Happy and Blessed New Year
2016 These Are A Few Of Our Favorite Things
Month: December 2016
But There’s A Hope
But there’s a hope that’s waiting for you in the dark….
You should know you’re beautiful just the way you are….(Alessia Cara)
You’ve all hard of the ♣Life of Riley ♣ …but what about the Life of Charlie…like a fine wine, I just get better…. to myself, to the Four Footed (who were assigned by unknown entities to share my World)…and to Momma and Wonder Boy, notwithstanding. Just don’t be popping the cork any time soon… let me ferment a bit more …let me grow, expand my possibilities because like…who knew…there were actually souls with beating ♥’s who would bond with me without ulterior motives…like who knew?
Y’all know when it started…the very day the planets aligned and Cat Mandu found her Pink Cloud to Paradise, where she no longer could feed my paranoia…truth be told, after Cat Mandu was Gone, Baby, Gone, she dropped by on occasion, urging me to make nice, not hideout in the crawl space like an illegal alien avoiding immigration officers.
I was a hot mess. My calico raccoon fur was unkempt with humps of fur growing like foreign entities of questionable origins, all over my back. My legs were arthritic from the damp and coolness of the basement and the extra weight I carried from spending too much time eating because, well, face it, I was sick and tired of being…well, me!
Now this was no Miracle on 34th Street – there was no Courtroom, no prosecutor, no defendant, no judge and no jury. It was just uphill, steady little steps, discovering that apparently I was lovable…Momma fussed over me…Wonder Boy brushed and brushed my coat, then took scissors to the humps of fur…all of a sudden I was respectable looking…I could hold my head high among my Four Footed Frenemies…until they became…friends actually.
Diva Calico Gen, who grooms the Ultimate Earth Dog Jakita, put me on her Calendar rotation, grooming me as well, daily…so I bellied on up to the bar and started helping groom Gen and Jakita…not so much Bad Boy Andy…although we can now meet at the food dish and I don’t snarl at him….oh, sometimes he’ll tease Gen and me, chase us a bit, to get the blood pumping but he can not help it…he’s got a reputation to maintain…Born to be Bad.
I am thinking I’ll probably never win an Oscar.… even a Feline Oscar but if I did, I am so ready with my speech…to thank Cat Mandu for insisting post-mortem, ‘Change is good’, for the Four Footed Feral that forgave my past transgressions and embraced the New and Improved Charlie, to Wonder Boy who so patiently brushed and snipped until I was no longer a raccoon and to Momma, who brought me home and never gave up hope that I would one day come to appreciate the Cat I was Meant to Be…my life lesson was:
But there’s a hope that’s waiting for you in the dark…You should know you’re beautiful just the way you are….(Alessia Cara)
My Boy’s Gonna Make It In the Big League
Momma says even more demoralizing than the Annual Christmas Brag Sheet Card, depicting the birth of Sweet Baby Jesus, born long ago in a Manger, is that Social Media Message that pops up, unsolicited, from someone you knew, ‘in the day’ (as Baby Boomers say), left behind because well, she had a different incomprehensible agenda.
Let’s call her Miss High School Sweetheart, not interested in attaining an education….no, she had a nesting instinct…kind of old-fashioned for the Flower Power Children of the ‘60’s but to each his own. Now Momma, she was all about leaving (what she considered) her Godforsaken, claustrophobic, bucolic town behind, to meet and conquer the world. (LOL)
Kudos to Miss High School Sweetheart for having Plan–Check–Do Act before businesses even threw three day conferences to bring it to the masses. Her strategy must have trickled down from her father who had a prestigious executive position. Although more Girl-Next-Door than a Beauty Queen, Miss High School Sweetheart had the advantage of being from Snob Hill, which made some guys look twice (well, at least one Good Ole Country Boy).
Like bees to the honey, Miss High School Sweetheart trapped her unsuspecting-hockey-playing-never-saw-it-coming Good Ole Country Boy. They walked down the school halls hand-in-hand. They stole kisses when teachers weren’t looking. Apparently they also did much more when no one was looking because in no time they came along pushing a baby carriage….no more talk of higher education. Upon graduation Good Ole Country Boy got a job at the local mill while Miss High School Sweetheart became what is known today as a Stay-At-Home-Mom…sacrifices all around or was Plan–Check–Do Act a success?
So… what would Miss High School Sweetheart, want with Momma, at this stage, you wonder…well, to Brag, of course….that Baby in the Carriage had made it in the Big League, (National Hockey League) which is more precious in small town Canada than all the green tea in China, all the Crown Jewels…you get it….it is BIG…oh, and the Baby in the Carriage was in University on a scholarship because of his hockey prowess.
From Morguefile.com
File 1532482557 By: Drummerboy
Oh…and one more thing…did Momma have any contact with Ms. Doctor-in-Chief, (born with a stethoscope around her baby neck), also in the same grade as Momma and Miss High School Sweetheart ….also from Snob Hill. Miss High School Sweetheart was desperate to let Ms. Doctor-in-Chief know the Glad Tidings which was all rather strange to Momma… Ms. Doctor-in-Chief, was so dedicated to her future success that she would never hang out with fluff-on-the-road-to-nowhere.
Momma shot off a quick reply to Miss High School Sweetheart and to date has not heard from her again….too bad…so sad…and, oh Congratulations cause…
My boy never made it to the Big League / My boy never turned some heads / My boy never made it to the Big League / My boy never knocked some heads…in the Big League (Paraphrase Tom Cochrane).
If You Could Read My Mind, Love
Now it took me a while, I suppose, but one day I actually figured out my purpose in life. Don’t go all haughty on me. Lot of the Two Footed drift through the time their born to the time they die, without having a clue…and the poor Born Again Christians swear you only get up to bat once.. scary stuff…. At least with the practise of reincarnation, you get do overs till you finally get it right. But I digress, (as usual).
As a puppy, I was all over the map. Everything was both my Responsibility and my Calling in Life… Fair Game and Fun Forever. Drove poor, Virgo Momma, who only understood reason and logic, not see and react, quite mad…. at me mostly. Looking at Momma’s scowl, I’d be left thinking…what have I done now?
If there was a bird in the tree, bark at it. It had no right to be in that tree…or even to be. Squirrels, front yard, back yard, in trees, scampering in the graveyard….like a cyclone on steroids, I was off, woofing and snarling, even trying to climb tree trunks.
Bees and butterflies in the gardens were dispatched efficiently, even the poor innocent ants and earth worms…if it lived…so could it die. Still my most traumatizing omission was to do a Bambi and bolt into the wind, ignoring commands to Stop, Stay or Come like they were meant for lower species who embraced Authority…not me… I was a Free Spirit, so it sucks to be you, Momma.
But give me a break. My Four Footed Mama Baby did not teach me what Two Footed Momma’s teach their offspring…maybe she would have … if…we had more than eight weeks to bond. No, it was left to my Two Footed Momma an
d my Forever Home Four Footed Cats to set me on the path to redemption and I confess…it took years…like an all-consuming addiction, on again, off again and may the power be with you, Now and Forever.
So I am just wondering…there are dog trainers, assistants, coaches but is there like a three night a week drop in DA (Dog Anonymous) Meeting where you go to the front with your Master(ess) and confess your shortcomings…with the long-term goal set to get an addiction button that shows the world the length of time you have conquered your demons? The Two Footed are so Dog Crazy, the idea just might be viable. Maybe I am on to something…. think about it.
Still it wasn’t a DA (Dog Anonymous) Meeting I needed…No, I had to grow a conscience – to see the hurt in Momma and Wonder Boy’s eyes to realize, oh, oh, maybe I should not have done that.
Better I should pause, take a deep breath & ask, ‘What would Momma do?’
