Matchmaking with Kitties

"Are you the person with ad for the kitties?" the woman's voice would ask. For a month or more the phone had rang in response to ads I had placed. Many good-hearted women had called seeking the perfect companion.

I felt like I was running a dating service.

In a way I was playing matchmaker. It was more than finding random homes for my brother's surplus cats. It was finding the right home with the right person.

For Leonard I talked up his good looks as well as personality. His handsome white mustache curled across his face like a smile. His white flecks on the dark fur around his eyes gave him that English professor look as if should have been wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches. He led an active life and enjoyed friends.

Leonard was matched with a 30 something nurse and an orange long-hair named Butter. It was a sad story. Nurse Rachel had taken in Butter and his brother Scotch, after their owner had passed away. Scotch never recovered from the loss. He had passed away, refusing to eat after his owner had died and the move to a new home. Leonard was to be Butter's new friend. When I met Nurse Rachel she exploded with happiness upon seeing Leonard. He seemed pleased with her as well.

Jessica's ad received the most attention. Everyone seemed to want the little lady with long gray hair. She was a beauty. Her soft gray hair framed her small face and big gold eyes. The large white patch stood out like a diamond pendant on her chest. She loved to sit by the open window and feel the breeze on her face and watch the sunlight on the leaves.

Jessica was a quiet lady who like personal attention. She had grown used to living with only other felines and my bachelor brother. I eliminated most of the prospective matches. Dogs and small children would not do well for her.

I had hoped to place her with a particular elderly lady who had recently lost her little friend to old age. Unfortunately an allergic son-in-law coming to stay and other factors caused the match to fall through. But remarkably I quickly received a call from a lady wishing to give her father a kitty for Father's Day. His cat had recently passed away. His daughter could see he was sad and lonely and wanted to give him a new friend.

Happily Jessica was welcomed into his home. It was an ideal match for Jessica. She went from quiet home with a older bachelor to another quiet home with a older bachelor. She went from many cats sharing small quarters to being a lavished only child. It was a good Father's Day for both of them.

The two cats remaining with my brother enjoy the extra attention and space they now have. I gave up my job of feline matchmaker and have returned to being a mom and writer and caretaker of our own pets.

Mocked by a Bird

I couldn't sleep that week. The mocking bird sang like an alarm all night. Twits and tweets, shrill trills, and odd hacking noises like a lawnmower coughing randomly sounded from the tree next to our window.

I had prayed for it to stop or at least fly away. I had gone in front of our house in my nightgown and bare feet. I yelled at it. I shot water at it with the garden hose. The tree was too high for my attacks to do much good. I even contemplated a plan on how to pull the hose up onto the bedroom balcony to get a better shot at the nuisance. But physics and hose length prevented me.
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It would have been fine if it had been repetitive and soothing like the crickets. But no, this bird randomly changed stations every few seconds, jarring me from sleep with its funky nonrhythmic blasts. In addition my husband snored here and there to fill in the blank spots while the bird took a break between sets.

My allergies had kicked up with springtime blossoms. I must admit I too was snoring for the lack of ability to breathe properly. I'd fall asleep and then wake make self with my own snoring or suffocating, depending how you look at it. It was a awful thing to have inherited from my parents, loud snoring.

On family vacations I could not sleep for the immense roars and snorts from the other bed. I'd begged for my own room but they would never indulged me on that desire. It was when I went away to college I found out I too had the gift for make loud noises in my sleep. Fortunately it was something that was seasonal. My husband was forgiving and learned to nudged me so I could breath properly and quietly.

Now as I lay awake listening to the mockingbird trill its repertoire I noticed the similarity. The sputtering sound it made was vaguely familiar. The repeated sputtering and croaks at top volume stabbed my ears every few minutes. My husbands gentle snoring continued next to me, oblivious to the racket outside the window. I thought back to those miserable sleepless vacation nights sharing the hotel room with my parents. I realized something dreadful.

The mockingbird was mocking me. I was being kept awake by my the sound of my own snoring.

That annoying bird had been listening to my horrible allergy season snoring and was playing it back for me. Oh joy.

I began taking allergy meds in the evening. Squirted and shook the lower tree branches liberally each evening, and made sure the windows were all securely closed despite my husbands desire for fresh air while he sleeps. With his source of material cut off and someone constanly shaking his tree; my buddy soon switched to the neighbor's tree and began singing proper remakes of bird tunes.

It was still annoying at 2 am, but not as humiliating.