Responsibility @ MindSay

Friday, I get an email from Twinks. Twinks and I have been chatting about the possibility of Didi coming out and counseling for a week. Twinks asks me if I'm sitting down. Twinks tells me to sit down. Twinks asks me if I could direct Day Camp for the week (The usual director is out-of-state until Saturday).

Er. I know the usual director. She's been doing camp-related work for the last few years. Her dad is pretty much a fixture at camp. She's a sweet, creative, cheerful person by name of Giggles. And I've got a pretty good idea that Giggles ends up crying three days out of five because of how intensely stressful directing Day Camp can be.

But hey, I told Twinks she can put me wherever she wants me. So, I let her know that I'd be okay with it, provided that she's around for me to cry to every other day (first week of directing is always an absolute bear).

Signscout also took some time to point out to me that this wasn't going to be a disaster, and remind me of what the focus is here.

Originally, I was directing Day Camp during the day, and doing Conquest in the evenings (our poorly named but well-managed take-camp-off-campus program). This was great on most counts, save for the personal maintenance one - I was absolutely thrashed on that schedule. Twinks came up to me at breakfast one morning, told me that I wasn't allowed to drive that day (I drive a couple of our day campers from Mayotown to camp every day), and they were taking me off Conquest.

Of  course, my first thought is, "What?? What did I do wrong???"

Girls. Sigh.

It's been good, in a kind of, "I never want to do this again," way. I've been growing, and getting to know more people - the current Conquest director and I've been chatting the last two nights, and that's been awesome. I don't really get food with everybody else, but I've been getting more resourceful about having random munchies available.

The kids have been....well, they're not monsters. Occasionally animals, but not monsters. Rowdy, but rarely actually bad, just disrespectful to the max. This is particularly embarrassing when the camp speaker is present. Oh well. They're having fun.

As long as I don't lose any of them, and none of them are on fire, we're doing okay. This is the standard I offer my co-counselors.

Maaaan...

Every, I say EVERY time that I go play at the shelter, I encounter somebody that I want to take home with me.

(Let the record show that I split my time between the dogs and cats. The difference is that with the dogs, I only take one out at a time. With the cats, I may be sitting in a pile of nine, and have another seven skulking and lounging about the room. I plan on having both in my post-college lifestyle...today just happens to be about cats.)

This week, my interest was piqued by a very sweet, very shy Maine Coon. Striking face, she's in the "Shy Cats" room, which is one of my favorite hangouts.[1] My practice is simply to sit and wait for her to come out of her hole - if she's hidden away, the rationale is that it must be for a good reason. After awhile, she'll emerge, and purr up for some loving. Oh, purrrrrrr, this is good. We like this. Mmmhmmm...the instant another cat comes by for attention, she vanishes back inside her hidey-hole.

She's sweet and beautiful, and I want to take her home and love her every day until she knows she can trust again and the world's an okay place. Someone told me at camp that I have a Messiah complex. My response remains, "That's a bad thing?"

Then, oh, then. There's Tigger. Oh, my goodness.

Tigger is NOT in the "Shy Cats" room. Ohhhhh, no.

I. Love. Tigger. I fell in love with Tigger as soon as I laid eyes on him. This cat is big. Not overweight. Just, really, big. Healthy pets are like healthy humans - you should be able to feel ribs, but not see them through the fur, or in our case, a form-fitting shirt. This is a healthy boy. And he's big. Did I mention he's big. He's big. And orange. And strong. And a purrer. And enjoys attention. He also enjoys leaping up onto tall objects, and stalking around on top of the cages looking down at all the activity below. Friendly without being clingy. I love this cat. I want this cat. He's...just...HUGE!

Okay, so at home, I have two Siamese-barncat descendants. Until this winter, they were six and twelve pounds - the female has now almost caught up to her brother. I'm just more accustomed to smaller cats. Tigger isn't, y'know, going to be comparable to a medium size dog, but you almost think he could give a raccoon a run for his money.

Save for the little fact that 'coons are ridiculously tough customers, and I don't want ANYTHING of mine, not even my car, tangling with one.

I can of course take neither one home. I mean, of the Maine Coon and the Big Orange Shorthair, not the raccoons. I live in student housing, I can't financially support another life at the moment, and I'll be moving back to my parents' house in a month. Even when I DO have my own place and am better financially stable, I know what I want, and neither of these are it.

1) Has to get along with kids, cats, and dogs. A lot of cats don't.
2) Female. Males seem to have a lot more health problems.
3) Spayed is a given, but I'd prefer that she has all her claws. There are very few guarantees in my life, and while other people can pretty much promise the newly-handicapped furball that she'll never have to go outside...I can't.
4) Adult. Kittens are absolutely adorable. When you fall for a kitten, you usually fail to realize how little time you're going to have left with the kitten, and it could just be a case of you falling for 'cute'. Adoption is a commitment - you don't just bail on somebody when they're not cute anymore.
5) Shorthair. It's a maintenance thing.

Obviously, because of that 'shorthair' rule, the Maine Coon is right out. They were bred to survive some tough winters, and they do a good job of it, and they're gorgeous...but longhair cats take a little more maintenance. Fine if you can commit to it - just need to recognize what you can and can't offer a cat. Shorthair cats have their maintenance issues, too - I'm just better equipped to deal with those.

If I could take care of him, I would throw that "female" rule right out the window. I love Tigger. He fascinates me, he's got a good personality, and he's absolutely gorgeous. Tigger's just his shelter-name. It's a whole lot easier to mention which cat needs something when they all have handles, and a lot of them, when they arrive, don't have enough history to give us a name.

I want to take him home so much. I have to continually remind myself that I don't actually have a home to take him to.

Well, I have a home, obviously, but I am grateful to my parents for their continued allowance of my adult presence in their domain, and introducing MORE animals into it is perhaps not the best method of expressing this gratitude. Also, while I'm sure my sisters would love him, there are others who lived in this house first who would most likely not appreciate the presence of another feline. Particularly one who dwarfs the current ones.

The twins' handling of other cats is amusing, because Pippin deals with strange males, and Chai goes nuts about females that don't belong in her territory. They largely ignore cats of the opposite gender. "Oh! He's male. Not my problem." So, while I think Chai's first response if I brought this huge beauty home would be to dart into the back shadowy places of junk in the basement, Pippin would undergo a lot more stress over the spread of time.

Upon reflection, I'm pretty sure the dog would be rather worried, too. He has 'pips', which to non-dog-people are kind of like doggy-eyebrows. He does this thing with them (looks like a human 'concern' face) when he doesn't know what to do with something, but is absolutely certain that something must be done. This is usually one of two things - either he has conflicting programming (desire to chase something meeting awareness that the Alpha approves of the presence of that something) or a complete lack of programming to deal with a situation. He picks up his eyebrows, arches his neck down to stare at whatever the thing is, and kind of prances about - not wanting to get too close to it, but also certain that he shouldn't leave it alone.

I have no idea where the love for big cats comes from. Before meeting Tigger, I didn't know it existed. All the cats in my home have been small and mediums, and I connect with them. My friends' cats have all been mediums. The majority of the cats I've encountered have been medium or larger mediums, including the dozen or so barncats of my junior-high friend's. I think my ex's dad (he's a vet) had, of his four or five, one that MIGHT qualify as a large. He's all muscle, very male in his personality, and bipolar to boot. More so than cats normally are, anyway.

If there's an extra-large, I'm really hoping Tigger is it, because I'm not sure I want to know how much larger a cat can get. I'm wondering if it's just his personality, because I love that about him, too, but man...I see this cat, and I'm just magnetically drawn to him. He's fabulous.

*bonk* I, I'm a dumbhead. I decided to check and see if he's on Petfinder. He is[2]. Saw his picture. It's not a great picture by any means, but evidently this makes no difference. Fell in love with him all over again.

I know girls who do this with, y'know, human males - where you don't really know him, but you spend a fair amount of time dreaming about him and wishing, even though you know it's impossible, for things to somehow fall in place so that the two of you could be together. Me, it happens with a cat.

Somebody had better adopt this boy soon.

_{[1]It is my experience that said shy cats are not actually 'shy' so much as 'easily startled'. If you conduct yourself on their terms, they tend to love you and adore the attention.
[2]What frightens me is that the shelter has listed him as a "medium" cat. I'm sincerely hoping that they just kind of default list everyone as a medium. The alternative is that one of these days I WILL come in and meet a 'large,' which will be a small tiger, and just have to lug the critter home.}

    Sorry, guys, I haven't been on here a whole lot.

 

        Mom and I are sending empty envelopes to the President...they represent every unborn child that has been killed by abortion.  That is the only thing about Obama that irks me.  I do NOT support abortion AT ALL.  It's murder.  That's really what it is.  And before you start to dog me about it hear me out before opening your mouth and starting a fight with me. 

     You all can disagree with me all you want but, this is something I'm not giving on.  If a teenage girl refuses to accept full responsibility for being stupid and having sex and getting knocked up, then she should give it up for adoption.  There are PLENTY of people out there who have been trying to have kids for the longest time and can't and then there's this stupid irresponsible cheerleader who CAN have kids and murders the baby growing in her womb.  To me that's immature and selfish on their part.  The best contraception in the world is abstinence.  You don't want to get pregnant then keep your pants on and legs together.  If your boyfriend is pressuring you to kill your baby but, you don't want to kill it that answer is simple:  LEAVE HIM.  Your life doesn't depend on some punk who won't take responsibility for helping you get pregnant in the first place.   Don't kid yourself to thinking that he loves you.  It's obvious that he doesn't or he'd respect your decision to keep the child.  In cases of rape, I still say either keep the baby or put it up for adoption.  God is gracious and knows that it's not your fault that some jerk did that to you.  Most likely the baby will look like you and you won't have to worry about it looking like him.  Or if you still don't want to raise it then give it up for adoption.

 

     I'm very sorry if you people don't agree with me on this.  If you don't then say so diplomatically and don't attack me saying that I'm stupid and don't know what I'm talking about.  Yes I do.  I do not support abortion. PERIOD, end of story.  If you are welcome to a debate with me, that's fine.  But don't talk down to me as if I'm a child, or verbally attack me.  I don't tolerate it.  And I shouldn't have to because I'm twenty years old and I'm pretty much set in moral opinions.  I also don't support same-sex marriage.  Judge me all you want, however, if you're a Christian and still support same-sex marriage and judge me, that's for God to decide about whether or not I'm wrong or right not you.

 

 

~*Another day in the life of Rebekah*~*316*~

 

    As Michael Corleone said in the Godfather Part 2 "I will not hide behind the fifth amendment but it is my right."  I have every right to post my opinions on here, just as much as you do.

In order of precedence, if not intention, what I should do this weekend.

1. Organize basement, clean dishes
2. Read King Lear
3. Read Who Do You Think You Are by Alice Monroe
4. Write at least 1500 words of fiction
5. Write 2 or 3 comic book reviews
   
6. Draw at least one page of a comic, preferably two... three may be pushing it
7. Mom's birthday tomorrow, so I'm gonna be doing that
8. Bitch about life on internet

Sounds like a plan!  (As far as 2 & 3, I don't intend to finish either of them on the weekend, and I'm halfay through 3 anyway, but it'd be nice to gain as much ground as possible.)

KOR-Scott