Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
Loyal readers have asked, "Where, oh where, have you been, Mama C? Write another chronicle, already!"
I am so swamped right now at work that I haven't had much time in the past few weeks to write, outside of my newspaper articles. But I will soon, regarding the ice cream kittens. (In a nutshell, all is pretty much well, four out of five are heart-meltingly sweet, and one's a hissy-spitty stinker that needs a lot of work.)
More later. Meanwhile, by popular request, I am printing a famous back issue of Mother Catresa's Chronicle in its pre-web site days, when it was just an e-mail to a few friends (and many new readers never got this one). This essay - about feline gluteus maximuses - got more laughs than any other, and any cat person can appreciate it. Or, I suppose dog people could, too, because they can pause and say, "Phew! My pooch may be gross sometimes, but at least it doesn't do that!"
Enjoy.
- MC
******************
Dear friends,
OK, now, I've always wanted to know: what is the deal with cat butts?
No, seriously, this is for real. What is it about cats and their butts, and this penchant they have for aiming said butts at you?
Now, any of y'all who have cats probably know exactly what I'm talking about, and are laughing in recognition as you read this. For you unfortunate dog folks who never find themselves on the receiving end of an animal fanny, at point-blank range, let me explain this feline peculiarity. Cats, for some reason, often turn around when they are sitting on your chest or lap, so that your view of their sweet little faces abruptly becomes that of not-so-sweet posterior ends. And they make sure you get a close-up, proctological view: they often seem to make a point of leaning backward, or lifting their tail, just to make sure you don't miss the spectacle, and you get a good whiff.
If these butt-flashing cats were humans, I would think two things: one, I'm being mooned, or two, they're saying "Kiss my ass." Yet, strangely, the cat's body language doesn't seem nearly so obnoxious or hostile, so I don't think that's the case. In fact, the butt-in-face incidents often happen during moments of affection, where the cat is cuddling with you on your chest, purring, and massaging you with its paws. It's blissful, and then - Boom! Butt! (Blech!)
So, what exactly is your cat saying when it drops the butt bomb? Who knows? Maybe it's the cat's way of saying, "I'm so cozy and comfortable with you." Aaawww, ain't it sweet?
Dharma, one of my cats, is a world-class butt bomber - she does it far more than my other cats, Rum Rum and G.G., ever do (and thank heavens for that, because of G.G.'s toxic fumes!) It seems like every time I lie down on the couch, Dharma jumps up, starts her massaging, and then abruptly does an ... about-face, I suppose. Much to my dismay, I find my nose within a few inches of her heiney, which looks pretty darned threatening when you're pinned down on the couch by a hefty, stubborn cat.
"Dharma!" I groan. "Get your butt out of my face!"
I try manually turning her around, or at least adjusting her angle a bit so my face is not in the direct line of fire. It takes a lot of wrestling, though - and even after moving her, so that her much-cuter face is before me, she often reverts right back to the undesirable position.
Now, I can tolerate this annoyance to a point - but, if it happens during a great TV show (especially my Sunday night "Cold Case"), and her derriere is blocking my view, that's it: I push her off the couch.
Luckily, I have been safe in my bed, and have yet to wake up in point-blank range of an exposed cat butt ... but never say never. Now, that would be a rude awakening!
Yours,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
I Scream for Ice Cream!
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Dairy products again, Kellie? What's up with that? Did you get a mint chocolate chip cone confiscated at the airport this time? Nope.
Here's the scoop: I just brought home five tiny little 5-week-old kittens, and they all have ice cream names! How sweet and yummy for the final hurrah of the summer ice cream season. And best of all, these guys - save for a few minor hisses from the two shy males - are relatively friendly, and non-feral. I've even felt a few vibrations on my chest from tiny little purr machines!
The roster: Neopalitan, who is a poofy, orangeish-buff colored longhaired female. She is just sweet and adorable, and looks like a little butterscotch cream puff! Then, there's Spumoni, an equally poofy, long-haired blue cream tortie female. Rocky Road is a dark grey, short-haired female with a few white spots. Butter Pecan and Cookie Dough are orangeish-buff tabby shorthair males.
Are you hungry yet?
I've been devouring these guys with kisses and squeezes, and I think I'll take this perfect excuse to treat myself tomorrow to a big, hearty ice cream cone. That is, if the aroma of kitten poop wafting in the background as I write this doesn't spoil my appetite. As with many strays, these kittens are what I call "shittens" - get my, pee-yew, drift? I'll need to give them meds every day - all a labor of love, of course.
In other news, Rachael Ray - one of my kittens from last year's "chef" litter - returned to the shelter, apparently because the owner's other cat dissed her. Miss Rachael "Yum-O" is a stunningly beautiful, long-haired tortie, and she was very loving and friendly when I stopped by to see her today. I don't know if she actually remembers her "Mom-Mom," because she's a sweet kitty with everyone. She will probably go up for adoption at a PetsMart.
It's such a trip to see your once-tiny kitten all grown up as a huge cat! That's how I felt with Darius, too - remember, my cat, Dharma's, grown kitten, who also got returned to the shelter? I brought him home last month as a foster, and that big doofus is still here. Some of my friends have a theory about where this is going. Don't ask.
Bringing home these sweet ice cream cones was such a booster for me. I had a terrible bout with bronchitis this past week and am still recovering - and thanks to my family and friends who called to check on me and send "get well" wishes - but I had to return to work today. And it was quite a day indeed: some weird old guy who called me to be interviewed for an article told me that my voice (probably husky, mind you, from my illness) is so sexy that I should be a phone sex operator. But that's another story.
I couldn't help but think: 1-900-SEX KITTEN. And chuckle. And blush.
Purrrrr ...
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
P.S. Unless you're a Pittsburgh-area friend who has boycotted my house, lest you be too tempted to adopt (and you know who you are, hehe), there is always an open invitation to Mother Catresa's home to see the kittens. So go ahead and ask me. We'll make plans.
Dairy products again, Kellie? What's up with that? Did you get a mint chocolate chip cone confiscated at the airport this time? Nope.
Here's the scoop: I just brought home five tiny little 5-week-old kittens, and they all have ice cream names! How sweet and yummy for the final hurrah of the summer ice cream season. And best of all, these guys - save for a few minor hisses from the two shy males - are relatively friendly, and non-feral. I've even felt a few vibrations on my chest from tiny little purr machines!
The roster: Neopalitan, who is a poofy, orangeish-buff colored longhaired female. She is just sweet and adorable, and looks like a little butterscotch cream puff! Then, there's Spumoni, an equally poofy, long-haired blue cream tortie female. Rocky Road is a dark grey, short-haired female with a few white spots. Butter Pecan and Cookie Dough are orangeish-buff tabby shorthair males.
Are you hungry yet?
I've been devouring these guys with kisses and squeezes, and I think I'll take this perfect excuse to treat myself tomorrow to a big, hearty ice cream cone. That is, if the aroma of kitten poop wafting in the background as I write this doesn't spoil my appetite. As with many strays, these kittens are what I call "shittens" - get my, pee-yew, drift? I'll need to give them meds every day - all a labor of love, of course.
In other news, Rachael Ray - one of my kittens from last year's "chef" litter - returned to the shelter, apparently because the owner's other cat dissed her. Miss Rachael "Yum-O" is a stunningly beautiful, long-haired tortie, and she was very loving and friendly when I stopped by to see her today. I don't know if she actually remembers her "Mom-Mom," because she's a sweet kitty with everyone. She will probably go up for adoption at a PetsMart.
It's such a trip to see your once-tiny kitten all grown up as a huge cat! That's how I felt with Darius, too - remember, my cat, Dharma's, grown kitten, who also got returned to the shelter? I brought him home last month as a foster, and that big doofus is still here. Some of my friends have a theory about where this is going. Don't ask.
Bringing home these sweet ice cream cones was such a booster for me. I had a terrible bout with bronchitis this past week and am still recovering - and thanks to my family and friends who called to check on me and send "get well" wishes - but I had to return to work today. And it was quite a day indeed: some weird old guy who called me to be interviewed for an article told me that my voice (probably husky, mind you, from my illness) is so sexy that I should be a phone sex operator. But that's another story.
I couldn't help but think: 1-900-SEX KITTEN. And chuckle. And blush.
Purrrrr ...
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
P.S. Unless you're a Pittsburgh-area friend who has boycotted my house, lest you be too tempted to adopt (and you know who you are, hehe), there is always an open invitation to Mother Catresa's home to see the kittens. So go ahead and ask me. We'll make plans.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
You can't win them all
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Call in the Marines! A cherry Activia has been spotted at Pittsburgh International Airport!
Well, I didn't actually get nabbed by a few good men last week, when I embarked on a journey to Newport, Rhode Island, for a wonderful vacation with my sister, Kirsten. But I did get my sealed, unopened yogurt confiscated at the security lines. I was both miffed and amused. I understand that there are airport security rules designed to keep us all safe, and I happily abide by them. But terrorism by yogurt? Really, guys - isn't that a little far-fetched? Then again, so was shoe-bombing ...
Wait, didn't I say that KITT-FM is all kittens, all the time? Well, you know, they do say not to feed kittens dairy products, come to think of it.
Anyway, back to the blog's subject matter - kittens!
In the week before I left for vacation, I took in the most difficult litter of kittens I've ever had. The so-called serial killers - mild hissers, spitters and hiders - were a kitty breeze and picnic compared to these kittens, whose names came from the "game" group on my 15-plus-page document of suggested names and themes for litters. There was a big, long-haired, white and black female named Uno. Then, there was a gray and white, medium-haired male named Scrabble, and two small, black-and-white tuxedoed, female shorthairs named Boggle and Clue.
Boggle, Scrabble and Clue (the sweetest one) seemed very scared and un-socialized, and hid constantly behind my computer, practically on top of each other. When I approached them, they would hiss and run, but when I caught them and scruffed them by the neck, they would let me hold and pet them for awhile. As for Uno? Well, she wasn't just shy - she was hostile, and it scared me. The second I walked in the room, before I even approached her, she would literally erupt into a hissy fit, when she would hiss and growl constantly for minutes, like a wild animal. When she wasn't hiding behind the computer, Uno would often perch on my window sill like it was a ruler's throne. When I came close, which I had to in order to fill the food and water bowls, she had the stance of a coiled-up rattlesnake about to strike. Eeeek! Pass the motorcycle helmet; I like my eyesight and intact face.
I tried, but I wasn't able to make much progress with these kittens for the short time I had them. I feel like I failed in a way, and I'm sad that, if they don't come around, our only option will be to turn them over to a feral life, now that they're fixed. But, they have gone to another foster home, where hopefully, they can get some behavioral ICU and be turned into lovable pets. I have hope, but it will take lots of time, patience and TLC. Who knows? Cats can be funny about certain people, and maybe they just didn't like me. Even Mother Catresa can be rejected by homeless kitties.
Please keep these kittens in your thoughts and prayers - that Clue, Boggle, Scrabble and especially Uno can become socialized and adoptable.
So, you see, kittens are not all fun, cuddles, and, yes, "games" - even when they have names like that. Sometimes, it is a huge challenge for the foster to love feral kittens, who don't want anything to do with you, into love-bundles. But when a kitten does come around, it is often very lovable (like G.G., one of my own kitties). And it is so rewarding and fulfilling to watch it happen. Unfortunately, though, I lost this "game."
May the new foster mama win the game, and experience that joy and satisfaction.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Call in the Marines! A cherry Activia has been spotted at Pittsburgh International Airport!
Well, I didn't actually get nabbed by a few good men last week, when I embarked on a journey to Newport, Rhode Island, for a wonderful vacation with my sister, Kirsten. But I did get my sealed, unopened yogurt confiscated at the security lines. I was both miffed and amused. I understand that there are airport security rules designed to keep us all safe, and I happily abide by them. But terrorism by yogurt? Really, guys - isn't that a little far-fetched? Then again, so was shoe-bombing ...
Wait, didn't I say that KITT-FM is all kittens, all the time? Well, you know, they do say not to feed kittens dairy products, come to think of it.
Anyway, back to the blog's subject matter - kittens!
In the week before I left for vacation, I took in the most difficult litter of kittens I've ever had. The so-called serial killers - mild hissers, spitters and hiders - were a kitty breeze and picnic compared to these kittens, whose names came from the "game" group on my 15-plus-page document of suggested names and themes for litters. There was a big, long-haired, white and black female named Uno. Then, there was a gray and white, medium-haired male named Scrabble, and two small, black-and-white tuxedoed, female shorthairs named Boggle and Clue.
Boggle, Scrabble and Clue (the sweetest one) seemed very scared and un-socialized, and hid constantly behind my computer, practically on top of each other. When I approached them, they would hiss and run, but when I caught them and scruffed them by the neck, they would let me hold and pet them for awhile. As for Uno? Well, she wasn't just shy - she was hostile, and it scared me. The second I walked in the room, before I even approached her, she would literally erupt into a hissy fit, when she would hiss and growl constantly for minutes, like a wild animal. When she wasn't hiding behind the computer, Uno would often perch on my window sill like it was a ruler's throne. When I came close, which I had to in order to fill the food and water bowls, she had the stance of a coiled-up rattlesnake about to strike. Eeeek! Pass the motorcycle helmet; I like my eyesight and intact face.
I tried, but I wasn't able to make much progress with these kittens for the short time I had them. I feel like I failed in a way, and I'm sad that, if they don't come around, our only option will be to turn them over to a feral life, now that they're fixed. But, they have gone to another foster home, where hopefully, they can get some behavioral ICU and be turned into lovable pets. I have hope, but it will take lots of time, patience and TLC. Who knows? Cats can be funny about certain people, and maybe they just didn't like me. Even Mother Catresa can be rejected by homeless kitties.
Please keep these kittens in your thoughts and prayers - that Clue, Boggle, Scrabble and especially Uno can become socialized and adoptable.
So, you see, kittens are not all fun, cuddles, and, yes, "games" - even when they have names like that. Sometimes, it is a huge challenge for the foster to love feral kittens, who don't want anything to do with you, into love-bundles. But when a kitten does come around, it is often very lovable (like G.G., one of my own kitties). And it is so rewarding and fulfilling to watch it happen. Unfortunately, though, I lost this "game."
May the new foster mama win the game, and experience that joy and satisfaction.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The Cereal Killers
Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks,
I am happy to report, although bittersweetly, that I have completed my month-plus-long fostering of the kittens that came to me as "the serial killers" - and, I survived without a single stab or gunshot wound! I do have, however, many of the token, tiny kitten scratches on my legs as souvenirs. And I have a permanent mark on my heart.
The killers - so named because they were borderline feral, and bit a shelter worker when they first got in - have been reformed at Mother Catresa's Neville Island Sanctuary, where they paid their debt to society and became well-socialized. Now, Jeffrey, Ted and Lizzy (as in Dahmer, Bundy and Borden), await their forever homes at Animal Friends. To see pictures of them, go to http://www.thinkingoutsidethecage.org/site/PageServer?pagename=Animals_Cats, and go to the sixth page of the cat listings, where my three babies are listed consecutively (and if it's fewer than three, that's good news - it means they just got adopted). Trust me, these kittens are far too sweet to live up to their names!
Their littermate, Hanny (as in Hannibal Lecter) already got snapped up this weekend. He's the sweet little white guy with big black splotches, who looks like a dairy cow. He is just adorable and sweet, and I started calling him Hair-i-ball, or Hairy Hanny, because of the way he loved to play with hair. Either on me or guests, he would swat at hair, get tangled in it, and chew on it. It was funny to watch, and actually felt good when it was my hair Hanny was after. For a cannibal, Hanny sure was a darling kitty.
When I first got these kittens, I vowed to transform them from serial killers into simple "cereal killers" - as in, felines who love to devour the dry food kibble.
That they do, indeed. They love to feed. So now, someone special adopt my babies, I plead!
That makes me sound like Dr. Seuss, hehe.
But for now, I will simply be,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks,
I am happy to report, although bittersweetly, that I have completed my month-plus-long fostering of the kittens that came to me as "the serial killers" - and, I survived without a single stab or gunshot wound! I do have, however, many of the token, tiny kitten scratches on my legs as souvenirs. And I have a permanent mark on my heart.
The killers - so named because they were borderline feral, and bit a shelter worker when they first got in - have been reformed at Mother Catresa's Neville Island Sanctuary, where they paid their debt to society and became well-socialized. Now, Jeffrey, Ted and Lizzy (as in Dahmer, Bundy and Borden), await their forever homes at Animal Friends. To see pictures of them, go to http://www.thinkingoutsidethecage.org/site/PageServer?pagename=Animals_Cats, and go to the sixth page of the cat listings, where my three babies are listed consecutively (and if it's fewer than three, that's good news - it means they just got adopted). Trust me, these kittens are far too sweet to live up to their names!
Their littermate, Hanny (as in Hannibal Lecter) already got snapped up this weekend. He's the sweet little white guy with big black splotches, who looks like a dairy cow. He is just adorable and sweet, and I started calling him Hair-i-ball, or Hairy Hanny, because of the way he loved to play with hair. Either on me or guests, he would swat at hair, get tangled in it, and chew on it. It was funny to watch, and actually felt good when it was my hair Hanny was after. For a cannibal, Hanny sure was a darling kitty.
When I first got these kittens, I vowed to transform them from serial killers into simple "cereal killers" - as in, felines who love to devour the dry food kibble.
That they do, indeed. They love to feed. So now, someone special adopt my babies, I plead!
That makes me sound like Dr. Seuss, hehe.
But for now, I will simply be,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Monday, August 11, 2008
You'll Always Be My Kitten
Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
You regularly hear all about the ongoing kitten comedy and drama in my life. But have I ever told you the deeply personal, heartfelt story about my "kitten song?"
I shared this story a few weeks ago with country music superstar Sara Evans, who sings said song: the powerful ballad "You'll Always Be My Baby." Now, I will share it with my readers. You may think it's corny, and perhaps it is a bit so, but for me, it's dear to my heart. So, please don't laugh - at least, within my earshot. :)
I interviewed Sara last month, as a preview to Downtown Pittsburgh's annual Dollar Bank Jamboree, for which she was the headliner. I had a strict time limit of 15 minutes on the phone with her, as she had back-to-back interviews that day. This limited my usual chit-chat time with the celebrity, and forced me to stick pretty closely to the business at hand. I did tell her, though, that I'm a big fan of hers, and that I have a personal story connected to so many of her songs, like the inspiring "Born to Fly," and the coming-of-age smash "Suds in the Bucket." And then, there's "You'll Always Be My Baby" - now, that's quite the story. I had a feeling she would never have heard this one before, with the kitten factor.
"I'm sure you hear anecdotes about your songs all the time," I told Sara.
"Yes, I do - but it never gets old," she replied.
I told her that we had no time for me to share those stories with her - and, frankly, in the fishbowl that is my newsroom office, I felt too awkward anyway, given that my colleagues could hear me. So, I said, I will tell you in person at the show's meet and greet.
And then, a week later, the moment arrived: the long-awaited meet and greet with one of my favorite singers of all time. I talk to celebrities regularly in my job as an entertainment writer, but I still feel star-struck at times - and this was one of them.
I groaned when I went backstage, and saw the huge line of some 50 fans waiting to meet Sara, whose tour managers were instructing us to make it speedy, get just a quick snapshot and autograph, and then be on our way. No, I thought! No, I have to tell her my kitten song story. I have to! So, I put myself at the very back of the line, so I could steal a few more moments with her. Whenever more people would come in, I would let them go ahead, then go to the back of the line again.
Finally, I made it up to Sara. I told her who I was, hugged her, told her the show was outstanding, handed her my CD, and posed for a picture.
"Hey Sara!" I then said. "Remember how I told you I had stories to tell you about your songs? Well, I have one that I just gotta tell. Can you give me just one minute? Please?
"ONE minute," Sara said, grinning as she glanced at her watch as if she were timing me.
Alright, Kellie, what's the story about this kitten song already??? What on earth did you tell Sara??? Enough suspense!!!
"I foster kittens for an animal shelter, and it is so hard to let them go when it's time," I said. Sara's eyes softened with that tender, "aaawwww, how sweet" look people often get when I talk about the kittens.
"Before I take them back to the shelter, I hold them close to my heart, cradle them, and sing them a lyric from 'You'll Always Be My Baby.' It's so beautiful and maternal, and it says what I'm feeling so eloquently," I said, as my eyes misted.
Here is the lyric, which I recited for her:
"Whatever road you may be on,
Know you're never too far gone.
My love is there, wherever you may be ...
Just remember that you'll always be my baby."
"Ohhhh!" Sara said, visibly moved. "That's amazing! So sweet. Thanks so much for sharing that with me."
I looked up, and saw that someone was filming us. "Wait," I said, "what's this? Am I on camera? Gosh, I should have fixed my hair!"
As it turns out, her fan club manager was filming our interaction, and supposedly it may be posted on Sara's fan club Web site. I'll have to join, so I can see it.
"It's OK," Sara said. "You look beautiful."
What a sweetheart - especially given that I was ending a long, sticky day in the sun and probably looked pretty crappy.
I watched as Sara smiled warmly, said goodbye, turned, and strolled off to her tour bus with her new husband, Jay Barker - a former University of Alabama football hunk with gorgeous blue eyes, who I also got to meet.
Thank you, God, I thought. Thank you.
What an incredible experience. I will remember it for the rest of my life.
And I hope that, despite the thousands of fans Sara meets, that she, too, never forgets this one.
So there you have it - the story of my kitten song. You should buy Sara's album and listen to it sometime. It's a beauty.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
You regularly hear all about the ongoing kitten comedy and drama in my life. But have I ever told you the deeply personal, heartfelt story about my "kitten song?"
I shared this story a few weeks ago with country music superstar Sara Evans, who sings said song: the powerful ballad "You'll Always Be My Baby." Now, I will share it with my readers. You may think it's corny, and perhaps it is a bit so, but for me, it's dear to my heart. So, please don't laugh - at least, within my earshot. :)
I interviewed Sara last month, as a preview to Downtown Pittsburgh's annual Dollar Bank Jamboree, for which she was the headliner. I had a strict time limit of 15 minutes on the phone with her, as she had back-to-back interviews that day. This limited my usual chit-chat time with the celebrity, and forced me to stick pretty closely to the business at hand. I did tell her, though, that I'm a big fan of hers, and that I have a personal story connected to so many of her songs, like the inspiring "Born to Fly," and the coming-of-age smash "Suds in the Bucket." And then, there's "You'll Always Be My Baby" - now, that's quite the story. I had a feeling she would never have heard this one before, with the kitten factor.
"I'm sure you hear anecdotes about your songs all the time," I told Sara.
"Yes, I do - but it never gets old," she replied.
I told her that we had no time for me to share those stories with her - and, frankly, in the fishbowl that is my newsroom office, I felt too awkward anyway, given that my colleagues could hear me. So, I said, I will tell you in person at the show's meet and greet.
And then, a week later, the moment arrived: the long-awaited meet and greet with one of my favorite singers of all time. I talk to celebrities regularly in my job as an entertainment writer, but I still feel star-struck at times - and this was one of them.
I groaned when I went backstage, and saw the huge line of some 50 fans waiting to meet Sara, whose tour managers were instructing us to make it speedy, get just a quick snapshot and autograph, and then be on our way. No, I thought! No, I have to tell her my kitten song story. I have to! So, I put myself at the very back of the line, so I could steal a few more moments with her. Whenever more people would come in, I would let them go ahead, then go to the back of the line again.
Finally, I made it up to Sara. I told her who I was, hugged her, told her the show was outstanding, handed her my CD, and posed for a picture.
"Hey Sara!" I then said. "Remember how I told you I had stories to tell you about your songs? Well, I have one that I just gotta tell. Can you give me just one minute? Please?
"ONE minute," Sara said, grinning as she glanced at her watch as if she were timing me.
Alright, Kellie, what's the story about this kitten song already??? What on earth did you tell Sara??? Enough suspense!!!
"I foster kittens for an animal shelter, and it is so hard to let them go when it's time," I said. Sara's eyes softened with that tender, "aaawwww, how sweet" look people often get when I talk about the kittens.
"Before I take them back to the shelter, I hold them close to my heart, cradle them, and sing them a lyric from 'You'll Always Be My Baby.' It's so beautiful and maternal, and it says what I'm feeling so eloquently," I said, as my eyes misted.
Here is the lyric, which I recited for her:
"Whatever road you may be on,
Know you're never too far gone.
My love is there, wherever you may be ...
Just remember that you'll always be my baby."
"Ohhhh!" Sara said, visibly moved. "That's amazing! So sweet. Thanks so much for sharing that with me."
I looked up, and saw that someone was filming us. "Wait," I said, "what's this? Am I on camera? Gosh, I should have fixed my hair!"
As it turns out, her fan club manager was filming our interaction, and supposedly it may be posted on Sara's fan club Web site. I'll have to join, so I can see it.
"It's OK," Sara said. "You look beautiful."
What a sweetheart - especially given that I was ending a long, sticky day in the sun and probably looked pretty crappy.
I watched as Sara smiled warmly, said goodbye, turned, and strolled off to her tour bus with her new husband, Jay Barker - a former University of Alabama football hunk with gorgeous blue eyes, who I also got to meet.
Thank you, God, I thought. Thank you.
What an incredible experience. I will remember it for the rest of my life.
And I hope that, despite the thousands of fans Sara meets, that she, too, never forgets this one.
So there you have it - the story of my kitten song. You should buy Sara's album and listen to it sometime. It's a beauty.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Just An Instrument
Thanks for tuning in to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
"I CAME!" said a friendly female voice.
I had just arrived at Animal Friends for my Sunday afternoon cat-greeter shift, and was entering the front desk area when I heard those words. I turned to glance at the smiling woman, who looked familiar and seemed to be talking specifically to me. Do I know you, I thought? (Gosh, I hope it wasn't that "America's Most Wanted" episode I saw Saturday night ...)
"Remember? Bob Evans," said the woman, whose name is Jessica. "I waited on your table."
Bob Evans?? Oh, yes, now I remember! Indeed - last Sunday night, at the McKnight Road restaurant, with some friends. And yes, my waitress actually did come to Animal Friends to adopt a kitten I told her about!
Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit - people sometimes really do follow up on those "you should check it out" conversations with strangers!
As y'all know, the subject of kittens tends to come up very easily in conversations with me. (The election? That's like these two totally different kittens I have who hiss at each other. Relationship/emotional woes? Kitten therapy can work wonders. Iraq? Gee, it would be neat to have a litter of kittens with Arabic names. Gas prices? Well, foster a litter of kittens, so you won't want to leave the house anyway. American Idol? Gosh, if my kittens were auditioning, I think their song would be "Stray Cat Strut," or maybe "I Did It My Way." Constipation? Oh, if only my kittens had your problem ... just kidding.)
Yeah, yeah, you get the picture. And so it was when I was having dinner at this Bob Evans. I was chatting with the waitress, and somehow the subject of pets came up. She said she and her family wanted a female kitten. I said, "Oh, you should go to Animal Friends on Camp Horne Road. I just left there, and we have this litter of, like, six girls and one boy. And they all have these cool Africa names, like Zaire, Congo and Tripoli. Can you dig it?"
I didn't give it much mind, but there she was, a week later, with her hubby and two cute little kids. Sure enough, they took home an adorable tortoiseshell named Egypt. The little girls - both the human and kitten - looked so happy.
Oh, what a satisfying feeling it is to orchestrate a match like this! But, I'll give credit where credit's due: thank you, God, for putting us in the right place at the right time. Mother Catresa is just an instrument of the grand conductor.
Too bad I don't work on commission ...
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
"I CAME!" said a friendly female voice.
I had just arrived at Animal Friends for my Sunday afternoon cat-greeter shift, and was entering the front desk area when I heard those words. I turned to glance at the smiling woman, who looked familiar and seemed to be talking specifically to me. Do I know you, I thought? (Gosh, I hope it wasn't that "America's Most Wanted" episode I saw Saturday night ...)
"Remember? Bob Evans," said the woman, whose name is Jessica. "I waited on your table."
Bob Evans?? Oh, yes, now I remember! Indeed - last Sunday night, at the McKnight Road restaurant, with some friends. And yes, my waitress actually did come to Animal Friends to adopt a kitten I told her about!
Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit - people sometimes really do follow up on those "you should check it out" conversations with strangers!
As y'all know, the subject of kittens tends to come up very easily in conversations with me. (The election? That's like these two totally different kittens I have who hiss at each other. Relationship/emotional woes? Kitten therapy can work wonders. Iraq? Gee, it would be neat to have a litter of kittens with Arabic names. Gas prices? Well, foster a litter of kittens, so you won't want to leave the house anyway. American Idol? Gosh, if my kittens were auditioning, I think their song would be "Stray Cat Strut," or maybe "I Did It My Way." Constipation? Oh, if only my kittens had your problem ... just kidding.)
Yeah, yeah, you get the picture. And so it was when I was having dinner at this Bob Evans. I was chatting with the waitress, and somehow the subject of pets came up. She said she and her family wanted a female kitten. I said, "Oh, you should go to Animal Friends on Camp Horne Road. I just left there, and we have this litter of, like, six girls and one boy. And they all have these cool Africa names, like Zaire, Congo and Tripoli. Can you dig it?"
I didn't give it much mind, but there she was, a week later, with her hubby and two cute little kids. Sure enough, they took home an adorable tortoiseshell named Egypt. The little girls - both the human and kitten - looked so happy.
Oh, what a satisfying feeling it is to orchestrate a match like this! But, I'll give credit where credit's due: thank you, God, for putting us in the right place at the right time. Mother Catresa is just an instrument of the grand conductor.
Too bad I don't work on commission ...
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
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