WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE?
I feel like I don’t have a direction. Even though I have been writing about it, everything I put down into words leaves me feeling like I have hit a dead end. I keep wondering where am I going and what I need to do to get there? Although it’s been an interesting adventure, this dating thing was not what I had in mind as something for a single 75 year old to explore; it just came out of nowhere. I saw the ad for speed dating and thought, “What the heck.” I was open to the possibilities. The initial excitement of meeting new people and actually going out on dates is winding down. Although it has opened up my perception of what my life as a little old lady with cats can be, I don’t see a clear path to follow into the future. I don’t want to go backwards but I don’t know where to go from here either. MAKING CHANGES I feel a little like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz except I have a cat in my basket instead of Toto. I have been swept up in a tornado of circumstances that require making decisions for the future, and dropped into an unfamiliar world. My yellow brick road seems to go in a million directions and I can’t make up my mind about which ones to follow. I know I need to make some changes and change doesn’t come easy for me. It feels overwhelming. There is a part of me that thinks it requires a monumental effort where I have to make a total turn around and sign up for online dating. The truth is that change happens in imperceptible degrees, the kind an airplane pilot makes to stay on course. A slight wing dip to the left and then to the right, all the while keeping your eye on the horizon. You barely realize the change in direction because it happens so gradually. OPEN TO THE POSSIBILITIES Maybe I don’t need to try so hard. I can’t make new relationships automatically happen, but I don’t think I need to sign myself up for online dating. I’m not ready for that kind of challenge. My dating experience actually started with just being open to the possibilities of a new kind of relationship. Perhaps just trusting that by keeping myself and my heart open, I will be guided onto the right path. In many ways it has been the unexpected things in life that have brought me the most joy. Rather than looking for the right answers I think I need to get out of the battle of who I am and who I want to be and be grateful for where I am right now. Yes, at 75 I have some time limits and some physical limits, but most of my limits about where I am going are in my head. I just need to put one foot in front of the other and enjoy the journey on my yellow brick road.
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MY ABBY CAT TURNS TWO BUT IS OLDER IN HUMAN YEARS
I got a birthday card in the mail today. It wasn’t for me, it was for my cat Abby. It was sent by Chewy, a pet supply company. How very thoughtful of them to let me know they have a lot of gifts appropriate for this special occasion. According to her records from the Animal Shelter, Abby was born on May 27, 2021. She just turned two. I checked on line and found out that every year in a cat’s life is equivalent to 4 human years except the first two. During their first year they mature rapidly. A one year old cat is like a human teenager, about 15 years old. Their second year zooms them into young adulthood similar to a 24 year old human. I got Abby when she was 9 months old and she actually was a lot like a preteen. The last year has definitely been her difficult teen years, but recently I noticed she has been calming down a bit. Now I know she actually has moved on to young adulthood and is ready to take life seriously, but not too seriously. THE CHALLENGES OF BEING A CAT MOM The teenage phase was challenging. She matured quickly from a somewhat uncoordinated adolescent to a skilled acrobat. Climbing and flying from one perch to another are her specialities. She can easily jump from a standing position to the kitchen countertops in a nano second. She is smart too. She has figured out how to overcome every barrier I have put up to try and keep her safely contained in the yard. It is also sometimes difficult to deal with the more mature Abby cat that is emerging. Of course it makes sense that she would present me with proof of her hunting skills by recently killing a bird. She was very proud; I was traumatized. Now I see it as an important stage in her cat life. She is ready to leave the nest (no pun intended for bird lovers) and fend for herself. I am not ready. In fact I will never be ready. There is no way I would turn her loose to create havoc with the neighborhood bird and small mammal population. No matter how wild she thinks she is, it is my sworn duty to domesticate her to the best of my ability. THE GOOD ALONG WITH THE BAD AND THE UGLY Of course bending a cat to my will is an impossibility. Clearly she is not going to be as submissive as my other cats were. They were happy to seek out a sunny spot to nap during the day and a warm lap in the evening. They never killed anything bigger than an occasional fly. Abby is a different bag of potatoes, but maybe one I needed. Life with Abby is not dull. She challenges my patience and my creative abilities to find solutions to curb her less appropriate behavior. She makes me laugh when she chases her feather-on-a-stick through her cat tunnel and sends it, and her, sliding across the wood living room floor. She warms my lap and my heart when she has a brief but adorable nap while I am watching my favorite PBS mysteries in my recliner. She can disarm me with cuteness and a simple head tilt even when she causes damage to my furniture or other personal property. GROWING OLD TOGETHER I feel lucky to have her in my life and I am looking forward to many more birthdays. If she lives to be 18, like my previous cats Mario and Kitty, she will be 96 in human years. Assuming I have the same longevity as my parents, I will be 93. If not, I think there will be a place for us in heaven where she will probably still be driving me crazy, in a good way.
SURVIVING THE APOCALYPSE I saw a cartoon in the paper this morning that reminded me of my Dad. In the cartoon, a group of smiling kids in scout uniforms were enjoying a beautiful campfire, completely surrounded by a landscape of apocalyptic destruction. The punch line was that their scouting skills made them more successful at surviving a worldwide catastrophe than any gun-toting prepper. My Dad would have fit perfectly into that gang of scout trained survivalists, if he had lived long enough to experience the apocalypse. DAD WAS ALWAYS PREPARED Not that he didn’t try. He lived to be 101. In his closet was a well organized collection of camping gear, canned food, water, and survival tools ready for the next earthquake or other potential disaster, whatever it might be. He also advised the seniors at his apartment on planning a way to transport people to safety if a tsunami threatened to wipe out the city, and he inspired me to put together my own survival kit. Dad truly lived the scout motto, “Be Prepared.” He used his Boy Scout skills to deal with everything. I remember one particular time when we were out picnicking. He was using a hatchet to chop wood for a fire, like an experienced scout would do. The hatchet slipped and he hit himself in the shin. Quickly switching to his first aide mode, Dad wrapped a handkerchief around his leg to stop the bleeding, loaded us all into the car, and drove to a hospital emergency room. My Mom didn’t drive and my sisters and I were too young to drive. After getting stitched back together he drove us home, all the while maintaining his usual calm, matter-of-fact demeanor. MY SURVIVAL SKILLS I do not have the level of survival skills my Dad possessed. It’s possible I might be able to start a fire using my glasses as a lens to focus the sun’s rays on some kindling, but I have never actually tried it. I’ve been through a 6.9 earthquake but luckily my house was still standing. Thanks to my survival kit, I had plenty of flashlights and batteries to last more than a week without electricity. Thank goodness it was a warm fall and I never even had to build a fire in my fireplace. It could have been worse. Dad knew that my generation was sorely missing basic survival skills, even though he did his best to encourage us to be independent and self sufficient. We had all the benefits, as well as the disadvantages, of growing up with a multitude of modern conveniences that he did not have as a child. I am completely dependent on electricity and computers. My world would come to a screeching halt if access to the internet was massively interrupted. I remember when the earthquake happened in 1989, it took out the electricity throughout the county. I couldn’t get gas for my car. The gas station pumps didn’t work and neither did the cash registers. I didn’t have enough gas in my car to get to a place where everything was still working. It was an experience that literally drove home how vulnerable I was. BEYOND BEING PREPARED Dad did more to prepare me for life than just helping me prep for a disaster. Instead of fixing things for me, he showed me how to fix them myself. He was a poster child for staying engaged in life and getting involved in what was going on in the world. He watched the news religiously and kept up to date on politics and world issues. Even when his sight deteriorated he was a voracious reader and used a device that the veterans administration had given him that could scan the pages of books with a camera and blow up the print on a TV monitor. He was a walking encyclopedia on history, science, and nature. I was so lucky to be a caregiver for him in his later years. He was a role model for me in how to handle the challenges of aging and the physical changes that go with it. Next year it will be 10 years since his passing. I am grateful for the skills he taught me. Because of him I know how to grow tomatoes, fix a leaking toilet, and vote with an informed political conscience. I may not be prepared for every potential disaster in the way he seemed to be, but I am every bit as much of a survivor as he was. |
Leslie Masona woman in search of her post-retirement future Guess what! By subscribing, you get notices about the latest Little Old Lady with Cats posts sent to your mailbox!
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WHAT IS A LITTLE OLD LADY WITH CATS - REALLY?
(from an entry posted on 5/1/2015) “I definitely fit some of the characteristics of a little old lady with cats: Retired - check, Single - check, Like to knit - check, Have cats - check. . .I do not want to get stuck in my Little Old Lady persona, however. In fact, this blog is a risk taking experiment in exploring and redefining what I want my retired life to look like.” Categories
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