A Different Kind of Good
It's been a while since I have posted, so consider this somewhat of a grateful recap, just in time for Thanksgiving. Not that I save my appreciation for one season necessarily, just that things have been good and when they are good, it's a smart idea to put that into one's focus.
A long time has passed since our old Gus Kitty passed-- he's still very near and dear to our hearts. Yet, life does move forward and in the past two months, we have adopted two wonderful and very different cats. First came Milton, a big gray guy similar to our old Gus in appearance and sometimes his sweetness, but also a very fighty fellow. There's nothing he likes to get at more than a hand on the computer mouse (I still favor those) and to attack with vigor. He's quite communicative with Kiddo about when too much attention is enough and loves to go after those feather-duster-type toys. His first few weeks with us meant a lot of coaxing him to eat and helping him feel secure and now he's got no problems in those regards. He's also been treated to a little kitty perch behind me; I exchanged a couple shelves so that he has a great view of the side yard where I sprinkle birdseed for the juncos and the chickadees. Kitty TV at its best.
Then along came Sally, who was christened Sally Louisa or Sally Lou. She's a ditzy black and orange tortie with food insecurity issues who eats like a preschooler during a permanent growth spurt, frantically mewing for food a lot. But this is okay because she is absolutely adorable. When she first came to us, she was a bit more of a love than she is now. Now the legendary "torti-tude" has come out. She's a bit of an independent spirit. Unlike Milton, who had come from a home who'd let him go due to the allergies of a new family member (blending families has its challenges and I'm grateful that family did what was right for its humans), Sally was a shelter cat, possible stray, with no prior information. She's talky, cute and very, very feisty. She and Milton have each other to chase around and play with and unlike Milty, she's far less likely to go after us humans or want a snuggle.
Milton, on the other hand, has fallen in love with my red poncho like its his woobie and will try to lick it and then fall asleep on me. I'm not sure what form of pica he has in regard to acrylic/cotton blends, but he thinks that poncho is the best thing ever. We love these cats and what they bring to our house-- their youth (they're both 2-ish) and energy and the inability to sit in one place for too long because someone is going to be expecting food, thank you very much.
Another thing which happened recently was that I had appendicitis and consequently, said appendix removed. While I think many would categorize this as 'an experience I never want to have, thanks', I've come away from the whole thing with a rather different perspective. The hospital staff in the ER was fantastic, I was a good patient, the damn thing didn't rupture, the nurses were wonderful, Joe did exactly what I needed him to do and the surgery team were exceptional people. What could have been a very scary incident ended up being rather non-traumatic. Who knows why? Maybe it was the morphine? Maybe it was the fact that we'd caught it before things got bad? Even on the way to meet me in the ER, Joe just knocked on our neighbor's door and they were happy to take Kiddo for the better part of the day. It was as if everything went as right as it could go. I truly felt cared for by the community and proud of myself for having this experience and not freaking out, just going about what I needed to do rather matter-of-fact about the whole thing.
This was two weeks ago and I have to say, those around me have been very gracious about allowing me time to recover. Joe is still not expecting me to be 100%. I sometimes push myself and then end up taking naps when things slow down. Like yesterday morning. Weekends are generally busier around here and a few days ago, Kiddo was home sick with a cough yet still bouncing off the walls... it was a long weekend, to say the least. I'm having to pace myself, which isn't terrible, just an adjustment. Healing seems like it should be easy, but it does take time.
These things make me think that there are very different kinds of good in this world. Where we don't always get 'pleasant', but the unpleasant things go as pleasantly as they can. We get a chance to see the good things that happened around the hard thing. I like to notice this; it's not an everyday occurrence, so it's important not to take it for granted. At least, to me it feels that way. Even if only I find all of this to be interesting, satisfying... the internal edification of considering what is good in the world-- that some experiences can be truly beautiful even when the unexpected, unfortunate occurs... it's nice. And that's enough for me.
A long time has passed since our old Gus Kitty passed-- he's still very near and dear to our hearts. Yet, life does move forward and in the past two months, we have adopted two wonderful and very different cats. First came Milton, a big gray guy similar to our old Gus in appearance and sometimes his sweetness, but also a very fighty fellow. There's nothing he likes to get at more than a hand on the computer mouse (I still favor those) and to attack with vigor. He's quite communicative with Kiddo about when too much attention is enough and loves to go after those feather-duster-type toys. His first few weeks with us meant a lot of coaxing him to eat and helping him feel secure and now he's got no problems in those regards. He's also been treated to a little kitty perch behind me; I exchanged a couple shelves so that he has a great view of the side yard where I sprinkle birdseed for the juncos and the chickadees. Kitty TV at its best.
Then along came Sally, who was christened Sally Louisa or Sally Lou. She's a ditzy black and orange tortie with food insecurity issues who eats like a preschooler during a permanent growth spurt, frantically mewing for food a lot. But this is okay because she is absolutely adorable. When she first came to us, she was a bit more of a love than she is now. Now the legendary "torti-tude" has come out. She's a bit of an independent spirit. Unlike Milton, who had come from a home who'd let him go due to the allergies of a new family member (blending families has its challenges and I'm grateful that family did what was right for its humans), Sally was a shelter cat, possible stray, with no prior information. She's talky, cute and very, very feisty. She and Milton have each other to chase around and play with and unlike Milty, she's far less likely to go after us humans or want a snuggle.
Milton, on the other hand, has fallen in love with my red poncho like its his woobie and will try to lick it and then fall asleep on me. I'm not sure what form of pica he has in regard to acrylic/cotton blends, but he thinks that poncho is the best thing ever. We love these cats and what they bring to our house-- their youth (they're both 2-ish) and energy and the inability to sit in one place for too long because someone is going to be expecting food, thank you very much.
Another thing which happened recently was that I had appendicitis and consequently, said appendix removed. While I think many would categorize this as 'an experience I never want to have, thanks', I've come away from the whole thing with a rather different perspective. The hospital staff in the ER was fantastic, I was a good patient, the damn thing didn't rupture, the nurses were wonderful, Joe did exactly what I needed him to do and the surgery team were exceptional people. What could have been a very scary incident ended up being rather non-traumatic. Who knows why? Maybe it was the morphine? Maybe it was the fact that we'd caught it before things got bad? Even on the way to meet me in the ER, Joe just knocked on our neighbor's door and they were happy to take Kiddo for the better part of the day. It was as if everything went as right as it could go. I truly felt cared for by the community and proud of myself for having this experience and not freaking out, just going about what I needed to do rather matter-of-fact about the whole thing.
This was two weeks ago and I have to say, those around me have been very gracious about allowing me time to recover. Joe is still not expecting me to be 100%. I sometimes push myself and then end up taking naps when things slow down. Like yesterday morning. Weekends are generally busier around here and a few days ago, Kiddo was home sick with a cough yet still bouncing off the walls... it was a long weekend, to say the least. I'm having to pace myself, which isn't terrible, just an adjustment. Healing seems like it should be easy, but it does take time.
These things make me think that there are very different kinds of good in this world. Where we don't always get 'pleasant', but the unpleasant things go as pleasantly as they can. We get a chance to see the good things that happened around the hard thing. I like to notice this; it's not an everyday occurrence, so it's important not to take it for granted. At least, to me it feels that way. Even if only I find all of this to be interesting, satisfying... the internal edification of considering what is good in the world-- that some experiences can be truly beautiful even when the unexpected, unfortunate occurs... it's nice. And that's enough for me.
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