When It Really Is Unlucky to Have a Black Cat

It’s been a while since I’ve been on blogs. Part of the reason is that I’ve been even more overwhelmed than usual lately. The other reason is that I’ve had a horrible bout of writer’s block ever since our beloved little Catsby passed after an unexpected diagnosis of congestive heart failure a couple of weeks ago. It’s amazing to me how empty my lap feels now when I write.

I really didn’t want a cat at the time we found him living under a concrete bench in the yard a couple of years ago. Not only was I just not a cat person, I thought I was too busy. My social life is fuller than it’s been since I met my former husband over thirty years ago, and I won’t apologize for that. I’ve earned it. 

And Catsby had some abandonment issues. At first I complained about how needy he was, but it turns out his constant presence is what I miss most. It was endearing that he adored being with loved ones so much.

Once when I went in the closet and saw his tail protruding slightly from under the clothing, I impulsively said (in a peekaboo voice), “I wonder where our dear little kitty could be?!”

When he popped out and exclaimed, “MeOW!” it sounded for all the world like, “Here I am!”

That was our Catsby. That goofy critter converted a family of dog people into dog AND cat people. 

That's what made him The Great Catsby.

I can’t tell you how much your kind words meant to me during that time and still mean to me. Also—a block-shattering bit of good news—my NYMB…On Being a Woman story, “Worse Than Zombie Warts” will be featured on www.laughuntilyoupee.com this coming Friday. I’d appreciate it if you’d consider coming back and leaving a comment over there, and as always, thank you so much!

 Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with. ~Mark Twain

Raining Cats and…Cats

Is there magic in anniversaries? Sometimes I think so. Today marks a full year since some higher wisdom placed an abandoned and starving senior cat on our doorstep. Catsby is no longer starving by human standards—though his appetite begs to differ.

We’ve done a lot of speculating about where he’s come from, because this friendly, shiny-coated, declawed, neutered kitty was obviously loved and cared for at one time. But why his former owners didn’t answer our ads or check the information we recorded at the shelter is anyone’s guess. Did their circumstances change? Did they give up looking for him too soon? In the days before finding him, our area suffered damaging tornadoes and vicious thunderstorms. We’ve discussed the possibility that he was lost as a result of those storms, but weight loss like he’d suffered doesn’t take overnight. He had to have been homeless at least several weeks prior to that. 

What is certain is that he was exposed to the elements during those storms. At the first distant growl of thunder, his ears pivot like radar and he heads for shelter—shelter being under my bed, where he has spent the greater part of the rainy season. Even the softest, gentlest of rain sends him darting for his perceived cover. He has his own little nest set up under there.

Very early Mother’s Day morning, we got a doozy of a storm. The unmistakable clatter of hailstones on the roof in the middle of the night was almost deafening. The human members of the family met up in the family room as was our tradition since the kids were little. Some of my fondest memories occurred in the darkness of electricity loss, while the children and I snuggled together and laughed over the sound of thunder. So as we were discussing the luck of having our cars in the garage, Catsby came running out of the bedroom and into our waiting arms, but running in a sort of crouch, like SWAT teams do. He was dodging the hail. Indoors. It was both hysterically funny and desperately sad all at once. 

But here’s a coincidental little postscript. We had more storms this morning just as I was working on this…and Catsby ventured out for the first time. Maybe there’s magic in an anniversary, after all.  

And now for more well-timed news: I just found out my piece, “Super Timmy,” has officially been accepted in Not Your Mother’s Book…On Cats, due out September of 2014!

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass.  It’s about learning to dance in the rain. ~Vivian Greene

The Big One-Four

Today is Buddy’s 14th birthday. Or at least the day we pretend is his birthday since he was a shelter dog.  It was probably really a few weeks ago, but we liked the date.  And to think I almost didn't get him because of health concerns!  He was missing so much fur that the vet thought it might be mange.  It was a flea allergy and an untreated case of worms.  Hooray for hybrid hardiness. 

I feel so lucky not only to have had our beloved “Budster” so many years, but to have him still in such great shape. And what’s more, he’s inspired lots of writing. Thank heavens Chicken Soup moved their deadline for My Dog's Life to May 31st.  I’ve submitted two stories so far and have two more I’m working on.

We celebrated by giving one of his toys a squeaker transplant (since he positively doesn’t need more toys) and by giving him some PETCO cookies.  Which he promptly barfed up on the dining room carpet because it's not his senior formula dog food.  Sigh.

The older the fiddler, the sweeter the tune. ~Pope Paul VI

Soup with Soul

Yesterday I got a message to call Amy Newmark, editor of Chicken Soup for the Soul What I Learned from the Dog. It seems they have a television proposal for early morning TV news shows and wanted to use a shortened version of my story, “Best Dog in the World,” for one of the pilots. It’s only in the proposal stage, so it may never come to fruition; still, it was flattering and exciting.

I liked Amy very much. She, too, it seems, champions humane societies. She mentioned projects in which the new dog book is being used in conjunction with various fundraisers to aid in the placement of stray and rescue dogs.

She was genuinely proud of the book, and not just as a product. It was clear that she is fully aware of Chicken Soup’s significance as a positive force in society, and that touched me deeply. This was not just a person who cares about selling books; this was a person who cares about making the world a better place.

I like to think it’s that core premise—that conscious awareness of the greater good—that makes Chicken Soup for the Soul series such a success. I do know every one of the contributors I’ve met is a font of talent, truth and wisdom in her own right. It never ceases to amaze me how uplifting it can feel to be a small cog in a big wheel…as long as that big wheel moves the force of good in the world.

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, / Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces / That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think. ~George Gordon Byron