The Great Little Gatsby

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the great little Gatsby. A parody of a great classic, you say? No, not at all – the Gatsby I am talking about is a tiny little kitten, whose life had such a rocky start that he ended up at my door at the age of four weeks, with little fur on his body and nearly starving.

You see, Gatsby’s mother – a stray cat – was killed by a car, and she left behind five kittens that were barely three and a half weeks old. They were rescued by a kind lady, who was able to find homes for three and was left with two of the babies.
The first of those two babies, Karma, made her way to my house after my daughter’s friend brought her home and was told she couldn’t keep her. When she brought her to me, I had no idea how to take care of a cat so young, but a trip to Petsmart set me straight – I got back with cans of kitten milk, some kitten food, a litter box, and a bottle of Dawn dishwashing soap. Why the dishwashing soap, inquiring minds might wonder? Well, flea drops can only be used on cats eight weeks and older, but Dawn can be used at any age to give kittens a bath.

Giving Karma a bath was the beginning of the adventure….as soon as we got her wet, the poor little soul looked like a frightened sea monkey – all eyes and ears. Next came the feeding part, and alas, it wasn’t any easier. Karma was too small to eat cat food, so I went back to the grocery store and got some turkey and beef baby food. The baby food worked, and within a few days, Karma was ready to find a home. I started a Facebook campaign, and I’m pretty sure people on my friends list cringed each time I posted a new request, since I posted so many. Finally, Karma found a home with my son’s friend, whose mother instantly fell in love the moment she saw the kitten. A day or two after she went to her new home, I called to check on her, and the new mom told me the “baby” was already getting spoiled rotten…that same day, this wonderful lady bought fresh shrimp, boiled them, and minced them in tiny pieces for Karma to eat. Needless to say, I asked if she was also willing to adopt a 40-year-old daughter. She said no, so I’m still here fixing my own dinners.

The day after Karma left, my daughter’s friend called me and told me the lady who still had the last baby didn’t know what to do with him; he wasn’t eating and he was getting weaker by the day. Of course, I told her to bring him to my house. I didn’t know what I was going to do with him, but I had to give him a chance.

The little guy arrived, wrapped into a blue blanket and nearly furless. He was dirty and ridden with fleas, so I gave him a bath; actually two, since he still had fleas after the first one. At this point I had a clean kitten, but he was so weak, he could not even stand up or play. His eyes wouldn’t focus, and he barely meowed. When my vet came and weighed him, the next day, he was only eleven ounces! The vet was pretty sure that this kitten hadn’t eaten anything since his mother died, a week before. We started a round-the-clock regimen of baby food and kitten milk, and after a few days, he started coming around.

I found him a home, but three weeks later, the lady who adopted him developed allergies, and asked me to help her find a new place for him, so I got back on Facebook pleading, once again, to find this little guy a home. This time my campaign was short, and a family from St. Louis agreed to adopt him. The lady of the house happened to be visiting family in NC, so we arranged to meet to finalize the adoption. She chose the name Gatsby for him, and I think it fits him perfectly! His final destination will be St. Louis, so he has a few miles to burn before he can make it to his forever home, but one thing is for sure: Once he gets there, he will have the home of a cat’s dreams. With two loving adults and two happy children around, who will undoubtedly play with him all the time, what’s there not to love?

So, this is the story of the great little Gatsby, a kitten who started on low gear but is going to go far, all thanks to the love of wonderful humans who took one look at his little Yoda face and instantly made him a part of their family. Thank you.
And to my friends on Facebook who read the many posts, and were kind enough not to send me a box of chocolates laced with arsenic, I really appreciate you. Now that you know Gatsby’s story, I am sure you understand why I had to do it.

It's His Fault!

“You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of.”~ Jim Rohn


There are many times in the life of a mother when she wants to look at her children and lovingly say “I told you so.” Yesterday was one of those fatidic moments for me.

We have recently adopted a kitten, and although I have repeatedly told my daughter that the kitten is not a toy - and should only be picked up occasionally - my opinion in the matter seem to quickly evaporate the moment the words escape my lips.

Yesterday morning, she was on a mission to get the cat to sit on the counter beside one of her stuffed animals; when she put him down, the kitten tried to escape and she grabbed him quickly – too quickly.

The cat slipped off the counter and instinctually tried to hold on to anything he could as he fell. Unfortunately for her, Morgan happened to be the only thing in his way before he reached the floor.

The result was a deep gash on her hand, as the kitten’s claws dug into her skin and ripped a four-inch path on it. Of course, Morgan could not see her part of responsibility in the unfolding of the situation that had just occurred. According to her, the kitten – who had been until five minutes before the sweetest cat on earth – was now “stupid” and had hurt her on purpose. Although I tried to explain that the kitten had scratched her by accident as he was falling, she would hear no reasons.

More often than not, many of us entirely blame others when something happens, even when we are partly at fault. It is easier to get angry at someone else than it is to get angry at ourselves, regardless of the fact that we might have facilitated the process, if only by enabling the actions of others.

By assuming responsibility for our part, we fear the spotlight of judgment will instantly shine on us, and expose our weaknesses for all to see. Yet, self-accountability is necessary if one hopes to break the chain. Without accepting that a change of perception is needed within ourselves, we will continue to walk blindly into the same mistakes, and will perpetually stumble into the very same rocks we tripped on before.

Each time we point a finger at someone, it wouldn’t hurt to acknowledge that the rest of them are pointing back to ourselves.

Beating the Odds

“Our first journey is to find that special place for us.” ~ Earl Nightingale

Yesterday was a very special day for us, as we brought home a new member of our family. His name is Wick, and he is a tiny, eight-week-old black kitten.

Aside from the suspicious stares he received from Wizard, our resident cat, Wick’s homecoming was glorious – the kids were tickled to death and even my husband warmed up to him quite quickly.

In the midst of all the excitement, only one tiny cloud of sadness lingered in the air. When Wick was taken to the shelter, a couple of weeks ago, he and his brother Noir stuck together like glue. The lady who fostered them both said they were inseparable and suffered separation anxieties when pulled apart to be examined. We all started thinking about his brother, and felt kind of sad that we were not able to bring them home together.

Wick, formerly Midnight, has found a home where he will grow happy and healthy – will his brother have the same fortune, or will he end as a nameless adult cat in a shelter that most will bypass and won’t adopt? I suppose we will never know.

When we are born, we are dealt a hand of cards that will decide how the game will unfold. Certainly, if we learn good playing skills, our chances of winning will increase, but part of our success is a mere strike of luck. When they woke up this morning, the two kittens didn’t know of the chain of events that was going to take place within a few hours. They woke and played; they ate, napped and played some more; all of these actions were performed together; yet, tonight, their lives took different paths.

As much as we like to assume that life is a game we can control, part of the play remains unknown, and greatly relies on having faith in the final outcome.

It is a sad reality that many of the animals at the shelters will never find homes, but it is also true that each person walking through the door has the potential of becoming one of their humans. We can never give up hope, as we don’t know who or what is waiting around the corner. We could be disappointed ten times, or even twenty, but the twenty-first time could be the one which will turn our lives around.

It’s good to know, at least, that we have just as many chances to be happy as we have of being let down. And those are wonderful odds.


(I will be leaving this afternoon for Wilmington and will be gone until Sunday night, so there will be no blog posts the next two mornings. Have a happy weekend, everybody, and I will see you back on Monday. )

The Kitten and The Crow

Since early childhood, we are conditioned to classify everything we run across, especially people we meet on our journey. Although some of us benefit from an upbringing which allows a few shades of gray in between, the majority are most often inclined toward a much defined distinction.

We are taught that some people are our friends, and others are enemies; some are good and some are evil; many are worthy of receiving our trust and just as many are not. Our judgment of individuals and situations is often based on criteria we have inherited from our caregivers, tossed with a sprinkle of personal experiences.

Would our reaction be the same, had we been taught differently? Could we be more willing to trust some that don’t readily fit into our mold of acceptance, if we hadn’t been trained to immediately qualify and quantify those we meet? Is our tolerance for others dictated by nature, or is it a product of nurture?

A very unusual couple of friends – a kitten and a young crow – teach us that it is possible to trust and love someone we would normally consider an enemy. The following video is a bit lengthy, but definitely worth watching. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JiJzqXxgxo

I would assume that when their paths first crossed, the crow and the kitten were both lost and uncertain how to feel – each of them was a blank board. Since neither could rely on the guidance of an adult of their species, they followed their natural instincts in judging one another.

Each of them was naturally geared to have quite dissimilar lives and needs, yet, without a teacher pushing them to focus on their differences, they were able to establish a common denominator: their individual need for love and nurturing common to all species.

It is possible to rise above pre-set standards and see that blessings can be found in the most unexpected of places. Inside each enemy lives a potential friend we haven’t met yet, if we can just look past the obvious and “see” with our hearts. The kitten and the crow would certainly vouch for that.