Author: Belinda O

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Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope you’re able to enjoy the holiday, whether it means spending time with family or spending time by yourself. I’ll be doing the latter, and then working on Friday, which doesn’t sound like much of a holiday, I guess, but I plan to relax, watch some football, then pull out my “start of the holiday season” movie, The Man Who Came to Dinner.

Maybe I’ll set up my little Christmas tree, too. I haven’t done that in recent years, but it might be worth the effort this year. The cats love it, until they pull it down on top of themselves. Once for each of them is enough.

And of course, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! Woo-hoo! I always enjoy that.

Have a wonderful day!

Image Credits: Turkey on the run © JW Studio; Thankful Cat © PrettyVectors; both stock.adobe.com

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Liar, Liar

When I was in second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Smith, told us a story one day about always telling the truth. I don’t recall much about what she said, except this: she claimed her son, Tim, age 17, always told the truth. She caught him in a lie when he was three, had a good long talk with him, and he never lied to her again.

Yeah, right. Even at the tender age of seven, I and the vast majority of my classmates were skeptical. I’m not sure what that said about us. Maybe that we’d all lied to our parents more than once and no talking-to was likely to stop us from doing it again.

That story apparently stayed with us, for one day when poor Tim showed up to drop off something for his mother we all pounced. Most of us just cried out something like, “you’re Tim?” but the braver souls demanded to know if he ever lied to his mother. Mrs. Smith reigned us in pretty quickly, and just as quickly Tim disappeared.

I’m sure Mrs. Smith intended to help keep us from lying, but that’s a difficult task for parents, let alone teachers. As I grew older I learned my mom and dad had discovered I was a pretty good liar, while my sister was not. I took no pride in that and vowed to change my ways, but I think it took awhile.

As adults, our lies can get bigger and the consequences worse. Most of us know this and steer toward truth-telling. I know I try to, although I may have challenged the concept of a “little white lie” on more than one occasion. Still, I think I’m an honest person for the vast majority of the time.

Okay, I may tell you my cats are the best cats in the world. Obviously, that’s impossible to measure and is entirely subjective, so I guess it’s not really a lie, it’s more like hyperbole.

I work with a woman I call a storyteller. The first few of her stories I took at face value, but the longer we worked together the more I realized they were blatant falsehoods. I just smile now when she gets going with her tales and say things like, “Really? That’s unbelievable.” I don’t think she catches my meaning. The thing is, when it comes to our work, I believe she’s honest. So her stories don’t really bother me.

Lies from politicians do bother me, starting with those told on the campaign trail. I’m holding my breath about some things some politicos said when they were trying to win an election, knowing these people have proven that their words are untrustworthy. Some campaign promises are so bizarre, or so expensive, that I question why anyone would believe them. But people do.

I once discovered, on a previous job, that a co-worker lied to a group of us about the work we were doing, and lied to others to cover up what he was telling us. That did not sit well with us when we found out about it. His lies led us down the wrong path and we looked bad. Turns out our manager had figured out what he was up to, but we had no idea. I would have liked it if she sat us down and went over it, but maybe that’s expecting too much.

The best any of us can do is vow to be honest with each other and trust that that catches on in the world around us. It’s not only the right thing to do, it’s the caring thing.

Image Credits: Pinocchio nose © Vadym; Children © Rymma; Cats © LadadikArt–all, stock.adobe.com

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Mimi’s Trying to Nap

I crept up on Mimi to take this picture. She obliged by briefly opening her eyes, then shutting them again, as you can see in the shot. I snapped a few more pics to no avail. So I let her nap.

The good news is this is where the table I was trying to sell used to sit. I thought the cats might miss it, but they adapted to the open space pretty quickly. And so did I! The money I made went toward their annual exam. I’m referencing a couple of Caturday posts here, so if you know what I’m talking about, thanks for coming back!

Mimi the tabby cat has her eyes firmly shut as I try to take a picture of her.
Illustration of sleeping tabby cat, all curled up.
You let me sleep, I’ll let you sleep.

Image Credits: Cesar Cat © Belinda O, Paws in Heart © Bigstock Photos, Sleeping Cat © Satoru Sketches–stock.adobe.com

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C’mon Fall–Bring It On!

Halloween is fast approaching, and I’m amazed by the number of people I know at work or in my private life who love this holiday more than Christmas. I’m amazed mostly because I don’t really get into Halloween at all. Okay, I’m all for getting a bag full of candy, but wait, I’m a senior citizen and don’t go trick-or-treating anymore. Haven’t for a long time.

Okay, so that part of Halloween is over for me. But what about dressing up? Not really into that, either, although I love seeing what the kids (and their parents) come up with. At work we open our doors to the children of employees after school on the 31st. One little girl came as Wednesday last year, and believe me, she had the look down. Her mom told me what went into putting that outfit together and it turned out to be several hours of searching, mostly on Amazon. (If you don’t know who Wednesday is, search Netflix).

Scary movies? Not a chance. I really disappointed one co-worker with that one. Now, the flip side of that would be the holiday movies on Hallmark, and I don’t really enjoy those much either. Give me the classic Christmas films, like Christmas in Connecticut with Barbara Stanwyck or The Bishop’s Wife with Cary Grant. I spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day watching eight favorite holiday films, and those are just two of them.

Which brings me around to Christmas. I can’t say I love it, because I’m usually alone and that’s not much fun. But I do enjoy the decorations as well as Advent, which we observe in church. I guess a big part of Christmas for me is the celebration of the birth of Christ. The carols speak to me, both for their meaning and tradition.

This year, Christmas comes on a Thursday, and I’ve taken Christmas Eve and the day after off from work, so I’m looking forward to the five days of sleeping in and doing what I want to do. Which will not be shopping. I’ve got my Christmas shopping done. I just have to mail the gifts, which I won’t do until December. I try to stall mailing my mom’s package because I know she won’t wait until Christmas to open her gifts and that always disappoints me. However, I don’t like waiting in line at the post office, so it’s a trade-off.

But back to Halloween–I remember growing up we always carved pumpkins, which I loved doing, and then my mom would roast the pumpkin seeds. I don’t know what she did to them, but they were yummy. So that is one tradition I wish I could keep, but I won’t, because I don’t have anyplace to put a pumpkin and I have no idea how to roast the seeds properly. But the memories linger.

This time of year is my favorite, holidays or no holidays. Today it will be 64 degrees outside, which is perfect for me. Okay, I like it even when it dips down quite a bit lower, so I’m looking forward to the next few months. And truth to tell, I’ll enjoy seeing the kids at work on Halloween. I’ll bring my favorite candy (Milky Way bars) for them and hope that there’s some left over. Then it’s Thanksgiving, which is day off of watching football for me, and then (yay) we’ll get into Christmas.

Of course, there’s the leaves turning, although it looks like that particular treat skipped my area this year. But I’m pulling out my long-sleeved clothing and can’t wait to wear it. C’mon fall, bring it on!

Image Credits: Fall Leaves (header) © Subbotina Anna; Fall Leaves (footer) © sea and sun; Ghost © Kaca; Advent Candles © Christian Horz–all, stock.adobe.com

P.S. For those of you who remember the trouble I’m having logging on to my WordPress account, I’m still having it. However, the irony is I’ve been posting more, because if I’m able to access my account, I want to use the opportunity. The trouble comes in accessing my account. It can take two hours or (if I’m really lucky) 2 minutes. And I’d better get my editing done while I can, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to the post again any time soon! It’s not WordPress’s fault. It’s AT&T’s.

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Puppy Love

On Thursday, close to the end of my work day, I overhead my co-worker talking to her mom. She was crying (my co-worker, that is) and said, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.” After a bit more of the conversation, I deduced that a pet had died.

It turned out I was right. When Sherry got off the phone, I asked if she was okay, and she said no, her dad’s dog had died that day. Sherry’s dad passed away four years ago, and I immediately flashed back to the time my stepdad’s cat died, eight years after his death. It was like losing the final connection to him, and brought back all the pain of the night he left us.

I don’t know if Sherry experienced the same kind of grief, but I imagine there was a lot of emotion. She told me the story of the day she got the dog, the runt of the litter, and surprised her dad with this teeny puppy. Tears rolled down his eyes when he first laid eyes on his new baby. For the next year this man, a farmer, carried that dog in the pocket of his overalls.

I felt compelled to do something to show I cared, so I got up early Friday morning and bought some flowers at the local supermarket. Nothing fancy, by any means, but I put them on her desk so she saw them first thing this morning. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. Life goes on.

It’s funny what losing a pet can do to us. When my mom lost her beloved dog, Mishi, she cried and cried for days. The three of us kids, all teenagers, got a little irritated. It seem unlikely that she would cry that much for any of us, we said, not at all joking. I know now my mom would grieve any of the three of us much more than she would a dog, but at the time we didn’t feel loved. At least not as much as she cared for that dog.

When I lost Paco, I felt guilt and relief along with my grief. Guilt because I hadn’t realized how hard the previous year had been on him with his failing health. The vet told me it was likely his system had been shutting down for some time. I know cats are good at hiding pain, and I think Paco hid his from me, not deliberately, but because that’s what cats do. The relief came because in his last few weeks I knew I was losing him, and finally reaching that point allowed me to take a deep breath and move on. But I cried and missed him terribly. It took a long time for me to remember the good times and to let go of my guilt. I hope I can take what I learned from Paco and keep Walter and Mimi from experiencing the same.

When I was in high school, we lost our cat Gabriel. I went to my youth pastor in tears, asking if cats went to heaven. A few months later he told this story to the entire youth group, mocking my tears and making fun of my question. While he didn’t name me, I knew who he was talking about. He caught my eye and seemed surprised to see me in attendance. Or surprised by something. I never trusted him again.

When I lost my stepdad, I went to my pastor (fifteen years later and a different church) and he warned me that some people would likely say stupid things. I thought back to that youth pastor. I hope he learned his lesson. I’ve been aware ever since that I could be the one to say something insensitive.

I know of some people who say, “it’s just a dog. Get another one!” Yes, I’ve heard them say it. But those of us who love our pets know it’s something more.

Image Credit: Schnauzer puppy © Lunja–stock.adobe.com; Tabby Cat illustration © Victoria–stock.adobe.com