An Unlikely Adoption

While it may be Halloween, and that time of year when people associate black cats with all things evil and spooky, I can assure you that they are not. They are as loving, smart, and joyful as any other cat. Which is probably why black cats find us. Three cats have adopted us over the past 25 years and taught us that they are some of the most extraordinary felines who walk this earth. Our latest cat came to us in a less-than-usual way.

I was at the supermarket on a busy Tuesday before the Fourth of July. The place was jammed, and my cart was half full when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“This is the Justice of the Peace. Our mutual friend, Tappy, gave me your phone number. I understand that you like cats,” he said. 

I didn’t respond right away, as I was thinking, ‘huh?’

“That’s right,” I finally said. 

“Good, good, I like cats, too. A short while ago an associate found a small kitten inside her pickup truck’s wheel well, sitting on a tire. She brought it into the office. It’s a real cute little thing. She can’t take another cat, I can’t take another cat, and no one in my office can either. Tappy stopped in for a visit, saw the kitten, said you recently lost your cat, and suggested I call you.

“Uh, that’s true,” I stammered. “I did lose my 14-year-old cat recently. It was kind of sudden. Not sure if we’re ready for another cat.” 

“Just come in and take a look at him. I think it’s a him, maybe it’s a her.” Silence. “Yep, it’s definitely him, I just looked.”

I almost burst out laughing as I stood in the cereal aisle, visualizing this judge lifting the kitten’s tail to check out his gender.

“So, what do you think?” he asked. “He’s real sweet and very affectionate. Can you come by my office? I’m leaving in 20 minutes.”

I looked down at my cart full of groceries. “I’m a half hour away and I'm in the middle of shopping. I can’t make it in 20 minutes, besides that I really need to bring my husband, so he can see the kitten, too. He’s got a Boy Scouts meeting tonight and won’t be free till after 8:00. How about we come by in the morning?”

“No, no, I’d like to find this little guy a home tonight. Y’all come by my office when your husband gets home. Here’s my cell …….call me.” And he hung up. 

I stood there a little stunned, then phoned my husband. He wasn’t too excited about the prospect of bringing an unknown kitten into our home. We did agree that the dog had been grieving and lonely since our cat passed away. We’d been hesitating to look for another. Nevertheless, we phoned the judge later that evening, and as promised, he met us at his office. We walked into the break room and there was the tiniest little black kitten I’d ever seen scurrying all around the room like little flashes of black lightning. In one corner was the lid of a computer paper box filled with litter, and in another corner was a plate of tuna and a bowl of water. We no sooner sat at the table than the kitten ran up my husband’s pant leg, laid in his lap, and began purring with a rumble that sounded like one of the trains roaring through the middle of town. He stared up at my husband with piercing, iridescent, green eyes.

“See? Isn’t he sweet?” the judge asked. “I don’t think he’s very old. He keeps trying to nurse on my fingers.”

As if on cue, the kitten got into my lap and began trying to suckle on one of my fingers, and kneading my thighs. That’s when I discovered that he had teeth like little razors and claws as sharp as pins. Nevertheless, he was adorable. I fell for him hard and fast and wondered what happened to his mama and how he ended up on that tire. 

The judge stared at us, “Well?”

I looked at my husband, down at the kitten, and back at the judge. 

“You gonna take him?” he asked again. We nodded. 

“Great! You’re gonna love him. So, what are you going to name him?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, hunching my shoulders. “We’ll have to wait and see what name fits him.”

On the way home, the irony of another black cat did not escape us. This was the third black cat to make its way into our lives. I wondered if maybe cats have their own internet with pages of potential humans, and their locations, where cats, especially black cats, can go to find a loving home. How else did black cats keep finding us?

The kitten moved right into our house, and even though he weighed only two pounds, he terrified our 15-pound dog. The second he saw the kitten, our wussy dog shook like he was stuck outdoors in a snow drift, his ears flattened against his head, and his tail curled up between his legs. He looked at me with confusion and fear. “It’s just a tiny kitten,” I told him. “He isn’t going to replace you. He’s your new buddy.” The dog let out a snort, as he often does when something bothers him, turned, and slithered away. The kitten ignored him and marched around our house like he owned the place. 

Though we had no idea what this new cat would be like, over the following weeks and months the kitten’s antics kept us constantly laughing; like the day he barreled down a long hallway into the bathroom and took a flying leap for the toilet. He must have assumed that the lid was closed, as it usually is, only that time it wasn’t. Fortunately, the water was clean, and he got quite a dunking. He howled, well, screamed actually, until I rescued him, wrapped him in a towel, and dried him off. That was the last time he attempted that maneuver. 

His main amusement is hunkering down around corners waiting for the dog to saunter by. Then he leaps high in the air like a trapeze artist, landing squarely on the dog’s back, attempting to ride him as though our sweet dog is a bucking bronco. Watching the dog trying to shake him off is better entertainment than the comedians on late-night television. The dog starts wailing, the kitten responds with what sounds like squeals of delight, and on and on it goes. Usually, his forays into terrorizing the dog take so much energy that shortly after he collapses on a chair or the floor and falls into a deep sleep, only to wake up an hour later and start bothering the dog all over again. 

The kitten is now a two-and-a-half-year-old cat. He has grown out of his worst kitten habits, like pouncing on my face in the middle of the night and chomping down on my nose or cheek with those sharp little teeth. For months I didn’t sleep through the night and I bore not-so-attractive scratches and love bites all over my face. I looked like a teenager with a bad case of zits. There were nights that I wondered why I let the judge talk me into this. Then I would remember how much I absolutely adore this little guy. How he would burrow himself under the covers and nestle against my chest, purring until he fell asleep. Our vet reassured us that after he had his manhood removed at six months old, he would calm down, and his sharp baby teeth would be replaced by normal adult teeth. And thank goodness, he did, losing all interest in gnawing on my face. 

As for the two fur kids, they have learned to get along and life in our household is peaceful once again. Mostly. Every once in a while though, the cat unmercifully attacks the dog who looks up at me as though to say “Mom, what were you thinking?”

 

An Angel in Blue Walks Amongst Us

Every now and then I stumble upon a person so caring, so kind, and so extraordinary, that it makes me pause. I find myself unable to articulate what I am seeing. Why? Because it is in those astonishing moments that I realize that I am in the presence of an angel in human form. At some time in our lives many of us have commented that someone is the very personification of a heavenly being. In fact, it’s quite common to hear someone say, “What an angel!”

Imagine then how the idea of an angel walking the earth is a police officer. We all know how of late police forces nationwide have been berated in every way. Plus, many cities are defunding their police forces, which makes me wonder who are they going to call when someone accosts them, breaks into their homes, or threatens their lives?

This column is not about that, rather it heralds a man who takes his duty as a police officer in the Texas town of Lacy Lakeview beyond the job requirements. I first stumbled upon Officer Thomas Beasley when I read about him on a local Facebook post. It told the story of how a homeless man and his dog were trying to stay out of the rain near a business. Rather than do the humane thing and acknowledge that the man simply needed a place to stay dry, the business owner called the police. Lucky for the homeless man and his dog, Officer Thomas Beasley responded to the call. This good Samaritan in blue did not cite or arrest the man. Instead, he used his own money to pay for a motel room for the man and his dog, where they could stay the night out of the chilling cold and pelting rain. And while it would be easy to think that’s the only instance of his good heart, far from it. Turns out that wasn’t the only time he has paid for a motel room to assist someone needing a warm and safe place to stay for the night. He’s done it quite a few times. His personnel file is chock full of stories where he stepped up in ways you’d never expect.  

Take for example what happened in 2018 when Officer Beasley responded to a call that a 13-year-old boy’s bike had been stolen. While kids’ bikes frequently get stolen, what made this story so touching was that the boy had bought the bike with money he earned from mowing lawns. The kid worked really hard to earn the money to buy the bike and Officer Beasley understood that. Rather than simply writing up the report, Officer Beasley used his own money and bought the boy a new bike.  See what I mean? Officer Beasley is no ordinary person. This pattern of giving and giving back is nothing new; from an early age, he answered the call to duty.

In 1975, he joined the United States Navy, eventually reaching the rank of Senior Petty Officer. By the time he retired after 21 years in the service, he had been awarded numerous medals for Navy Achievement, Navy Commendation, Good Conduct, and the Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal. 

Beasley went on to attend McLennan Community College’s Law Enforcement Academy in Waco where he obtained his Texas Police Officer’s license from the Texas Commission on Law Enforcement. In mid-2010 he joined the Texas State Technical College (TSTC) Police Department. While serving at TSTC he pursued a Texas State certification for basic structure firefighting and aircraft fire rescue from the Fire Academy. Four-plus years later he joined the Lacy Lakeview Police Department.

Clearly, Officer Beasley is a man with a strong sense of purpose, awareness, duty, and wisdom. He steps forward when and wherever he sees a need. Few people in the general public feel that sense of obligation and responsibility for helping a fellow human being. That’s what makes Officer Beasley so exceptional. His Chief of Police, John Truehitt, says “he has the heart of a servant Leader and he does not seek nor does he want any recognition. He is the epitome of the vast number of Police Officers all across our great nation who do these and many more acts of kindness every day.”

He could have kicked back after retiring from the U.S. Navy and simply lived off his retirement. But he didn’t. He knew there were more ways to aid his fellow human beings; he knew that there were people who needed help. He has a calling, a sense of obligation to do more. I’ve met the man; he is incredibly humble and doesn’t desire any attention. He views what he does as normal, what anyone would do for another human being. I beg to differ. While I’m sure that he would argue my point of being an angel on earth, I stick with my opinion. And I am not alone. If there are angels among us, he is one of them.  

 

October Winds

I become more me every October. My soul relaxes and I dance with the leaves that turn color, swaying and twirling on the breezes, gliding ever so gently until they reach the ground. I love October, especially when the weather starts to cool down, the days grow shorter, and the nights long. Pumpkins show up on doorsteps along with witches and little goblins. A new magic, as old as time, fills the air, the magic of autumn.

Memories too. Mostly October takes me back to when I lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, home of the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta, the world’s largest ballooning event. Each October, as the smell of pungent chiles roasting permeates the air, hundreds of luminous, multicolored, hot air balloons fill the skies at daybreak. The first year that I witnessed the magnificent balloons edging across the sky, I was in awe and wondered what it would be like to fly up where the eagles soar. A few years later I found out.

A new friend asked if I’d ever been up in a balloon; I told him I had not. The following weekend he took me to a wide-open range on the west mesa where we met up with his ballooning friends. We no sooner inflated the majestic flying ship than I was waved in and told to get in the wicker basket.

“Who? Me?” I asked, a bit surprised.

“Get in before I launch without you!” the grumpy pilot barked at me. “You too!” he barked again, this time at the man who brought me. He didn’t need to be told twice.

In moments we ascended, gently floating upward, toward the highest clouds. It felt as though God were cradling us in his hands, lifting us and slowly moving us along with the air current. When we reached “cruising speed,” Wally the pilot seemed more at ease.

“What do you think, first-timer?” he grinned at me.

I am rarely speechless, but this time I couldn’t put into words what I felt. Who could? I was soaring with the birds and the angels surrounded by blinding sapphire skies, the smell of cedar and sage wafting through the air. It wasn’t like flying in a plane, not at all, it was something otherworldly, inexplicable. It was the true definition of serenity. Suddenly, I heard the scampering of little feet. I looked at my companions.

“What’s that?” I asked.

Wally pointed at the ground, which was a long, long way down. “A jackrabbit,” he said nonchalantly.

I stared at the barren land covered in tumbleweeds and watched the jackrabbit running as though he were escaping a predator. “How is that possible?” I asked.

“Sound travels upward,” he responded as though it was obvious.

After a half-hour, we gradually descended and saw our chase crew arriving on the scene to help hold down the balloon when we landed to switch out passengers. After that next group flew and disembarked, everyone helped deflate the balloon, fold and pack it away. First-time passengers were told to kneel on a plastic sheet to undergo a ceremony to commemorate the flight. I realized that something special was about to happen when I was given a glass of champagne. As I held up my glass, the co-pilot, Kathi, recited the Balloonist Prayer:

“The winds have welcomed you with softness. The sun has blessed you with its warm hands. You have flown so high and so well that God has joined you in laughter and set you gently back into the loving arms of Mother Earth.”

Just as I downed the champagne, my friend Earl, who was standing behind me, poured a whole glass of champagne on my head. “What the ------!” I yelled and then heard everyone laughing.

Kathi quickly explained that the champagne shower was part of the first-flight ceremony and welcomed me into their flying family. At the time I had no idea of the significance of that first flight, of the life it foreshadowed. Soon after, I joined the balloon crew and went on countless adventures that until then only my writer’s mind could imagine. One flight, however, proved even more meaningful than the first. Five months later, Earl and I married in Wally and Kathi’s balloon, aptly named TEGWAR, for The Exciting Game Without Any Rules. And indeed, it was.

In memory of Wally Henderson 

who ascended on his final flight to join the angels on 

October 14, 2021

 

Second Chances or Thirds or Fourths or......

    Have you ever picked up a book in a store or browsed online and thought, 'That looks like an interesting read, I'll buy it.' Then you started to read it and wondered what you were thinking? That's exactly what happened when I started to read Matt Haig's The Midnight Library. From the start, I had trouble with it, mostly because I had no sympathy for the book's protagonist. I don't think I read more than 10 pages before I set it aside and read another book, then another three or four after that. Recently I picked it up off my bookshelf and remembered all the good reviews the book received. I wondered what had I been missing? I decided I would muscle through it if only to figure out what everyone else was seeing that I wasn't. 

    First, I should say, that I finally got it, though it took getting deep into the book before I did. I admit that I did like the strange premise from the beginning and that alone compelled me to keep going. If you haven't read the book you must be wondering, why the change of heart?

    So, here's the deal. The story focuses on a 30ish woman named Nora Seed who has pretty much wasted her life by making poor choices and living a life of regrets. She's on the verge of suicide when the book opens. (This is when I skipped out the first time I tried to read it.) Nora attempts to take her life when an odd thing happens. Instead of dying she is transported to The Midnight Library full of an infinite number of books each containing an alternate life where she made different choices and lived different lives. Can you imagine? Nora is given the opportunity to try out countless different lives she could have lived and in so doing, undo her regrets.

    And this is where I got hooked. Nora tries out multiple lives and in each life discovers it wasn't what she regretted not doing after all. Things weren't what she envisioned they would be. Each had its downfalls, creating its own set of complications. Yet in each one, she learns a lesson, becomes a little wiser, and with that lesson returns to The Midnight Library to try out another life. I was fascinated by the very idea of second or third or multiple additional chances. 

    How many of us haven't thought back on our lives and wondered -- what if I took a different path? How different would my life and happiness be? What if I took the chance to study at that school halfway across the country that I'd dreamed of attending my whole life, but didn't? What if I took a different major in college? Studied art instead of accounting? Or agricultural science instead of engineering? History instead of child development? What if I learned to ski or surf or climb mountains or fly a plane? What if I took that job in New York or Santa Fe or New Orleans or Tallahassee or Montana? What if I married that man or woman I thought was the "one" but got scared and broke up with him/her instead? Would I have been happier? What if I had kids? Or didn't have kids? The questions and possibilities are endless, aren't they? And that is exactly the point of Matt Haig's novel. In the end, it's about gaining insights and perspective and discovering for oneself the best way to live one's life. Because really, none of us really know the best way until we live it, do we?