Children in Church

                I’m not really sure if the theme of this blog is children or the power of music.  I suppose it’s about both.  As irreverent at this may sound, I love to spend my time in church watching children.  They remind me of the wonder of creation and how vulnerable and dependent we are as humans…that, and they present themselves exactly as they are at that

moment, without any false piety or Sunday game face.

                Since I spend most of my church time in the choir loft I see the backs of a lot of people (note to husband—your hairline is looking great for your age group!) which is good because I prefer being invisible in crowds.  One thing I see that others don’t is the upturned faces of all the babies and preschoolers held by their parents.  They face the back of the church and are fascinated by the goings on in the loft.  I remember feeling the same way when Dad held me in church 40+ years ago.   Sometimes if I make eye contact with the children, I’ll give them a little wave and a smile and they’ll giggle and tuck their heads down in shyness before peeking back at me.  I keep waiting for a reprimand from the priest (the only grown-up who can see me) since this sometimes happens during prayer.  I don’t feel guilty, though, because I think it’s so important for kids to feel welcome there.  I also believe in my heart of hearts that Jesus during his time on earth couldn’t resist making a child smile.

                Last Sunday I had a break from accompanying and sat with my family down below.  I love going to church with my family but I’m short so the view of the altar is not good.  Right in front of me was a baby, probably close to 12 months old.  Her dad was at her mercy, getting her a cracker, then a bottle, then playing a finger tapping game, then back to the cracker, and so on.  Occasionally she’d peek  back and giggle if I smiled at her.  She wasn’t too fussy and made cute babbling sounds.  She didn’t seem engaged in the service at all until the pianist began the last song.  At the rousing introduction to “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” her eyes and mouth opened into huge circles.  She shrieked with joy and started dancing right there in her daddy’s arms.  There was no doubt what caused her excitement—it was the thrill of the music. I’m glad I could be down below in the pews to witness that!

Pitmats

Toby loathes pitmat removal

                Toby has a pitmat infestation.  We were staying ahead of it until he grew up, turned all independent, and would no longer sit still for a good hair brushing.  Since he’s the only long-haired animal we have ever had, we didn’t realize this would become such a problem.

                Are you wondering what a pitmat is?  “Pitmat” is how we affectionately refer to the mats of fur knotted up under Toby’s armpits.  When I was a child, my mom used the term “rat’s nest” to describe my unkempt long hair as she attempted to smooth it out.  I imagine she was often tempted to cut out the snarls rather than deal with my wiggling and complaining.  Pitmats pretty much operate the same way.

                Removing pitmats requires Toby to sit very still, as a patient caretaker gently tugs at them with a wire comb or brush.  My husband is fairly successful at it, but this is a high volume task and Toby squirms away long before he’s finished.

                We’ll keep working at it this winter while he’s indoors most of the day.  Once spring comes he’ll be too busy outside to let us fuss with him.

A Change of Scenery

Biff is dining in the dining room

                Watching Biff gives me some insight on how to snap out of the winter doldrums.  Normally Biff is rather indifferent about dry cat food (let’s face it, I think all of us would be if we were cats), but one simple change makes the dry food the tastiest, most fascinating morsels on the planet.

                The dry food is kept in ice cream pails near the food dish.  When the pails are empty I refill them from a big 20 lb. bag that’s stored out of sight.  Bucket refilling seems to snap Biff out of complacency.  As soon as he hears the crinkle of the big bag, he sprints to the dining room for his meal.  I leave the filled pails out for him a while so he can happily munch.  I’m not sure if it's the change of scenery or the fact that he barely has to bend down to eat, but whatever it is, he’s in heaven grazing from a plastic bucket.

                So what does that have to do with perking up from the winter blahs?  Like it did for Biff, a change of location or routine can make the mundane seem new and interesting.  Try eating or reading the paper in a different room or chair, wear a quirky pair of socks or tie, break your breakfast routine by serving a completely different food, have chocolate milk instead of white.  There are a thousand little things we can do differently that won’t disrupt our lives or take extra time, but will brighten our days (unless, of course, you have OCD in which case this suggestion might add an element of terror).  Winter won’t last forever, so hang in there!

Herding Biff

My daughter's selfie of the trip to the vet

                Poor, shy Biff…just when he was coming out of his shell and starting to have a social life, it was time for his vaccinations.   I can’t speak to the trip itself because my husband and daughter took him to the vet, but I can tell you about the 15 minutes prior to getting him in the car.

                Apparently the first attempt failed.  As I was eating breakfast, my daughter yelled in the door that they needed help catching Biff who was currently deep in some bushes moaning like a wounded animal.  I got my shoes and coat on, opened the door, and in he rushed.  At least he was contained in the house, but no one saw where he sprinted to. 

                After much searching, he was spotted behind storage boxes on a top shelf in the basement.  We thought he was cornered but he leaped over my head as I reached up to drag him out.  When he landed on the floor Toby took up the chase.  Toby is actually a decent little herder.  He chased Biff back upstairs and then to the top floor where my husband almost had him.  Biff made a quick turn and flew down the stairs, where Toby drove him into the bedroom to my waiting daughter.   She got both doors closed before he could leave again.  Game over.  Off to the vet.

                If you add up all Biff’s physical activity in the last six months, it still wouldn’t match vet day action. I hope his heart is strong!

The Sights and Sounds of Breakfast

            Here's your big opportunity to see and hear the clowder in their natural habitat as they wait for their breakfast to be plated.  As you watch, keep in mind that these are not starving animals--there is a full bowl of dry food available.  The cries you hear are for the tasty and much more expensive canned morsels they've come to expect each morning. Be sure the audio is turned up so you can fully appreciate their shameless begging.                                           

 

 

Year-end "Cat"astrophe

The before picture (Toby didn't damage anything)

             We almost made it to the new year without any major cat-related destruction, but sub-zero temperatures forced Finnegan to stay indoors, creating a perfect storm of chaos.

After Finnegan ate the hydrageas

              It all happened in the dining room.  On top of an antique cabinet rested a green depression glass pitcher--one of my first and favorite family heirlooms.  It contained an arrangement of dried (and dust covered) hydrangea flowers.  These flowers had bloomed over us undisturbed for several years and would disintegrate in the slightest breeze.

The sad remains of my favorite ornaments

             Finnegan, in a fit of bored rebelliousness, decided that it was time to eat the hydrangeas, dust and all. When I gave him a stern, "Finnegan!" (why do I bother, the cats refuse to acknowledge warnings) he gave the pitcher a little nudge so it fell with a crash.  It landed on a Victorian ornament tree that held my favorite Christmas ornaments, the picture frame from my trip to England that contained our wedding picture, and several sweet pieces of vintage china.  The death toll included three glass ornaments, a china creamer, and the tabs on the back of the picture frame that held the picture in place.
             Having taught children for many years, I habitually refrain from swearing, but cat activities tend to destroy my normal reserve.  I won't say I swore like a sailor, but I will say this was not my finest hour.  To top it all off, that ornery little critter never showed a hint of remorse. Instead he moved on to pick fights with the others.  Only three more months until spring!

Happy New Year!

May you have a blessed New Year!

--From our festive felines