All of my kitties in the past had come to me with no effort on my part; now I must actively look for one.

Not expecting anything, I checked out Craigslist. One ad pulled my heartstrings. Along with a photo of an adorable Maine Coon mix cat were these words:

                           FIVE YEAR OLD KITTY NEEDS A NEW HOME

Zuzana has been with us since she was a kitten. We are looking for a loving person to adopt Zuzana because we are not able to spend as much time at home as we used to. It breaks our hearts to see her go, but it will be best for Zuzana to be with someone who has time to play with her. She has been spayed and is up-to-date with all her shots. Zuzana is an indoor-only cat. Please let us know if you are interested in adopting her.

The ad had been placed 12 days prior to my reading. "Surely, she has already been adopted," I thought sadly. Nevertheless, I replied to the ad asking if Zuzana was still available. Her owner replied immediately, "Yes, she is still available. Would you mind answering some questions?" Three emails later, I had answered more than twenty questions. The nature of the questions convinced me that this man truly loved his kitty. I was delighted when he asked me if I wanted to meet Zuzana. Of course, I said, "Yes!"

Zuzana has been with me for two years. She sleeps next to my head and loves to be talked to. She spends her days looking out of a window, napping, and chasing a laser light for exercise. When I go out, her look says, "You won't be gone long, will you?"

Zuzana was waiting for me, just as I was waiting for her.

SMELLS GOOD, HUH?

Sitting at the table, pot pie in front of me.

Kitty jumps onto chair beside me.

"Smells good, huh?"

Big green eyes look up expectantly.

"Smells good, huh?"

Soft paw touches my hand.

"Smells good, huh?"

Her look says, "Smells better than the stuff you put down for me."

"Smells good, huh?"

She shows me her rear and jumps down to eat something I dropped on the floor.

"It's good, huh?"

REMEMBERING ALICE

Alice was a withdrawn seven year old in the second grade classroom in which I taught. Her parents were separated. Alice's father had physical custody. He told Alice that her mother was dead. Alice's mother hoped to get custody at the divorce hearing. She was eventually able to tell Alice that she was not dead.

Alice's behavior was strange and she had no friends in the class. The other children giggled at her unusual behavior. One day, Alice's mom came to the classroom to take Alice out for lunch. I took advantage of Alice's absence to talk to the class. I said, “I want to talk with you about something important. I know Alice's behavior is odd at times and I don't blame you for laughing. But there is something that I think you should know. Alice is living with just her father right now. He told Alice that her mother is dead.”

The children gasped.

I swallowed hard, then continued, “I'm not trying to make you sad. I'm telling you this because Alice is going through a difficult time and she needs us to be kind to her.”

Alice returned to a more compassionate classroom. No one was her friend, but no one laughed at her.

Two weeks later, Alice's mom told me that the following Friday she was taking Alice out of the school.

The day before Alice's last day with us, I spoke with the school secretary. I told her that I needed some time to talk to my class so that I could tell them that Alice is leaving and ask them to make a good-bye card. I told the secretary that I would ask Alice to deliver a note to her and would she please keep Alice in her office for five minutes before sending her back to the classroom. The secretary smiled and agreed.

Later that day, Alice took the note to the secretary's office. While she was out of the room, I talked with the students.They appeared happy to make a card. Alice was often in her own world, so it wasn't difficult for the children to make a card without Alice noticing. I told the students to put their cards on my desk at dismissal time.

After the students left for the day, I looked at the cards. The boy who was her chief tormentor and laughed the loudest had made a card with flowers and butterflies He had written, “I'm sorry you're leaving. I love you. I'll miss you.”

Many students created cards with similar sentiments. 

The following day was Alice's last one with us. I asked one of the students to write Alice's name on the envelope and decorate it. I gave the envelope to Alice at dismissal time.

Four days later, I received a note from Alice's mother. It read: Thank you so much for the envelope you gave Alice. She reads the cards from the children over and over. She said, “I didn't know they loved me.” This weekend she was the happiest I have ever seen her."

My sister won't turn on the faucet because she can't turn it off. She jiggles the doorknob a hundred times and still is not convinced it's locked. Mail, newspapers, old magazines, paper bags and cartons are piled on every table. She has great difficulty throwing anything away. It involves holding the item by its edge away from her body and slowly dropping it into the wastebasket while holding her breath for fear of contracting germs that fly up from the wastebasket. She didn't ask for this disorder. She also has never sought help for it. Going to meetings of "Clutters Anonymous" is her social event of the week. I think to myself, "You're not a clutterer, you're a hoarder." I try to remember to be compassionate and don't say it. I haven't been in her house for three years - the odor emanating from her porch is enough. I go home and scream.

Purity of intentions is true purity. Look at a someone's behavior - actions reveal intentions. Grandpa said often "Actions speak louder than words." He was a man of few words. His daily actions did the talking. Non-judgmental, compassionate, helpful to household members and neighbors, a passionate gardener, cleaned every room, cooked the Sunday meal, made decisions easily and stuck to them. He was Purity.

Let's see - 65 years ago...   riding my bike after school, roller skating ("who took the key?"), watching Howdy Doody, Buffalo Bill, and Clarabell, getting my early sexual awakening listening to Gene Autry sing. No remote control for our black and white TV. "What? No remote?" "And only three channels." "What? Was this in the Dark Ages?"

"And what do your kids do in 2016?" "Well.... they have their computer games. They walk the dog when I threaten them. They go to Grandma's house with us on Thanksgiving if I promise them a new computer game. They're good kids."  

Do you have one?

Have what?

A demented mind.

Ha! Not me!

Yup, you do.

How so?

It takes you ten minutes to wash four dishes.

I like clean.

You change your pillowcase every night?

Of course. I like clean.

You scrub your kitchen floor every Saturday.

I like clean. When do you scrub yours?

Hmmm, maybe once a year.

What?

I'm not gonna eat off the floor.

Still....

You scrub your tomatoes, peppers, squash....

So? I like clean. You don't scrub yours?

I rinse them and rub the dirt off.

What?

Haven't gotten sick yet.

Just wait, you'll see I'm right.

You think?

You'll see.

Get up, eat, shower, go to work, come home, eat.

So what else is new?

Well.... there's this guy that just started working there.

Yeah?

Yeah. I think he likes me.

Yeah?

Yeah. He stops by my desk on his way to the coffee room.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Is that all?

Well.... I told him a joke. He smiled and poked my shoulder.

Yeah?

Yeah.

What's his name?

Donny, I think.

You think?

Yeah.

Did he ask your name?

Yeah.

Yeah?

I said, "Isabelle."

That's not your name.

Yeah.

Did he ask for your phone number?

Nah.

Nah?

Nah.