I learned something very important in the cat world today. A lone folded towel in the middle of the dining room table is fight worthy for queen of the table rights. Cleo who usually never jumps on the table saw the towel from the couch and bounced over to it. Teeny who knew it was there but had basically ignored it, saw Cleo jumping to the table and instantly went to investigate. Much silent tussling and cat wrestling occurred until Cleo won the towel. Mind you they were on top of the towel during the entire event and not once did it come unfolded! Another of the cat mysteries, I’m sure. After all, it wouldn’t make a very good bed unfolded!
Kitten Wars 8/24/14
24 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars Tags: Cats, fun, humor, journal, kittens, mystery
Kitten Wars 8/17/14
17 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars Tags: cat, Cats, determination, fun, journal, kitten wars, teeny
Sometimes this human is just a slow learner, evidently. Under the mistaken notion that if I left a costuming project on the table that the cats would leave it alone, I did just that. Teeny decided to educate me on that idea by making it her new “kitty nest”. Coated in fresh long haired cat fur, I decided that the linen had to be washed before I could return to my project. I’m guessing that was the wrong idea. As I began gathering up 10+ yards of fabric for the washer, Teeny hopped up on the table and plopped down in the middle of the fabric daring me to move it. Until this point, Teeny has been fluent in human and English, but when I told her “down” and “off the fabric” she decided that she no longer understood those words and glared at me. When I moved my hands in to pick up the fabric and pull it, to quietly physically urge her off, she placed her paw on my hand and narrowed her eyes. We spoke about this one cat to human and human to cat. Being the determined human that I am, I finally picked her up and put her back on the floor then swiftly grabbed up a few yards before she bounced back onto the table where we began again. This time I didn’t bother with telling her “Off”, I just picked her up and put her on the floor. Nonchalantly she turned her head over her shoulder and did an annoyed but non-threatening hiss at me before raising her royal head as high as it could go with her tail straight up as she walked out of the room. Human:1, Cat:0. I’m sure she gets points for nerve and presentation.
Kitten Wars 8/3/14
03 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars Tags: Cats, dogs, early morning, heat, journal, kitten wars, waking up
Teeny is in heat. Any cat lover out there knows that each female cat has her own version of heat. While Cleo tells you about hers vocally and loudly in the middle of the night, Teeny is fairly quiet with purrrupping and bumping galore. While she is very receptive to human interactions (PET ME NOW, HUMAN) as she bumps her head into us, she is NOT receptive to dog interactions what-so-ever.
Poor Buddy was sound asleep on his bed this morning when Teeny went to bump into me. She was bumping my legs so forcefully and constantly that I was tripping over her. Evidently, she wasn’t looking where she was bumping and when I stepped by Buddy, she bumped him instead of me. In utter shock that the dog made contact with THE CAT, Teeny bounced back and hissed fairly loudly at him waking him up. As he opened his eyes very slowly from his deep slumber, Buddy got an eye full of angry cat telling him just how wrong he was for letting her bump into him.
In true dog fashion, Buddy lifted his head, looked at me, then put it back on his bed, covering it with his paws as Teeny flounced away. Its hard being the only male pet in this house sometimes and a dog at that.
In Whose World is Reality
30 Jul 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Short fiction Tags: #Article 94, #Mark Gardner, Alzheimer's, anger, confusion, dementia, Doll, dream, fury, help, illness, journal, loss, relationships
I wrote this a while back. Its from a dream that haunted me. Article 94’s Mark Gardner spurred this one to be brought here by his piece “My Own Monster”. While this is fiction, it has elements of fact in that my grandmother had one of the longest documented cases of Alzheimer’s. My mother kept her at home with home nursing for years. Doll was treated from roughly 1981 until her death in 2005.
********
“My car is missing!” I told them being outright ignored.
Doll just wandered around the kitchen picking up the newspaper, putting it back down before settling in a chair at the table. Opening the cabinet, mother pulled out a glass and walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, looked inside then leaving the door open, pulled out her cigarettes.
“Did you hear me? My car has been stolen! I need to use your phone!”
My mother lit her cigarette then replied without turning towards me, “Well you should have thought of that before you loaned it out. Not my fault you can’t make good choices.” She took a drag off of it then got some orange juice out to pour into her glass. Meanwhile, my grandmother sat there staring blankly at nothing in particular while our drama unfolded around her.
“Mother, I need to use your phone.” I said knowing that if I walked over to it without her permission, all hell would break loose, so I stood perfectly still ever watchful to see if she would acquiesce. Even though local calls were part of the bill, I was not allowed to call out without permission even as an adult.
“Judy, where’s my juice? I need my juice with my paper in the morning.” My grandmother murmured distantly as if just now waking from a long nap. That she noticed her juice was gone was a good thing. Alzheimer’s had done its number on her years ago taking her idea of what was real and now away so solidly that no amount of putting it in front of her mattered. She had her good days when she was sweet and loving, then there were the bad ones where everyone was a physical target that she had to overcome with any means necessary.
“OH good, the woman who looks like my granddaughter is here. My doll baby is much prettier than you, but she still needs to lose weight. I so wish she would come back from school to visit me.”
“Doll, it is me. I’ve just grown older.” I took a few steps over to her and took her hand in mine. It was soft, withered, with the bones showing through from where she refused to eat now. I tried, not thinking about it, wanting her to recognize me just once for who I am. I knew better. It never worked.
“Don’t you talk to your grandmother that way! You’ll just confuse her more!” My mother lit another cigarette from the one burning as if the first one had some kind of fatal flaw in it. She looked at me with utter hatred pouring out of her, the fury of it licking its way to me.
“I used to sing, “Hello Dolly” to her as a baby. She was such a sweet child.” Doll smiled with the kindest of smiles that lit up her face making her eyes glow with happiness. Then she began to sing in a hesitant but happy voice, “Hello, Dolly! Well hello, Dolly! It’s so nice to have you back where you belong!”
Tears came to my eyes as she did that, wishing that she was singing to me once more. My early childhood had been filled with visits to her when she would sing to me and talk with me, taking me places with her as if I was special. She had been so much more of a mother to me when I was there than her daughter was. I missed my grandmother, my Doll.
I never used a typical grandmother term for her. From the moment I could call her anything, she was Doll. Everyone picked it up from me. Even her friends called her that because my grandmother was so very special.
Mother turned, strode angrily across the kitchen and slammed the juice down in front of her mother, taking Doll’s attention from happy memories back to the confusing present. “Mother here is your juice. You know that SHE doesn’t love us enough to come here to visit.”
Turning to me she spat, “Use the phone. Call the police then leave. Don’t come back, you are not welcome here!”
************************
I woke up shaking, frozen stiff in my bed, still hearing their voices, smelling the cigarette smoke as it burned my nose. My muscles were ready for the fight that was coming. My brain was churning, waiting for the next verbal attack from my mother, but it wasn’t coming. They are both dead, long dead only their memories still haunt me; my dreams keeping them vividly alive.
Crafting the Change: In Reply to Goddesses and Doormats #queenofallevil 7/30/14
30 Jul 2014 6 Comments
in journal, reflections Tags: #Goddesses and Doormats, #queenofallevil, divorce, dysfunction, dysfunctional relationship, empowerment, eradication, journal, marriage, reflection, relationship, sharing
Lately I’ve read a few pieces written by queenofallevil that are really hitting home. She writes about empowering yourself and refusing to belittle who you are to someone else needs or expectations. She talks about how to achieve self-realization in a very straight forward manner. While blunt and to the point, what she says needs to be heard, read, understood, and used by so many of us. When you come from any sort of dysfunctional relationship, whether it was how you grew up or was a romantic one, the first step is to be aware of what happened to make it dysfunctional and eradicate it.
Personally, I am one of those people that over-cares and over-does. In my first marriage, my husband-to-be actually told the priest that the reason he was marrying me was because I made everything work. I made it easy for him to live his life the way he wanted to. In essence I was his executive assistant to be, not his future wife.
Being a helpmate is not a bad thing, but when I took care of all of the details constantly for someone who, while admitting that I did so, continued to use me in this manner without trying to change what was going on, I lost track of who I was. He did not want me to work saying that the military was taking care of everything and would stop if I worked a true job, so I was allowed only a small job to cover extra expenses. Over time my sense of self-worth and id just dissolved into who my mate needed me to be. I lost my voice, not physically, but mentally and spiritually. I left my interests and hobbies behind so that I could help him achieve his goals. I buried myself in his needs and wants to the point that others didn’t even know if I could talk or express an opinion of my own.
The best thing I did during that relationship was to go back to school during which I fell into my profession. I started out as a voice major. It was something that I loved, but something that was costly in time. He didn’t mind that I sang and practiced all the time. It wasn’t until I changed my major to speech pathology that things truly got rough.
During my second year of classes, I started getting job applications constantly sent to me with salary quotes. After he picked one up and read that I was going to make more money than he did, well things started getting rough. No longer did he allow me time to study or do my projects. I had to squeeze in all the extras that a graduate student is required to do during the hours that he was not at home because once he got home, I was required to be available for him at all times.
It wasn’t until he left on a year-long duty overseas, that I realized that without him and his needs, I didn’t know what to do. I was finishing up my master’s degree at the time, about to intern, when I finally got angry enough to do something about it. I realized that I didn’t want to continue to follow him around anymore. I wanted my own career, managed by myself without his interference or even his input. I wanted out in a big way, which was my first indication that something was truly wrong. I was growing out of the doormat stage of that particular relationship, unfortunately I had not grown enough to recognize and stop the pattern.
My first dysfunctional marriage led into my second one in which I continued to be the care-giver, the organizer, the doer of the relationship, and in this case one more step … the provider. Focusing on what had to be done and how to do it, I made it to where my second husband didn’t believe that he needed a job at all. He simply stayed home, played on the computer, or played at creating items for his hobbies. Was it entirely my fault that he chose this venue? No, but I made it easier for him to do so. After all, why work for someone else making a little bit of money, when your spouse has made it so simple to just stay home and have fun. I won’t say that we could afford what he was doing, we truly couldn’t but that part never truly bothered him, only me as I began the spiral of exhaustion of mind, body, and spirit.
So, this cycle repeated itself, in a slightly different manner, but the result was the same.
My lesson is to become less available to everyone else’s needs around me. It is very hard to not be the person that has the supplies, has the answers, and knows how to fix or do whatever needs to be done. It is harder still to stop wanting to help everyone around me. As a natural care-giver, I need to work socially on what I do professionally … teach others, not do for them.
As a society, we use the word help in a very positive manner in which the person helping is supposed to be doing a good thing. We have created a generation of people who have been brainwashed into being the end-all and do-all of their families and relationships, but this is not necessarily a good thing. In response to the care-givers, we, as a society, have also created a generation of users; people who think nothing of running their helpers, the ones who love and care for them, into the ground from all of their demands both necessary and unnecessary.
So, in reply to what queenofallevil is writing about, I believe that the answers lie both within and without. People need to recognize their dysfunction and work to alleviate it, but the change is not just for individuals. We, as a society, need to acknowledge the dichotomy and work towards crafting the change.
Memories of another time, a different me
27 Jul 2014 Leave a comment
in journal Tags: boyfriends, fun, humor, journal, memory, out of the box, relationships, thoughts, times long ago
Tonight is a time of reflection. I find myself remembering an old boyfriend from college, Rob Greenway. He was that bohemian personality who was a musician with a genius IQ. I used to say that he belonged to the philosophy of the month club. He liked to try on different Eastern philosophies for size then, when you asked him why he did or didn’t do something anymore, he would reply that it went against …. (fill in the blank) philosophy. During the short time I was with him, I think he went through three different philosophical venues in about 3 months. His brain just couldn’t stop searching for a version of the truth that he could accept. He was a very gifted musician and song writer. He kept several spiral bound notebooks of songs he wrote with their annotated key/chord structures and his guitar tuning for each one. He loved to listen to various acoustic guitar players, then would sit sometimes for minutes, other times for hours figuring out just how they tuned their guitar to create the pieces that they did. Until I met him, I was naive about guitars and thought that they only had one way to be tuned, silly me.
Rob was a kind person, a romantic with a very quirky sense of humor and his own sense of honor. During that time I was going through an extremely shy stage of life and was fairly quiet. I was that girl that would long for something but never quite get up the courage to go get it. While I was with Rob, he taught me that I was placing boundaries upon myself that I didn’t need. My grandmother said that I never quite learned how to smile as a child, but the neighbor said I smiled with my eyes only. Rob taught me to smile with my entire face, to let the joy out. We would sit under the oak trees on the old North Campus of UGA where he would play his guitar and sing to me the songs that he wrote while squirrels pelted him with acorns. He swore that they aimed just for him. I went along with it just to tease him. He encouraged me to do the things that I only dreamed of but didn’t do because I had been trained to never step out of the box in public. He told me that acting outside of the box was every bit as fun as thinking outside of it was. He would laugh at and with me on those late nights when I would “set the balloons free” on North Campus after they had orientations and such. It was a simple joy, but so much happiness was derived from watching the balloons float up to the stars.
I haven’t seen or heard from him in 16 years or so. I ran into him at the Ren Faire one year as he was racing to his performance. We hugged and caught up as much as five minutes will allow you. He had traded in his sweet tenor voice and guitar for the penny whistle. He said that too many nights performing in smoky taverns had destroyed those perfect, clear notes of his. He went off chasing his dream, his performance, his love and craft. I wonder where he is now and then and if he finally found that dream of his.
Kitten Wars 7/26/14
26 Jul 2014 Leave a comment
in Kitten Wars Tags: attitude, Cats, dogs, humor, journal, slice of life

Well, Cleo is definitely picking up more catlike attitude now that she is 9 months old. At 6 AM when Buddy was comatose and the rest of the house was, too, Cleo decided to voice her opinion on kitty food crumbs in her dish. I keep all kitty food and water on a counter in the bathrooms so that Buddy does not put the NOSE of destruction and doom into their food and gobble it all up. So at oh dark, oh my goodness it is NOT time to wake up yet summer morning, I heard something ceramic hit the floor hard then ring it a few more times for good luck. Disoriented, I jumped out of bed and dashed around the house trying to figure out where it came from. Did I mention disoriented? Let’s make that absolutely clueless and stumbling, bumping into things and finding Teeny, Alex, and Buddy still mostly asleep, in Buddy’s case so soundly asleep I tripped over him. I find nothing out of place. Then I make it back to my bedroom only to see Cleo walking with her head held high and her tail straight up as she saunters out of my bathroom. Now, Cleo is only about 3 pounds of kitty, so not much she can do, right? Well, upon entering my bathroom I found cat food crumbs scattered all over the floor with her food dish in the middle of it all. Somehow my kitty dragged, pushed, shoved her dish to the edge of the counter along with her food dish mat, then dumped it to the ground. Turning, I called her name in suspicion. She deigned to turn her head to me then promptly sat down next to Buddy to clean herself. Guess that was one more lesson in how to train a human.
Mom How Could You?
14 Jul 2014 Leave a comment
in Kitten Wars Tags: Cats, dogs, journal
Woke up REALLY late today after a long night having fun on my computer to my dog giving me the “Mom how could you make me wait this long?” face. Cleo jumped on the bandwagon of “get Mom UP” and started licking my nose as I was trying to sit up. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the distinct pleasure of a cat licking your nose in their sheer ecstasy of love for you, but, well, my nose no longer needs to be exfoliated if it ever did, particularly the tip. I rushed to get my dog outside with him sitting in the bathroom thumping his tail. Now this, too, was a distinct veer from normal behavior for Buddy since he normally avoids my room of doggy bath doom like the plague, so I knew that things were getting serious here. So I start racing to get street clothes on, tumbling in and around my jeans as my foot misses, landing me on the bed for Cleo to pounce on. After forcing myself to slow down as Buddy begins his Buddy Howl of Despair I finally get him to the door for the collar only to find out as soon as we go downstairs that …. its raining. But not just raining, pouring so hard you can hear the waves of water whooshing through the wind and, of course, my umbrella is where? In the car. Buddy looks up with another “Mom how could you?” as if I had something to do with the rain as we march out for him to do his business. Meanwhile, Teeny completely ignored all of us until we returned for the Buddy burgers with his medicine. That cat LOVES dead bird and becomes the most loving and friendly of beasties whenever she realizes that the dead bird is leaving the fridge. Thus begins the day at my house. All is well and as it should be if a bit out of whack and off kilter 🙂
Kitten Wars 7/13/14
13 Jul 2014 Leave a comment
in Kitten Wars Tags: Cats, dogs, journal
After spending all day Friday and all night until 5:30 AM working on a recalcitrant costume, I packed up and went to an event a state over leaving my beloved cats and dog alone for the day. This was the first time Teeny had been left alone for a very extended period. And unbeknownst to me, well, she considers my dining room table her own. Silly me. I had left various pieces of fabric on top of her domain and expected them to stay there until my return in the condition and place where I had left them.
While I didn’t truly notice much of anything upon returning last night. I was in that too tired to be observant mode that too little sleep will do to you, once I got up this morning I found the pieces of her discontent all over the floor of the living and dining rooms. She, probably with the help of Cleo, had taken tiny pieces of cloth and dispersed them all over my apartment. I am STILL in the process of finding tiny pieces of fabric under the couch, in the foyer, beneath the piano, by the TV, etc. She evidently was quite picky in what she considered “keepable” fabric. Because the larger pieces were condensed and shifted around to create a “bed” of sorts for her majesty. Everything else that was “unworthy” had been pushed off the table.
When I walked over to pet her “Good Morning” she lifted her head, then turned around and presented me with her tail, and walked off. Silly kitty. It wasn’t until I started unloading food back into the fridge that she realized that maybe the “Cut Direct” was not the way to treat this human and wandered over to inspect the items being put out of her reach into that cold box. That I put the leftover KFC chicky into it, too, did not please her. She decided to climb up my leg with her gorgeous eyes and ask nicely to please let her have a piece BEFORE it was put away.
Buddy just looked at her antics, placed his head on his paws and rolled his eyes. He knows me well enough to know that once the fridge is open, it all goes inside. Cleo looked at Teeny, walked over to look in the fridge and wandered off. To date, Cleo has found nothing in the fridge that interests her. She is SO not into human food.
Kitten Wars 7/11/14
12 Jul 2014 Leave a comment
in Kitten Wars Tags: Cats, journal, Kitten
Well, Teeny has adapted and made herself quite the member of my household. Cleo now washes her each day, treating her elder as if she were her own kitten. Cleo keeps trying to pounce and play with Teeny, but Teeny is not having that one. Buddy has taken a very philosophical approach, after all he is the only dog in the house, how else should he react? He basically leaves her alone and lets her hiss at him as she walks by. Then he looks up at me with the, “what did I do” look and puts his head back on his paws until her next pass.
Cleo has been very appreciative of having a new cat sister in the house. She almost drives Teeny crazy with all the attention that she showers on the poor cat. Teeny takes it all in stride. After all Cleo was the first of my little family that Teeny decided was OK.
As far as I was concerned, well, she ignored me or hissed at me until she realized that I was the one who opened the fridge and took out the “dead bird”. Once she got a good whiff of my lemon chicken heating up, that was all she wrote. Teeny came in demanding that I give her some. She and I went back and forth a few times with her walking off and me refusing to give it to her until she came up to me. In the end though, she gave in to the lure of “dead bird”. Now when I go into the kitchen she climbs her front legs up my leg to tell me that she wants something. She’s even gone so far as to wake me up and lead me to the fridge to tell me to get her “dead bird” out for her. LOL and I don’t always give in. If I did, then I wouldn’t have any “dead bird” for me 😉
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