatment, testing, and worming." I guess $70 wasn't so bad...
~~The first night we took Darkness home, we put her to bed in a large appliance carton. It had all the comforts--litter box, food, water, and bedding. But in the morning, Darkness wasn't in it. Her tiny claws had nicked the side where she climbed out. Now where would you go in a 2000 square foot house when you are only the size of a person's palm? We began the hunt among the boxes and the furniture and finally found her. She had scaled the sofa and was sitting, paws tucked in regal splendor on the folded afghan in the living room. And so the Queen had arrived. ; )
~~From that day forward, she took over our hearts and settled in. And never stopped amazing us. We knew cats greeted each other by touching noses, so we would touch her nose and make a kissing noise. Imagine our surprise when she began to "kiss" us back, smacking her lips. We then would make the sound when we came in the room and would then come over a repeat the nose touch routine. Darkness began to kiss back from a distance. But the day that she kissed us first from the other side of the room was a red-letter day! Who has ever had a cat who blew kisses before? ; )
~~I'll continue Darkness' story in later posts. You've not seen anything yet!

The Day After

~~It's the day after the 46th Georgia Author of the Year Awards and I didn't win. And that's okay. I have learned so much and I still get warm fuzzies from seeing my book on the table with the other nominees. Check out the photos. My book is the third from the left on the top row. It's a funny thing how something so simple as seeing the cover you designed standing out and shining can be. Simple and moving. An Easter Walk was nominated in the Creative Nonficiton Inspirational category.
~~I'm thankful to John for taking me to the ceremony. We met Joann Dunn, and Frank and Mary Rogers for supper then went to the KSU Center. Joann was nominated in poetry for The Implied Now and Frank's book, Upon a Crazy Horse, netted him a nomination in First Novel. That's a fine sampling of the creative output of the Carrollton Creative Writing Club. Here's to all of you for the lovely words you spin. ; )

Puff, Malek, and Etcetera

~~The title says it all--at least to someone who knows about my first three cats. I received permission to get a cat when I was eight. I never looked back and thought about what that really meant until much later. What I received was permission to love a being outside of myself on the level I could understand at the time. It was my duty and privilege to care for my cats. No one else would except my mother. My daddy and siblings were dog people. I think all children need this responsibility to learn how to give love, but they also have to have been taught that little animals deserve our best love. They are not toys nor are they ways to express rage. Unfortunately, many never learn this basic truth.
~~My first cat was Puff, a large tuxedo tom in the classic markings. His white, dipped-in-cream feet and white chest were perfect. But why would a tom cat be named such a frilly name? I didn't remember for years until someone reminded me that our first Dick and Jane readers had more than one pet. The cat's name was Puff. That tells me more about myself than the cat. ; ) I loved to read and my cat bore the name with dignity. We lost him to a mouse or rat that had been poisoned with strychnine. I didn't immediately add another cat. Daddy didn't let me. But another cat thought differently about the situation.
~~When a full-grown, plush-coated tom took up with us, I fed him. His smoky gray fur was soft and thick. Pale green eyes watched everything carefully. He had survived without help and he didn't relinquish control of his life. He came and went as he wished and lived with me for several years. I named him Malek after a wolf-human hybrid character in an Andre Norton book. As you can see, I was still reading. Malek was a comfort and a hunter. His skill at catching squirrels from what looked like a deep sleep never ceased to amaze me. He wandered off one day and didn't return, always the independent operator who allowed me to share his life for a while.
~~When I reached ninth grade, my piano teacher raised Siamese cats. She had several and offered to give me a tom from a litter of chocolate points. Daddy agreed and that is why my last cat before graduating from high school and college was named Etcetera. My sister Thea suggested it because the king of Siam always loved saying "et cetera, et cetera" in the "The King and I". And it fit. The long, sleek, sophisticated cat clearly knew he was special. Daddy even allowed him to live inside for a few years. In that time, I became very accomplished at meowing in Siamese. It has a distinctive sound all its own. Etcetera was my confidant when teen-aged angst hit and even took revenge for me when my siblings teased me too much. Have you ever had a large cat pounce into the back of your knees and make you nearly fall? That might be why Daddy decided that in the house was just too close for comfort. Etcetera had a room in the garage with the freezer to keep him warm in the winter. He continued to be my listener as I grew up.
~~All these cats hold special places in my life. That might be why, when John and I moved to a place that would allow us to have pets after three years of marriage, our next cat was home within a week of our move. I'll tell you about Darkness next time. ; )

Hidden Treasure Found

~~I know what you are saying to yourself right about now--Wait a minute, doesn't Zan Marie have poodles? The answer to that is, yes. But before Casey and Max, I proudly belonged to seven cats. The two in the photos above are the last two, Meow and Sunshine. When I had a problem finding my photo of the boys in their new harnesses, I realized that the memory card wasn't seated fully and the photos saved to the camera's memory instead. Once I downloaded it, I found wonderful photos of the cats. I didn't have a digital photo of Meow at all. At least I didn't think I did. ; )

~~This treasure trove has allowed me to show you the kitties. These two were throw aways that someone left on our doorstep. They were Maine Coon cats and weighed between 13 and 22 pounds during their adult life. Sadly, we lost Meow at eight and Sunshine at 13, both to cancer. It was during Sunshine's last days that John said he wanted puppies and the rest of that story is history.

~~As you can see, Brother Sunshine (Shiney, Shine-Shine) was a gorgeous yellow tabby and huge. The shoe he posed by is one of John's size elevens. The shoe is exactly a foot long. Sister Meow (Yowy, Yow-Yow) was a beautiful calico tabby. She had stripes of both gray tabby and yellow tabby that met up and changed color down her legs--one side gray and other yellow. I truly think she is the most beautiful cat I've ever known.

~~I'll have to tell you about all my cats as the next few posts continue. Unfortunately, my scanner doesn't "communicate with this computer" and I'll not be able to include photos. That is unless you want to come and fix this glitch for me. ; )

Harnessed Power

~~When the boys were little bitty, the only little bitty harnesses we could find were pink--and embroiderd with flowers. Not the image of our 'brawny' boys at all. ; ) So we waited until they grew up a bit. Now we have have harnessed our puppy power.

~~They walk much better with the harnesses and we aren't afraid we'll choke them by attaching the leashes to their collars. They're growing up and we love it. Now walks are fun. Unless the cats, squirrels, birds, and what have you are out and about. ; )

All Dressed Up

~~The fine, old lady house is finished and the new paint color is beautiful. When we describe it as a green house, no one will wonder which one on the street we mean. Her old craftsman style trim now stands out. She's got her jewelry on in the form of her Asiatic Lollipop Lilies in full bloom. We are thrilled this project is done. Now, John can go on to his next project. Believe me, I don't create the lists.

Waggle Speed

~~I've always been fascinated by doggie tails. There's a photo of me as a toddler grabbing for the waving tail of my sister's dog, Snowball. He was half Spitz and half whatever and white all over, of course. Hence the name. In the photo, I'm center frame, Snowball's tail is just out of reach on one side and my grandmother's arm is holding me back on the other. Needless to say, I'm a frustrated little girl. ; )

~~Casey and Max's tails are no less interesting. They go from the fastest pace of a metronome to sweeping slow with tentativeness. When your tail is only two to three inches long, it effects your waggle speed. How is up to each puppy's personal style. Though when they are excited, the difference in the two is very apparent. Max's tiny arc ticks in time to his vibrant, vivacious personality while Casey's slower wag covers a full half circle. He wants only a foot more tail and the feathery fringe of a golden retriever to make a big show. Both have a way to let us know what's up and they're wagging most of the time. ; )

Avian Acrobatics

~~The cherries are nearly ripe and Mother's Day is here. We can't help but wonder if our avian acrobatic troup is about to appear. Let's be fair, though. We've only seen them once. On Mother's Day 2008, we looked out the solarium windows and found our Yoshino Cherry trees buzzing with wings. Small birds were going in and out. We had never seen them before and had to look them up. They were eating the tiny cherries that our trees create every spring after their glorious blooms are spent. Ornamental trees often produce small fruit that birds and squirrels eat. Our trees are no different. The event inspired a scene for my novel in progress, Mother's Day. The point of view is my main character, Laura Grace Chandler. The child is Samantha, her newly adopted daughter. I hope you enjoy it. ; )

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“Momma!”

I jumped at the sink and water showered my chest not my face. What could be so important this morning? Grabbing the towel, I went to investigate.

“You’ve got to see this!” Her excited voice drew me to the bay window of the living room. Raucous calls of “zeee” rose from fluttering birds in the Yoshino cherry tree on the other side of the deck.

“Oh my.”

“There’s hundreds of ‘em!” Samantha stared, mouth open, as the birds fluttered among the leaves. Acrobatic feats of flying rewarded them with choice, ripe cherries.

“Get the Peterson’s Guide.” My hand rose to my heart. “I can’t believe this, but I believe they're cedar waxwings."

She bounced back and handed me the book. “Waxwings?”

I flipped the pages. “Let’s see. ‘Crested brown bird. Yellow band at tail tip.’ Yes.”

“Look at the wings.” She pointed. “Looks like red Christmas candle wax on ‘em.”

“Guess that’s where they got their name, don’t you? I’ve heard of them all my life, but I’ve never seen one.”

Samantha ran back to the bookshelf and grabbed a book on North American birds. She giggled. “It says sometimes they get drunk if the fruit’s fermented. Calls them ‘tipsy birds.’”

“That would make flying difficult, I imagine.” I laughed. The delight of the birds' antics warmed my heart. “I think they’re tanking up to fly north to their mating range.” I looked back at the field guide. “Yes. Here’s the map.”

“It says they have to sober up to fly again. That’s just weird!” She stared at the birds again. “Wonder how long it will take for them to eat all the cherries?”

“Not long at this rate.” I glanced at the clock. “Oh, Samantha! We have to hurry. The Mother’s Day service won’t wait on us.” I grinned. This was a special day. It was my first Mother’s Day since I had become Samantha’s legal mother.

“Okay. I just got to dress. Then I’ll watch the birds till you’re ready.”

She skipped down the hall in front of me. Thank you, Lord, for the gifts of this day. Samantha’s mine and cedar waxwings to entertain us. I grinned at my reflection. “I don’t deserve this. I’m so happy,” I whispered to the wrinkled face, wreathed in smile lines. As I grabbed my purse, I heard Samantha singing. The child was a happy as I was.

“Momma, I just can’t imagine a tipsy bird staggering on the deck. Bet it’d be as funny as Dale stumbling around when Craig let him drink beer.”

I stopped. Closing my eyes a moment with my hand clinched, I felt my heart thud. Would Samantha ever escape that horror? I took a deep breath. “Let’s go, angel. We’re late.”

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~~Happy Mother's Day to all of you. May your day be filled with delights of family and nature!