Perspective; definition:
"A mental view or outlook"
In discussing a current perspective, it relates to how I am viewing my age and along with my age, the physical abilities that are somewhat derailed by this so-called ageing process. However, my mental outlook with regards to my abilities is very optimistic, perhaps even overly enthusiastic, coupled with just a tiny dose of denial, with potential to lead to a danger zone. Pretty normal stuff when you're as stubborn as I am and refuse to "grow up". What IS that anyways?!
Case in point, a call for staff at the school where I work to play basketball against the Grade 8's and 9's who have just completed the Basketball segment of their gym classes piqued my interest and apparently scrambled my brains. No sooner had the email arrived and I was responding, "If you need players, I played quite a bit of B-ball in my day." And yes, I did, but that was (or felt like) just a few "days" ago. Cue the Globetrotters basketball game music, and visions of behind the back passes, magical layups and 3 point shots were dancing around my head as soon as I hit the pillow that night. Right, then...practise before the game...if there is time. When I told him, hubby raised an eyebrow, grinned and wished me well, reminding me that it might be a bit painful afterwards. And, did I really know what I was getting myself into? Of course I knew...
Game morning; all the kids from Grade 1 to 9 showed up to watch the game. On to the court I strode, scanning the gym for all of our players...which turned out to be myself, 2 other female staff members, and 3 male teachers. And on the other side of the court, about 6 or 7 each of male and female students in Grade 8 and 9, running, jumping, shooting baskets with the ball swishing easily through their hoops.
"Yay, Mrs. Visser", we're here to cheer for you! Come on, Mrs. Visser, you can beat them" ...the voices and cheers grew louder, and the game began. Not two minutes into the game, somehow, without any warning, the gym floor collided hard with my left knee, down I went, and in getting up, I felt a serious pull in my right groin! Great, but the team needed me; the game must go on, so I gritted my teeth and with fierce determination fought the end to end battle. With the crowd going wild I managed to launch some shots and get 2 or 3 baskets to aid in a victory for the staff side. Team handshakes, team photos, and it was all over, except for the pain, and I was off to the fridge to grab an ice pack for my knee; those that are generally reserved for the students bumps, sprains, and bruises.
And then the optimistic perspective started to roll around in my brain once again....hmmm.....if I work out more in the gym, practise some layups, work some shots and some defensive plays, it could go a lot better next time, especially if I DON'T get injured within the first 5 minutes of the game. I should also probably review how to play "zone" and that other technical stuff you should know in order to play properly...perhaps I should research all of that in the library before I have more visions of basketballs dancing in my head...but it sure was nice to hear a positive comment about my game from the male "gunner" on the Grade 9 team...a comment which may have gone to my head just a little bit...so maybe there still is some basketball life left here...my mind says yes, oh yes, but my legs and groin are in slight disagreement and would like to have some time off, thank you very much!
Perspective Point 2;
In this case, I was devoted to play time with my grandson, and I believe one can lose the ease and sense of play if you don't see things from the perspective of a child. In this case, one who is just under a year old, and in the crazy-fast crawling stage. So what is the "right" thing to do when a baby is crawling away from you, giggling and laughing? You chase-crawl after them, of course! And in writing this post, I was blessed with crawl time before basketball injury time, so the crawling was knee-loose (instead of footloose) and fancy free, and we chased each other back and forth up and down our hallway, once with a dog trying to barricade the way, but we quickly ran over top of him, forcing him to change his perspective of the situation and escape the serious chase-crawlers for another room. We both ended up giggling, laughing, and catching our breath, enjoying each other through simple play and fun. Only in getting down to a child's level can one experience their world most effectively; the same holds true when trying to understand things from an animal's perspective on their world and how they view their surroundings.
An open mind frees your perspective and allows broader vision and thought to guide you through many different experiences. Reality does have to prevail in order to preserve your health and well-being, but as long as you are alive, you can do SOMETHING. Having a positive perspective keeps you young, fresh, alive, and what can be better than that?
Perhaps next I will dream of my grandson and I on the basketball court together....
Wednesday 18 December 2013
Sunday 12 May 2013
A Mother's Day Tribute
On Day 5, God created every living creature of the seas and
every winged bird, blessing them to multiply and fill the waters and the
sky with life. On Day 6, God created the animals to fill the earth. On day six, God also created man and woman, Adam and Eve,
in His own image to commune with him. He blessed them and gave them
every creature and the whole earth to rule over, care for, and
cultivate.
And with His creation, he instilled instincts into the mothers and fathers to love and care for their offspring.
Smudge became the first kitten for our girls when they were young. As my husband and I had raised our other cats to adults, we felt the girls should have the experience of raising a new kitten to adulthood, learning how each stage of their lives was unique, as well as developing the care and attention each animal needs as they advance through their life. What we didn't know was how much Smudge was going to teach all of us about life along the way....
Smudge was born on October 31, 1996, a fitting Halloween gift of a gorgeous calico, her face split in half; orange face and black ear on the right side, black face and orange ear on her left side. She was "smudged" with white here and there but for the most part was black and orange. As all kittens are, she was adorable and the girls were smitten with her cuddles and playful antics. She easily settled in to the rest of the animal family; 2 dogs and 2 other cats.
Before too long she was maturing and just when we thought a surgery should be booked, she became another statistic; the teenage pregnancy! Most animals have a strong maternal, nurturing instinct so we were not concerned, however, we hadn't had babies in our household for quite some time. Needless to say, the girls were thrilled, so we prepared for the exciting event. August 6 was an extremely warm day and Smudge was restless, agitated and unsure of what was happening to her when her contractions started. The girls and I gathered towels, some cool water and some washcloths to help Smudge through the birthing process. I held her on my lap, stroked and soothed her and she started to relax a bit through the heat of the afternoon. After a quick tutorial on what we needed to do to help her and her babies, the girls watched as she panted and pushed and started to deliver the first of her 6 kittens. She delivered all 6 on my lap and immediately went to work cleaning and caring for her new family. I was able to determine that she had 3 females; 2 white/beige and 1 orange/white tabby, as well as 3 males; 1 black/white, 1 long haired orange tabby and 1 very white and smaller male.
As we felt the heat on the main floor of the house was too stifling, we moved the family and their "house"/box to the basement floor where it was cooler and quieter. With us checking on them several times that day, we made sure that the blanketed box was secure, warm and clean and that Smudge had fresh water and food close by. She was attentive and a bit nervous, not wanting to leave the babies alone to venture out of the box too often. I examined the babies later that day and noticed that she was paying very close attention to the small white male. She looked up at me with what would become her signature "squinting"; something that we came to know as her communication tool for care and concern whenever she displayed this look. The small white male, (I hesitate to use the word "runt" as I always cringe at the negative connotation that this imparts on my emotions) had some greenish stool, and I feared that he may be sickly, hence Smudge's instinct to pay close attention to him. With my veterinary background, I also knew that some white cats carry genes for deafness, so I hoped that this baby would not have that genetic predisposition. Smudge was already displaying a very strong maternal attachment, and I was grateful that at her young age that this was the case.
I slept fitfully that night worrying (as only a mother does) about Smudge and her little white baby. Rising early the next morning, I immediately rushed to the darkened basement to find the baby box empty! I turned on some lights and found Smudge with her babies curled up on the laundry table, thankful that some unwashed laundry was cushioning her family there. I concluded that she either thought the floor area became too cold or that she was concerned about the other cats getting too close for her comfort. When she saw me, she stood up and stretched, but squinted her eyes at me and meowed. I did a count of the babies on the table and then realized the white one was missing. She continued to meow as she jumped off the table, while I was searched around the baby box and the laundry table for the white male. My discovery was devastating, and I could not imagine Smudge's state when, somehow in transporting her family to the top of the table, her little boy slipped out of her mouth and was wedged into the bracing of the table leg. I could picture the desperate attempt she made to remove him from the brace while unintentionally pulling and wedging him farther down into a stuck position. This was evident by the skin on his little back that was torn open by her attempts to retrieve him. I removed him from the brace and placed him on the floor. She licked him, trying to revive him, looked up and squinted at me. My tears washed my face amid my cries to her, "I'm sorry, Smudge, so very sorry; I wish I was here to help you and save your baby!" And Smudge replied; [Squint}, "Meow, Meow". When the family awoke, I gave them the sad news and we buried our little boy in our animal sanctuary in the yard.
Smudge was very devoted to her other babies, and after much discussion and meditation, we decided when the babies were old enough, that we would keep 2 of them; one for each of the girls. We kept the female orange tabby, Sammy, and the black and white male, Max. The two beige females, as they matured, took on a very Siamese look (their father must have been quite the looker!) and they were adopted out. That left the long-haired orange tabby male; he was hubby's favorite, and when no-one showed interest in adopting him, we kept "Spike" in the family as well.
Smudge loved to snuggle, sleep and clean her offspring even as they matured into adults. I have always appreciated that about animals; how natural it is to display this ongoing affection no matter how old they become; we as humans should keep this in mind with our loved ones. Smudge shared this affection with us humans as well; reading our emotions and always knowing when to be there to console us. Whether it was in our times of sadness, heated emotions, or however animals sense they are needed for some pet therapy, we always knew that we could count on Smudge to be there to make us feel better. She was our calico rock through the storms of our lives.
I cannot say I remember when it started, but I don't think it was very long after she lost her boy that Smudge started doing something I have never experienced or heard of before. She found a stuffed dice toy in the house and started carrying it around the house, meowing mournfully the entire time she carried it from room to room. At first we didn't think too much of it, but she did this almost every day (and much more during the nights). I believed that she thought of this toy as the baby she lost and that she was trying to somehow get her baby back while remembering how she tried so desperately to save him. She was just not able to get over this loss. This behavior continued throughout her life, with a replacement stuffed mouse replacing the dice toy after it wore out. Some nights she carried on so long and with such great sadness in her meows that I felt myself crying with her in the loss of her baby. It wasn't until I read the book, "Heaven is for Real" that I also started to really grieve the loss of my first pregnancy baby from a miscarriage, thinking and knowing in my heart that there is a little boy in heaven waiting there for me. How intricately the lives of God's creation are intertwined; how could we not believe that animals were created for us to care for, and why could we not also believe that the animals,in turn, were created to care for us, and to show us how "easy" it can be to care for one another?
Smudge told us that she was sick in January of 2011. I know this, as I knew after the fact when another of our cats, Kermie, years ago, sat in front of the fridge telling me that, while she continued to lose weight, there was something wrong with her stomach. Indeed, the cancer that invaded her intestines took her life. Smudge told us that there was something wrong with her kidneys when she continued to sit on the toilet until we took notice and took her in for tests. She was diagnosed as being in end-stage renal failure with very high urea and creatinin levels. We switched her foods, and started some nutritional additives that she decided were not palatable or necessary. She was not our first renal failure cat; Shadow lived to be 21 1/2 with his condition. Along with her excellent qualities of motherhood Smudge also had a natural stubbornness that fit our family perfectly. So we proceeded to give her extra attention and the best quality of life we could. She continued to be our rock and thought about our needs instead of her own...the truest quality of a mother's love. She slept with us, sat in front of the computer monitor to "remind" us that she was still there, and curled up on our table, and our laps (whenever we sat down!) to be as close to us as she could.
And then she started to sleep more, alone or with our other cat, Molly, who she "adopted" when she came to us as a young stray and who had a teenage pregnancy of her own. She slept more than usual, and her vomiting and diarrhea became progressively worse. She rarely ate, and when she did, it was very little. She started to experience unusual behavior; going from being sound asleep to dashing through the house with an energy that I can only consider as response to pain in her kidneys that shocked her awake.
We have been through end of life decisions many times, but never without questioning the "when" of it all. Sometimes we had left the decision too long which we also knew was selfish. Quality of life had to exist; when that quality was no longer there, it was time to say goodbye. And our animals have told us that too...told us when it was time. We knew that it was time to say goodbye to this wonderful mother figure in our lives, time for her to go on to be with her heavenly father and her little boy. The night before we said goodbye, Smudge came to sleep with us for the first time in 3 weeks; she knew, and she was once again consoling us in our time of despair.. as always.
To you, Smudge, our wonderful little mother, Happy Mother's Day. We love you and miss you. We were so very blessed to have you in our lives. Rest in peace.
And with His creation, he instilled instincts into the mothers and fathers to love and care for their offspring.
Smudge became the first kitten for our girls when they were young. As my husband and I had raised our other cats to adults, we felt the girls should have the experience of raising a new kitten to adulthood, learning how each stage of their lives was unique, as well as developing the care and attention each animal needs as they advance through their life. What we didn't know was how much Smudge was going to teach all of us about life along the way....
Smudge was born on October 31, 1996, a fitting Halloween gift of a gorgeous calico, her face split in half; orange face and black ear on the right side, black face and orange ear on her left side. She was "smudged" with white here and there but for the most part was black and orange. As all kittens are, she was adorable and the girls were smitten with her cuddles and playful antics. She easily settled in to the rest of the animal family; 2 dogs and 2 other cats.
Before too long she was maturing and just when we thought a surgery should be booked, she became another statistic; the teenage pregnancy! Most animals have a strong maternal, nurturing instinct so we were not concerned, however, we hadn't had babies in our household for quite some time. Needless to say, the girls were thrilled, so we prepared for the exciting event. August 6 was an extremely warm day and Smudge was restless, agitated and unsure of what was happening to her when her contractions started. The girls and I gathered towels, some cool water and some washcloths to help Smudge through the birthing process. I held her on my lap, stroked and soothed her and she started to relax a bit through the heat of the afternoon. After a quick tutorial on what we needed to do to help her and her babies, the girls watched as she panted and pushed and started to deliver the first of her 6 kittens. She delivered all 6 on my lap and immediately went to work cleaning and caring for her new family. I was able to determine that she had 3 females; 2 white/beige and 1 orange/white tabby, as well as 3 males; 1 black/white, 1 long haired orange tabby and 1 very white and smaller male.
As we felt the heat on the main floor of the house was too stifling, we moved the family and their "house"/box to the basement floor where it was cooler and quieter. With us checking on them several times that day, we made sure that the blanketed box was secure, warm and clean and that Smudge had fresh water and food close by. She was attentive and a bit nervous, not wanting to leave the babies alone to venture out of the box too often. I examined the babies later that day and noticed that she was paying very close attention to the small white male. She looked up at me with what would become her signature "squinting"; something that we came to know as her communication tool for care and concern whenever she displayed this look. The small white male, (I hesitate to use the word "runt" as I always cringe at the negative connotation that this imparts on my emotions) had some greenish stool, and I feared that he may be sickly, hence Smudge's instinct to pay close attention to him. With my veterinary background, I also knew that some white cats carry genes for deafness, so I hoped that this baby would not have that genetic predisposition. Smudge was already displaying a very strong maternal attachment, and I was grateful that at her young age that this was the case.
I slept fitfully that night worrying (as only a mother does) about Smudge and her little white baby. Rising early the next morning, I immediately rushed to the darkened basement to find the baby box empty! I turned on some lights and found Smudge with her babies curled up on the laundry table, thankful that some unwashed laundry was cushioning her family there. I concluded that she either thought the floor area became too cold or that she was concerned about the other cats getting too close for her comfort. When she saw me, she stood up and stretched, but squinted her eyes at me and meowed. I did a count of the babies on the table and then realized the white one was missing. She continued to meow as she jumped off the table, while I was searched around the baby box and the laundry table for the white male. My discovery was devastating, and I could not imagine Smudge's state when, somehow in transporting her family to the top of the table, her little boy slipped out of her mouth and was wedged into the bracing of the table leg. I could picture the desperate attempt she made to remove him from the brace while unintentionally pulling and wedging him farther down into a stuck position. This was evident by the skin on his little back that was torn open by her attempts to retrieve him. I removed him from the brace and placed him on the floor. She licked him, trying to revive him, looked up and squinted at me. My tears washed my face amid my cries to her, "I'm sorry, Smudge, so very sorry; I wish I was here to help you and save your baby!" And Smudge replied; [Squint}, "Meow, Meow". When the family awoke, I gave them the sad news and we buried our little boy in our animal sanctuary in the yard.
Smudge was very devoted to her other babies, and after much discussion and meditation, we decided when the babies were old enough, that we would keep 2 of them; one for each of the girls. We kept the female orange tabby, Sammy, and the black and white male, Max. The two beige females, as they matured, took on a very Siamese look (their father must have been quite the looker!) and they were adopted out. That left the long-haired orange tabby male; he was hubby's favorite, and when no-one showed interest in adopting him, we kept "Spike" in the family as well.
Smudge loved to snuggle, sleep and clean her offspring even as they matured into adults. I have always appreciated that about animals; how natural it is to display this ongoing affection no matter how old they become; we as humans should keep this in mind with our loved ones. Smudge shared this affection with us humans as well; reading our emotions and always knowing when to be there to console us. Whether it was in our times of sadness, heated emotions, or however animals sense they are needed for some pet therapy, we always knew that we could count on Smudge to be there to make us feel better. She was our calico rock through the storms of our lives.
I cannot say I remember when it started, but I don't think it was very long after she lost her boy that Smudge started doing something I have never experienced or heard of before. She found a stuffed dice toy in the house and started carrying it around the house, meowing mournfully the entire time she carried it from room to room. At first we didn't think too much of it, but she did this almost every day (and much more during the nights). I believed that she thought of this toy as the baby she lost and that she was trying to somehow get her baby back while remembering how she tried so desperately to save him. She was just not able to get over this loss. This behavior continued throughout her life, with a replacement stuffed mouse replacing the dice toy after it wore out. Some nights she carried on so long and with such great sadness in her meows that I felt myself crying with her in the loss of her baby. It wasn't until I read the book, "Heaven is for Real" that I also started to really grieve the loss of my first pregnancy baby from a miscarriage, thinking and knowing in my heart that there is a little boy in heaven waiting there for me. How intricately the lives of God's creation are intertwined; how could we not believe that animals were created for us to care for, and why could we not also believe that the animals,in turn, were created to care for us, and to show us how "easy" it can be to care for one another?
Smudge told us that she was sick in January of 2011. I know this, as I knew after the fact when another of our cats, Kermie, years ago, sat in front of the fridge telling me that, while she continued to lose weight, there was something wrong with her stomach. Indeed, the cancer that invaded her intestines took her life. Smudge told us that there was something wrong with her kidneys when she continued to sit on the toilet until we took notice and took her in for tests. She was diagnosed as being in end-stage renal failure with very high urea and creatinin levels. We switched her foods, and started some nutritional additives that she decided were not palatable or necessary. She was not our first renal failure cat; Shadow lived to be 21 1/2 with his condition. Along with her excellent qualities of motherhood Smudge also had a natural stubbornness that fit our family perfectly. So we proceeded to give her extra attention and the best quality of life we could. She continued to be our rock and thought about our needs instead of her own...the truest quality of a mother's love. She slept with us, sat in front of the computer monitor to "remind" us that she was still there, and curled up on our table, and our laps (whenever we sat down!) to be as close to us as she could.
And then she started to sleep more, alone or with our other cat, Molly, who she "adopted" when she came to us as a young stray and who had a teenage pregnancy of her own. She slept more than usual, and her vomiting and diarrhea became progressively worse. She rarely ate, and when she did, it was very little. She started to experience unusual behavior; going from being sound asleep to dashing through the house with an energy that I can only consider as response to pain in her kidneys that shocked her awake.
We have been through end of life decisions many times, but never without questioning the "when" of it all. Sometimes we had left the decision too long which we also knew was selfish. Quality of life had to exist; when that quality was no longer there, it was time to say goodbye. And our animals have told us that too...told us when it was time. We knew that it was time to say goodbye to this wonderful mother figure in our lives, time for her to go on to be with her heavenly father and her little boy. The night before we said goodbye, Smudge came to sleep with us for the first time in 3 weeks; she knew, and she was once again consoling us in our time of despair.. as always.
To you, Smudge, our wonderful little mother, Happy Mother's Day. We love you and miss you. We were so very blessed to have you in our lives. Rest in peace.
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