Ethics · Personal · Pets

Being a Cat Person

I’ve shared my life with a variety of animals and loved them all. But, in the end, I am a lover of cats.

Katie, Keith, Toby, Toejoe, Patches, Gidget, Enie, Sammy, Charlie (& Morris), Jesse James, Dusty, Merlin, Christmas, Grace, Molly, Murphy, Mouse, Bernie

Things I’ve Learned

  • Food should be wet, air dried, or kibble
  • Food should be high protein, no grain, minimal peas/lentils/potatoes.
  • Food needs to be composed of human quality ingredients, whole parts rather than meal.
  • Vaccinations increase the chances of cancers. If you have an indoor cat with little or no exposure, do not vaccinate.
  • Do not get all your vaccines at the same time. Do not get them in the same location.
  • Most vaccines, especially rabies and rabies combos, are effective up to 5 years. 3 years is a good compromise.
  • Never declaw (unless you want to inflict trauma equivalent to cutting off your own fingers and toes to the first joint). Arthritis, joint deterioration, pain and balance problems result.
  • Rescue when possible. Adopt specific breed rescues. Purchase ONLY from vetted and ethical breeders. (I had my heart set on a Scottish Fold.)
  • Spay or neuter after 5 pounds … or as soon as feasible. Doing so, decreases the chances of many health issues.
  • Don’t breed your pets. Too many pets still need homes.
  • Commit to your pets. They are not disposable for any reason, especially inconvenience.

Finally, cats are individuals. You should understand their individual personalities, learn their histories, and honor their boundaries. My Scottish Fold Bernie is a joy, but I wish he was more of a cuddler. He isn’t, but he is companionable and affectionate. Most of all, nobody has mistreated or been mean to him EVER. I raised him from a kitten after having rescues for 30 years. I loved those rescues, but I’m sad for who they might have been under better circumstances. And, I’m amazed at how loving and lovable they remained.

Family · Health · Memory · Personal

Broken Heart

I was born with a broken heart and everyone knew it. I was too small for surgery. I had to wait. While I was waiting, I had to be quiet and careful. I had to be small when I wanted to be big.

I wanted to do everything. I wanted to feel everything. I wanted to know everything. I also wanted love. I also wanted approval. I tried to do as I was told and, when I did, I got love and approval. Doing what other people wanted, gave me love and approval. This was experience not reasoning. Call it conditioning.

My world was small, but I had my imagination and then I learned to read and I HAD BOOKS. And my heart was mended. But quiet and careful were already habits for me as expected by everyone.

Family · Memory · Personal · relationships

The End In The Beginning

How do you know when a relationship has ended?  There are obvious moments: When one of you asks for a divorce.  When you realize that you are happier when you arrive home to an empty house.  When you stop caring about his opinion because it is always so negative, or critical, or judgemental.

But a hundred tiny moments come before those big moments. Some are identifiable landmarks.  Others are cumulative.

In my case, I began by putting the other person first.  Every time I chose myself instead, the relationship developed a crack.  Those small cracks waited for the bigger events to fissure and spread.

The first cracks and the first landmark evolved together.  While he was away at basic training, he wrote and sent a “Dear Jane” letter which he followed with a request to destroy it without reading it.  I did. A few months later, he proposed by phone.  I planned the wedding.  When he got home, he visited a childhood friend and cancelled the wedding – also by phone.  At the time, I was unaware of any connection.  I called it cold feet and panic. We were young.

A few days passed. Driving home with my parents, I simply knew he was at the house waiting.  I told them and, when we got there, he was.  My grandfather had refused to talk to him, so he was napping in his car.  I talked to him. I was 21 years old. I agreed to wear his ring and to keep talking. All this resulted in the wedding he planned and I flew to Louisiana for. He forgot a bouquet and none of my family or friends could attend.

He shaped the circumstances, but I was always the one who chose and acted. I wound up with the responsibility.

I didn’t have to forgive. I didn’t have to say, “Yes.” I didn’t have to leave home.

Ethics · Nature · Personal

Words To Live By

Aspirations are the only words worth living by because you are living up to then, but not living for them. You are still making choices yourself.

I try to act in line with who I want to be. I take that action and let go of the results. I do that because I can’t control the choices other people make and that always influences the outcome. Sometimes this is tiring. The temptation is to do what is easy and sometimes I do that because I’m certainly not perfect.

I try not to be pessimistic. My family indoctrination counts change as always dangerous rather than an opportunity. If someone helps, they always want something from you. If something could go wrong, it will. None of this promotes feelings of happiness or trust. I decided instead to give everyone and every situation a baseline of trust and let actions and events move that level up or down.

I choose to be independent, relying first on myself and only then on trusted people or social or government supports. “Better to plan for the worst and hope for the best.” My sense of belonging to groups is minimal and measured.

I care about justice, equity and fairness. I don’t believe in scarcity. For example, raising service workers to a living wage isn’t a referendum on my wages, my profession or my life choices. I’m a “progressive.”

Finally, I care about life. Sometimes fishermen need to take a hit to save the salmon. Life, living things and the planet all have intrinsic value beyond their usefulness to humanity. When we forget that, the ecosystem will correct for our hubris.

Family · History & Mission · Memory · Personal

Memory – A Story Interlude #1

How does a midlife crisis and a spiritual crisis tie together? In my case, they were sequential.

Huddled in my waterbed alone in a Fairbanks winter, I realized that I hated my job and had wound up where I’d vowed never to be. I’d done none of the things I’d planned to do and most of the ones that I’d sworn not to. I was married before 30. I was putting my husband’s needs and accomplishments first. I’d stopped writing. I hadn’t finished my college degree.

We were supposed to be living in Anchorage. We came to Fairbanks as a last minute change to my husband’s Army assignment. I brought my Pomeranian puppy, Corry, and a short work history with me. I felt uneasy spending money I didn’t earn and unable to put my own needs first, so I needed to work. We shared a single car, so we did a lot of coordinating and solo spontenaity was negligible. I was, essentially, dependent.

Being dependent was one of the biggest reasons that I’d sworn off marriage. To this day, I stand by this. If the Army hadn’t made it nearly impossible to be together unless married, we’d have stayed partners not spouses. My mom was 13 years old when she met my dad and his parents became her surrogates because hers were alcoholics. They married when she graduated from high school. She was 20 when I was born and 22 when my sister was born. She never got her driver’s license or worked after marriage.

Technically, that isn’t completely true. She got her license with me when I took driver’s training. She went to work at Montgomery Wards once my sister and I were both in our teens, but someone drove her to and from the Triangle Mall. Did I forget to mention? We lived next to my grandparents, Dad’s parents, and they joined us in our home after dinner just about every evening.

I loved it as a child. I had four adults available at all times. Mom got up each morning to see Dad off to work and then I went back o bed with her. We normally got up after we heard the school bus leave. The stop was right outside our house on the corner. If you discount my health issues, I had a picture perfect childhood. We were a little rural, so I played outside. My grandpa planted a garden. My grandma taught me how to crochet and knit. My dad taught me embroidery. I became the shared household baker. My mom taught me how to sew and was always trying new things with me. We always had pets, especially cats. My grandpa had chickens when I was young. He even caught and released a mama o’possum and her babies because I couldn’t let them be killed. He taught me to drive because Dad and I made one another too nervous.

As I got older, I saw how uneven these relationships were for my mom. Three other adults were always vetting her actions. Without money of her own, every purchase had to be approved. Dad paid all the bills, signing them after she wrote the checks. We all went grocery shopping together. Whenever she started acting too independent, she was brought up short. She was questioned about every moment she spend outside the house. She was discouraged from having friends beyond other couples, including spending too much time with any independent wives. More than once, I saw Dad reduce her to tears in social settings by belittling her, sometimes subtly and sometimes not.

As the oldest child and a girl, I fought for my freedoms and independence. As an adult, I intend to keep them.

History & Mission · Memory · Personal

Memory – The Facts

What is memory really? Is it a recording and recounting of events? I don’t think so. Personal history is rewritten every day.  It is the story we tell ourselves to make sense of our lives.  Memory, like our personal history is fluid.

I had my midlife crisis at 25, bought my first house at 30, got my first tattoo at 35, divorced and got a nose piercing at 40. I spent the next three years adjusting, socializing and dating. I had a heart attack, which was diagnosed as acute pericarditis, at 45. I had a hole in my heart patched at 50 and broke my arm at 55.  My life is defined by crisis and remembered by location.  I grew up in Kelso, Washington, graduating from Kelso Senior High School in 1980 and attending Washington State University as a freshman. I moved into a condo with my mother when my parents separated and then divorced.

I married at 21 and had that midlife crisis while living in Fairbanks, Alaska.  At 30, I lived in Sierra Vista, Arizona. At 35, in Augusta, Georgia.  At 40, in Spanaway, Washington. I spent the next 21 years working as an IT Specialist at Stone Education Center on Joint Base Lewis-McChord. When the COVID-19 lockdown hit, I moved in with my mom in Longview, Washington. I teleworked and later spent the occassional work day back onsite. Rather than returning fulltime to JBLM, I retired.

Those are the facts. They are not the story.