Poetry Monday

Tags

adoptee, adoption, appreciation, Comfort, Falling and Rising, healing, Life, Transformation, Wonder

“MYSTERIES, YES

by Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous

to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the

mouths of the lambs.

How rivers and stones are forever

in allegiance with gravity

while we ourselves dream of rising.

How two hands touch and the bonds

will never be broken.

How people come, from delight or the

scars of damage,

to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those

who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say

“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,

and bow their heads.”

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Join Elaine every other Monday for reflections on adoption and life. Your comments are welcome!

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Adopted by the Cat

Tags

adoptee, adoption, Anticipation, Cats, Comfort, Dealing with Adoption, Hiking, Injury, Patience, Purring, recovery, Rescue

Cats make the best nurses. -Author Peggy vanHulsteyn

Cats create purr vibrations within a range of 20-140 Hz, known to be medically therapeutic.

A cat purring on your lap is more healing as the vibrations you are receiving are of our love and contentment. – St. Francis of Assisi

If you put a cat and a bunch of broken bones in the same room, the bones will heal.
-Old Veterinary Adage

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Mr. Charlie Chapman,
Cat Practitioner

I’ve always loved Autumn in Santa Fe, New Mexico-my hometown since 1967. In the past I’ve hiked my way through October, November, and early December, enjoying the crisp air, golden aspen leaves, the first snowfalls. It was a time full of anticipation, as I looked forward to skiing and snowshoeing. Not this year, however. Today marks two months since a serious hiking accident that twisted and sprained the muscles of my torso and resulted in a lumbar vertebra stress fracture-> https://tinyurl.com/yb2ruz3k Since then, I’ve been consumed with recovery.
During this long, lonely recuperation process, a surprising hero has come to the rescue: Charlie Chapman, who’s promoted himself from ordinary house cat to NURSE CHAPMAN. Ever since I came home from the ER, broken in body and spirit, he’s been by my side. He’s watched as I’ve gone from barely being able to walk from room to room in the house, to leaving on short walks around the neighborhood. He’s witnessed my exhaustion at performing the simplest tasks. If I have to flop on the bed to rest, he naps next to me. His purrs often lull me to sleep. He cuddles on the side of me that’s currently suffering most. It’s as if he’s trying to inject cat love into my aching torso. He’s on duty all day, all night, week after week, month after month.

The doctor prescribed rest. Here! Follow my example.

The Neurologist predicted that it would take three months for my injury to heal, and in the meantime I’m trying everything to relieve the relentless pain: physical therapy, water workouts, Reiki, acupuncture, various medications and salves. They help temporarily but don’t seem to speed healing. What IS helping? My cat!
A couple weeks ago, I took “Nurse Chapman” to Cedarwood Animal Clinic for an ongoing gastrointestinal problem. The vet sent a stool specimen to the lab to see if there was an infection. Nothing showed up. Finally, it was concluded that kitty’s diarrhea was due to stress. I realized that by not getting better myself, I was upsetting HIM! At that point, I decided to act as though I were better, to do an extreme attitude adjustment. It was bad enough that I was under the weather. I didn’t want to make my cat ill as well. So far, it seems to be working. Chapman’s problem has cleared up; I can only hope that my vertebra is mending. The lumbar stress fracture one of those things that can and probably will knit back together. Hopefully, both Chapman and I will be well by the end of next month. Then he can go back to his role as adored house cat, not a nurse on duty 23/7, and I can go back to longer walks and HIKING.
That would be the PURR-fect Christmas present for us both!

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Join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on the world as seen through adoption colored glasses.

 

All I need to know about life I learned from my cat.

Tags

Adaptability, adoption, Cat, Comfort, Companion Animals, Felines and Friends, Hilary Mantel, Name-choosing, New Home, Wolf Hall

A home without a cat — and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat — may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?
– Mark Twain, Pudd’nhead Wilson

Note to readers: As you know if you’ve been reading my blog, I write about adoption and adoption-related issues. The time has come to talk about adopting a cat. Why? There’s a new four-legged friend in my life. Rescue kitty Charlie Chapman brings me such joy and laughter, I must share.

Life is hard, then you nap.

 

Several years ago, my orange tabby, Thomas Cromwell, died of feline immune deficiency. Thomas Cromwell, named after the protagonist of Hilary Mantel’s novel Wolf Hall, had seen me through a major operation, repair of an abdominal aorta aneurism. He was a wonderful nurse. I tried in vain to repay the favor. When his time came, it was a holiday weekend and the vet’s office was closed. There were emergency services, but I was reluctant to put my frail, frightened feline in a cat carrier and take him to a place that would terrify him. Keeping by him round the clock, I would wait until the vet’s office opened on Tuesday.  His friends (he was a very popular cat) visited to say goodbye. He passed away gently surrounded by the comforts of home, and I was devastated.

I knew that I would never invite another cat into my life. But…time passed and, as felines are wont to do, another kitty padded his way into my home and heart, a handsome gray and white seven-year-old. He’d won the hearts of the volunteers at Felines and Friends, and he was about to win mine.

Charlie Chapman as king of the divan

WHAT’S IN A NAME?
I’d just returned from a Viking River Cruise up the Elbe River, to the Czech Republic and  eastern Germany. Before the trip, I’d met my future pet at the local cat rescue organization Felines and Friends. I was fairly certain that he wouldn’t still be available after my return. When he was still there, I decided that an adoption was meant to be. Filling out paperwork and paying the adoption fee, I took him home.
He is called “Chapman,” said the adoption folks. Hmmmm. “OK, kiddo,” I said to my new friend. “We have to think of a new name for you.” Two weeks of trial and error—Igor, Rochester, Sidney, William, and various other identifications—and I realized that all he needed was a first name to go along with “Chapman.” Thus “Charlie Chapman.”

NO PLACE LIKE HOME:
But which part of home would my new pet inhabit? At first, Chapman spent all his time inside — yes, inside — the recliner chair. A previous cat had carved out an interior cave in this comfy old piece of furniture and Charlie Chapman would spend long hours inside it. In fact, I seldom saw him. This was not the way become a social cat, one who would interact with friends and family. I placed small pet rugs and tempting kitty beds on top of couches, chairs, and beds and yet still Chapman disappeared into the recliner.
Not to be outsmarted, I cut some material out of the innards of the chair, removing his self-styled “hammock.” Next I cleaned and brought in two cinder blocks from the back yard. After tilting the chair up, I lowered it down OVER the cinder blocks. The hiding place was gone and my little friend would now have to be out and about. Suddenly he was on armchairs, the couch, in the kitchen, and roaming around the house. I was happier being able to interact with him, and he instantly became more outgoing. Now he races around the house as if he owned the place. It’s as though he’d been born and raised here.
Charlie Chapman is a model of adaptability. He’s quickly overcoming his shadowy, underprivileged past. Even as he wins a place in my heart,  Chapman is teaching me.

Join Elaine every other Monday for musings on adoption and life.

Show Me the Way to go Home

Tags

Authenticity, Comfort, freedom, Hobbit House, Home, Privacy, Safety, Shelter, Space, Transformation

NOTE: Guest Blogger Ellen Antill writes about feeling at home in the world. Those of you who’ve been following my site know that adoption recovery centers around authenticity, acceptance and coming home to oneself. Enjoy this inspiring essay, and please add your comments. What does being “at home” mean to you? -EP

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Six years ago I set out on a fresh path in a new town, leaving my husband and the home in suburban Phoenix we’d owned for many years.

For the first two years of my adventure, I felt pretty rootless, like a wanderer, living as a guest or caregiver in other people’s houses.

Then I rented a cozy, peaceful casita in Santa Fe, my “Hobbit House.”

When I finally unpacked my books and dishes and stocked my own refrigerator, I sat on the kitchen floor of the Hobbit House and cried.

What was it that I’d been so hungry for in those two years when I was floating, unmoored in a material sense as well as in my soul?

I longed for a space in which I felt safe and comfortable enough to be myself, where I didn’t need to answer to anyone or ask permission to plant flowers in the back yard.

I dreamed of walking in my front door any time of the day or night and having no one to take care of . . . of being as noisy or as still as I wanted to be.

I yearned to create an uncluttered space in which to write and read and meditate . . . with no interruptions.

I lost myself in imagining the vibrant colors I would paint my walls . . . and felt sublimely content when I pictured the complete absence of TV!

I was absolutely famished for the freedom to invite lots of friends over to cook and eat together, to sing and laugh and tell stories as far into the evening as we wished.

But wait.  Let’s go back for a second to me, sitting on the floor, overwhelmed by emotions, unpacking pots and pans in the Hobbit House.

My tears were not simply a sign of relief about having a private physical space again.  They were about knowing I’d just taken another step toward claiming my authentic self, the woman I’d envisioned myself becoming before I ever set out on my gypsy quest.

Today I dearly love my Hobbit House.  It symbolizes all the expansive learning and growth and transformation I’ve experienced in the last four years.  And it still takes my breath away to see how my bedroom comes alive on summer mornings with quivering leaf patterns from the trees outside.

At the same time, I feel ready for more space and light and enough room, at last, for those gatherings of friends and loved ones . . . and a bigger bathroom counter and more than one closet, please!

So I’m calling in a new Santa Fe home, the next space to provide shelter and warmth, a space to be a witness to the changes yet to blossom within me.

When I see the dancing leaf patterns on the walls, I’ll know I’ve found the right place.

Thanks to Ellen Antill for today’s Guest Post!

Ellen Antill

In her own words…
One of the key reasons Ellen is on the planet is to facilitate the Storytellers process, a personal growth experience she designed 10 years ago for older girls and women.  Much of this process is about providing an emotionally safe environment where girls and women – individually or in small groups — can share and embrace their “original stories” and learn to love themselves.  Storytellers also supports girls and women in creating vibrant new life stories for their present and future.

Ellen Antill, M.A.
Founder/Executive Director
Storytellers: Women Creating New Life Stories
(505) 577-3930
storywomen60@gmail.com
http://www.storywomen.wordpress.com