Remember Hope our stealth kitty?
She was a couple of months old when Daughter Darling, nine months pregnant with Baby Darling, clutched Hope to her chest and watched on television as Barack Obama, the first black man ever to win the Presidential nomination, was elected as President of the United States.
Hope had her shots like the other animals, and waited her 120 day quarantine before going to Hawaii with us. (That “quarantine” was no sweat; it’s just a waiting game, two rabies shots 90 days apart, a Vet’s clean bill of health, and 3 inches of paperwork.) She flew in the cargo hold of our Continental airplane, and after clearing animal control in Honolulu—all incoming animals have to do that—she was stuffed into a soft carrier, and graciously rode on the airplane with us under DD’s feet. She was always gracious and energetic. I didn’t think anything would catch her. She ran up the trees in Hawaii, onto the roof, skulked through the grass, her green eyes looking as though the grass’s color was shining through, and then when we left Hawaii she rode in her carrier to California where she was again our stealth kitty, tearing around outside, up on the rooftops, up the trees, down, catching rats and mice and rabbits and gophers. She slept on a box in our bedroom in the daytime, and perused the property at night. (Rats. It should have been the other way around. Coyotes and bobcats skulk in the night.)
My friend and fellow blog reader told me my blogs don’t tell her anything like they did in Hawaii. Have I been remiss? “Tell her about my life,” she said. Perhaps there isn’t as much angst going on here as in Hawaii—thank God, or it could be the exotic setting was more exciting. Now I’m just a Southern California gal—but God sings here as he does anywhere else on the planet—even when I’m sad over losing our wonderful kitty.
I wondered one day if Hope had some condition that a coyote was saving her from—she was thin, and her coat not as shiny as it had been, but how would I know, it was wishful thinking I guess—that there was some purposeful good in the event. I hated to think of random acts of violence hurting our kitty. (I know Coyotes have to eat, but not our cat. We would happily donate some gophers. How about that for a judgment.)
I ran across a phrase in the book, Breakfast with The Buddha
by Roland Merullo. “God’s music is playing all the time, for everyone.” And now when I wake up I say I want to hear God’s music. I don’t mean the “music of the spheres” or any physical sound. I mean to be connected to that something we could call music. I think of Jerry Hicks who heard it when a voice spoke to him, “Drive on the sidewalk” and he did and thus avoided being involved in a multicar smash-up. “Why did I hear it and others did not?” he asked Abraham. “You were in tune,” she said. “It was there for all to hear.”How many people would drive on the sidewalk on a whim? How many people hear the singing?
There is a ground squirrel outside my window running around in the grass—whoops, two squirrels—without Hope here they are becoming brazen.
One morning I went to my computer and found the following (see the picture). Daughter Darling borrowed my flash drive, and here she was returning it, held by a Lego Dinosaur, and with a motivational note propped on its side. DD has been selling Legos on EBay—sold a $300.00 unit yesterday. She and Baby Darling do a ton of Lego sorting, categorizing—he will be the most Lego savvy kid in the world. Her site is called “Happy Bricks.” (click to see)
And from Daughter Darling who lives in Oregon:
July 17, 2011
Those of you who have been here a while know that I lost my beloved dog, Ashke in 2009. My family and I have been searching and waiting for the next great dog to come into our lives. On our way back from visiting family in California we picked up this little beauty. My 5-year-old, aspiring-Jedi-Knight-son, said he knew this was the one, because he dreamed about her.
Meet Natasha, a three-month old Silken Windhound puppy.
http://krautpounder.com/Newsletters/
(Scroll down, she's there, I couldn't copy the picture.)
