Part Enchantress, Part Cat Lady

Yes, it can be done.  I’m doing it.  Enchanting women are always teeming up with cats.

Enchantress:
1.  a woman who practices magic; sorceress.
2.  an irresistibly charming or fascinating woman
Cat Lady:
A woman who finds too much happiness in her cats. This often results in the following actions:
-Dressing up her cats
-Taking videos and pictures of them
-Telling other people stuff about her cats that they do not care about
-Thinking that her cats are really intuitive
-Wearing clothes with cats on them
-Owning things with cats on them
-Not being lonely because she has her cats!
Why is it that you never hear of a “Dog Lady”?  They do all the things on that list, too.  Or “Cat Men.”  Or “Dog Men.”  So, I don’t think we’ve come to the true definition yet.  You can also just have one cat and be a cat lady, btw.
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Feline ^-^ Friday

How about some pictures of some lovely felines, including my own feline?

Yeah?

Here you go then:

 What the above cats are saying:  1) High-yah! 2) Seriously?  No date this Friday, either?  I mean…cool.  Let’s party.  3) Sisters from another mister  4)  Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr.  4)  Which one of us is the prototype again?  5)  Now scary.  Ok.  Like this ma?  6)  Meeeeooooowwwww….

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Her favorite position

Jazzy and mouseThe day she went outside on a lease and caught a mouse within 20 seconds.

 

Lazy dud…

I’m completely embarrassed, that on Veteran’s Day, I did…

NOTHING.

Lazy-Cat

I fed the cat, watched Netflix (but did not chill), used the microwave, drank a poorly executed martini, and avoided showering.

Pathetic, in comparison to people who died for freedom.  My dad and brother are veterans.  I have relatives — great uncles, I think, brothers — who one fought for the North, and one fought for the South, in the Civil War.  The most important thing I did today was feed a cat.

I could rationalize that veterans fought for my right to have a lazy holiday.  My dad was a veterinarian.  Maybe he would like the fact that I kept my cat alive.

No.  Again, embarrassed.

And now that I think about it, I “like”-d other people’s tributes to their family members who are veterans on Facebook.  Is “like”-ing things a verb?  An action? Mmm….barely passable as conscious.

Respect veterans.  Thank you for your service to sloths like me.

Moving on

Kitties are the answer; with a smattering of dogs.

It’s been a particularly hard time around here, and not just for me.  Someone at the office was upset today and someone else suggested she take some time and view cat videos.  It’s a proven “thing” that cat videos make people feel better.

Kittens are best.  Cats are good.  Even dogs, the nemeses of cats, like Mars is the nemesis of Venus, are mood lifting.  Any baby animal will do the trick, actually.

So, here’s to you, our four-legged furry baby friends.  Thanks for lifting our spirits!

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Moving on with an improved mood!

Little Kitty Stockholm Syndrome Going On, Perhaps…

Jazzy.  Poor thing is pretty much out of roommates.

Jazzy under the sheets

Brother – gone to medical school.  Sister – gone to college.  Dad – gone to new relationship and home.  Mom – free of responsibility and gallivanting all over New England, sometimes even on a weeknight.  (Yes, I think that’s wickedly daring.  I am a middle-aged, old fashioned(ish) woman).

She’s usually such a little witch, my cat, as cats seem to be, but showing up now and then to fill her food and water bowls and scoop the litter box has made her…uhm…darn close to loving.  She purrs and head butts me as if she actually misses me.  There’s a little kitty Stockholm Syndrome going on, perhaps.

We did have this game of put-new-sheets-on-the-bed, coat-them-with-cat-hair-before-every-corner-is-even-tucked-in this weekend.  That game is only second to coat-fresh-warm-laundry-with-cat-hair.  We played that too this weekend.  Keep the home fires burning, kitty.  Momma’s a rolling stone right now!

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Zeke the Elder (not a comic book character)

My son suggested I try out a Quaker “Friends” meeting.  This is weirder than it might seem. His dad is a non-practicing (occasional bar mitzvah or wedding attender) Jew and I am a lapsed Berean.  Yeah, it’s roughly Baptist.

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I went recently.  No leader.  Silence until someone may or may not be moved to speak.  Sometimes no one speaks and you sit in silence for an hour.  The message the day I went was about elders and “eldering.”  I had never heard it used as a verb before.  The messenger said that anyone can be an elder.  Your son can “elder” you.  You elder people all the time without probably knowing.

It’s been a hell of a 2015 so far, so it was great to spend lots of time with my friends’ dog Zeke.  You got it…he’s been eldering me:

Eat with gusto when you’re hungry.  Drink in big sloppy gulps of water.  Smell every flower. Every one.  Pee on as many of them as you want to mark them as ones you might want to revisit.  Be present.  Extend a limb in kindness sometimes; it speaks louder than words.  Play. Even if your heart hurts, playing will bathe it in cleansing hope.  Greet everything and everyone as if it/they will be a wonderful experience.  If that turns out not to be the case, find the next one.

I’m choked up about a dog!  And I thought I only had enough love for cats…

Thank you Zeke the Elder.  Thank you to his parents for sharing him with me.  Thank you for the circumstances that brought all of you guys to elder me.  Thank you Quaker woman who shared this insight with me.

Moving on.  With pleasure today!