I'm feeling completely uninspired. I've been trying for three days to think of something to write about, and having no luck whatsoever. Yet, even though I have nothing to say, I know I need to post something, so I'm reaching back several weeks to one of those random meme's that I was tagged with. This one asked me to come up with 4 facts about myself that I haven't posted before, and here they are:
1. I'm not really a brunette - at least, not anymore. My hair is gray. All - or nearly all - gray. I started going gray when I was 16, and by the time I was 25, it was bad enough that I started coloring it. If I let it go too long, the tell-tale skunk stripe down my center part could positively blind you. One of the first things I'm going to ask my birth mother, if she ever agrees to meet me, is if this is a hereditary thing.
2. I am a cat lover, which you may already know, but each of my cats has an interesting story, and I'll use up three facts if I tell you, so... Midnight, my oldest cat, is about 10 years old and all black. When she was about 1, and our only cat, she got out of the house accidently and disappeared. I was heartbroken. She was gone for over a month - at the same time my mom was dying. I was spending all day working, then driving an hour and a half to the nursing home to spend a few hours with my mom, driving home to sleep a few hours, only to repeat the whole thing. Each day the doctors said, 'say goodbye, she probably won't make it through the night.' This went on for 3 and a half weeks. One weekend morning, as I fixed a travel mug of coffee for my trip to the nursing home, I thought I heard a little mew. A second later, I heard it again, and I went to the door, opened it, and in ran Midnight. She was a little thinner, but looked clean and healthy. She ran right by me and went to where the food dishes had been, waiting for breakfast. I burst into tears. The next day, my mother passed away. I firmly believe that God said, "I know how hard it is for you right now, with me calling your mom home, so I'm sending back your furry baby." She's my miracle cat.
3. Eclipse is my 'middle' cat, and a bit of a miracle herself. One night, as we were getting our frozen meat delivery (our dogs eat an amazing amount of meat, which is kept in huge freezers in our attached shed) one of my kids heard some faint crying. Upon investigation, he found three tiny kittens, eyes not even open yet, crying frantically in the attic of the shed. I had seen a feral cat hanging around our shed for several months, which isn't unusual, since we have dog food and meat hanging around. The day before, I had seen the cat lying dead on the road about a quarter of a mile down our very busy road, and had felt bad about it. Well, come to find out, she had chosen our shed to have her litter. These poor orphaned kittens hadn't eaten in at least 36 hours and they were very hungry. We brought them in, and nursed them by hand with tiny bottles and kitten formula. We gave two of them away, and kept Eclipse. She's the cuddliest cat I've ever known, having been raised by hand. She's what I guess you call a calico - she has fur of every color, with the main background being black. Sometime I'll dig out the baby pictures of my sons nursing the kitties. Their hands look huge because the kittens were so small. Who says boys aren't nurturing?
4. Last, but not least, we have a yellow tabby cat named Ursa. Ursa Major, really. She was another mostly wild cat who chose our shed to have babies in - twice! The first time, we didn't discover them until the kittens were several weeks old, and they were completely feral and terrified of us. We could never manage to catch them, and they eventually moved on, but Mama Cat stayed. I fed her (how could you not?) out in the shed, and prayed that she wouldn't get killed on our road. By the second time I noticed she was pregnant, she had become pretty friendly to us, and I began hatching a plan. One day, when I let my dog Bliss out to go potty, Mama Cat, who normally didn't pay any attention to Bliss, totally attacked her, hissing and trying to scratch her. Bliss, by the way, took off for the dog yard and refused to come back near the house - such a brave watch dog, huh? Anyway, I coaxed Mama Cat over and noticed she was bleeding slightly, which I knew meant she was going to have her kittens. I grabbed her, brought her inside, and set her up with a clean comfy place in our sunporch. She had only two kittens, and we kept her and the kittens inside until the kittens were old enough to be adopted. By this time, Mama Cat was very friendly, loved to be petted, and would even let us pick her up. Ever so carefully, we introduced her into our household, and, while they scuffle occasionally, all is usually calm. We finally decided to stop calling her Mama Cat, and so she became Ursa (although we forget and call her MC anyway).
Woo-hoo! I did it! I posted something. I am pathetically proud of myself. See what my life has become? Tomorrow is a GIRLS NIGHT OUT, so maybe by Thursday I'll have my mojo back.
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