Sharon's Blurb

  My dad used to have these words on his outgoing voicemail message:  "Please speak clearly and slowly..." I used to think it was annoying, redundant, unnecessary. But now I think the whole world needs to speak clearer and slower. Is it just me, or has everybody just started speaking faster?   It seems to me that while watching some tv shows the characters just have to get their lines in no matter what the cost. And they often seem jumbled and garbled and I cannot always understand what they are saying. Thank goodness for pause and rewind features which allow me to stop and replay what they said. Sometimes even then I am at a loss. And a good joke gets missed. A poignant thought gets unheard. Granted, I do believe I have some degree of hearing loss. A hearing specialist told me so some years ago. And yes, I do believe I have a mild form of tinnitus. A constant ringing in my ears tells me that. But they are not enough for me to not hear t...

 I now officially own Winston the mini-horse. Not that he knows or cares. It really may not matter one lick to him. He will go on about his days as is usual; heading out into the paddock in the morning to spend the day with his buddies. He and my old horse Pumpkin have already struck quite a bond it seems to me. Pumpkin will playfully nip him in the leg, and Winston will oblige by moving to the side to allow Pumpkin to graze at that particular patch of grass. Pumpkin tolerates Winston as he brushes up against him in a very familiar way. A way that would not be tolerated if their relationship was anything other than the elder/yearling, senior/junior, brotherly-love type bro-mance that it appears to be to me. A familiar way that he never let Charlie, the regular sized quarter horse, be around him. Oh sure, he tolerated Charlie when he needed him, such as when the flies were so bad they stood head to tail under the shade of the trees, flicking each other's face free ...

 Hi, I'm Sharon, and I am a multi-tasker. And I am proud of it. I am proud of the fact that I think my brain can handle two or more tasks at the same time. I can be making my coffee in the morning, then part way through go and clean out the cat litter, then in the middle of doing that I can put the recycling out into the garage. I am amazed at how my brain can happily tangent to another thought and chore and carry on as though it hadn't missed a beat. I am enthralled by the way I can have a thought, then put that on pause, then entertain another thought, and then another. I must be getting smarter as I get older. More intelligent in my years. More wise in my aging. How can this be? Am I a medical miracle? Perhaps I should enroll in a study of some sort. Surely this will stave off dementia and age related memory loss, no? As I marvel at the medical miracle that I appear to be becoming, I notice my reading glasses are on the dining room table. When did...

  Forget about bats in the belfry. We have raccoons in our window well. A sunken hole that opens out from our basement window, to a dark, bleak space under the deck. A bad design on the part of the builder. Indeed, the window well is adjacent to, if not very nearly directly under, the sliding glass door that opens out to the back yard from the dining room. A very bad design on the part of the builder. No matter. A very large, very nice deck was built overtop, so one walks out those sliding glass doors to a humungous wooden area, complete with lovely pergola. There are two sets of steps down to the garden. And several areas where various animals are able to make their way under the deck to shelter from the weather. We have seen bunnies go under there. And now raccoons. And somehow, the raccoons have seen fit to occupy our window well, leaning their massive furry bodies up against the glass, muddying it with their huge paws. They have already made light ...

  If anyone has ever watched a cat for more than three seconds, you will know they are experts, nay, masters, at self care. A term that has become a watchword for humans lately in that we all need more of it. Well, I say, just watch a cat for awhile. They nap when they need to nap - and there is no explanation or excuse. Where there is a sunbeam - there is a perfect spot for a cat nap. If there is a soft throw on the sofa or bed, thank you very much!  They do seem to need a lot of sleep. I read somewhere about 18 hours a day is needed in order that they can expend the energy to capture their dinner. Not that they have to do that in these days of high domestication. No, dinner is served - as is breakfast, lunch and snacks in between. Only the highest quality of deliciously crafted meaty bits in a savoury gravy sauce. And the most delicious dry bits offered as a constant throughout the day so they can eat when they wish. Grooming is another area where c...

  The bottles were piling up. At the edge of the kitchen counter, the two cats, Princess and Chester, were gathering their own pharmacy. There was a taurine supplement to help absorb protein; a glucosamine supplement for joint health; a fibre supplement to keep things moving; there was also a bottle of liquid laxative for Chester, who is coming off a constipational crisis that required a vet visit; a canister of Kitten Milk Replacement powder, also for Chester, who survives on very little else these days, and a treat jar for Princess, who has me trained to give her one every time I am in the kitchen and anywhere near that little counter space. Is it becoming problematic? Perhaps. And although I have noticed that the cats supplemental area is increasing, spreading wider over the minimal countertop space, nearly infringing on the cutting board/meal prep area, encroaching onto the coffee mug holder stand and salt and pepper shakers, there is not much I can do about it. A...

 Oh Heart, dear Heart How still thou art When should you choose to leave The beat, no will The tremble, still And onst thou we bereave

 My first little cat, the illustrious Magnum Opus, reached out his tiny paw from his cage at the SPCA in Montreal, and grabbed my jacket. I guess you could say he chose me. A little beige kitten, he was the cutest creature I had ever seen. I was looking for a cat to call my own. The year was 1985, and I was 23 years old. I had just visited my relatives in England, and gone to see the play "Cats" in London. It was a sign. I came home and immediately started looking for a feline companion. Having only had mice, fish, a lizard and a toad as pets when I was a child, he would be my first big responsibility as an adult pet owner. He would need a litter box, food, a bed, and lots of attention. I was ready. I bought him for a grand total of $25.  And that included bringing him back to be neutered when he was six months old. I can't remember if that was a lot of money at the time. But today, that won't even buy a bag of high end cat food. I took Mag...

  The hitchhiker arrived in the aquarium clinging for dear life to a plant I had bought at the pet store. I didn't see him at first; then, there he was. A small mollusk; a dark brown little slimy thing that I promptly dubbed Mr. Slimy. The tetra didn't seem to mind him; he could go about his business sucking up debris without being disturbed. It didn't take long until I noticed there was less iron buildup and residue on the walls of the aquarium. I didn't have to scrub it away weekly when I changed the water. The next time I bought some plants, I asked for some of the little snails. They are pests and they will multiply like crazy, warned the salesperson. How do snails multiply, I wondered. And then, all of a sudden, there were more and more tiny little snails. More than I had brought home. They were moving slowly, elegantly, gracefully around the tank. Some floated on the underside of the surface of the water!  How are they doing that? Then ...