Lady's June and July Articles.......

JUNE article........

Well, my friends and family, the June column. Truthis-I didn't think this column would be accepted by thepaper as it has no message, just a fun personal story.Perhaps they just wanted to use the clever(?) title!The title is not mine, I might point out.

The kittens are truly the cutest little things. TheMama had done a total about face. She now actsindifferent to any interest shown in the kittens.Mosley, Addie's little dog, got behind the cabinet(Alton pulled the cabinet out from the wall) and wasbarking at them. The little kitties, all 5 inches ofthem, were hissing at Mosley, while the Mama napped.We've decided the orginal scene of discovery on thehighway caused brain damage!When best laid cat plans go awrySaturday, June 21, 2008I know it's totally irresponsible, what with all thehomeless cats, but ... we have four baby kitties.Even worse, we planned them.Last October, spotting a kitten on a busy highway, Ibravely waved down the oncoming traffic and scooped upthe poor thing just in the nick of time.That's a little more dramatic than the actual scene,but nevertheless, I had a scared little ball of blackfur with two white spots on its tummy.When our last cat died, we made a pact, "No moreanimals! We're out of the pet business!" And it feltgood!Driving home, stroking the kitty, trying to rememberwhich grandchild had the next birthday (so I'd knowwho wanted the kitten), I noticed strange places onthe kitten's face. The diagnoses?Ringworms!It was a month before she was well enough to giveaway, but by then she would nap on my shoulder, curlup at the foot of our bed at night, and play with thetoys we bought her.So what if we had a cat lazing around? They say catskeep mice away, not that she would have a need to knowthat. We named her Miss Kitty.Three months ago, Miss Kitty showed a heightenedinterest in the outdoors when a tomcat serenaded herfrom the front porch. Time for responsible pet ownersto visit the vet again.We reminisced about the baby kittens we'd had when ourkids were growing up, how cute the kittens were, howwe marveled at nature -- at birth the mama cleanedthem as they wobbled, with closed eyes, straight tothe food supply, how the mama was protective, how sexeducation happened naturally. We talked about how lifelessons were taught and learned, without our sayingmuch.We smiled at the sweet memories and, right then andthere, without further discussion, we opened theoutside door.When Miss Kitty returned home, she was married -- andhad fleas.At the family announcement, the grandchildren caughtthe magic of anticipation. We knew they would.They called to check on her progress, felt of hertummy, guessed at the number and the color of the newkittens.We chose the birthing place, a box with a comfy towel,putting her in it often so she would know. She choseunder the ottoman instead -- in the middle of the den,in the middle of the night. I could hear the softmews, but couldn't locate them; it was the sound ofcontented purring that led me to lift the ottoman.There they were, one busy mama and four equally busybabies, trying to escape the clean up before dinner.I stroked her and gently put the ottoman back.Little did I know that was the calmest she would be --only because she was distracted.Her timing, just before a family reunion, was perfect;now the kids could see nature at it's best!They would see, firsthand, the tenderness of a mothercaring for her young.Mama Kitty was spastic. She would march up to thechildren, roughly grab her kitten anywhere she couldnab it, stalk disgustedly back under the ottoman --screaming offspring in tow. She scared all of us.She's moved them behind the TV cabinet, where theycan't be reached. We know they're back there; we canhear the mews. Soon we'll have four wild kittens tomatch the manic mama.So much for sweet memories.But we have four black/white kittens to givegrandchildren for birthdays, if we can catch them.And, yes, Mama Kitty has an appointment with the vet.

-- Betty Davis is an Abilene freelance writer andregular columnist who is a former Abilene publicschool board president.


JULY article

My husband and I, wondering if “retirement” is afancy word for “unemployed,” will soonknow-firsthand. The opportunity for such knowledge came sooner thanexpected when a young man, who has career dreams ofhis own, showed up and wanted “a piece of the pie.” We knew the time was right. My husband Alton, a.k.a.. “Sandy” in the businessworld, has told me not to use his name in the columnsI write, saying, “just call me Husband.” I said Iwould, but since this column is about him, “Husband”seemed a bit impersonal. And believe you me, when heno longer has a job, that’s personal! Alton moved to Abilene in September of 1957, towork at the newly opened Snowhite Bakery; his firstjob was to help assemble the shelves, racks, andequipment, many of which are still in use today. Helearned to bake and run a business, a career that hasserved us well. His love affair with the bakery business has beenlifelong, with a commitment to his products, hiscustomers and his business partners. It’s seldom that people succeed without thesupport of others; we are no different. I’d be remissnot to express a deep appreciation to those who havetrained and trusted us throughout the years. The rewards have been countless: Our children experienced working with their Dad,whether they wanted to or not. We’ve experienced the loyalty of friends who arecustomers, and customers who have become friends,allowing us to participate in the celebrations intheir lives. Co-workers are like family, disagreeing sometimes,but eventually getting back to being a living, workinggroup. We’ve shared the sorrows and successes in ourlives with each another. We’ll miss them. There is, of course, a sadness for the loss ofthose experiences. BUT....there’s also a sense of deep gratitude, andeuphoria, for this chance of new experiences. None will be more welcomed than silence at 3a.m., no alarm to remind him that he’s “gotta make thedo-nuts.” For the first time in 49-plus years, he’ll see thesunrise from home, and I’ll wake up with “Husband”beside me. It will be strange, surreal, to completely changethe pattern of our lives. We can watch a late night movie together, stay upas late as we like, sleep in as late as we like. We can hop in the car for an overnight trip or take aweek’s vacation, the first in 22 years. We can visit our grown kids, watch grandchildrenperform in whatever interests they have at the time. Friends ask what we will do; anything we want to, Iguess. I wonder if the opportunity to do anything you wantnegates the fun of doing it, if it’s like having somany pies from which to taste, that all lose theirflavor. Alton did mention fishing...once, like mostretirees mention fishing. “What in this world will I do?” wondered the manwho has worked every day long before he was old enoughto work every day. I used full self-control not to tell him of thelist I’m compiling for the day he says he doesn’t haveanything to do. “We could get bicycles,” I suggested. “Bicycles! I had a boat in mind.” Surely he’s kidding, I thought. He wasn’t. He called home the next week, said tomeet him at Lake Ft. Phantom Hill to try out a newboat. By the time I arrived, the boat was dead in thewater, but after a bit of on-site engineering, he madeit back to shore. We bought it anyway. Though we don’t have specific plans, we know thatwe can’t grip one chapter of our life so tightly thatour hands aren’t free to turn the next page. We knowthat changes in life are accompanied by changes inpurpose. We’re hopeful our new purpose will not include a 3a.m.alarm!