It ain't easy being green....

And what on earth happened to find its way into the commode of one of the second floor bathrooms this week?  A nice green frog. Not an itty-bitty frog, but a nice fat green frog who hung on to the side of that commode for dear life when I tried to flush him down the plumbing. I'm sorry, but that was my knee-jerk reaction when I saw him in there.... my hand went to the lever and I fully intended to send him to a watery grave.

The frog, however, had other ideas. His four legs spread out as far as they could go and he just clung to the sides as if he had Crazy Glue on his little frog feet. When the water stopped swirling, the frog tucked his legs back underneath his fat green body and seemed perfectly content. I called my husband and told him there was a frog in the bathroom.
"Are you kidding me?" said he.  As if I would make up such a story at six-thirty in the morning?!

My husband captured the frog in a plastic container and I brought it downstairs and released him in the grass by the porch. He hopped away without so much as a look back. So then of course we were left wondering how the frog got up there in the first place... all the way to the second floor.... finding his way to the commode in what we call 'the green bathroom,' simply because nearly all the accessories in there are green.

"Who knows how long he was in there," said my husband. "At least he chose the correct bathroom.... he would have stood out like a sore thumb in the pink bathroom!"

When our handyman showed up today, I asked him about that frog in the commode because he worked for a plumbing company not long ago. His answer was not one that I wanted to hear:  "A frog! Well, count y'all's blessings it wasn't a snake!  I been called to houses out in the country that had copperheads come up through the plumbing and land in the commode, scaring the bejesus out of the people!"

Good grief. There is now a flashlight on my night-table. From now on, I do not intend to be walking from the bedroom to the bathroom in the dark, or take it for granted that the only thing in the commodes of this house is water. My husband is under strict instructions to keep all toilet lids closed so if anything does find its way into a commode, one would hope that it would make some noise trying to get out.

My husband says I am over-reacting. He is so wrong. If I were to over-react, there would already be a For Sale sign by our mailbox.

Mickey Kitty

Today was Mickey's last day with us... and no matter how many times you have to 'put down' a pet, it just never gets easier.  My husband found Mickey in July of 2005 while he was walking our dog Gracie in the neighborhood park. They heard yowling meows coming from near the bayou and Gary and Gracie went to investigate... and what they found was the tiniest and skinniest black kitten. Of course they brought it home... and of course we had to keep him.  I have a soft spot for black cats anyway, and Mickey was so tiny and helpless, how could we not have made him part of the family...

Mickey is (was) our last pet from our old house, our old neighborhood. "The last Heatherdale cat," as my husband called him. And being that my husband's dog Gracie was there for the discovery of Mickey, that alone made that little cat more special than the others we've had along the past 22 years. I think Mickey was the runt of his litter... he was so scrawny when we found him, and he stayed smaller than usual for a male cat for all of his 12 years.  I also think Mickey would have lived longer had we been able to keep him as an inside cat, but his litter-box habits got too unmanageable about four years ago and we let him go outside.  During the day, he had free roam of the property, but at night we kept him in the garage to keep him safe from coyotes and bobcats and everything else that goes bump in the night around here.

For the past month or so, Mickey seemed to be forgetful and out-of-it at times.... he did have some good days when he would remember where his food dishes were, but these past couple of weeks he was even forgetting how to get from the garage into the screened-in coop to get some fresh air when we closed the garage door at night.  I was bringing him into the house on the hottest of days, and keeping him in one of the bathrooms. The bottom line was that Mickey was no longer able to just be a cat. And I do not believe in keeping pets alive for my own sake, while taking away their own sense of dignity.

This morning we went to the vet's office. One last trip in the car, which Mickey was never too fond of anyway. My little black cat meowed all the way there, but as soon as I brought the cat-carrier into that office, not a peep came out of him. Sometimes I wonder if pets know when the inevitable is about to happen.  I stayed in the room with Mickey but I couldn't watch the procedure. I faced the wall and tried to think of that long-ago summer morning when my husband and Gracie walked into the back door and both of them were smiling wide.... and there was that tiny little black kitten, and my husband was telling me "Gracie and I found him... we have to keep him."  We had three other cats at the time... what difference would one more make...

We never really own our pets... they own us, heart and soul. They come into our lives by choice or by chance, and they expect to be loved and cared for and respected. As they should be. As we all should be. And the biggest responsibility of having a pet is knowing when it's time to let them go, peacefully and with grace.

When I came back home this morning, I gave Savannah the biggest hug, which she just loves.... she is never the first to pull away. Then I picked up Sweet Pea and held him on my left side with his head on my shoulder... I swear that he must like to hear my heart beating because he doesn't like being held on the right side of me.  Sweet Pea just calmly stayed there, his head on my shoulder and his whiskers tickling my neck. I told him that he was the only cat now.  "You are my one-and-only Sweet Pea," I told him.

Be kind to your pets.... hug your children... and be kind, always kind, to your pets. They should always know that you love them.

Another July....

....and we wait patiently to see if our across-the-road neighbors will be assaulting us all with fireworks on Tuesday. I have to say that my opinion of fireworks has changed greatly since the neighbor's explosions sent Savannah deep into the woods for twelve days last year. Savannah will still not walk past our barn, and I am sure that she remembers what happened up there on the neighbor's property.

The baby deer that we thought was safe and sound with its mother.... I looked all over the grounds around the house and the cottage and the barn when the little fawn wasn't in its spot under the trees. We knew for sure that the mother had come to reclaim her baby. Not so.... even though I searched for that fawn the day after.... it was not on our lawns around the house. However, on the third day, Savannah would not walk on the grass near the gazebo... she kept smelling the air and would not move towards that area. I brought Savannah into the house and went to look near the gazebo, and there was the fawn, spread out lifeless under the trees while three buzzards waited up in the pecan trees. I could have just cried. My husband put the fawn into a huge bag and we put that in a box and it now waits for the trash pick up. So much for the theory that a mother deer will always come back for her fawn. She must have indeed come back, but then abandoned the baby a second time... unless the fawn was sick and she just left it. We will never know. So sad.

I have been busy collecting books for the Book Club.... over five hundred books so far and I am totally ready for the first club meeting in mid-September. I am hoping that the students will want to keep the books they choose to read, and will start their own libraries. The thought of kids not wanting to read and have books of their own is just impossible for me to imagine. I have a good selection of fiction and non-fiction titles, and my plan is to bring thirty books to the school each week--- thirty for each grade, so the students will choose their own books. "Choose wisely.... and earn your magic wand!"

Tomorrow is my friend Fran's birthday.... she is celebrating up on a cloud somewhere. Her granddaughter has just turned six, so it has been six years now since Fran's passing. That precious granddaughter was born just two weeks after Fran died. I have been sending books to that little girl for years... for birthdays and Christmas, any holiday that you can think of. Fran loved books and wanted her grandchild to love them also. I am doing my best, Fran... and yes, your little granddaughter does love to read.... and the sparkle in her eyes reminds me so much of you.

I have just finished re-reading "The Little Prince."  One of the most beloved quotes in that book is "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly.... what is essential is invisible to the eye."  Such profound words, to be remembered always, especially when Bible-quoting self-proclaimed Christians stand in judgment of people whose lifestyle they don't approve of. Give me a blessed break. LOVE and ACCEPTANCE are essential, and both are invisible to the eye. Some people need to stop hiding their heads and their hearts in their bibles. And all of that is my opinion, just based on a story I heard in town this past week that broke my heart because the actions of ignorant people are just beyond the realm of humanity.