Compassion: A Curse and a Blessing

Okay, so you probably noticed my last post ran for two weeks. That’s because I was in France with my besties, cruising for two glorious weeks along the Seine River from Paris to Normandy, which I’ll be blogging about. But until then, here’s a rerun from 2022. I hope you enjoy it…

I believe I have an overactive compassion gene. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that’s a particularly bad trait, depending on how you look at it. For one thing, it means I’m not a psychopath since they tend not to have an ounce of compassion, let alone a conscience. So yay for me!

The reason I even brought this up is because I’m in animal rescue, specifically cats. Not that I don’t rescue other creatures. I’m what you would call an equal opportunity savior. Wait. That sounds pompous. Let me rephrase that. How about equal opportunity rescuer? Yeah, that’s better.

Now, you’re going to think I’m a bit loony. And you wouldn’t be far off, especially when I tell you what I did the other day…So I’m having lunch at home when I reach for my glass of water and notice a fly inside, swimming frantically in circles. I’m not entirely certain flies swim but whatever it was doing, it looked frantic.

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My Sandal Saga

This blog was originally posted in 2021

I bought a pair of sandals nearly a million years ago, but should have bought 2 pairs. Because as often happens with things I like, Teva discontinued these casual cuties even though they’re the more feminine of the Teva selections and everyone I know who wears them loves them. Comfortable and cute yet functional. C’est la vie!

Anyway, now that you know this, I recently wore them to Sonoma where Sharon, Pam and Sue joined me at a gorgeous 20-acre vineyard in the hills above the town square. I’d relocated four feral cats there and now it was time to remove their cages.

The cats’ view. Not too shabby

First we decided to have lunch in town on this scorching but beautiful day. We quickly learned we should have made reservations as apparently it was still tourist season. Live and learn. So we began to walk the square looking for a restaurant without a wait.

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Oh, Rats!

Well, this is a bit embarrassing.

I have rats. As in the kind that are disgusting, not the cute domestic rats my associate Donna has as pets. Her rats actually have personalities, like you and me. They don’t talk and they can’t shop or go to a movie with you but overall they’re pretty entertaining.

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Izzy and Simon

I don’t know why we find domestic rats cuter than sewer rats, which are considered vermin, but there you go. My guess is the moniker, sewer, doesn’t enhance their image. But the thought of vermin taking up residence in my walls gives me the Creeps with a capital C. Unfortunately, I’ve had the Creeps a lot lately.

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A not-so-cute sewer rat
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Welcome Home, OC

I’ve been on a cat kick these days. Not exactly a surprise since they occupy a good part of my day. But each story is unique and in this tale, the life of OC (Orange Cat) is exactly that. I promise next week my post won’t include anything containing fur or with four legs.

Many years ago, OC showed up in a small colony of ferals living behind a movie theater. We trapped him, scanned his microchip, and returned him to his registered guardian who had 20-something ferals. Seems OC isn’t a social butterfly, so he hightailed it back to his preferred stomping grounds.

Over the years, our dedicated group of volunteers fed the cats their daily meal. As time passed and colony cats died, OC was like the Energizer Bunny who just keeps on going. So eventually, he lived out there alone.

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