I Hated It

I really hated it!  Not the writing, it was fine, but the story was horrible.  It made me hurt and I normally do not read books that hurt my heart. 

"My Sister's Keeper" written by Jodi Picoult is the book.  It is the first I have read of Picoult's works and if this is indicative of her story lines, it will be the last.  The book was left for me by my daughter who with a look of consternation on her face said you really need to read this, but I need to tell you it will touch you.  I should have known.  She knows me so well.  I waited a few days to pick it up. 

First let me say this, I don't like to read books about children being killed or being really sick.  I love kids and I am soft hearted where they are concerned.  I have put many a book aside and never picked it back up when the first chapter contained the death or fatal sickness of a child.  Okay, I may be a wimp, but that is me.

Back to the book.  Picoult covers all the emotions of the members of a family in which a child has an aggressive form of leukemia and she doesn't stop there.  Picoult delves into the emotions of others who become involved with this family and so she tells her tale.  Revealing the strengths and weaknesses of all involved, she weaves her tale in such a way you can't put the book down, but you don't want to go forward.  So complex with issues that have no decent resolution, the story keeps you riveted. 

Not for the soft hearted, but a good read that makes you delve into moral and ethical issues most of us never have to experience. 

Until next time . . .

Happy Reading!
Belle

Ode to Oscar

Snug in the covers of sleep and dreams, I felt the warm wet spread slowly across my naked stomach. The dream being too real life, I grabbed the top of the sheet as I tried to roll over. Meeting resistant and acknowledging the weight on my chest and stomach, I slowly opened my eyes. The golden eyes staring back at me were inquisitive and demanding. Startled, I screamed, flinging the bed covers across the room. What was that? Where did it come from? Why was my stomach wet? That odor was horrible and was that poop on my bed? Where did that animal go? The demon cat had arrived and we did not start out on a good note.

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to clear my head of sleep and get my body in motion for the day. Was that really a cat on my chest this early? Looking around at the scattered bed clothes, the stench of cat urine hit my nose along with the strong poop smell. Gathering the bed clothes, I headed to the laundry, dumping my load into the bleach filled hot water. How in the world did a cat get in the house and where did it come from? We did not have a cat. I headed for a hot shower to remove the waste from my skin, cautiously watching for the varmint that deposited its load of waste on me and the bed.

I heard a strange screech from under the bed. Yes, it was a cat. As I scrubbed from top to bottom, I remembered that Hubby and Friend were turkey hunting this morning. That meant hubby had left early and should be home around lunch. Did Friend bring a cat along this morning? Friend had several cats, but he would never part with them. Where did this cat come from?

Getting dressed and restarting the washer - I was going to make sure these sheets were clean, I started breakfast. Yep, there it was - an empty can of cat food sitting on the counter and an empty dish on the floor. So, friend had come bringing gifts this morning. I returned to the bathroom to check for a litter box. Nope food for the stomach, but no depository for the waste. I finished my breakfast and headed to the barn for a litter box.

I was still contemplating the cat under the bed, not quite ready to get down there and welcome the devil feline that had used me for its litter box this morning. I remembered seeing black and white and those beautiful gold eyes. I am a cat lover. There isn't much more I can say - I love cats. They are warm, cuddly and soothing to the mind and body. You cannot make a cat a pet, but a cat can make you his master.

I heard the car as it started up the drive and started out to meet Hubby and Friend. Friend put Hubby out way down the driveway - I wasn't aware that I was yelling like a banshee, but something must have tipped them off. Friend was gone in a minute and Hubby was walking slowly to the house with head down and shuffling feet. "I guess you found the cat?" Well, you could say that. "No, the cat found me!" That crazy grin never left his face. He had found me a present and was so proud. He just didn't think past his nose.

Hubby had told me of the cat that was found in the bath house of the park where he worked. The lights, motion activated, would come on and off at night and he went in search of the villain. It took several nights, but Hubby found the cat in the bath house and Friend took him home. Friend's other cats never accepted the new feline, so he made him a gift to Hubby.

That was just the beginning of me and the demon cat. Named Oscar, called Big O (for big old cat), this cat grew to be huge. Armed with deadly claws and long fangs, he has ruled home and hearth for many years. He lived inside for many years. When he started slapping my ankles from under the bed, bringing blood and leaving ugly gashes, we made him an outdoor cat. Weaving between your legs, Oscar would give you one chance to answer his request for a rub, if ignored, he would bite whatever was was close, fangs digging in deep with claws bared and ready for a fight. We were here for him and when he demanded attention, we were to respond. It has been a real trip for us and Oscar.

Oscar is probably the sneakiest cat that has claimed us. He can still enter the house undetected to be found curled in the closet, under a chest or out of sight in a corner upstairs. He can slip in and out quietly, quickly, and unseen.

Not long ago I opened the feed room door to find Oscar stalking a squirrel - well, the squirrel was in the feed box chowing down on the chicken scratch and Oscar was watching him intently. When the door opened, Oscar pounced, the squirrel jumped on me, I screamed and the squirrel disappeared up the wall of the barn. Oscar returned to his position of guarding the feed box as if nothing had happened, but looking at me as if I had really messed things up.

Oscar and Baby Red (our "put out" dog) got along tremendously. Oscar slept on Red's back for many years and when Red died this past Spring, Oscar mourned him greatly, going off food for more than a week and refusing to sleep at night. He roamed and screeched at night, sleeping during the day. I destroyed their pallet when Red died and replaced it with a smaller one, which Oscar refuses. Oscar still makes a morning trip to Red's grave to start his day.

Oscar and the chihuahuas do not get along at all. Zero and Sandy snap at Oscar's behind and Oscar slaps Zero and Sandy across the porch. With four years of snapping and slapping you would think they would at least learn to tolerate each other, but it hasn't happened. I think maybe there is too much age difference.

Strange as this old cat is, he is gentle as a lamb with the babies. He follows my angels around and finds a good spot to lay and watch them play, guarding them closely. He has been dressed in bonnets, socks, and shirts with no problem and seems to enjoy the attention of my angels.

We don't know Oscar's age. He was found in 1996 making him at least 13 years old. He doesn't run and leap with the same vigor, but can still catch a squirrel and once in a while brings me a bird. We know he won't be with us for many more years. The animals that have been discarded by others seem to make the better pet. No, we didn't start out on the best of terms, but we have been down a long road together. Oscar is not my favorite pet and I haven't forgotten our tumultuous start, but he has been a blessing to our family.