560: Heebie-Jeebies


I have garnered the lead female role in a play, the Thirty Nine Steps. Actually, I play three different females in this play, all of whom interact with the male romantic lead. Who just happens to be my husband in real life. I get to kiss him onstage. More than once. In public. With an audience. Woo-hoo.

There are a lot of lines to learn. In a fairly short period of time. This is exciting, and scary, all at the same time. I am having performance anxiety issues, here, and I haven’t even performed yet. Worrying about things that may never happen. I’m pretty good at that, actually…..darn it.

I will choose to re-direct that snotty little voice in my head, and tell it that I will be wonderful, rave reviews, fantastically good time had by all (including me). I will not listen to internal negative thoughts of forgetting lines, or tripping onstage, or having wardrobe issues – I will have a great time in three accents: German, Scottish and plummy British. And I will kiss my husband, leading man, with gusto and fervor. Woo-hoo!



292: Losing a Pet

Pets are members of the family. I know this because of the grieving process that occurs when you lose one. Even when you adopt one out to another family, you grieve and miss them, even when you kn0w they are settling in and are happy with their new family – you still miss your babies.

Some people will argue with you until they are blue in the face that animals are animals, and don’t have any feelings, and that you as their “owner” are nothing more than a source of food to them. Yeah, they do like treats, but not have feelings? They are animals just like we are animals, and nobody is stupid enough to suggest that humans don’t have feelings (except for the small minority of the population known as psychopaths, and I am not sure they are human, anyway). People who think animals don’t have feelings simply have not been around any.

We’ve adopted out four babies. It’s tough. It was tougher choosing which four we would adopt out, and which three we would scrape together the funds to transport to our new country (Panama) from Morocco, where they were born. Sport Model needed a home here in Morocco, because he’s gregarious and friendly, and he likes people. He never settled on one of us as “his” special human – he likes everybody. We were fairly certain he would be happy with a new family, and that has proven to be the case, according to the glowing reports we have gotten. I still miss his morning kisses, though.

Sugar Daddy had made it plain that he wanted to be an “only” cat – or at most, to have only one kitty sibling. He really let us know he was not happy when we’d (I’d) bring a new rescue kitten home. There were too many brothers and sisters in the family, and he did not like it. We were fairly certain he’d be happy in a home as the only cat – and we were right there, too – he took to being the one and only like a duck to water. It did not hurt that there was a nice, big garden for him to explore, either.

Timinia was a big, gawky, adolescent boy with a huge appetite that kept getting him in trouble. He had also not chosen anyone as his special human, and he was willing to accept cuddles from anybody who was willing to dispense them. His new mama is very pleased that he likes sleeping next to her, climbs in her lap looking for cuddles, and begs for tidbits, and we are very pleased we don’t have to be so viligent in the kitchen anymore when there is food preparation going on. He’s a shameless beggar.

Honey Bunny was my husband’s kitty girl. She picked him.  It was hardest giving her to a family, knowing she adored my husband. We have not yet heard if she’s adopted anyone in her new family as her new special person. We just did not have the funds to ship four cats. We really don’t have the funds to ship three, but I can borrow a little on the nickel and dime plan to get the last three to Panama.

Humsa succumbed to his automobile injuries, and I still get a pang when I think of his happy orange-striped face. He was such a sweetie: if there are pets in Heaven, he’s there, enjoying lots of petting. Medina left, preferring the great outdoors to being a house pet. If you love your children, you let them go when they want to go. We hope she’s happy in the life she chose. She did come home once for a few days, but she decided it was too limiting for her free spirit, so she took off again. Souk did not like being around other cats, was constantly squabbling with her house siblings.We regretfully took her to the medina near the meat markets, where she could be assured free handouts, and let her go free where she could be by herself, like she wanted. She was a daddy’s girl, and she despised me as competition in the worst way. Now she does not have to put up with other cats or other people.

The three we are taking? Fez is mama’s girl, and nobody else’s. She does not even like to be petted much, especially in public. Fez is a very private girl. She like her kitty loving under cover – literally. She gets on my tummy under the covers, with my knees raised so she has a nice, warm, private space, and she makes bread, and rubs her head on my leg, and licks my leg with her sandpaper-rough tongue while I pet her.  She will do that until she falls asleep.

Fluff-man loves women. He will climb in your lap, put both arms around your neck and kiss you. Hard to resist that come-on. He is a easy-going, be-bopping hippy.

Caruso is the talker. He answers when you speak to him. And he talks to you even when you’d rather he didn’t. I found him half-frozen, too young to leave mama, but if I had not taken him, he would have died. He still will energetically and enthusiastically “nurse” on our fuzzy bed blanket. They are all our fur children, and we love all seven of them!!

Caruso and Fluff

Caruso and Fluff