Fscott

Remembering Brenda, aka Black Kitty

Brenda is how she was introduced to me three years ago when I moved into the hotel. Black Cat, Black Kitty, Rosa and I’m sure there were other names she had over the nineteen and a half years she lived. I’ve been calling her Monkey. She wondered into the hotel during a Valentine party back in 2005. Bob, a long time resident here took her in and she never left. He guesses she was around six months old at the time.
I wasn’t pet sitting when I moved in. It was Covid times. Brenda and I quickly bonded. She spent days in my room, wondering out for her meals and back in to sleep at the end of the bed at night. Bob lives on the 2nd floor, I live on the 3rd. Brenda still went down to spend time with him. He fed her and kept the litter box down there.

Once I starting pet sitting again, I missed her but knew our community was taking care of her. It sure was a sweet greeting coming home each time, having her pitter pattering behind me, prancing into my room as the door swung open. She’d stare wide eyed at me until I presented her a treat. She had me wrapped around her paw.

A year or so ago, someone moved in on the 2nd floor. She brought along her kitty. Brenda was not happy about it nor were most of us tenants. That’s when Brenda moved herself upstairs staying on the couch in the community room when I wasn’t home. We accommodated her with a new spot for her litter box and meals served to her on the 3rd floor.

Brenda comforted me after knee surgery and again through anal cancer treatment. Her usual spot was at the end of the bed never next to me, occasionally submitting to my kisses and hugs. I was touched and sure she contributed to my healing when she’d rest again my bum.

A week after my return from a three week trip Brenda wasn’t pitter pattering behind me when I came home. Another housemate noticed she was constipated. Fortunately, I had a few days off from pet sitting. After a visit to Sentinel Emergency Vet this past Thursday blood test showed her kidneys were failing, diabetes and anemia. Just days before I had seen a friend’s post about a woman who provides in-home euthanasia, Dr, Janet Alviar, with Twilight Paws. After a call to her and house mates Janet made arrangements to come the next day. The experience was tender, respectful and the best one would hope for. Monkey was able to be surrounded by several who loved her in the home she had known all her 19 1/2 years.

I held it together through it all until yesterday morning, the day after her death. Waking I reached to pet her and heard a meow. My morning tears left me rung out for the rest of the day. Last night I had the comfort of the sweetest dog I’m pet sitting. He slept on my lap, then next to me for the remainder of the night as I dreamt and woke to sweet memories with Monkey.

It Was a Good Trip, Back in the Hotel

After a three week trip to Oregon which was filled with fun, friends, laughing, crying, blackberry picking, blueberry picking, floating the river, floating in a bird sanctuary at sunset and good food I’m back to life at the hotel. I love my friends in Oregon so much. It was such a gift to have my health and energy that hasn’t been there for years so we could play.
I was ready to get back to the hotel where I live and check on Robert, the 84 year old owner, and the eighteen year old black kitty. Both of them are unique and getting old. Brenda, the kitty, has never had vaccines or check ups. Robert doesn’t go to the doctor unless it’s an emergency. He did get the Covid vaccines. Both of them are loners but sometimes like the company of others.
It was late afternoon when I climbed the stairs to my third floor room. Brenda, aka Black Kitty or Monkey, followed behind me into my room for the treat she knew was waiting for her. Once I kissed her on the nose, I headed to the second floor room just below mine. The news was blaring so I knew Robert was home. “Who’s there?” he hollered after my knock. I peeked in saying, “Frances”. He smiled, “Boy, am I glad to see you. I missed you, not only technically but emotionally.”
After our catch up conversation, I let him know I could do his laundry and I would make his favorite oatmeal in the morning. He grinned like a kid on the way to get ice cream. I’m guessing those are the “technical” reasons he missed me.
Last summer some dear friends came through town. On my visit to Oregon, Terry, shared the photos he had taken of the hotel. He captured the essence of the hotel that’s hard to describe until you see it, maybe something out of another time and place.

Dogs, Children and Healing

Summer is here and it’s filling up fast. Booked with pet sitting, baby sitting, cleaning my friend’s Airbnb for two weeks, some fun and a bit of travel. Not too many free days until September. That’s Ok, It’s great.

I’m OK with the fact that I’m not writing much. Writing has been such a friend through Covid, through grief and cancer. Writing has helped me see different perspectives, it’s helped me heal. And it’s always there. Through writing classes and groups I’ve made some invaluable friendships.

As I write, I am already thinking of what I need to do today and feel the urge to start doing them.

I did want to share an opportunity that came my way and will be helping with next Sunday. I am especially excited about it since it has three things I connect with; animals, children and healing. It’s organization to know about, maybe help where you can. The Arlee Rehabilitation Center, a sanctuary where animals heal people and people heal animals located in Pablo, MT.

ARC’s Pawsitively Healing Camp weeklong camp for Reservation children who have dealt with trauma is in need of volunteers with a dog of the right temperament to visit throughout the week. The dog I will be caring for is perfect and her owners love the idea. Don’t you love it when it all comes together with ease? A friend of mine, Kikki the dog and I will venture an hour north to Salish Kootenai College to bring some comfort to a child who needs it.

I do hope you enjoy these summer days. Thanks for reading.

I Loved My Mother

I loved my mother.

She wasn’t very good at parenting. She didn’t have the skills or backbone for discipline. She was the queen of denial and avoiding difficulty. She left the job of raising me up to our maid, Elizabeth aka Woosie, for the first six years of my life. After that I was pretty much on my own.

When Mama found the cigarettes I was smoking as a teenager she left me a note saying, “if these are yours, don’t smoke it’s a terrible habit,” no words were ever spoken as I watched her, and daddy smoke a pack or two per day. When my best friend, Elaine and I got caught sneaking out the car, our punishment was to sleep in separate bedrooms. We laughed as we met in the hallway to play our usual game of double solitaire. It was easy to go camping with my boyfriend because I knew my parents would never check to make sure I really was sleeping over at Elaine’s.

My parents divorced then remarried after a couple of years. It was just me and Mama in our two-story house. My older siblings had all flown the coup. Mama spent her evenings in her bedroom drinking her sorrows away. One evening I was off babysitting. When I got back home the house was locked. Banging on the door and the window right next to her bed didn’t wake Mama. I absolutely can’t remember how I got in that night or if I spent the night with a friend. My boyfriend often spent the night with me on the 2^nd floor that I had full reign of.

She didn’t speak to me for weeks, when I dropped out of sorority rush (because I thought it was a bunch of bullshit). I had disappointed Mama since I came from a lineage of the sought after Chi Omega and Tri Delta sororities. We had spent several days shopping for outfits just for rush. She had loved that I was a debutante in my high school years, that we had a reason to go to New Orleans to find the perfect dress for the ball, that we attended and put on mother/daughter luncheons.

It was important to my mama that our family keep up appearances, fit into the high society crowd of our Southern city. That was a value she was raised with. Women’s education, thoughts and desires were not part of her upbringing. Her job was to stand by her husband, make a home, hire the right maid, keep up with society, join the Junior League and attend church. She succeeded in all those duties.

With maturity I was able to see my mama as the flawed human being we all are. She was a product of her environment, raised in an upper-class Southern family, taught that appearances were everything.

As an adult, I enjoyed my mother. She loved nothing more than to have all her “chickens”, her four children, in the same room. She loved it when her grown chickens landed in the kitchen raiding the refrigerator mainly to get to her lemony homemade mayonnaise to dip saltines in. She enjoyed cooking for us and having everyone around the table. She loved to laugh. She loved to take us shopping. She loved helping set up our homes. I was tickled by her can do spirit when she came to my newly bought home in Oregon. As we stared at the dated carpet, we began to wonder what was underneath. She got on her hands and knees to pull back a piece. There was a treasure of beautiful oak floors underneath. The rest of the day was spent pulling up carpet even moving the decorated Christmas tree. Nothing was going to stop her.

My oldest sister threw a party for Mama’s 80^th birthday. I told mama I wouldn’t be able to fly down. She only learned of my surprise when I rang her doorbell and offered to drive her to the party. She kept me by her side for the entirety of the party, sharing how pleased and surprised she was when she answered the door.

When she wasn’t visiting or I wasn’t flying South for a visit, our regular Sunday phone calls kept us in touch. We ended our calls with “I love you” and meant it.

Since her death in 2010, many Sundays I’ve longed to pick up the phone and call her.

Appreciating the Good in Life

Doing this thing called life and enjoying it, if I don’t listen to the news too much. Physically feeling good, better than I have in years. Winter is over, sunshine and warmth are in the foreseeable forecast.
Robert, the owner of the building I live in, has made it to age 84 with no immediate health issues. He does require eye drops everyday and an anti-viral due to the shingles a year ago that went to his eye. So get your shingles vaccine. I’ve had my first and waiting until I have a day or two to lay low after the 2nd shot. There were no side effects from the 1st shot but I’ve heard from folks and the doctor the 2nd shot can make you feel yucky.
Not too much news to report from the hotel I live in. Our house kitty, Brenda, became constipated yesterday. Thank goodness one of my housemates, took her to the vet to get relief since I am pet sitting for the next few weeks. Brenda is old, we think around 17, and really in pretty good shape for her age.
A friend of mine is coming for a few months this summer and will rent a room at the hotel. That will be fun.
Living at the hotel is such a good fit for my life right now. Very low rent, downtown living, even though it’s community living there is space for autonomy and privacy. A nice mix. My 3rd floor room is spacious with southern facing windows. I get my house and yard fix when I house sit. Presently, I am pet sitting for long time friends who happen to live next door to a house I rented for years tucked into a central quiet neighbor hood. I was touched yesterday when the owner who now lives in the house came out to say hello and mentioned I was her favorite renter. Again, it was the perfect little house for me when I moved back to Missoula in 2010.
My love of animals and babies has a place to go with a calendar full of pet sitting and babysitting. With mom’s permission I share with you some joy and the reason, my lips are numb today from going along with this little guy yesterday.
Enjoy your weekend and thanks for reading.

Making raspberries

My Article on Next Avenue

I wrote a little something about “butt” cancer that was published today on Next Avenue. Yesterday, I had a three month check CT scan. The results came back this morning. Everything looks good. It was a big morning.

Learn the Facts About Anal Cancer

After reading Suleika Jaouad’s Between Two Kingdoms, I realize how easy I had it compared to other cancers. The treatment although brutal was for a short period of time with an excellent outcome.

It’s day four of the Isolation Journal’s 30 day journaling project. So far I’m sticking to it! I’m committed.

Meantime, in Missoula we are having the 3rd longest winter on record. Yep its gray and in the 30’s today and will be all week. I’m planning my tropical getaway for next winter.

Today I’m caring for a little ray of sunshine, a seven month old baby boy. Off I go – mainly wanted to share my article.

Thanks for reading.

Suleika Jaouad’s 30-day Journaling Project

I’m going shopping today for a new journal, one to use for Suleika Jaouad’s 30 day journaling project beginning on April 1st. Through cancer treatment and since I’ve written some but not much. I miss it. I miss how writing brings me into the present, brings awareness, insights and healing.

I’m finally reading Suleika’s memoir, Between Two Kingdoms, after a friend sent it to me. She shares her journey with leukemia as well as her writing practice through it all. It’s all speaking to me. I am committed to her journaling project. Mornings first thing, with coffee of course, will be the time I put aside before distractions of the day keep me from writing.

If journaling with daily prompts appeals to you may sign up at The Isolation Journals. The cost is $6.00 per month.

Meantime, I did have an article accepted with Next Avenue sharing my diagnoses with anal cancer, how anal cancer is on the rise. March is colorectal cancer awareness month so the timing was right. I’ll let you know when it’s published.

No longer avoiding a secret subject

Trigger warning – reference to sexual assault

I’ve been thinking about how I’ve never talked about being sexual assaulted. Shame kept me quiet, as if I should have known better than to put myself in both situations. It’s on my mind after watching She Said, a movie that left me feeling empowered by the women who came forward with the truth. In 2017, New Times reporters, Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey wrote a piece revealing accounts of women who had been sexually abused by Harvey Weinstein. After the article 82 more women came forward with their own allegations against Weinstein. The women had waited years to be heard and validated.

I have lived with the secret of sexual assault for 40 years. There won’t be any justice served for my perpetrators. One is no longer living.

“We have been discouraged from writing about it because it makes people uncomfortable. Because a patriarchal society wants its victims to be silent. Because shame is an effective method of silencing.” Melissa Febos, Body Work

I was twenty when my cousin fourteen years my elder, a counselor, invited me over with the pretense of offering me comfort. My long-term boyfriend and I had broken up. On his couch, he offered me condolences while rubbing my back. That’s my last conscience memory before pulling my pants back on and leaving. Many years later an ex-girlfriend of his told me she had been sexually abused by him and that he was very sick sexually. I’m sure in his case there are others.

It’s typical to not remember, to dissociate during any traumatic event. Glennon Doyle and Sarah Polley discuss this in the March 1. 2023 episode of We Can Do Hard Things. Sarah Polley wrote and directed Women Talking. It’s very well done.

Ironically, eight years later, that cousin’s sister introduced me to her out of town friend while out at a local restaurant bar. By the end of the evening, he extended an invitation to dinner. I beat myself up for saying yes, I wasn’t that comfortable with him. The next night while my parents watched my daughter, he took me to the nicest restaurant in town. Of course, when he took me home, he offered to see me in. It was quick and furious, and he was out the door.

I was in shock after both incidences, never spoke to anyone about it. I locked the trauma away sometimes drinking to numb the horror when I would remember the incidences. I lost trust in myself; I hadn’t paid attention to my intuition. Melancholy loomed like a cloud.

Hearing others speak out in reported pieces, movies, books, etc. has given me courage to do the same. It helps me understand I am not to blame. I have suffered and I have recovered.

“What I have observed is that avoiding a secret subject can be its own kind of bondage.” Melissa Febos, Body Work

Thank goodness for the Big Sky Documentary Film Fest

Well, trip to Santa Monica was cancelled. My friend has Covid. She sounds like she has a pretty bad case of it. Of course, we are both disappointed as we had this planned for a while now. Hopefully, she’ll be able to be around family for her birthday this weekend.
We will make plans for a future trip. The weather down there is not great, in the forties, raining with gust warnings. It wouldn’t have been the trip we wanted it to be anyway.

On the bright side, I was able to say yes to babysitting for today. Also, the Big Sky Documentary Film Fest is going on all week in Missoula. I signed up for volunteer shifts and look forward to the films. Several are virtual. Check them out, you may find something that appeals to you.
Especially looking forward to the documentary on Ivan Doig (not available to stream). With temperatures in the single digits for the next couple of days, films are just the ticket!

That’s the quick update. Thanks for reading and stay flexible.

Back to the Land of the Living

I continue to feel better and better, as if entering the land of the living after several years. Covid, isolation, grief and cancer have taken up much of my head space.
This morning I had my port removed in what I call a drive thru procedure. In choosing not to have anesthesia, only numbing of the area, there was no waiting an hour afterwards. I was able to drive myself, run a few errands afterwards and was home by 10:00 AM.
Next week I fly to Santa Monica, to warmth, the ocean and a dear friend to celebrate being cancer free.
All that remains is a re-check for cancer every three months.
My wish to care for babies has come to fruition, babysitting occasionally for a couple of different families. Pet sitting is busy with a couple of trips for myself planned.
What’s in store for this blog? That remains to be seen. It’s purpose has evolved, starting as a way to keep friends informed of my drive to Baja. When isolation hit, it was a way to share and stay in community virtually. Then as a way to keep folks informed of cancer treatment and recovery.
Stay tuned.

Thanks for reading.