Kitty woes

 When Sweet Hubby and I adopted darling 22 month old sister kittens Bandy and Angel, we figured that if we fed them right, made sure they got plenty of stimulation and exercise, and gave them regular check-ups, we wouldn't have to deal with their health for maybe 10 years.

But alas, no.

We took them for their one-year check up and rabies shots yesterday.  Both Bandy and Angel have conjunctivitis in their eyes and gingivitis in their gums, the latter of which might necessitate the removal of some or all of their teeth, which are already starting to loosen.

I feel really bad for them.  I don't know if they're in pain.  They don't seem to be.  But they might be later, and we're going to have to start doing stuff to them that they may not like, such as brushing their teeth every day.  If they hate something we do to them every day, I'm afraid it might damage their sense of trust in us.  They trust us completely right now.  I don't want to lose that.

I also feel bad for SH and myself.  We're both sort of depressed with the news right now, because we are, indeed, going to have to do things to them that they're not going to like, and take them to the vet more frequently.  I really hate that thought.  And we're going to have to figure out how to feed them, since we'll be adding medicine to their food that they may not like.  From now on we're going to be concerned about them, instead of enjoying the carefree delight we take in them now.

We'll figure it out.  Those are always the magic words.  But still, I wish we and the kitties didn't all have to deal with this.  I wish I could explain to them what's happening and why.  I wish I could hide my head in the sand and pretend not to know what's wrong.

But alas, no.

Oops - and a promise kept

The oops is that I'm actually 72 now, not 71.  I wasn't lying about my age; I just lost track    

The promise kept is the one I made at the end of my most recent post about wanting to leave a mark in the world.  I have determined that I'm going to look for opportunities to reach out in kindness to people.  That very day I had the chance, and it was a lovely experience.  A girlfriend and I went to a movie, and as we approached the concessions counter the young man behind it welcomed us with what sounded like a very genuine greeting.  I made sure to acknowledge that greeting, to let him know that he was seen and heard and appreciated, that his friendliness lit up the room.  From his response, I gathered he had been having a tough time, had not, in fact, been feeling seen nor appreciated, and that my compliment was meaningful to him.  It was such a tiny moment but I for one was left feeling connected and warmer.  I hope he was, too.

This morning, for no reason that I was aware of, I happened to choose "Pollyanna" as my morning movie.  (I start most days now with at least part of a movie, because those are currently the only times  Angel sits in my lap, which is a slice of heaven.)  It had not occurred to me when I chose it that this is a movie all about the difference one person can make simply by being kind, by looking for the good in people, by acting always out of friendship and care.

Not only that, but today as I waited while my car was worked on, I happened to pick up an old People magazine and happened to turn to a page that had an Oprah Winfrey quote from a commencement speech: "There will never be anything in your life as fulfilling as making a difference in somebody else's.  Everybody wants to see you take your integrity, your curiosity, your creativity, your guts and use it to make a difference.  I'll tell you where you start: You start by being good to at least one other person every single day.  Just start there.  That's how you begin to change the world."

Okay, Universe, I get the message.

Leaving a mark

I'm 71 today, so naturally I'm thinking about mortality.  And it occurred to me that if I found out today I have a terminal illness (which all of us have, and it's called life), my first thought would be - well, my first thought would no doubt be "I'm going to die?!  Oh no!  How do I survive this?"  My second thought would be how to take care of Sweet Hubby as he goes through the pain of losing his wife, his heart, his biggest fan.  But after that, I think I would start wondering how I can make my life and death meaningful, how I might leave some kind of mark in the world.

Since I'm a writer, of course, my first impulse might be to blog or write a play about the process of dying.  But there are already so many blogs, books, TED talks, poems, memoirs, etc on that subject, written by much better writers than I.  I want to leave a mark and I don't think my writing is going to be the vehicle for that.  So what might?  How can someone who has turned out to be rather ordinary make her life meaningful beyond the success of her own small personal world?

I have several ideas about that, and all of them scare me, because they would require me to be bigger than I am.  I wonder if being scared is a prerequisite for leaving a mark?  I think it is.  I think the people who have left the biggest marks have done it by facing deep, bone-chilling fear.  Violent people respond to that fear by putting on armor and building weapons; the non-violent ones by facing it and staring it down.  I mean, how much courage did Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. have to have to speak about civil rights in the Jim Crow South?  He knew he was going to be assassinated.  He had to know, because he knew that They knew that assassination was the only way to shut him up.

I'm getting a bit beyond myself here.  I don't aspire to be another MLK, Desmond Tutu, Mother Teresa, Harriet Tubman, someone on that level.  My ambitions are several tiers less grand than that.  I want my mark to come from having left people somehow better off, the world a better, less angry place.  I don't need to be remembered, but I do want my presence to have been felt, felt the way sunshine is felt, as something warm and healing and nurturing.  So how to do that?

I can think of some simple ways to spread that warmth.  What if I did a random act of kindness every day?  Or wrote letters of appreciation to someone every day?  Or smiled at every single person I encountered for the rest of my life?  These all seem simple, small commitments, but it's the "every day" and "for the rest of my life" that I find intimidating.  But then, I'm looking at this from the perspective of someone who does not have a terminal disease and expects to live for another 25 years or so. 

In all this musing, what is revealed to me is that I already know how to make the world a better place, but there isn't a lot of urgency about it for me, so I don't do these simple things I could be doing.  I play small.  If I really want to leave a mark, why in my imaginings am I waiting for a death sentence to prompt me into action?  What could I be doing now, right now, this minute?

I want you to know, whomever you are who is taking a moment to read my ramblings, that I appreciate you so much.  I consider your presence here an act of great generosity.  I know you are here for no other reason than that you care about me, and that just knocks me out.  So here is my promise: I will look every day for some way I can be kind; some way I can help someone, stranger or friend; some way to bring some sunshine into the world.  Especially when I'm scared or cranky or tired or down-hearted.  So there.