The gray tabby is my snuggle kitty. His name is Doo Doo. He will roll around and bury his head in my chest and purr anytime. He is the purrfect remedy for a case of the blues or a bad mood. It just takes a minute for him to have me smiling and feeling all warm and fuzzy. There isn't another cat (or animal) that could replace him or any amount of money that could buy him from me. He's one of a kind.
My son left didn't close the back door very well the other day, and he got out. When I called after church, they told me that he was missing and they couldn't find him even though they'd searched everywhere. We called for him and looked everywhere that night. I cried and cried and didn't go to bed (or couch) until midnight...with the doors cracked open in case he came home. I thought that I'd surely hear him from the couch if I stayed there. I was so worried and was afraid that he'd been eaten by a dog or smushed by a car. If anything happened to him...I wouldn't be worth shooting. At 01:30 I heard cats howling in the front yard and I bolted up. Thank goodness! One was my Doodie! He was home!!
I never knew that a cat could be so loving or offer so much comfort. I used to make fun of my cousin that had her cat named 'Baby.' That cat would scratch or bite me every time I got near it. Then we got a cat for my son and she was a little witch. He loved her and she loved him, but she was a little witch to me. When I'd have a seizure, I'd wake up with bloody holes where she'd take advantage of the situation and bite the blood out of me. She was cool though in ways because she' bite the heck out of the ex when he'd get abusive, bring blood, then run like crazy and hide. I still didn't understand caring that much for a cat though....until Doodie.
Doodie is just different. We were having construction done on the house and I was sitting in the yard watching one day and he walked up, climbed in my lap, laid on his back, and purred. I had to get him out of the tree a few times because the tomcat across the street or dogs had chased him there. He belonged to the people that owned the tomcat that was trying to kill him, so I worried about him. Then, the neighbor offered him to me becasue she was afraid that her other cat would kill him. I figured that I would find him a home....so I took him to parks and other places trying to find him a home. He'd ride on my shoulder in the car or in my lap. When I'd stop for gas, he'd perch up on my shoulder and watch everything going on around him with fascination. He'd nuzzle his head in my neck and ear and purr. It just took one day for me to fall in love with the little gray ball of fur and decide to keep him as my own. Since then, my armpit or my neck is a couple of his favorite resting places.
He came along when I really needed him. I think that God sent him to me because He knew that I was going to need him with the tough times coming. How in the world does anyone go through tough things without a sweet, adorable, non-complaining animal that loves them back unconditionally exactly when they need them? I thank God for my sweet, adorable, vibrating furrball.
My kids are great! They are both totally opposite from the other one and each special in their own kind of way. Yet, they are both awesome. Don't get me wrong. They each have their own problems and both of them do things that drive me totally insane, but overall they are great.
I have friends and family members that will totally be drawn to one or the other and never give the other one the time of day and it breaks my heart. Not only does it hurt my kids, but these people are missing out. The people that I truly cherish and believe in my mind to be the 'smart ones' among us see this already. They are just as impressed with one as they are the other.
There has always been a little competition thing going on with them due to some complicated issues with the past and the fact that my thirteen year old is my biological son and my fifteen year old is adopted. For years they hated each other. After a divorce and years of therapy, they are the best of friends and appreciate each other and take advantage of each other's talents.
Most of you probably don't care and need to skip this entry and wait until I post another day, but someones actions has really made me want to post about my kids.
Jesse is my thirteen year old son. He is the child that I wasn't supposed to have. He is 5'8" and 165 lbs?? He is a football player and is a leader. He is extremely intelligent, top of his class, student of the year every year, teacher's pet, popular, gifted, motivated, thoughtful, sensitive, witty, and on and on. He is an artist but it isn't his passion. His passion is PAINTBALL. He is overweight and lazy when it comes to chores and housework unless money is involved. He is always ready to make a dollar and is already planning small businesses to open while in college. As a baby, he slept all night, he wasn't fussy, and he was a momma's boy. He was never sick, he walked early, talked early, and had personality plus. He has survived Matthew and at the wise old age of thirteen is able to see past the moodswings and outbursts to who Matthew really is. He is a gentle giant and wouldn't hurt a fly intentionally. He is truly an amazing kid.
Matthew is my fifteen year old son. I brought him home at three days old. He is 5'8" and about 145 lbs. He is a natural athlete, gorgeous olive complexion, perfect teeth, big brown eyes, a fantastic artist, charming, neat & tidy, picky, popular, funny, and would look good in a paper sack. However, he has bipolar disorder and presents challenges with parenting and challenges for the teachers. By the same token, he has a lot of challenges himself because of that, because of dealing with issues from the past, and dealing with being adopted. Even through all of this, he is still one of the most loving individuals that you will ever meet and has one of those smiles that will melt your heart. As a baby, he never slept, was always sick, always cried, never wanted to eat, always spit up, and almost never seemed content. He was extremely hyper, walked late, kept to himself a lot, and didn't even learn to talk at all until we put him on the Ritilin at age three. Poison control knew me by name and even began to give me regular calls to just check up on Matthew. He was a regular Houdini baby. No child lock worked on him. He was a challenge from day one and would test the patience of Job. He would get loose from me in the store and run and run (laughing the whole time) and run out in the parking lot and sometimes not be caught until he'd been hit by a car. Traveling was difficult with him. Keeping him in a carseat was another story. Then he holds your hand, hangs on you, lays over on your shoulder, and says, "I love you momma," and makes it worth all of the trouble.
As you can see, God has truly bessed me. I wanted the Lord to use me by giving me a child that someone else would beat but that I would have the patience for. I actually prayed for that. Be careful what you pray for. The Lord does still answer prayers. :o) I'm glad I did though. It has probably made me a better and stronger person.....and I would not have Matthew if I hadn't.