Finding My Joy

February 11, 2015

It is almost Valentines Day.  I lost my little valentine two years ago. My KittyKaty.  Grief can be a long, hard struggle. Some of us have better coping skills than others. I have finally adjusted to being the only breathing thing in the house who has a tail, OR as some people in the house call it, “the duster.”  It got that name when I dusted under the king sized bed on a particularly LOUD July 4th. Anyway, I digressed. I have been reading books on “separation anxiety and depression.”  None impressive enough to mention, but all information read has some value to it. I think?  And so, I am thinking I need to take steps to find my “joy.”  I used to find it in food.  I was a big eater. I ate anything and everything. Uncooked quick oats, that I would get the lid off the canister on the kitchen counter and scatter all over.  Oatmeal raisin cookies (boy did I get in trouble for that one!).  Unattended popcorn,  cherrios, or toast (cherrios goes back to the oats obsession I have).   Lastly nuts, yogurt, gum, and postage stamps (loved licking the backs of the little stamps).  I am also a “fuzz poacher”.  I watch, wait, and seek out fuzz and “dust bunnies,” for which I would like to lodge a protest. They should be named “dust kitties.”  My theory being kitties are more common than bunnies, especially in the home. It just makes sense.  I think I just digressed again.  So, putting food, etc., in my mouth these days just does not bring me a lot of joy.  Probably something to do with the mega colon diagnosis after the $560 in vet bills earlier this month. After all the trips to the vet, I know that car rides do NOT bring me joy.  Apparently, they do NOT bring anything close to joy to anyone inside the car, OR within range of the car. At least, that is what I have been told.  I like posing for the camera.  There is over 2,000 photos of me, on and off the internet.  I like wearing hats, but ONLY just for the camera. So, 2015, I am on a quest to find what brings me joy. Maybe it starts with gratitude? Maybe my joy will come from things I am grateful for? Maybe, like the phrase “charity begins at home,” joy also begins at home, at the heart of what we are grateful for. I wish I had some gum. Some blue gum I could chew and stick to the rug like I used to do before gum was banned from the house.  I felt like I accomplished something doing that. Hmmmm………more later………..T.W.


Sitting In the Storm

January 30, 2015

It is hard to see the rainbow when you are sitting in the storm. It has been a tough, painful, couple of years at my house, for many reasons. The main one for me is that my “cougar” some days, my “nemesis” other days, but every night my warm pillow, the KittyKaty, passed away in May 2013.  One thing we can all say, she was a fighter!  She had a stroke, and fought valiantly to recover. Unfortunately, a second small stroke left her practically blind. “The woman” would ring a bell and I would lead the KittyKaty to the kitchen at meal times.  I would lead her up the stairs to the big bed (where we usually spent our days looking out the windows all warm & comfy-cozy!) and she could still get up on it.  The huge problem was she would periodically want down.  Her jumping off was a disaster that I will leave to your imagination (scary!).  After a couple days, the bed became the community desk, the dining room table, the computer stand, the laundry folding table, etc. We were put in the laundry room when “the woman” had to leave the house, wanted to shower, or if she wanted to cook, and was the only human at home.  We were put in the laundry room at night, and I was the security guard. I think I did a damn good job.  Despite her stroke, with her hearing and vision being hugely affected, she was like Boris Karloff in the movie “The Mummy.”  Her little head thrust forward and one front leg and paw were out front, as if they were pointing the direction, and pulling her forward. Constantly wandering, up and down the stairs,  with my little self running after her to “herd” her and be her guide. “The woman”  running behind us. Some days it was insane wandering unless “the woman” lay down on the big bed with us and watched t.v. But if “the woman” would get up to use the bathroom or need to do anything, the wandering would start again.  And, by then, with the days starting to pass, LOUD nonstop meowing started in with the wandering.  Clearly, the little KittyKaty was frustrated with her perdicament, even though she was eating and seemed to know us. Our family vet, who gave “the woman” the KittyKaty years earlier, decided to try giving her a shot of cortisone. For 24 hours, she was a bit more herself, the loud meowing stopped.  Then it seemed she had another tiny stroke on Mother’s Day, and sadly, she was worse.  I was a good partner to her during her last days here. I made up for all the arguments between us through the years. I greatly admired her courage. She did not want to leave us. It was all terribly sad.  While “the woman” was gone at the vet, that last car ride, I brought about 10-12 toys from downstairs (some were beanie babies) and put them on “the woman’s” bed. She did not appreciate it like I thought she would have.  I have never done something like that and to come home to seeing little stuffed toys all over her bed freaked her out, due to the occasion and all.  It was just my way of telling her I knew what had come to pass. And those first few days were very hard. There was a thick stillness in the house that was so terribly uncomfortable. “The woman” was inconsolable, and did not leave my side. We became even closer. I am going on 13 now. I have my own health problems. I have a nice soft heated velour bed instead of my regimented, time oriented, “you are such a dumb bastard,” and “how did I ever get YOU in my bed!” older woman.  Whenever “the woman” says her name (KittyKaty), I have a distinctive loud meow I make. It is always consistantly the same. “The woman” knows.  She is smart enough to know.  That has been the easy part.  My letting her know that I remember.  I remember my KittyKaty……………..more later……..T.W.

Out of Order

September 2, 2014

Please note: The last 3 blog postings were older postings that were overlooked and not published. They were from 2011-2012. There were no blogs published in 2013. The most current entry is “It’s Been Awhile,” 9/14………..more later………T.W.

You can do anything…

September 2, 2014

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Using Things to Your Advantage…

September 2, 2014

So now that winter is coming on, the woman here is working at sorting out the house (or so she says).  And she has A LOT of stuff.  Let me just say that again, A LOT.  Right now she has the “clean-the-nest” syndrome.  When she had that a couple of years ago, she was in a “door” phase.  New garage door, new back door, two new front door (one for security), and then the most interesting: an interior door with rippled clear glass in it almost floor to ceiling.  Now frankly, at first, I didn’t care for the door.  It’s a “tease.”  I sleep downstairs at night as I have a habit of being a night time roamer.  This is upsetting to anyone who is a light sleeper and hears me knocking stuff off tables or pulling all the pens out of a cup and onto the floor.  So back to the door—I can see images and movement so I know when people are in the kitchen.  (I have also figured out that the rippled glass is a great place to wipe your nose especially if there might be little pieces of litter stuck on it.)  Pressing my face tight against the glass  gets me a lot of attention.  More, with a lot of meowing thrown in (I heard it said I look like a paperweight with sound).  “Kitty Katy” doesn’t like the door.  She hasn’t figured out how to use it to her advantage.  But that’s because she has a little “cat”-aract and can’t see well so she can’t see through the glass to know when to start meowing.  (Plus, we all suspect she’s going deaf.) I now LOVE the door.  It lets more light in so when that kitchen light gets turned on in the middle of the night, or early in the morning,  it shines down the stairs and is a great wake up call to start in.   You’ve just got to love progress!….more later…….T.W.

Hi…I Have Nothing To Say….

September 2, 2014

Hi.  It is friday night, and I have nothing to say.  Writer’s block, blog block, cat got my brain……

Words to Live By…..

May 2, 2011

                   Live as if you were to die tomorrow,

                   Learn as if you were to live forever.


Fear of Clowns, Chickens, and Other Phobias….

May 2, 2011

I was dozing on the bed yesterday, with the television on, when all of a sudden a clown came on the screen.  I mean a real CLOWN.   Not someone you call a clown, but a colorful circus type clown.  It scared me.  I could not go back to sleep.  In fact, the vision would not leave my brain all night last night.  It was not a restful night for me.  This leads me to wonder, how many other people are disturbed or upset by seeing clowns?  So, today I did a bit of research.  Did you know that there is a “condition” for the fear of clowns?  No laughing now.  It is called “Coulrophobia.”  Coulrophobia is the fear of clowns.  I have NO doubts that I have that condition.  I SERIOUSLY have that condition.  There are therapists that will treat you for that.  How would they do that I wonder?  Would you have to attend a lot of circuses?  Are there even circuses going around anymore? There’s clowns for hire in the phonebook.  Would you have to hire one to come to your house?  Boy, that could get expensive.  Tuesdays and Thursdays,  you pay to see a therapist.   Saturdays, you pay for a clown to make a house call.  I have been wanting to write a book.  Maybe this is what I should write about?  “How to Cure Yourself of Coulrophobia in 30 Days.”  A self-help handbook.  I could put pictures of clowns in it, just not in the first 3 or 4 chapters.  Definitely NOT on the cover.  A big clown face on the front would scare off potential buyers.  They’d never get inside the cover!   I could do a whole series of these self-help books.  There’s “Dentophobia,” fear of the dentist  (I have that, everybody has that!).  “Agorophobia,” includes fear of elevators (you know any cats who like elevators?!).  “Aviophobia,” fear of flying (I definitely have that!).  “Trypanophobia,” fear of shots and needles (ask my vetrinarian how I feel about that one!).  “Arachnophobia,” fear of spiders (many people have this, but I view spiders as little toys).  I found out that more than 19 million Americans have at least 1 type of phobia.   Phobias are brought on due to genetics, brain chemistry, and traumatic events.  A phobia starts as a fear.  When the fear causes stress, interferes with your life, or becomes excessive, it is a phobia.  “Alektorophobia” is fear of chickens (if you know anything about me, you would know that is a phobia I do NOT have!).  I do, however, have “Lack-of-Alektoro-Phobia.”  I become very fearful when there is no chicken in my bowl at dinner time.   In fact, that is what I should write a book about and make sure the people who feed me get the FIRST copy…………..more later……….T.W.

My Friend “Piglet”

May 2, 2011

Today, I am paying tribute to my funny friend, Piglet.  Piglet recently left for “kitty heaven.”  While there is nothing funny about losing a loved one, you can look back and remember the humorous times.

Piglet lived in a trailer, in a trailer park, on the Oregon coast. Piglet loved to sit in the window, facing the ocean, next to a warm computer.  Piglet would sit there for HOURS “people watching.”  Piglet also liked to escape because he loved the “thrill of the chase.”  That would be, everyone chasing HIM.  He would always return, when HE felt like it.  It was not like Piglet would go very far.  Afterall, he lived right across the street from a huge body of water, the Pacific Ocean.  But Piglet was always looking for opportunity.  When he did escape, he always came next door for a visit.  Piglet liked “the woman” as she would always go up to his window and talk to the “Piggy.”  Once, “the woman” left her front door ajar, and the escaped “Piggy” came over, snuck in undetected, and made his way back to the bedroom.  Once back there, he let out a LOUD hello.  The scream he got in response sent him back out the door at about 85 miles per hour.   He then went under her place and stayed out of reach for over an hour, causing everyone to stand around waiting for him to come out.  Luckily, it was a nice day.  Maybe Piglet did not get enough “mad dashes” in his life, or did not get as much exercise living in a smaller space.   Regardless, diabetes can be very mean to a cat.

Well, Piglet, my friend, I hope wherever you are, you have a cozy window seat with the sun smiling on you, and a beautiful view.  Save ME a spot!………more later………T.W.


December 8, 2010

“The woman” got her vehicle’s oil changed at the dealership yesterday.  While there, she had conversation in the waiting area with a local news station employee and a retired deputy sheriff.  It was a fun and enlightening conversation. What was most interesting:  that the news media no longer calls car accidents “accidents,” they are now “crashes.”  “The woman” was like “SERIOUSLY?!!”  The answer was a resounding “yes!,”  due to insurance laws.  So this morning, we had a local news program on (a different station) for the weather report, and we heard there’s a “crash” on I-84, there’s a “crash” on the Sunset Highway, there’s a “crash” on Powell Boulevard @ 39th.  So I guess now when you “accidentally” back up and bump your mailbox and embarrassingly tell people what you did, you could make it accurate and you will not be being melodramatic.  “I was backing up, and I just CRASHED in to the mailbox.”  Throw a “POW” in there and you really embellish it.  Good grief!  What’s next?!!…..more later………..T.W.