I admit it, I am totally hooked on watching live kitty cams. It is tremendous, harmless fun. Often the comments from fellow chatters is more entertaining than even the kittens.
Six of the seven – Hank is the one missing
It all started rather innocently with a text message from my son whose girlfriend alerted him to Noodles and her seven kittens. A beautiful and loving blond mother, seven beautiful kittens and a great storyline (the adventures of Runty-now-Loki) coupled with a long, slow summer at the office had me hooked.
That litter inspired me to begin this Be As One blog with this post.
Ripley’s Kittens (names based on characters from the movie “Alien”)
Ripley, the mother
Ash
Bishop
Parker
Dallas
Newt
What would it be like to foster a litter? How do you prevent yourself from becoming too attached?
From the Tails from the Foster Kittens blog comes an interview with John of the Critter Room where we learn what it’s like to be a foster dad:
Interview with a Fosterer – The Critter Room
Today’s interview comes from John of The Critter Room.
I first became aware of The Critter Room though his totally awesome web cam. With nearly 18,000 facebook fans and 24,000 followers to his Livestream webcam, you know he’s doing something amazingly adorable! I want to thank John for taking the time to participate! (and I admire and am amazed at the fact you kept your word on not adopting!!)
I don’t know if I could do what John does but I’m sure glad he does it! Not only does he save countless cats and kittens, he provides entertainment and oftentimes solace and a peaceful refuge for tens of thousands of viewers each day.
There are so many ways to serve in God’s kingdom and His creatures, human and animal. John’s work is just one of them.
I have known M. Regina Cram since high school. Her family is like my second family. The same is true for my husband. He came to know Reg first while I was friendly with her older sister Ginny first. We have all been through a lot of weddings, funerals, tragedies and births together. And all throughout those years we sang together, going through the meticulous journal of songs that Reg and Ginny kept.
I’ve known that Reg has written a regular monthly column for the Catholic Transcript, the official newspaper for the Hartford, CT diocese. Secretly I dreamed of her writing a book. And she finally did! It’s called Do Bad Guys Wear Socks? Living the Gospel in Everyday Life. I’m taking my time reading it because it is so enjoyable and someday soon I will review the book and feature an interview with Reg.
In the meantime, here’s a taste of what this book offers, from her current column in the Catholic Transcript:
Six words. That’s all. Six simple words, but each time I uttered them, my throat tightened and my eyes burned.
“Tierney and Andrew live in Newtown.”
These six words brought me to tears many times that first week after a shooter massacred 26 people in an elementary school in Newtown, also killing his mother and, at the end, himself. Our daughter Tierney and her husband Andrew settled in Newtown after their wedding a year ago. Andrew grew up there. His family lives in town. His brother went to school with the gunman.
A few days after the shootings, I came across a familiar Bible verse. “For God so loved the world that he sent his only son . . . ”
In the light of the shootings, the verse rankled me. I mean, seriously? God loves the whole world? Everyone? He loves a man who slaughtered 20 babies and the educators who tried to protect them? Jesus died for someone like that?
The Sharp Shadows featuring L to R, Max Schneller, Steve Bailey and Thomas Chalifour
My son wrote this song – he’s in the background playing the guitar and whistling ’cause he lost his voice shouting above the roar of eighteen 3 year-olds he teaches each day plus practicing with his band, Brooklyn, NY based The Sharp Shadows.
So I present Stephen Bailey and roommate Alissa Simmons singing “All That I Can Do” at the Starship Cornelia (better known as their apartment :-)):
Does this singer/songwriter’s, and mom’s heart good!
It’s amazing how much you can learn by being forced to lie still in your bed for two days.
That nasty Christmas virus went through our household and I got it just before New Year’s. The timing was fortunate as I had several days to rest and recover.
More like a mini flu, the only way I could find any relief from the headache, fever and nausea was to lie perfectly still in my bed with the lights out, the TV off and a pillow over my head. No noise was tolerable. This went on for two days.
In the past, a sickness like this would turn me inward, driving out all thoughts of God, and everything else. It’s as if a trap door opened under my feet and I fell into a cavern, oppressive and suffocating.
I’ve never before had a guide before to lead me out. This time I did.
The temperature outside was 10 degrees with a wind chill of -11. And I still went out for my lunch time walk. When I returned, the office manager and real estate agent on duty applauded.
I felt like applauding myself. Never in a million years did I think I would ever find myself walking in such cold weather.
Now I feel like I can do anything!
And it taught me the lesson of Step by Step. Working at something each day. Experiencing success on an incremental level. Sometimes the successes are so small, they go unnoticed. Until one day when you walk in bone-chilling weather and you enjoy it!
Walking has been an odyssey.
Walking has been a teacher.
Walking has introduced and reacquainted me with something and Someone that I love.
It began with achy legs and bad feet being introduced to the perfect shoe, the
Mercy Croc.
It continues with the perfect boot, the Cougar Cheyenne Bootie.
It began with walking a few short feet and feeling like I was dragging a ball and chain behind me (not to mention the aching back). Now I walk over three miles and feel exhilarated.
It’s turned Spring, Summer and Fall into glorious excursions into beautiful places filled with hidden messages. It’s transformed Winter from a season I dreaded to a season I rejoice in.
Today I walked the familiar trail to Wellesley College and took pictures. I just loved comparing the seasons:
Fall and Winter trees at Wellesley CollegeA ring of leaves is replaced with snow.It’s interesting what you see when the leaves are no longer there – Wellesley College tower.Warm or cold, the ducks are still here.
And of course, the “Be As One” bridge:
The stone bridge, still just as pretty in winter.
I feel so grateful today.
Grateful for my accomplishments. Grateful for insights. Grateful for my Companion, always there, granting me blessings (often without my asking for them, as in the Mercy Crocs and boots), providing the “eyes” to see, and now, the feet to walk. Empowering me so I can be the way He meant me to be.
Step by Step works for walking. I’m learning how to apply it to writing. I’d say as a writer, I can walk a mile. I’m looking forward to the day when I can walk several, when I can write lots of words and assemble them into a book.
The black, grey and brown four week old tabby surveyed every rung of the white cage, eyeing the top tier with eager anticipation.
“Mama goes up there all the time! I wanna see!”
“Cheeerupp!” Mama Ripley flopped down on her side. It was time for a visit the milk bar. Food first. Then, back to the cage and escape.
The five kittens of assorted sizes and colors piled up on the sleek black mother cat, climbing all over her and each other to get to the precious milk.
“Mine!” “No, MINE!” “Get off of me!” The mother’s eyes stared off into space waiting patiently for calm to descend. Now and then she winced as little teeth pulled at her nipples.
Parker, the tabby, found a cozy spot next to his brother, Dallas, also a tabby. Sister Ash, the largest of the brood, lumbered over to her spot and kneaded gently with black and white paws on her mother’s side. Delicate white-faced Newt kept nosing in, frantically trying to find her place at the milk bar. The smallest, black-faced Bishop, found the nipple nearest to her mother’s chest.
Soon the cage was filled with the trilling of soft purrs, heavy breathing and groups of little paws, kneading back and forth in a rhythmic pattern. Mother Ripley sighed and closed her eyes in contentment.
Soon however, her stomach began to rumble with hunger. Lifting her head, Ripley rolled to her feet, scattering startled kittens everywhere on the floor. Dallas and Newt shook their heads and curled up on each other, falling asleep in an instant. Ash soon joined them, wrapping her warm body covered with volumes of black, gray and white fur around the pair. Bishop was content to be alone, sleeping in a ball in the corner. Parker eyed his mother. Was she going up to that mysterious place again?
Ripley gazed at the second tier of the cage and jumped up, a chirp escaping from her mouth. Parker’s quick eyes followed, observing the underbelly and paws of his mother whose head was buried in a bowl. He heard the chomping of food and soon saw his mother in another box, scratching the bottom over and over again.
“What is she doing? Is she eating? Why is she scratching? I wanna see!” Parker was tingling with curiosity, his eyes growing blacker by the second.
Finished with the scratching, Ripley jumped back down to the lower portion of the cage. The thump of her landing roused her family and the air was full of high-pitched mews.
She settled in the midst of the balls of fur and placing her paw securely over Parker, began to bathe him vigorously. Parker wiggled and squirmed under the scratchy tongue, even daring to kick his mother gently with his hind legs. He had something else on his mind.
Finishing with Parker, Ripley turned her attention next to sleepy Ash. Seizing the moment, Parker sprang into action, startling his brothers and sisters who eyed him with annoyance at disturbing their sleep. He wobbled over to the side of the cage, pitching back and forth on tiny legs. Placing his two front paws on the fifth rung, he pulled himself up and stood tall. The others, wide awake now, watched in wonder, eyes turning from blue to excited black.
“How do I do this? Hmmm, if I place this paw here and that paw there …” And soon the tiny kitten was scaling the wall.
The noise of his climbing work up Ash from her stupor and she began resist her bath. Ripley secured her to the ground with her paw to finish the job and caught sight of Parker out of the corner of her ever-watchful eye. She watched him climb higher and higher and began chirping at him.
Parker reached the forbidden second tier and quivered with excitement. What wonders lie in this place? Looking down he saw the eyes of his brothers, sisters and mother, all fixated on him, giving him a strange feeling of power. At the same time, he became aware of just how high up he was and became a little frightened. That feeling soon passed as he explored the strange smells in the bowl and all that gritty stuff in the box. Climbing inside, something stuck to his feet, making walking a little uncomfortable but no matter. This was all just too exciting!
Ripley sat up straight, a piercing look in her yellow eyes. Chirps turned to meows coming deep from within her throat, rising in volume as she grew more alarmed, and annoyed, with her errant boy.
Parker heard his mother calling but continued to explore. “Not just yet,” he thought.
Ripley was standing at attention now, face turned upward. “M-u-u-u-r-r-r-ow, m-u-u-u-r-r-r-ow!” she called in persistence.
Parker observed his mother for the first time and when he saw that piercing look he thought better of exploring and decided to come back down. A thought then struck him: How? Getting up was easy. Getting down … can I climb down? Should I jump? But it’s such a long way down …
Ripley kept calling … time to take a chance … Parker took a deep breath and took a flying leap. Crash! Down he fell into a heap of wide open eyes, tangled legs and tails. Fortunately Ash was just below him and broke the fall with the sheer volume of her fur. She turned on her wayward brother and hissed at him.
The other kittens, now fully awake, quickly recovered and began to play, poking at balls, springs and other toys.
Parker turned to join them but soon found himself under the firm arm of his mother who bathed him with great vigor. “Ouch!” he thought, squirming again under that rough tongue. But in the back of his mind he remembered the wonderful space just above him, the thrill of the climb, the intoxicating smells and knew he’d be scaling the walls again very soon. Even if his mama didn’t approve.
But Ripley’s kittens (names coming from the movie “Alien”) have to be the most beautiful of them all. Three are girls, black, gray, white and “floofy” (a “crazy cat person” term) and the other two are boys, both tabbies.
In the course of following the chat room that accompanies the live feed, I came upon a website known as kittenwritten.net. For every 100 words you write, you are rewarded with a picture of a kitten! Writers always need a little push to get going and I thought this seemed like the purrfect opportunity to try it (yes, I know it should be spelled “perfect” but I’m one of those crazy cat ladies.)
White padded paws belonging to a sleek black and white tuxedo cat waded carefully through puddles on the street. The wind was brisk and every now and then water would soak through the fur, giving the cat a chill. She could feel the movement inside of her lower body and knew her time was coming. The bulging of her belly made it difficult to navigate those puddles.
Her eyes black and wide open in distress, she whimpered with hunger pangs, searching for a place to bear her brood.
It was then that a woman in her mid thirties came upon the cat who by now was shivering uncontrollably.
“Oh my, you poor thing!” said the woman, crouching down and extending her open hand to the stray to sniff. The cat shrunk back slightly but the woman was patient, cooing softly, “Come on sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re such a pretty kitty, come sniff my hand.”
After a long pause, the cat leaned forward, sniffing the hand and touching it with her cold nose. The woman remained in a crouch and continued to coo, extending her left hand while with her right, searching her pocket for a treat.
photo from The Critter Room on Facebook
Finding a couple of soft kibbles, she offered them to the cat. Sniffing audibly, the eyes opened wider and the cat pressed forward, taking the kibble delicately into her mouth. The woman pulled out more kibbles and soon the cat was eating a handful.
Drawing back her left hand, she turned it over and hovered over the cat’s head, slowly descending until it just barely touched the fur so wet and cold. At first the cat shrank back but the odor of the kibbles was too much and she remained, carefully nibbling.
“Oh sweetheart, how hungry you are!” said the woman as she reached out again to stroke the head. It was then that she noticed the cat’s true condition.
Searching for a collar and finding none, the woman noticed the movement in the bulging belly. At once her heart was lost in love with that homeless and hungry cat.
Placing more kibbles on the ground, it took but a moment for the woman to take off her fleece coat and wrap it gently around the cat. At first the cat wiggled and shrank back, eyes going black with fear. But somehow the woman’s cooing and the memory of the kibbles was enough for her to begin to trust someone. Instinctively she sensed she must if she and her soon-to-be born kittens were to survive.
The woman gently scooped up the black cat and laid her in her arms, continuing to coo. “You look like a Ripley to me sweetheart,” she said and in a singsong voice, saying the name over and over again. She stood still, waiting for Ripley to relax just a bit, and stroked her head slowly, softly. Ripley began to close her eyes as the slightest hint of a purr rippled through her body.
photo by Brenda Veldwijk
A woman in her thirties and a half-starved and very pregnant tuxedo cat made their way to a new home where kittens would be born and tens of thousands of strangers from across the world would share in the joy of the new family.
What happens when technology leaves you with an unexpected gift? You grab it and go!
This morning my two cats, Jenny and Rameses, started playing with toys that my mother-in-law had put in our Christmas stocking for them. Tootsie’s toys never fail to please! I watched as they inspected the toys, taking pictures with my phone.
The pictures produced some shocking results and were such fun that I thought I’d craft a story around them. Here goes:
Santa had left an extra gift.
The tree stripped of its sparkling lights and sentimental ornaments had been dragged out onto the snow-covered deck to shelter the birds. In its wake were left a trail of prickly green needles and a single, unopened package, topped with a silky red bow and a note stamped with a paw print reading, “Love from Santa, Rudolph and the gang.”
Filled with a variety of plush and plastic toys, this unassuming package might have been ignored altogether were it not for the intoxicating scent of catnip which soon caught the attention of a matronly Torti.
Gently pawing the package Jenny pressed her face close to it, filling her nostrils with the sweet scent of catnip. The paper crinkled, the scent grew stronger and soon paws and claws were ripping at the paper. Shreds of red and green flew about as the treasure trove was exposed.
Pushing past the scraps of paper, Jenny poked and prodded each toy until she found the one of her desire. Rubbing her face against it, she erupted into a frenzied purr and was soon rolling on the floor in catnip ecstasy.
It wasn’t long before Rameses caught on. Galloping in from the kitchen, he stopped short at the entrance to the family room, his long tail switching to and fro. The sleek ginger quivered as if to say, “What’s this? New toys? Playtime! All mine!”
The purring instantly ceased at the commotion and Jenny crouched close to the floor next to the catnip toy, folding her delicate paws under the portly body. Her eyes remained yellow but she never took them off of Rameses.
Rameses circled the toys and sniffing audibly, spotted the catnip treasure. Jenny rose and quietly stalked the young male, continuing to stare him down. He sat still and returned the stare.
It was then that his eyes flamed as balls of fire! Jenny’s own eyes instantly transformed into immense black saucers as she turned away, unable to bear the heat of his gaze.
Still, she didn’t leave, the alluring scent of the catnip fresh on her mind.
Jenny turned back towards Rameses, crouching again on the floor next to the toy, paws folded under her body.
Sitting perfectly still, her eyes too began to flame …
Oh no! How will this story end?
Happily?
With a big fight?
What kind of power rests inside those flaming eyes?
Who prevails?
Who gets the catnip toy?
That’s up to you! Suggest an ending with your comments.
Like all kids I’d be up half the night, listening to the activity down in the living room where my dad would be putting together a bicycle or building some other contraption. He’d sometimes ring the jingle bells that hung on our front door because he knew my sister, brother and I were listening; we swore Santa was on our roof with his sleigh full of toys! My older sister would peak down the stairs to spy.
It was such a long wait until 6am when we would run downstairs to open our gifts.
I have fond memories of toys from Christmas past. Among my favorites:
Suzy Smart, a talking schoolgirl doll
A magnetic dollhouse – the magnets were on wands and I used to love whipping the family members through the house!
My first 26 inch bicycle
Barbie clothes, especially the ones my cousin Janie made for me. The white levis were the coolest!
All the cute nature-related stocking stuffers – they were the best!
Here’s what we looked like on Christmas morning – my dad could never resist taking a picture and as you can see, we were just thrilled:
When we were a little older, we were required to wait until our grandparents came over before gifts could be opened. Sometimes they wouldn’t arrive until two in the afternoon; that’s a long wait for a kid! I managed to take satisfaction in the fact we still had gifts to open while the rest of the kids in the neighborhood had long ago opened theirs.
Christmas becomes quieter as we grow older …
although sharing it with small children keeps the magic alive. My husband bought and put together a huge Brio train set for our then one year old son; he ended up playing with the box!
But now at 27, he keeps that box of wooden tracks and trains under his old bed at our home to keep for future generations.
Christmas these days is tinged with a bit of melancholy,
remembering parents and other beloved family members who have passed on. This year’s holiday was especially poignant with the thought of my older sister Christine and her husband Tom soon moving down south for their retirement.
We enjoyed a lovely last get-together at their home sharing mementos and memories.
The gathering was intimate: just Christine and Tom, our own family of four and older brother Tommy. Christine set the table with the silver, delicate white tablecloth, cloth napkins and embroidered place mats belonging to our maternal grandmother. Dinners in their Tudor dining room, complete with leaded windows, and a curved entrance with a wrought-iron gate, were formal; this dinner was warm as we each shared something we were grateful for before eating.
Upon opening presents we each received a precious remembrance of past loved ones.
Christine and Tom had recently cleaned out their attic and decided to distribute family mementos. I received my mother’s diploma from Wellesley College along with a special poem and remembrance from her retirement in 1984 from the Botany Department at the college.
Tommy received plans, drawings and photos of miniature ships that our paternal grandfather, known as Pom Pom, had built. We all marveled at the incredible precision and accuracy of the drawings and models; I knew that talent had passed down from grandfather to father to son and felt proud. Here’s a sample drawing from our “Pom Pom” of his 1912 car:
The day ended quietly and once home,
I indulged in my favorite Christmas present this year,
sent by my brother-in-law and his wife who live an hour outside of Los Angeles. They gave me a DVD of the complete first season of Daktari, a children’s TV show that I loved as a kid (from Wikipedia: The show follows the work of Dr. Tracy, his daughter Paula and his staff, who frequently protected animals from poachers and local officials. Tracy’s pets, a cross-eyed lion named Clarence and a chimpanzee named Judy, were also popular characters.).
It was particularly special that it came from Tim for he loves old TV shows and collects autographs and memorabilia. We had visited them over the summer and Tim and I had talked about favorite TV shows. It touched my heart that he remembered and I literally squealed when I tore off the paper and saw his gift.
So for a little while I became 10 years again, pretending I was Daktari’s daughter, living in Africa taking care of and communing with the animals (especially the big cats!).
Christmas Day was magical again.
But most importantly, thoughts of the baby Jesus and His birth into my life and so many others was never far from my mind. I was pleased to light all four of my advent candles for dinner with our son just before Christmas:
A lovely tabletop tree highlights the manger scene:
Magical, yes. And blessed. Merry Christmas!
How was your Christmas? What were your favorite toys from Santa?
The Scientist Kittens
The Spice Kittens
Ripley’s Kittens (names based on characters from the movie “Alien”)
Click to Tweet & Share: What’s it like to foster kittens? Here’s an interview foster dad John from The Critter Room (reblog) http://wp.me/p2D9hg-nH
Would you like to learn along with Susan how to live your life
Be as One 