JaneGlendinning.com

When I lost Willy it took a while to write about it. It’s been a while since I wrote about it.

There’s so many things I want to know more about, including this website. This site is like a computer from 1980. There’s a lot more available than I have any idea about how to access and best utilize.

When a pet dies, whether they’ve had a long life, or it’s been cut short for some difficult reason, there is always something about them; some little gem of which they were that stays with me. The feel of a silky coat, the memory of being able to always make me laugh or that by their presence point out some beauty I may have otherwise overlooked, the courage to always be happy, exploring every bit of life, that’s what comes to mind with Willy.

Willy baited the dog with his antics, arching his back and running away teasing Hampton into chasing him, only to wait behind a door where he would jump over the dog as he rounded the corner and lead him as the chase continued though the house. Part of me watched horrified as my dog tried to stop or turn, digging his claws into the hardwood floor, and part of me too entertained to care. Or, Willy, though he learned that Figaro would rather bite him than play with him, continued his offer of play, poking his paw toward Figaro’s beak. Eventually, Figaro and Willy came to dance in play, the shiny black beak and the sleek, silky paw going back and forth like a game of patty-cake. It wasn’t just in this house; it was the world that was family to Willy. Even neighbors with allergies to cats gave in to his affectionate nature.

Two of my favorite memories have to do with other creatures outside. One evening, as I watched a green breasted humming bird feeding on the blue globe of an agapanthus in the front yard, from beneath the layers of the plant the familiar sleek black paw reached straight up and stayed without moving, as though in greeting, an innocent acknowledgement of his spying. The other was one evening, the fading day left a swarm of translucent gnats crackling in the soft light. There was Willy, more horizontal, up and down, feet seeming to hit the ground only one at a time as he jumped and leaped into this swarm, all 4 legs moving in graceful balance.

After his accident, and the resulting euthanasia, I brought him home to bury in the backyard. I soaked the hard ground for several hours, and dug a deep hole. Taking him from the cardboard box and holding him only for a few moments, I felt the wonderful softness of his fur. I gently kissed the top of his head and lay him in the ground surrounded by his toys.

There’s a scent around the hills in Oakland when it’s warm, and it pulls me right back to hot summer days at Lake Temescal or Robert’s Park a long time ago. It must be the Redwood trees.

Four years ago, when I first took Hampton to the Redwood Park trails, the shadows and dense growth kept me a little nervous on our hikes. Over time, that feeling went away and now I take for granted the comfort of the ferns, the redwoods, the olive, oak and eucalyptus trees surrounding the trails.

Summer in Oakland is always wonderful. Beginning late spring the Canada Geese bring their newly hatched babies to feed on the lawn near their water home. Outside my office window, I’ve been watching a family with eight young geese. Over the weeks they went from beige feather balls to striped and distinctive young adults, still being watched over by their elders. Watching them pick at the grass or sitting still in the warm sun calms me, so I tend to look down at the lawn when I arrive and again when leaving for the day.

As I was tidying up to leave yesterday, the geese were pulling grass and seed. My attention was diverted to the softball diamond just below my window, where two girls were being coached as they practiced their fast pitch skills. Guessing, I would say they were 11 and 13 years of age, and I could have sat much longer watching them practice.

Birds and baseball. Especially girls learning Women’s Fast Pitch. I’m motivated to walk a little taller and keep my eyes open a little wider by this life going on around me.

Last night I caught about 20 minutes of a PBS program highlighting Beverly Sill’s life. In one brief segment she said she would rather look back and regret having done something than to have not done it. In another she said she would choose an exciting 10-12 year career over a dull 15-20 year one; taking risks mattered so much.

One thing I’ve noticed is that playing it safe doesn’t equate to results of safe, better, unscathed.

Growing up with a mother who was, and still is, so down to earth, I am so grateful for passions of her own that I’ve come to share. One is her love of movies, and her way of tuning in to an extraordinary actor. Being a child of the depression years, my mother grew up during those years of Hollywood when one of the goals of movie making was to take us away from the constant reminder of the hard times that were at hand.

That internal lift given from a film could do so much good to a viewers life.

 Mom knew all about Hollywood royalty, the stories were fun and the people inspiring. When I watch films today, or pay attention to a celebrity, it is because that person practices a form of art that has touched my life in a positive way. Pretty miraculous that so much can be given, and so much good done.

Today, my heart goes out to that family of historical royalty in the acting profession. 

Love of my life. I don’t say that about all of them. They all have different terms of endearment from me. Something about cats, though. Maybe it has to do with the common belief that cats are stupid. Most likely, people who say this don’t live with cats. If they do live with a cat, they probably don’t like the entire species.

Willy is one incredible animal. He was adopted from the SPCA by a friend, and I remember the first time I met him. He looked so happy, sitting up in the entry way of her house, comfortable with himself and his surroundings. So attentive, he didn’t hesitate to come to me when I called to him. Do cats know how beautiful they are? Does this give them some of their confidence?

Long story short, one reason Willy was chosen for adoption is that he had been declawed. He was kept inside, since it’s believed to be safer for a cat unable to defend himself. This could be the reason he peed in many places in the house besides his litter box. Maybe he was frustrated. Who knows?

Anyway, Willy was going to get a trip back to the SPCA and I offered to take him. We knew he was in, at least, his second home. He had been through a declawing. Though I hadn’t been considering adopting a cat at that time, Willy had made enough of an impression on me that I would rather take him home than know he went back to a cage. So I gave it a shot.

Figaro wasn’t happy, biting Willy every chance he got. Still, Willy tried to play with Figaro. That could have been a clue.

It didn’t take long for me to wonder what I had gotten myself into, until I finally called the SPCA and told them to prepare a room. Willy’s bags were packed and we would be there soon. When they told me there was no room, no place to drop him off at and leave him forever, I wanted to cry. It had been months since I had a good night of sleep.

Willy paced the apartment every night, letting out a cry as he walked from room to room. Giving a description of what life had been like with him during the previous few months brought me to tears. I could not go on with this cat. The person on the other end of the line simply said, ‘It sounds like he’s a good cat, he is just highly active. You need to play with him more, before you go to bed.’

Willy and I have been together for eight years now. Thanks to a couple of cat aerobic toys, I can enjoy and cherish this magnificent, fun, intelligent creature. Fifteen or twenty minutes a night with the kitty wand, and he sleeps until morning.  

 

 

After gushing over my dog in the last post, I decided the other two males of the household deserve the same treatment. Of the three creatures, one is not of the domesticated variety. He reminds me of this at least once a year. Since cartoons were a huge part of my childhood education, I recognize the signal a parrot is giving when his eyes pin. Amazing how cartoonist are so in touch with so much, like animal habits and classical music.

Figaro, my African Gray Parrot, has the ability to bring me into the present in a split second. It’s not only his spending a great deal of his time in a cage that makes me pay attention, it is also his own attentiveness and assertiveness that bring the now to my attention.

Several years ago, when we were at the Animal Company in Noe Valley, I put Figaro on my shoulder and we toured the store while waiting for his turn for grooming. He put his beak to my cheek, made a smacking sound like a kiss, and said, ‘Hiiii’. 

He watches everything and makes decisions about the meaning of what he sees and from that he is lead to do this. It isn’t something a person could teach him to do.  Good lesson from the bird.

 

Christmas comes in February in the San Francisco Bay Area. The S.F. Writers Conference ended Sunday afternoon, the previous evening the annual pillow fight happened at Justin Herman Plaza, and what a scene it was in the BART station watching one packed car after the next unload pillow carriers ready to pummel the crowds. An unknowing person may have thought the pillow bearers were all off to some type of sleep in demonstration. Nope. No sleep. Not here. During the previous weekend, the annual Chinese New Year Parade wove it’s way through the city streets, and those groups of people criss-crossing the parade weren’t just antsy folks, but treasure hunters in competition for the grand prize.

Living in Oakland, all of these events are so easy to attend. No matter what I do, I make a point of coming home and taking my dog, Hampton, for a hike. Over this past weekend, I decided I didn’t want to worry about him being inside for too long, or that I would have to leave an event to take care of him, so I boarded him out for the weekend.

 I love my dog. I adore my dog. Breaks are good. I forgot how good breaks can be. I was sooo happy to see him Monday afternoon after his 4 day vacation.

On this wonderful day, I was surprised by my preference of stations, CNN and FOX, without considering PBS way on the other end of the dial. I turned away from MSNBC with the liberal sarcasm that was so much fun with a thickheaded Republican in office, but was truly annoying and out of place on this day.

Since channels 56-60 includes FOX, I landed there several times and almost felt guilty about watching,  but their reporting, that I heard anyway, was straight forward and respectful.

I liked that (unlike at least some of the MSNBC group) the focus was on the people at the ceremony and Obama, and the magnitude wasn’t lessened by the necessity of reporters bringing themselves front and center, like spoiled children who must not be overlooked.

 

A day later, still not turning on MSNBC, but finding FOX on where the dial was left, the tone had changed. Sarcasm, a tone of privilege, unproven facts, self-serving knowledge, the old righteousness, and blame. I didn’t wait to hear much, some sign of LIBERAL, the word split up apparently to hold some meaning, some sense of redicule about the Treasure Sec  who maybe shouldn’t be. I could just flip it off, and I did.

Flipping, some station, new, with colors and a logo of a 2 dimensional cast, one that drives me to turn away and go to another station, was it there the radio guy with the name that brings to mind an overly ripe smelly cheese was being highlighted for his negative and mean take on what so many had been celebrating? I turned the television off. I wanted to see the good done today. I found that those who can’t stand that, who still have to make this into a game won and lost, a divided country, don’t bother me so much, at least not today. I wonder how they keep at it, so desperate to hold their power like someone drowning, desperate to have things the old way, but who much change to stay afloat.

This meanness may never go away. But we can all turn it off, and maybe our crowd will grow bigger, taking some of the old crowd with us as more people choose to live with the sense of pulling the country back together.

Are these people really that mean? Or is it the exceptional pay and notoriety they’re after?

As for the MSNBC crowd, when I first saw Rachel Maddow, it was on a panel after a debate or the convention and she quickly and handily corrected Pat Robertson. Impressive.

On her own show, though, the first time I watched, Air America came to mind. Too many quips meant to be funny, too much unsubstantiated information. Glad there’s a lesbian on national television, but that’s not the whole story.

Keith Olberman, love the guys passion and when he makes accurate, strong statements he’s at his best. When he gets into the quick, sarcastic lines he loses a lot of his power.

Maybe it’s just that some things have changed lately. There’s a reality, a true feet on the ground reality possible that I want, where sarcasm, hatred, and lies have no place.

Lately I’ve been listening to Tony Robbins tapes and I am hearing things as though it’s the very first time. I’ve gone through his Personal Power program a couple of times and completed the program following the directions of a lesson a day. This time I am listening to each lesson over and over and over until I feel completely ready to move on.

There’s a long enough list of reasons I have been carrying around justifying how I see the world. Sarah Palin! Can you believe it! What a put-down!

I really have better things to do. Despite the somewhat brief periods of falsely feeling powerful and superior as I judge whoever for whatever reason, I really have better things to do. There are experts who are running the Obama campaign, and my jumping up and down and screaming for justice isn’t going to help things a bit.

There are plenty of people in the world who don’t seem to understand that they are no better than anyone else, and who are willing to treat others in a deceitful way as though it’s their right. If you’re someone who likes to trust people, this can be painful.

The other day I asked a business person about a product where a person with bad credit can hire an attorney to approach creditors and make them prove that whatever is on the persons credit report is real. The idea is that enough of these companies will not want to go through the trouble of producing the history of the persons account and will have to remove evidence of the delinquency from the persons credit report. I asked what he thought of how ethical this practice is. He replied that it wasn’t ethical of the credit bureaus to make any errors, so they are just getting paid back.

Needless to say, I am not going to subscribe to this organization. 

There’s something about chasing the buck for me that usually puts me deep in a hole. But when I just work, just do my job honestly, my needs are taken care of. When I compare numbers with someone and I think I should have so much or make so much, I slide into that hole.

Years ago I knew someone who made 2-3 times what I did, yet this person had a fraction of my disposable income. There wasn’t much to show for where the money went, either, and I couldn’t understand why anyone would put themself into a position of stress over money. I think money is really devalued by so many people.

During some political program, a woman said she had just learned that she lived in poverty. She never thought of herself as poor, she lived within her means and wasn’t unhappy or worried about the state of her life.

In the Reagan years, a statistic floated around saying that 20% of the people driving BMW’s were able to afford them.

Tony Robbins talks about managing your state. Keeping things simple and real keeps my feet on the ground.

I cannot change the political outcome of this election, of how people see the candidates, of the untruths people believe. I cannot change who I really am by pretending I have something that will make people respect me. I lose myself that way.

I can do a few simple, but not always easy, things that will help me to become better. That’s become better, which doesn’t translate to immediately feel better. Although sometimes that happens, too. When my mind wants something of you, wants you to see me a certain way, I’m either about to take that slide into that hole, or am already so buried in the gunk I’m not sure which way is out.

Fortunately, there are other ways to live, and I remember that it is I living my life. Thank God for free choice!