A tribute to Zoey

Yesterday, the best cat in the world entered kitty heaven. I know he is in heaven, because he has been angelic from the start. He was the gift of my dreams following my baptism at 12 years old. The only thing I wanted was a pure white kitten, to which my mom took seriously, this request, and looked all over to find an all white kitten. "Is the kitten ALL white?" my mom would say on the phone. "It maybe has a yellow spot on his belly? Well that won't do". Maybe it didn't go exactly like that, but she did in fact deliver the perfect, perfectly white, long-haired kitten.

At first, we believed that my little kitten was a girl and so I named her Zoey Lynn (the middle name after myself) Powers. This little kitten would hide in our basement in Pomeroy until she either heard the food bag rustle or until I stood at the top of the stairs and screeched in a very high pitched voice, "Zoey Lyyyyynnnnnnnnnn!" And the kitty came running, pouncing up each stair and slipping on some but always up as quickly as possible to me, open arms and waiting at the top of the stairs. This kitten did not meow like normal kitties. Instead she said, mmmmmMMMMMM? She was the best kitten ever. A she? Oops, a he...we soon found out that we were indeed wrong on the sex of this cat, not that it mattered, but we altered his name to fit his gender, now lovingly named Zoey Leon Powers.

This was a kitten that could not harm a fly, literally. He'd catch them, then let them go. When two fish joined our family, Lewis & Roland, I found Zoey sitting sadly by their bowl of spilled water and their tiny lifeless fish bodies on my carpet. Did Zoey eat them? No. He simply wanted to play with them. He was devastated that they were gone and he waited there, next to them, to let me know how sorry he was...and he was immediately forgiven.

Zoey Leon grew bigger and bigger and BIGGER and BIGGER until he was the biggest cat ever, I think. He loved to eat. Eventually, we had to put him on some what of a diet, to which he lost some of his poundage but not all. He was a very majestic cat and he knew it. He'd perch up on top of the couch or chair and rule over the lower lands.

When Steve was so allergic to him that he couldn't breathe any longer, I gave up Zoey and he became a community cat. He lived with Mom and eventually, Lianna and Shawn and their dog Lucy. Lucy and Zoey were buddies and fought and picked on each other, lovingly of course. The Cornally's put him on a real diet and he lost all of his overweightness and turned into quite the skinny little kitty, but always beautiful...long white hair blowing in the breeze. He had a very happy life, loved by all, especially me....well everyone loved him deeply. When he stretched his paws out wide and made himself long, he measured nearly 4 feet I'm sure. Adorable fuzzy belly. Zoey understood some English too. Like, "do you want to be brushed?" To which he'd replied with excited purrs and perts and leg rub-bys. Smart kitty.

This will end this tribute to the best cat in the world....pretty Zoey Leon Powers, the community/family kitty. I'll always be grateful to Lianna and Shawn, Mom and Dad, who adopted him and loved him just as much as me. We miss him already.

The next number

Monday has arrived and so has cooler weather. Feeding Rosie in my normal attire: Steve's shorts and a t-shirt, slippers and hair standing up on one side of my head made me a little cold this morning. I'd thought it'd be safe to slip something in the mailbox by the road, but just as I turned my back to raise the little flag on the side of the box, I hear honking and turn around, deer in headlights look, to see my neighbor from down the street saying hello and waving frantically out her window. Great. Some things are inescapable.

We returned home yesterday from a trip to the Minneapolis area. The trip was gorgeous. The leaves have changed up there and the drive was phenomenal. Well, minus the fact that our DVD player didn't work and the girls were less than pleased on the way home, but we made it...forced to eat at a sub-prime Taco Bell/KFC, which always leaves me squeamish. The girls must have been too happy there because they laughed at each other non stop, so much so that the older couple in the booth behind us, moved to another table across the restaurant from us. Geez. I thought laughing was acceptable. Wouldn't incessant crying be worse? We must have interrupted their date at a roadside Taco Bell/KFC, where they came for a romantic dinner. Maybe they moved because Sophie pointed out the old tomato chunk in the window sill and picked it up to show us. Was that too gross? Had we gone too far?

Despite the restaurant experience, we made it up to Steve's sister's house where we celebrated little Aylee's 1st bday. There were lots of kids there...to my surprise, ours were some of the oldest. We had fun and the food was great, which it always is, especially when Steve's dad, Larry, is there. Homemade ice cream and their awesome chocolate cake put a stick in my diet spokes, but it was only one weekend, well, maybe two weekends since I suggested that they also not be afraid to bring the homemade cake to Sophie's birthday party as well. I would not protest.

I'm excited for Sophie's birthday party this year, for her to get her next number as she calls it. Four years old. This makes me stop and think where I've been the last 3 years. Last I knew I had a toddler and a baby...now both nearing adulthood it seems...well maybe childhood, but still. Remember Fosie? Our tiny, scratch that...chunky funny baby with wild curly hair and seventeen rolls on each thigh? The child that could not be sad, the happiest baby on earth, and the cutest for that matter. I remember how she'd crawl across the hard wood floor as fast as she could, head down, barreling through. Then she'd stop at your feet and raise up her head and GRIN!!! Big blue eyes and all. Now this little baby towers over the real little babies now, bigger than any of them, tall and getting leaner all the time, transforming when I wasn't looking, ready for her next number. Her self proclaimed self improvements upon getting this new number include no pull ups at bedtime and no training wheels on her bike. Noble causes, really. I'm excited to celebrate this next number of my little Fosester Gracer, Sopapilla, GGpop Clark. Poor thing. Has more nicknames than anyone should.

Big girl

When you weren't watching

Well, I successfully completed three 12 hr nights at work in a row. I expected them to be as miserable as my whole entire preceptorship of nights, but it was surprisingly good. I mean, the second night was pretty painful around 5:30 am when two more hours sounded like pure torture. But the third night, I was wide awake until 8 am! It was amazing that my body adjusted like that, in three days, but just a tiny bit discouraging that it adjusted on the last night I had to work. Then last night, there I was at 1:30 am on my couch wondering if I would ever go to bed. Nothing a little Benedryl won't fix. That's good nursing for you.

Nights are also much quieter at the hospital. I like that I'm just the right amount of busy. I have time to chart my stuff and I have time to take good care of my patients. If it weren't for the whole time thing, I'd work nights for life. I really thought I'd NEVER say that, but I just did, and I mean it.

I've been reading through my blog this a.m., realizing that I've become a scrapbooking, activity creating, carpooling mom, minus minivan (which actually sounds like a really nice thing to own right now). Still difficult to swallow when I take this step back to realize that I have indeed arrived in motherhood, until now unknowingly changed...not only changed, but apparently totally enjoying it....planning my picnics and outings with the kiddos, getting excited about good sales on kids clothes at Target, clipping coupons, and enjoying the smell of Tide (which I can now afford instead of the Purex powder...we've moved up in the world), and priding myself in well thought out meals. I've officially jumped in both feet into a world I thought I'd never fit into to, but here I am. Here I am in the evenings flipping through flashcards with Olivia and signing permission slips, writing out checks and supporting the local football team, to which my brother calls me a townie. :) He keeps me in check. Although I don't mind it much, supporting the team. I've got a really nice pair of black sweatpants now. Do you? I'm cracking up at the recent Book-It note sent home with Olivia. Will she also work hard to earn her personal pan pizza??? Like mother like daughter, I'm SURE she will.

Scary isn't it? When you step back and realize you are nothing that you ever thought you would be? But it doesn't matter, because you clearly enjoy it and now can officially laugh at yourself and your changed-unbeknownst-to-you self. I remember thinking as a teenager that I would NEVER let myself go and would always make sure to buy the latest fashions. I would always be the cool mom, driving the nice car and wearing nice clothes. But this morning, in my gray oversized sweatshirt AND a pair of also gray sweatpant capris, I sent Olivia out to the bus without me, not wanting to embarrass her from our driveway in my obviously let go self......that's ok though. I'll probably shower later and put on something cute. Besides, does it really matter what I'm wearing? Raise your coffee cup to this. So here's to living in the station you've arrived at and enjoying it, because I do. I'll just smile about it. It's ridiculously NOT what I expected to be, but thankful of regardless.

I'm off to enjoy my Tide scented laundry room and my cup of coffee in my slippers....knowing that my first real paycheck was deposited in the early hours of this morning into my bank account. I have arrived.

"Happiness is not a station in which to arrive at, but a manner of traveling."