The Mystery of the Two-Timing Cat

It was a dark and stormy night... No, actually, it was just a pretty normal day. My cat kept coming to the front door, looking for all the world like he was ready to come back inside, and then as soon as I opened the door, he would run about 10 feet away and look back at me.

This got irritating after about...two times. On the third attempt, I got the impression he might want me to follow him. So I did. And he did. Every fifty feet or so, he would stop and look back at me to make sure I was still following. I started to think he might be leading me to a neighbor in distress. (Do cats do that? Or is that just a dog thing?)

I followed him to the back yard of a neighbor three doors down from us, and he proceeded to run up the stairs onto their back deck. That was weird, I thought. Still thinking I possibly had a 9-1-1 situation coming, I went around to the front door and rang the bell. No one was home. I went again to the back door, where my cat (Mako) was clearly expecting to be let inside, and gingerly tried opening that door, thinking, "Is it breaking and entering if you don't actually break anything?" Didn't matter--it was locked.

Then it dawned on me that, most likely, he wanted in there because he's been let in before and probably been rewarded for his friendliness. Lots of bells started going off in my head. So THAT's why he hasn't seemed that hungry lately! So THAT's why he's had diarrhea for two months! So THAT's why we can't seem to find him till about 5pm every day! Now what do we do about it?

I chewed on this for a few weeks, deciding that I would only go and confront these neighbors if we absolutely couldn't find the cat one day. Which turned out to be last Wednesday. So I headed over to that house, silently praying that it wouldn't turn into something nasty...did they think he was their cat? He doesn't wear a collar, after all.

I called for him all the way over there, banging on a little can of Fancy Feast with a fork--something he only gets when that's the only way to get him to come in. (Who's training whom?) As I approached the neighbor's house, I spotted Mako crouching by their garage door. He turned away from me. Bad kitty! Whatever they're feeding him, it must be pretty good! Otherwise, why wouldn't he want to come home and be loved and squished by my 4-year old?

I got down on his level and tried again to get him to come to me. At that moment, a man came out the front door. "Hello," I said. "Are you familiar with this cat?"

"Well, yes," he answered. Uh-oh.

"Oh, okay. This is my cat."

He sighed. "Okay, well, you better come inside." I followed him in. He explained that his wife had been letting my cat in for a year and a half! They'd been wondering when this conversation would happen. It was a little strange, standing in their house, seeing how perfectly comfortable Mako was in there. They call him their "Day Kitty." She had pictures of him on her phone. They had named him "Elvis." ? Well, at least they knew he was a boy and didn't call him "Arabella" or "Miss Prissy" or something like that.

In the end, we exchanged addresses and phone numbers, and I said it was fine if she continued to let him in as long as she let him back out mid-afternoon, so we'd be able to find him. The other stipulation was that they really couldn't feed him any more, since he's been to the vet a few times to try and solve the ..hmmm-hmmm...diarrhea problem.

When I told the kids about it, they seemed slightly concerned about him having two homes. I explained we weren't trying to figure out who loves him more, (and Eric immediately muttered, "They do,") but we were happy to know he was so loved in our neighborhood. Nathan is still skeptical.

Maybe we should claim alienation of affection and stick them with the vet bills. Just kidding. They are very nice people. And they have excellent taste in pets.

Tidbits

I try not to write about "nothing," but maybe a few nothings put together is something.

1. Guten Tag! After years of not speaking any foreign language other than PBS-Spanish and nickjr.-Japanese, our family has purchased Rosetta Stone German 1. It's so fun! Our goal is to learn enough this year that we can get by during a possible trip to Austria. In this increasingly bilingual land we live in, maybe it's foolish not to do Spanish, but for now, we are loving German!
2. I was listening to the radio the other day, and here's what I heard: "It's that time of year again--insulting, negative male coming your way!" It puzzled me. Until I figured out that this is what I was supposed to hear: "It's that time of year again--insulting, negative mail coming your way!" Oh THAT! Yes, I remember that. And I paused and thought how thankful I am that I don't have the other kind in my life.
3. Pineapple tidbits seem to have disappeared from grocery store shelves, at least here. They fit a unique niche in the world of canned fruit, and it's frustrating not to be able to find them. Slices are great for burgers and upside-down cake; crushed is great for punch and yogurt and such; chunks work well in sweet-and-sour dishes and in fruit salads; but, when you make a pizza...tidbits! Hands down, they're the best. Has anyone else noticed this mysterious disappearance? Where can I find them?

There. A little bit of nothing is good once in a while.

Boy Scout Camp: A Comparison

A plethora of mysterious things occur during Boy Scout Camp. Here's a list of ingredients in that mysterious recipe, to be compared with YW Camp:

• Outhouse contests: (You sure you want to know?) Boys of higher ages encouraging boys of lower ages to drop larger and larger rocks down the outhouse hole until, finally, the glorious brown splash is produced and said younger boys realize why it's not such a fun activity after all.
• Pyromania.
• Swearing.
• Guns. In the hands of 12-year olds.
• Nicknames: some nice, some not as nice. (Nathan earned the nickname "Hawaii 5-0" for the shell necklace he wore, as well as his very cool demeanor. So he says.)
• Food fights.

And these are just the things I actually heard about. Heaven knows what else went on. According to seasoned scouting parents, I won't hear the worst of the stories for another 15-20 years when the statute of limitations has run out.

The result? It truly is a mystery, but somehow, this recipe managed to produce:

• 6 merit badges
• slightly increased responsibility
• a healthy sense of independence
• a growing faith

Wow. Vastly different recipes. Equivalent results. Well...nearly. I would have posted a photo, but oddly, no one took any during the camp week. Mysterious.

YW Camp: A Mysterious Recipe

Midnight Popsicle Party with my YCL friend, Alyssa. Yeah-don't count the wrappers. It had been a rough night.

Saturday I returned home from camp after my third year as stake YW camp director. I have not fully recovered yet. I'm still having camp dreams every night, and there's this nagging feeling that there is something I should be planning, fixing, arranging, or apologizing for. I'm having a hard time talking coherently about the array of emotions and experiences that I have just had. So instead, I'm reverting to "list form" to relate the wonderful, incredible, inexplicable whirlwind of Young Women's Camp.

Our theme this year was "To the Rescue!" and there were so many unexpected implementations of it throughout the week. Here are the ingredients that were found in this year's recipe for the spiritual growth that somehow always seems to come from the camp week:

• Emergency room visits and ambulance rides
• Clogged toilets
• Communication difficulties
• Extreme heat and humidity
• Late-night devotionals
• Baby birds to be rescued
• A midnight popsicle party
• A long string of camp-policy surprises
• Celebration of 100 years of YW camp--putting together 100 mother-and-baby rescue packets for women in the Congo
• Severe storm forecast for outdoor testimony meeting
• Dedicated young women and leaders

When all this had been magically blended, this was the result:

• faith-filled prayers, and the answers to those prayers
• new-born testimonies
• increased patience
• anonymous acts of service
• deeper bonds of love

It's a mystery to me how the sour and bitter ingredients can blend with the sweet things and bake something so delicious to the soul, but it works year after year. For leaders as well as girls. And I thank the Lord that I get to be a part of it.

Absolutes

So I know, in general, you're not supposed to make generalizations, because they're just too... general. But sometimes, they're just generally... true. For example: Kids can't resist the impulse to push buttons. Both kinds--the ones you can touch with your finger and the ones that are attached to nerve endings.

I've noticed some things that seem to be true for just about every boy or every girl. Yes, I know, not really EVERY one. But here are my generalizations:

Boys MUST destroy every paper clip they see.
Boys MUST stare at any nearby electronic screen, even if the screen is just in "blue" mode.

Girls MUST make at least one writing mark on every scrap of paper within 10 feet.
Girls MUST have the last word, the last eye-roll, or the last tongue sticking out.

Do these sound right to you? In general?

Simplicity

It's that time of year again. The time when I spend anywhere from 2-8 hours a day on planning stake YW camp. The time I ignore my children, throw Nathan worksheets for school, let the house go, permanently attach a phone to my ear, and sleep, breathe, and eat camp.

This past week had the following elements:

• Eric gone all week on business.
• Trip to the vet, due to cat's completely liquid diarrhea problem.
• Carpet cleaning. See above.
• Homeschool Science Fair, hosted by me.
• 2 baseball games
• Mother's Day Tea at the preschool
• Piano and trumpet lessons
• Camp meetings
• Father/Son campout (which Eric left for less than one hour after flying back in from his trip)
• etc.--You know how it is. Things get so busy, don't they?

I really do try to take a little time out here and there to pay attention to the kids. And I was richly rewarded in the time I spent with Stephanie. Her little words of wisdom reminded me that the simple things really make all the difference. Here are some gems:

(Smelling someone's BBQ wafting through the air)--"The air smells GREAT! It has fire in it!"
"Look at that clouds. It looks like a monster. With hands."
"I'm a good cooker. Right, Mom?"
And the one that made my heart swell: "I'm happy. I love you, Mom."

Nothing like a popsicle and a scooter to remind you that life is good. She summed it up. That's what I want for my kids--happiness and family love.

I haven't always loved Mother's Day, but today I feel truly blessed.

Never Say Never

Reptile Prohibition has been repealed! (Well, not entirely. Snake  Prohibition remains firmly in force.) Believe it or not, we talked Eric into allowing Nathan to use his own money to purchase a bearded dragon. I think Eric may have thought Nathan would forget about this before successfully saving enough money. No such luck.

The dragon, named Norbert, is very sweet. If you can call a reptile sweet. He looks rather shifty in the photo, though, don't you think? He's very calm, easy to handle, and easy to clean up after (compared to Mako), but he does have one negative quality. He is VERY expensive. Let me repeat... VERY expensive. Way more expensive than the cat. So, if any of you have been considering a bearded dragon, forget the college fund. I'm resigned to this now, but originally had evil thoughts of an early demise for Norbert.

Why is he so expensive, you might ask? Well... first, we had to purchase a $40 tank (which will need to be replaced in a year or so when he outgrows it); then the tank needed a lid, which was $13; then he needed a special UV light bulb, which cost $19; then we had to purchase domes for that light bulb and for the light that provides heat--$34; reptiles need a calcium supplement (who knew?)--$8; two thermometers to ensure we are heating the tank properly--$8; AND, as if all that wasn't enough, we have to feed him, too! He eats crickets. Lots and lots of 10-cents-apiece crickets that are always escaping and roaming free through the house. This has really affected my vision. Whenever I come across this:

I actually see this:

The kids hear me yell, "Quick! There goes a dime! Grab it!" One evening I captured 70 cents and put them back in the cricket keeper. Earlier today, that scaly little money-pit ate 12 crickets in a row. That's $1.20 for that one meal! Plus tax! Mako eats about $7 worth of food in a month.

So we're adding this to our list of things we said we would never do, but have now done:
Buy a mini-van
Get satellite TV
Buy a game system
Own a reptile

Oh - and the final kicker? The CRICKETS need food, too! And a cage...

What Does the Groundhog Know?

So, here we are, at the end of the "six more weeks of winter" decreed by the groundhog. These photos were taken last week. One of the days, we had a high of 84. The rest were in the 70s. We really haven't had any winter, which I find sad. And I blame the groundhog. Since he seems to think he's in charge, the buck(tooth) stops there.

But it's hard to hold a grudge while I'm surrounded by this:

"This is one time that television fails to capture the excitement of a large squirrel predicting the weather."
--Bill Murray in Groundhog Day

The famous cherry blossoms will peak this week. So... Welcome Spring! How are things looking in other parts of the nation?

Pete, Re-peat, & She-peat

Hi. These are my kids.

What?

Hi. These are my kids.

Huh?

HI. THESE. ARE. MY. KIDS. *Sigh*

They're great kids, but they all seem to have come with a similar defect.  When I say something to them, the first response is almost always... "What?"  Even if he/she asked me a question first.

Re-peat: "Where are we going?"
The Patient me: "To the neighbors' house."
Re-peat: "What?"
The Eyebrows-raised me: "To the neighbors' house."
She-peat: "Why?"
The Patient me: "To take them some cookies." (Aren't we nice neighbors?)
She-peat: "What?"
The (less) Patient me: "To take them cookies." *sigh*
Pete: "Where are we going?"
Me: (deep breath) ... "To the neighbors' house." *huff*
Pete: "What?"
Totally frustrated me: "To. The. Neighbors'. House! We're taking them cookies! Does anyone else want to know where we're going?!" *hyper-ventilating*
Pete, Re-peat, and She-peat: "What?"
Lunatic Me: "TO THE NEIGHBORS' HOUSE!" (pause) "Actually, you know what? We're just going home. We'll go to the neighbors' house to give them cookies later, when I'm happier."
All the -peats: "What?"

Is this normal? Should I get their hearing tested? Ask for a refund? :) And don't say what!

The. End.