Rushing's Ramblings

We all grew up in a small town in the Panhandle of Texas, about 55 miles northeast of Amarillo. I hadn't seen most of them for 50 years and some as long as 55 years, but I was game to meet fellow Blackhawks for dinner in Austin this past weekend. I was somewhat apprehensive, as I wasn't part of any clubs or cliques in high school, nor was I part of the "in-crowd." The folks invited to the dinner were the popular kids in school. The thought of meeting them for a meal would have never entered my mind 50 years ago, but it was probably something I longed for. It's only speculation on my part, as too much time has passed. We had approximately 40 girls in my class, and I was one of the few girls not invited to join a social club. In retrospect, I'm confident my father would not have allowed me to accept an invitation, so it didn't matter. I participated in a variety of high school activities. I took journalism and published a weekly column in the local new

Remembering you When you were well And we had the world by the tail Remembering–– Your eyes meeting mine With your head moving side to side Like a puppy dog  As a joyful grin spreads across your face Never had anyone look at me that way Before or after you I miss how you loved me. Grateful we had each other Though losing you sometimes feels like hot needles Stabbing at my barely beating heart Remembering us–– Our brief moment in time How we marveled at our good fortune in finding each other Laughing and holding hands Feeling the power of love. Declaring it for all eternity on the Spanish Steps We thought it'd never end. Until your children, cancer, and death came calling. Memories spark as I run across a photo of us Taken somewhere in Europe Grief comes crashing in We once had it all, didn't we? Can you hear me? Maybe you do I miss you I miss us I miss love

                                            One of the feral cats that lounge around my patio waiting to be fed every day is mean. I'm not talking about a murdering kind of cat, but the type with no clue about manners.   He's not that bright, either. When I open the patio door, he's right there in front of the door. He claws at my feet and legs as I slide it open while holding a large container of cat food. The swiping doesn't end when he's full; au contraire, he'll reach for Paddy with extended claws when we leave for a walk minutes later. I've learned to spray water on him to get him to back away. We're good for about 5 seconds. As the patio gate opens, he's back and ready to attack again. Someone advised me the other day to have him picked up since he's the cat version of a curmudgeon, but I can't force myself to call Animal Control. They'd euthanize him, and I'd feel remorseful that I had a part in killing another living thing. I

Weezy is 16 years old, and his glory years are long gone. A once beautiful body full of auburn hair has faded and is so thin that there is only skin where the hair used to be. He no longer sees, and walking appears to be painful for him. Yet, he manages to gingerly make a circle in the grass surrounding the pool, do his business and return to the carport, where he sleeps at least 23 hours a day. His gait is so unsteady that I swear it looks like he will fall over at any moment. He doesn't. When Paddy and I are outside, I always greet him by briefly stroking his head while murmuring a prayer for him. Paddy isn't sure about him and doesn't even attempt the usual rear smelling that dogs seem to do as they greet other dogs. He knows Weezy will not be on this earth much longer. About 6 months ago, my neighbor grew disgusted with Weezy's incontinence and moved him outside his townhouse. We had a cold winter, and many of those nights were in the '20s. A heat lamp was ne