Are balloons like people? We visited our local neighborhood restaurant/ bar last night for an early evening cocktail. Hugging the ceiling were balloons—lots of balloons—Red, Gold and Blue, their ribbons trailing down just far enough to grab one, or more, and take it along. I chose one of each color.
Rocky came in this morning, tail hanging straight down. Not a normal position for his lovely, ringed-like-a-raccoon tail. Still, he seemed OK. He ate his breakfast then headed to his cozy blanket in my office window seat. He curled up, then I noticed he was having a difficult time sitting down. Oh, no. His tail. Something was wrong with his tail. He jumped up on the bed—a normal thing for him to do, but again, something with the tail. When we tried to see what was amiss, he snarled and it was clear that something had happened during the night.
Last December Rosie came into our lives. Rosie is a medium sized grey and white kitty who used to live across the street at our neighbors house. Until Gino came. Gino is a rather large, mean tomcat who tormented poor Rosie. Gino belongs to our neighbor’s daughter (who has, by the way moved out but didn’t take the cat!). We’ve talked at length about moving Gino along—somewhere, anywhere. Yet, he’s still there. And, Rosie is still hanging out (and eating 2x daily) at our house.
All my life I’ve heard people tell me I need to smile more. This morning, I was reading “Big Magic,” by Elizabeth Gilbert. She talks about her fearful childhood and how her mother would call her “Pitiful Pearl.” I thought of my father and some of his “pet” names for me, one of which was “Gloomy Gus.” Now that’s something to live up to—and I have managed to do it for most of my life. Thanks Dad.