DANGER ZONE

LuLu-ism # 17: Friends accept the apology of friends for their neglect, however, there is great satisfaction in making them grovel for about three minutes or so.

I’m back in the saddle. LuLu and I have been getting to know one another again. She’s a little ticked that I’ve left her for so long. But what’s a party girl to do? Gary and I have had a month of fun and now it’s time to get back down to business. So, I hopped back on LuLu early Saturday morning for a spin. And then this morning she and I were at it again.

It was windy and cool. The Fake Knee was creaking, but what else is new? And the *cowgirl- cranky. But other than that, it was a lovely ride, until…

… I came upon a dead kitten in the middle of the road. She was about six or seven months old. I spotted her at just about the same place where the duck almost knocked me in the head that time. I think I’m going to have to give that place in the road a name- Danger Zone would be appropriate. Seeing the little critter in the road instantly reminded me of the cat we had when the boys were growing up. Tinkerbell was her name. The sweetest cat ever. One time we let her have kittens and it was such a joy to watch her mother her brood. She was Joshua’s cat, so Tinker and all her kittens ‘lived’ in his room during that period. Get him to tell you about the time he woke up to five kittens chewing on his hair and knocking his nose around.

Tinkerbell had a pretty long life, but met her doom one day when a neighbor backed over her. My heart was broken. So was Josh’s. That night we had a funeral for her in the back yard, complete with songs and a final word. Josh’s older brothers did their best not to laugh in the middle of her eulogy, however, they didn’t succeed. I may have grounded them for that. I can’t remember.

Anyways, the kitten in the road made me sad. As I pedaled around my three-mile neighborhood block I thought about life and death and pets and the cycle of life. Pretty heavy for a morning ride, but then as I turned onto my road, I was greeted by a mother chicken and her chicks crossing in front of my path. Thank goodness the old wascally Wooster (rascally rooster) wasn’t around. A dead kitten and being chased by that ornery rooster on the same ride would have been too much. The chicks were a feathery white and stayed close to their mama. Cute as buttons. They made me smile.

Life is a cycle. Mine, cats, chickens… yours. The best we can do is to try and make the most of our lives while we can. Live. Love. Laugh. And, thank God for all the precious moments given.

Later,

Deb

*cowgirl- butt