Who Took My Bible?

My favorite bible is missing. I first noticed this yesterday morning when I sat down to do my devotions. "Hmm," I thought. "I wonder what she did with it." The "she" would be my granddaughter. Not the eleven year old, who can actually read the bible, but the three year old. In the past week or two, I have found her sitting on the sofa turning the pages of the bible pretending she was reading it. A few emotions passed over me when I first saw her doing this. First, I was amazed that she would be looking at a book that has no pictures or anything else that would normally interest a toddler. Secondly, I was amused that she was ever so seriously and meticulously turning the pages, occasionally speaking quietly (too quiet to understand what she was saying). I was also very proud that she would pass up all the lovely, colorful children's books on the coffee table and pick up God's Word instead. Pride can get you into trouble though. "She's mimicking me! How special!" I thought. NOT!!! I quickly realized that what was so special was that God draws me to His Word. I long for it and I miss it when I allow other things to come first in my day. A good reason to memorize Scripture, I'm thinking. Anyway, I pray that she will continue to enjoy the bible and will come to love it as much as I do. I picked up my second favorite bible and started working from it. I decided not to go on a hunt for the other one just yet. I have been way too distracted this week already.

Psalm 119:105 Your Word is a lamp to my feet and light for my path.

Poor Kitty!

This is the continuing saga of Milo the cat. For the original post see Friday, April 11 (also a little bit at the end of the April 20 post).

My youngest daughter’s cat was neutered yesterday. But let me back up to a couple of weekends ago when she (my daughter) purchased an identity tag for him at Wal-Mart. They were out of regular tags so she bought a bone. The cat’s name and address are on a bone! The mistaken gender early in his life was one thing, but a dog bone on the poor cat’s collar is too much! She and I had a little chuckle about it though and assured each other that it didn’t really matter.

I am very proud of my daughter for rescuing a homeless pet and that she is also doing the responsible pet owner thing and getting him “fixed.” There are way too many kittens and cats (not to mention dogs) at the SPCA (and other places) needing to be adopted. Prior to the neutering, she was also responsible about making sure Milo was vaccinated. Since she works and gets about town via Metro, I volunteered to help her out by taking the feline for its shots and checkup. The two youngest grandchildren and I crated him up (he hates his pet taxi) and headed for SNAP. Let me assure you, his meow button works just fine and for a good long while! As we waited in the lobby, Milo became a little distressed around the other animals so my eight year old grandson suggested we cover the box with his pink blanket (Milo’s, not the grandson’s). It worked very well! He settled down quite a bit. That is until we were in the examining room. Oh, that poor lady who was assisting the vet! I have seen pictures of cats in peculiar positions before but I am now convinced that they don’t have skeletons. If they do have bones in their little bodies, they must have a bazillion joints! I stated in my earlier post that Milo tends to be a little mean at times. Well, at that time, he was ferocious! They tried to clip his claws but only got two done and gave up. And if there is such thing as a cat muzzle, it could have been put to good use. They finally just hurried to get what they needed to do over with and somehow got him back into the crate. I watched in wonder as he happily munched on the treats they gave him. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde! The vet, the assistant, and the receptionist all commented on what a beautiful cat he was. Amazing attitudes, in light of his behavior! But then, who can blame him.

Yesterday’s minor surgery was pretty much uneventful except he bit the attendant who checked him in at the SPCA. I think he was a little calmer because my daughter went with us to drop him off and to pick him up. The young lady who brought him out to us afterwards said he was such a sweet cat with a great personality. Daughter and I looked at each other as if to say, “Did they bring us the right cat?” He wasn’t interested in the little ball with a bell in it that I brought along to cheer him up and let him know I cared. He was happier with the fingers I placed inside the wired gate. He rubbed up against them with his face as if they were giving him some comfort but being a dog person, I’m not really sure. Back at their apartment and out of the cage, he scampered into the kitchen looking for food. As he disappeared around the corner, my innocent three year old granddaughter asked if Milo was a girl now. Where did that come from???

More Poetry and Report on Knee Woes

This if for my grandson and his friend:


Hating Skating – Part 2
Written by my grandma (again)

Though skating’s not my game
I’ll join in just the same
But only when I’m good and ready.

I will not go by force
But money works, of course
As does coaxing by my friend, Eddie.

Riding my bike is fun
And swimming in the sun
I can think of other things to do.

Than skating at the rink
It’s boring, so I think
But if friends are going, I will too!


He asked me if I was going to write a part three. Answer: Nope

Report on my knee injury: The orthopedic doctor took x-rays and thinks I have arthritis in my knees, although I could have some torn cartilage. He aspirated the fluid off my knee and gave me a shot of cortisone in it. Ouch! A friend asked me how big the needle was. Answer: I didn’t look! (I don’t think she knows my history of fainting when it comes to needles puncturing the skin). I also have some anti-inflammatory drugs to take and will be going to physical therapy for a few times to learn how to do some strengthening exercises. If it is has not improved in six weeks, he will order an MRI. It feels much better today but it still hurts when it catches. No more time for now but I should have a cat story tomorrow. How’s that for anticipation?