Julius and Peaches

My two little kittens are resting today after their latest visit to the vet. I brought them to the doctor yesterday, for ‘fixing’ and de-clawing... and I picked them up first thing this morning. The neutering was a must, but I thought long and hard about the de-clawing. Julius and Peaches are inside cats forever more.  They did not let me clip their nails, and heaven knows I tried. Julius was intent on climbing up my legs with those razor-sharp claws... and Peaches tried his hardest to climb up the curtains.

Adopting two abandoned kittens at my age was maybe not a smart thing to do because I find that my patience level is not where it once was. Life should be easier now, not harder, and detaching one kitten from my leg and one kitten from the curtains was not what I wanted to be doing. Do I keep the kittens or do they keep their claws.... I could not let the kittens go just for the sake of scratches on my legs and tears on the curtains. So the claws went, I’m sorry to say.

Hard decision to make, but Julius and Peaches will have a good home for the rest of their lives, I can guarantee them that. They are both a little groggy this afternoon, and the vet said they will be low-energy for the rest of the day. They are in the TV room with Sweet Pea... our older cat does have his claws, but he doesn’t use them for climbing, and he lets me trim his claws when they need it. However, Sweet Pea still did a number on the back of the sofa in the TV room, which had to be covered up with a quilt. Such is life with a cat.... Sweet Pea was an adult cat when we found him, so de-clawing him was not an option.

Last time I checked on the kittens, they were both sleeping on the sofa. Julius looked up at me and then covered his eyes with his front paws.  I imagined him saying “Not only did the vet take my balls, but he took my claws too... how could you?!”

Guilt. It makes the world go round.

Labor Day weekends....

Note to self:  Stay under the covers, in the dark and out of sight of the universe during future Labor Day weekends.

I've decided that Labor Day weekends and me do not meld. We are not good for one another. Too many life-altering and life-changing events have re-set my journey on this planet during these end-of-summer holiday weekends. Holiday?  Hardly. Heart-wrenching, yes. Holiday... hell no.

The older I get, the harder it is for me to believe in a god.  How can there be a good and just god sitting up there in the heavens dispersing good things to good people and bad things to bad people... I just cannot believe it. I even find it hard now to dignify such a deity with a capital G. Bad things happen all the time to people who are deserving of so much more good.

Decades ago in the 1960s, on the bookshelf of my childhood, there was a Golden Book titled "The Little Red Hen."  I cannot even fathom how many times I read that book. Over and over and over. "Read it! Read it again! Once more! Come on! Just once more!"   There were so many other books on the bookshelf.  But that was The One that was requested. Again. Again. Just once more.

All those years ago, I read it again, and again. And one more time. And one last time. The story was engraved on my brain and I knew it by heart... but each word was read and every page was turned. I have no idea what eventually happened to the childhood edition of that book.

In the early 2000s, a new copy of "The Little Red Hen" was covered up in Christmas paper and when I unwrapped it, I laughed and laughed... we both laughed.... and I read it over the phone. Every word was new again, every page that was turned was a memory. Now we both had a copy.  "The Little Red Hen" has been in my own library ever since. And I have read it from time to time when I go through my collection of Golden Books.

I took "The Little Red Hen" off the shelf and read it this past week. Again. And again. And one more time. Come on. Just one more time.

I find it difficult now, totally impossible, to believe in a god.

However, it is very easy, and beautiful, to believe in a little red hen.