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Playing with cat toys: 6 skills that won't go on the resume

Yesterday the realization hit: I was not teaching my cat how to play with a new toy, rather, my efforts were providing a good half hour's entertainment for her; a comedy show of sorts. She wasn't the one slow to catch on ... I was!

Let me back up a bit.

When Frank and I welcomed Genie into our home about a month ago, we knew that her previous owner had never really played with her. Now, in my world that's simply a tragedy and was one more indication that Genie was meant to live with us ... because if there is one thing I know how to do, it's play!

For the most part, I've been highly successful with teaching this play-deprived feline new games. At first, she was fearful of the streamer-on-a-stick and suspicious of the various cloth and plastic balls ... but now she is very enthusiastic about both! Just this morning I was wakened by the sound of a bell-filled, catnip-infused burlap ball rolling down the hallway toward the bedroom.

As I arose to play with Genie, I decided that it didn't matter whether I was becoming her fun mentor or her personal entertainer, at least my cat was getting the attention she deserved. But what was I getting out of the relationship? Well, companionship for starters. Plus a whole lotta skill sets that will never make it to my resume:

1. I've become better at sales; I can now "sell" almost any new toy.
2. It's all in my advertising. I'm able to dangle a streamer (or yarn or feathers) ever so enticingly, effectively baiting the customer!
3. I'm even better in the housekeeping department. I can fetch, recovering balls from all over the house (usually under the sofa or fridge).
4. I've honed patience ... the kind that comes from waiting while my cat decides whether or not to come to my calls.
5. I've learned restraint; learned that one doesn't tickle the stomach of a fully clawed cat, especially when there are no antiseptic or bandages in the house.
6. I have even learned some magic: how to make the vacuum cleaner appear just as the cat disappears!

Okay, that last one's not a game ... at least not for Genie! Still, it is part of my new repertoire of skills as care-giver / nurturer. Talents that will enrich my home life if not my career!

What pet-related talents do you have?

Genie stays!

 
Continued from the July 12th post, "Lessons While Waiting."

Genie has decided that she's part of the family. Last night the little miss burst in on me (in the bathroom) to demand her third brushing of the evening. The night before, she marched across my desk to lie against my arm as I read blogs. And I've heard her jump down from the dining room table when she senses that I'm approaching from down the hall. So no doubts remain that Genie has made herself at home ... and that, indeed, this pretty Persian knows she already runs our home!

Genie's previous owner, Marla, has come to the same decision: Genie belongs with Frank and me. Marla stopped by for a final visit with Genie last night (she takes off for Texas today). Marla's been so busy preparing for this move -- selling possessions, finalizing job details and packing -- that she admits it hasn't really hit her yet: that Genie won't be moving with her.

I tell Marla that Frank and I will take good care of Genie ... but, in some ways, Genie is already taking good care of me. I now look forward to returning home after a long day of work. But not because I know Genie will be waiting for me. Some days this sweet cat does just that: waits for me at the top of the stairway. Other days I must rouse Genie from where she lies snoring in my office chair ...  snoozing under the china cabinet ... or curled up on the fireplace mantle! I look forward to seeing Genie because there's a part of me that needs to nurture. And Genie has a corresponding need for gentleness and understanding.

My nephew thinks it's funny that I speak to Genie in a higher pitch ... in something akin to baby-talk. "Ooooh, Geee-neeee, honey! Do we want our leeetle mousey?" he mimics in a falsetto voice. How quickly these children forget: fourteen years ago, that's how I spoke to him!

What can I say? I'm guilty of spoiling pets and children. And I'm quite unrepentant. After all, look at that contented mug (Genie's "happy face")! Mine is a victimless crime!

What pets own you? And why? What need does pet ownership fill for you?

Earlier posts:

• July 6th, "Of a Pet Lost and a Pet being Found"
• July 9th, "Meeting Genie"
• July 12th, "Lessons While Waiting"

Voice of the next generation

For the better part of two weeks, I've been telling stories of family growth through the generations. Coverage on this topic would not be complete without a foray into the latest generation of my own family, so I asked my eldest nephew Jesse if I could speak with him as a representative of this generation and share some of his music with you (click links below to hear music clips.)

Jesse represents progress in my family. He's thoughtful, respectful and pretty focused for a 19-year old. He is a college sophomore majoring in aerospace engineering and performance music ... and he's gaining increasing attention as a powerful, young baritone with enormous potential.

Several aunts often kid Jesse that he got his vocal quality from his mother and his sheer volume from his dad. After all, my sister is a wonderful, albeit-non-professional alto and my brother-in-law is loud but tone-deaf! (And, indeed, Jesse's voice can fill good-sized college auditoriums in tune and without electronic assistance.) Yet, it's Jesse himself who has willingly -- no, eagerly -- maintained a steadfast dedication to music throughout his young life. While aided by parents who have encouraged him every step of the way.

Jesse exhibits a quiet self-confidence that was rather lacking in my generation. And it comes through as Jesse discusses his love for music.

"My interest in music stems back further than I can recount," Jesse says. But singing beside his mother in church made an early impression. And, not just his mother. "Everyone around was participating" and Jesse came to view music as a form of prayer. He recalls his music teacher Sister Vicky quoting Saint Augustine's words, "singing is praying twice." And he relates how, when he sings Ave Maria (as in his 2006 recording), people "become more in touch with how they feel when listening to the music." That's important to him, because it's a connection he can help people make.

While Jesse noted that there is a difference between religious music and performance music, he stated that "music is a way I express and pull out emotion that would be extremely difficult with only [spoken] words." A classical song Jesse recently recorded, Lung dal caro bene, offers him ample opportunity to share the fullness of an emotional story.

"It's an Italian song about love," Jesse offers, "roughly translating to 'far from my love I languish.'" When performing the piece, Jesse takes on a character, much like an actor does. He also interprets the song, imagining and conveying the emotional darkness the forlorn lover feels in low, dark passages and the happiness evident in the upbeat conclusion.

As with all of my nieces and nephews, I can only beam with pride (or ball like a baby) as I watch Jesse grow and discover his talents and passions. But I'm also proud of his parents who provided him with the environment and support with which he might flourish! With these efforts of both generations, I have no doubt that Jesse will become a success, in whatever way he chooses to define that.

If you'd like to hear more of Jesse's songs, feel free to visit his website here. (And, yes, I've set it up in Typepad in anticipation of that day when Jesse wants to blog! That's one way I can provide support as well!)

What success stories can you see emerging within your family?  How do other family members contribute to the success of another?

Building a better family

My paternal grandfather was an ox of a man. Even in his 80s, as his shoulders stooped, he stood over six feet tall. Family lore has it that, back in the days of the Model T, he once returned a ditched car to the roadway, first hoisting its front end, then the rear section, up and over the embankment. This is the same strength that stopped a period of physical abuse in the family. After my granddad had reached adulthood -- and a size that outmatched that of his father -- Granddad intervened as a younger brother was being beaten. Relying on every ounce of strength he had, Grandpa grabbed his father's flying fists, pulled them down to his sides, then in his booming voice announced, “there will be no more of this.” And, the violence ended.

When my grandfather began rearing a family of his own, he meted out discipline with greater restraint that his own father had, but he still relied on the solid values he had been brought up with. Hard work. Thrift. Patriotism. Faith. He and my grandmother had what it took to survive the Depression with three young boys. Life was rough and, in response, these people could not be soft. There were no beatings in this household, but no outward displays of affection either. And might was still the yardstick by which my grandfather measured his sons.

In a home that valued the physical strength needed to meet the demands of farm labor, Dad was at a disadvantage. He was a late-bloomer and as the smallest boy felt the sting of his father's disappointment. It was years before my father was allowed to take the reins of the horses and plow the fields. In the meantime, he served as his mother's helper in and around the home, a severe blow to his sense of pride. And Dad could only watch as an older brother received all of his father's acceptance.

Feeling slighted, my father vowed that he would do better by his children than his parents had done by him. When he had children, they would be treated fairly. There would be no favoritism.

My father was true to his word. Yet he was not a perfect parent either ... and, in their turn, my siblings resolved to do better -- to be better -- with their offspring.

In this way my family has slowly improved, each generation feeling compelled to give to the next what we ourselves needed but never received. And, all the while, passing down the best of what we've been given. Perhaps this is nature's way of insuring progress in the human race: by instilling in us an assurance that we can overcome the faults of the past.

The next generation of my family will, no doubt, determine what mistakes have been made this last time around. I hope they will forgive us, just as we forgive our parents. But, more importantly, I pray that, when these children begin their family lives, they will continue the tradition and feel that they can do better. Who knows ... maybe the next generation will finally get it right.

What practices should end in your family?  What improvements can be made? Which traditions should endure?

Messages we send to children

In my last story, "Innocent or evil?" I wrote about an important lesson gleaned as a child. It wasn't the type of message my parents intended to send. But mothers and fathers aren't perfect. And children are learning even when class isn't in session.

The question underlying my story, however, still needs to be asked: what lessons should we teach children?

Some of the comments received on that post begin to ask just that question. Like Pepsoid, a soon-to-be-dad who points out that the young should be seen, heard, listened to, respected." (By the way, be sure to check out the letter to his unborn child, here.)

Mitch Matthews also raises the question on his Do You Q? blog. There Mitch asks visitors to finish this statement: Every child should be taught __________. Among Mitch's personal answers:

• To dream big.
• That they are here for a reason.
• That they are loved and lovable.

What great messages to send to the young! (Join in that conversation, "What Every Child Should be Taught," here.)

Let's face it! We all send messages to the young, not just parents but all of us who play roles in the lives of children. These lessons aren't always delivered through our words, but with our behavior as well. By our actions and over-reactions! Perhaps the best we can do in conveying the messages that will enhance the lives of these youth is to recall those lessons for ourselves ... and live by them. Lessons of respect (as noted by Pepsoid) and lessons of love (expressed by Matthews). After all, there's a little bit of child left in each of us, too!

Best advice: love yourself

I try to not dispense advice. I’ve never been keen on receiving it so it seems rather hypocritical to dish it out. Especially when, as the words escape my mouth, I heard far too many “shoulds.”

You should be like this ... think like that ...do it another way.

Shoulding is a futile gesture. It certainly has never saved a life, changed a mind or touched a heart. The truths that we know most deeply are not dictated to us. They come from within, derived from our own experiences.

Having uttered these words, however, I look at a younger generation coming of age. I can’t help but reflect over my own 40-some years and wish I’d know then what I know today.

The most important lesson was in front of me all the while, but just now I’m beginning to understand the depth of the message and open my self to its advice.

It begins something like this: love yourself. How deceptively simple. Yet I must overcome a multitude of hurdles in order to heed this instruction.

"Love yourself in order to be the person you might become."