Everything We Have

I consider myself an animal lover. There were always animals in our home from the time I was born until the present. When I was an infant until around the time that my father died (when I was eight) we had two cats: Kashi (a beautiful white with orange markings, the only word coming to mind to describe her being simply elegant) and Ducky (a Himalayan type cat who was in shows but had been dumped on the highway. My parents rescued her and she never left my father's side, dying a within a week of him). We took in my grandmothers black cat Ashley when grandma couldn't keep her anymore. Grandma had two cats for as long as I could remember Ashley (a total bitch if you ask me) and Eli (the sweetest cat you ever met). Kashi and Ducky didn't last long after my father died, but unfortunately Ashley did.

When I was five or so we adopted a rotteweiler named Cody from the human society, but he had to be taken back within a month or so because he bit my face. He was a real trip. We went back to give a dog another try and found Candy, the greatest dog you could ever ask for.

When my father was alive I also had a hamster named Rex and a Guinea Pig named Johnny (after a boy named Johnny France who I did karate with when I was younger). Johnny and Candy were the last animals to go who had been around when my father was alive. I was absolutely devastated when Candy died two days before my sixteenth birthday.

When we had just Ashley, Candy and Johnny we started adopting cats. First was Baby (an adorable black and white kitten) and Precious (an older stray cat who adjusted alright to indoor living). Then was Little Boy, the only male cat we've ever had and will probably ever have because he is a brute. Then Plato, a kitten with double paws who we stumbled upon at the vet. Then Suzy, a beautiful calico cat who needed a home after her owner passed away. Suzy unfortunately never adjusted to living in a home with multiple animals and lived basically in solitary confinement for the majority of the rest of her life. When she was dying a stayed home from school to hold her until she slipped away, it was one of the saddest but gentlest acts of my life.

Then we found Kitty, a blind kitten whose mother had been killed by a car and who was the only member of her litter to survive. Kitty was very small, with clear neurological problems. She is mostly grey, with white arms and legs and a white mask on her face. She is a beautiful cat, and she is all mine. She had a cute pink nose and pink pads on her feet. She can be tempermental but I know she loves me all the same. None of the other cats bonded with me the way that Kitty did.

We also adopted Buns, an orange haired rabbit who has become a fast friend of mine. My friends gave me a dwarf rabbit for my sixteenth birthday (to take my mind off of Candy's death) who I named Russel, but who never bonded with me the way that Buns did.

When I was in the eighth grade we adopted a puppy, who I named... Puppy (I'm so clever, I know) to give Candy back some of the spunk she was loosing in her old age. It worked completely, but Puppy could never take Candy's place as my best friend. Candy was also pretty motherly to me, herding me around, making sure I stayed out of trouble, but she was never motherly to Puppy. Puppy was always just kind of a nuisance to Candy (and to everyone else for that matter).

We still have Puppy, Kitty, Plato, Buns, Russel, Little Boy, Baby and Precious, and we will have all of them until it's their time. When Kitty dies I will have a broken heart for a VERY long time. But let's not think about that.

I started this entry to talk about my love of animals.

We have a pool, and with pools come creatures who like to swim or who are thirsty. Over the years we've had baby birds, baby rabbits, mice, and thousands and thousands of frogs. We've saved most, and we've cried over those who were beyond saving.

Yesterday my mother was cleaning out the basket in the skimmer and happened upon a terrible sight: a dead frog. She showed it to me and I saw her lip quiver and tears begin to well up. In the basket was a frog, not moving, but with eyes wide.

"Mom, he's alive"
"No, he's dead Rachel."
"Mom! He's alive, give him to me," so I reached in the basket and picked up the limp frog. It spat up some pale green water and looked at me. I took it in both hands, to prevent it from hopping out suddenly, and laid down on the grass to let it go under our azaelea bush.

But it wouldn't hop out of my hands. I was afraid its legs were broken, so I gave it a few little nudges. When I put it down on the grass it only backed up a little to sit on my hands. At one point it turned itself around to look at me.

I believe in karma. I believe everything has a place in the universe, even the smallest frog, or even the tallest tree. Throw that frog out with the leaves and the rubbish and life will do the same to you. Cut that tree down and life will cut you down.

That frog was thanking me, no matter what anyone says, it was thanking me. I sat with it for about 20 minutes probably, just talking to it, assuring it that I wasn't going to hurt it and that I was going to do everything I could to make sure it didn't get hurt. I wasn't going to cage it up so it would be safe forever in my care, that's not the way nature works.

My cats/rabbits/dogs would die if they were left to their own devices. This little frog got a second chance, and I hope wherever he is he is happy, healthy, and enjoying the opportunity he has. Life is a great gift, no matter in what capacity it is granted.

Tell Me More, Tell Me More

Summer could not possibly go by any slower. Don't get me wrong, I'm having a great time.
So far this summer I've been to the Cape twice, I've been to Disney World, I've turned 19, I've been to Vermont, I've visited my friends at school (just the other day actually), I saw the True Colors concert in Boston, and I've had some pretty fabulous times with the people I love.

I'd say it's been a successful summer.

I'm also going to see Celine Dion in Boston on August 13. I ADORE Celine.

I hate wishing my life away, but I cannot even wait for September 1, which is move in day at school.

I know I'll probably hate my life on September 2 when I have to be at class at 10:30 (and then I'm basically in class until 3:15, but last semester I had three classes in a row from 12 until 4:45 on Mondays and Wednesdays, so I think I can handle 10:30, then an hour break, then two classes in a row) but nothing compares to the freedom of college.

Nothing holding you back, no ties anywhere in particular. You visit your family and friends, and maybe you live there most of the time, but you're in college, nothing is forcing you to stay at home.

You can do whatever you want, whenever you want, and no one is going to tell you not to (unless it's illegal of course). I can wake up with another person in my bed and not worry that my mother is going to have a coniption. I can nurse a hangover for a day and not worry about getting caught.

I LIVE with my friends, I LEARN with my friends. I learn A LOT, not just what I find in the text books I paid $500 for, but also what I learn on a daily basis by interacting with new people and experiencing new things.

College is just such an amazing time, I wish everyone got the chance to experience it.

I can't wait to get back to life on September 1.