Tag: grateful

Grateful #7

I am grateful for pets.

Irish was a Staffordshire terrier who barked at anyone who came near me and learned to swim because I was in a lake yelling for help because my flip-flop was stuck in the muck. And help she did. She swam out and nearly drowned me with her newfound skill.

Bouche was a beautiful Siamese who, it turned out upon inheritance, was never litter-trained. This was relayed by my former mother-in-law after thousands of dollars had been invested in diapers and a diagnosis of IBS. I loved it when Bouche sat on my lap and purred loudly. Except when she sometimes shat.

Deuce was a tiger stripe whose formal name was Deuce Bigolo, Kitty Gigolo. He earned this moniker because, from an early age, he would constantly lay sprawled on his back, limbs akimbo. I have a picture of him sitting firmly on his cat ass staring boldly at the camera, stuffed bat toy by his side, remote by one paw, other paw on his nether regions, wearing an expression that clearly says, “Yeah? What of it?”

Wally was an orange tabby whose original name was Yaz, after the Red Sox player. But then he got lost in the bathroom and meowed bloody murder. And a Yaz doesn’t get lost in the bathroom. But a Wally does.

The guy featured above is Freddy, and he’s clearly half-lidded and stoned on clean laundry fumes. Please note that he has chosen the white article of clothing as his base. He’s got a knack for that. Freddy came to live with us about two months ago and has never looked back. He’s eighteen pounds of pure wanting more, and this house is equipped with a small, blonde, roving treat-dispenser. When she’s not around, or when guests come, or, let’s be honest, any time that the little hand is moving on the clock, Freddy can be found in front of his food cabinet pleading his case. For hours. It’s become like living near a train – I don’t even hear his whistle anymore.

Things Freddy Will Eat

  • All seafood
  • Any meats
  • Blue corn chips
  • Shitake mushrooms
  • Chick peas
  • Cantaloupe
  • Puke
  • Lettuce
  • Cheese
  • Hula Skirt Grass (which he will then crap out, and trail around the house. It’s delightful.)

Things Freddy Will Not Eat

  • Avocado
  • TBD

My son likes to ask how many lives Freddy has used. I think he wants to make sure that Freddy’s not on #9, so if he keels over he can be reminded that it’s okay. You’ve got another chance. Just get back up.

Grateful #3

I am grateful for backyards. The first backyard I remember having was in South Carolina, and it was three acres ranging from neatly mowed grass to what I considered to be full-throttle forest. That backyard hosted parties, gardens, firecrackers, a treehouse, a cannon, rogue chickens, various dogs of all sizes and degrees of training, a zip-line, a wedding, a four-wheeler track, and a wood framed store where my sister and I sold mud pies and moss.

My last backyard was a great childhood backyard. It had a wooden play-set with swings and slides and a rock-climbing wall. It had an above-ground pool. The fence bordered my best friend Tammy’s yard, and we ended up ripping down a section soon after Finn was born when we realized what a wicked pain in the ass it was going to be. It was good for quads and snowmen and luge tracks. And parties. I threw some great parties there in July’s gone by for Finn’s birthdays. A negative was the raccoon infestation. Those suckers ‘ll try to carry off your cat, given the opportunity. And they don’t respond to pleas, or, if it escalates, harsh language. But that’s a story for another day.

My last backyard was nice. My current backyard makes me stop and stare and consider where I came from and how I got here and where I’m going. My current backyard gives me pause and it gives me peace. My current backyard is amazing.

My current backyard is about half an acre?

(I have no concept of measurements. I give directions by minutes and I cook by sight. My house is a small four-bedroom renovated Cape. I know “small” and “four-bedroom” don’t go together. You’ll have to trust me on this one. You could fit six of my houses on my yard. That’s my best description of the size.)

In any case, it’s whatever-size of soft green actual grass that, when mowed, conforms to the alternating pattern you see on baseball fields. With the lines? I love that. It slopes from the road to the lake, with a whole half of it left empty for chasing and making sled runs and throwing frisbees poorly. It has a huge tree, and it ends with a small deck with stairs that walk into the water and a sturdy dock that’s the perfect size for fishing or jumping or launching a small inflatable craft that I swear is a boat because it has oars.

The sunsets in my backyard are breathtaking. The most breathtaking thing, however, is that it is home. I have scattered this backyard with friends and food and fun. My children have squealed down the rolling hill on sleds and adrenaline and their own two feet and their love of the chase. They can run forever, and I can finally stand still.

Grateful #1

I’m grateful for the time I got to spend at home with Finn on maternity leave. I remember so many days of sitting and staring at my new little man, thinking, “these are the days of miracle and wonder”, and rocking him and loving him and trying to live each moment fully.

I am also grateful for the amazing doctor I had during that time. I had post-partum depression for three months, and he helped me through it gently and with tough love and with humor. I remember sitting in his office once and telling him that I wasn’t doing enough, that I was nothing, and I was boring this poor baby.

“Yes,” he replied, gesturing to my sleeping child. “You’ve bored him straight to sleep. He’s six weeks old, Desh. Give yourself a f***ing break.”

I am also grateful for another doctor along the way who helped me get control of some of my anxieties and brought me back to myself. We were talking one day about all of the things there were to be anxious about in this world, and he said told me that, honestly, my life would be easier had I just been born at another time. “If the Cossacks were invading,” he explained, “you wouldn’t have time to worry about any of this bullshit.”