For as long as I can remember a cat was always in my life. During my childhood days I remember one particular cat, Psych (short for psycho) was by far the most colorful. He was crazy and would attack us, causing us to bleed. Once we walked a few blocks to a near by baseball field to play. Psych followed us, it was an open field which afforded us not refuge,  and that cat chased us until he caught us and bit and scratched us. My sister Norma’s friend, Jackie was playing with us that day and she got the worst of it. This was Psych’s way of playing; at first it was all fun and games then an evil spirit entered the cat. Jackie ended up at the doctor’s office and developed a deep fear of Psych. We loved Psych and continued to put up with his physical abuse. One night he was crying outside our bedroom window and we snuck him in. He silently attacked us and all we could do is cover our faces because we were forbidden to have him indoors. That night I learned to scream voicelessly. Jo, Norma and I would take turns uncovering our heads to see where he was, as we were captive prisoners to a 12 pound beast. In the morning while Psych was sleeping, we checked our wounds. I remember my arms were pretty scratched up, as were my sisters.

Toby was my son Mikos’s cat. Toby moved with us from Santa Barbara, to Whittier, to the Valley and finally to Orange where we make our home today. Mikos loved Toby. One day I accidentally ran over his cheek. At first I had no idea that this happened, Toby was in the bushes shaking his head, and when he turned, half of his face was gone! I called Mike, screaming that I ran over Toby’s face. Mike rushed home and we both scrambled to find the cat before Mikos got home from school. Mikos found his cat and we rushed him to the vet. We were told that Toby needed reconstructive surgery and that he would be on pain pills the rest of his life. The rest of his life ended that dreadful day.

Blanca was the next cat, but she got into the habit of urinating in shoes and that was most unpleasant. Once Mike was going on a trip and he packed his garment bag but Blanca did her business on the bag. I remember reading that baking soda would clean and take the stench out. What a huge mess and Mike’s black garment bag now had white powder all over it. It sill had that unpleasant cat urine whiff. I had to get rid of Blanca.

Barney Bernard Ciriza was one of my favorite cats, but Mike had major issues with him because he was worse than Blanca. Barney Bernard sprayed everywhere, and was no longer allowed indoors. Mike and I were on our way to a party when I asked him to stop at the store because I needed to pick out a birthday card. When I got back into the car, Mike was shirtless. I did not know what to think, so I did not say anything. Then he asked me, “Do you know why I’m not wearing a shirt?” I answered, “No, not really.” Then he said, “Because the cat pissed on my shirt!” Needless to say, we were late for the party. One Halloween night, some amateurs failed at an attempted  animal sacrifice. Barney Barnard came home with his chest opened about four inches. The vet stitched him up and sent him home. Barney Bernard died on the same day that Mikos graduated from college. Our friends from Colorado were in town and fed Barney Barnard tripas (Spanish for cow guts). He fell victim to a coyote, and I cannot help thinking that the smell from the tripas got my cat killed.

Shortly after Barney Bernard’s death, Mike and I went to a pet store and came home with Mookie Mariano. Mookie loved us and always showered us with gifts. He brought home birds, rats and rabbits. Mookie was the smartest of all our cats and would only come into through the upstairs bathroom window. Once, late at night, he was crying outside the window, and in a daze I let him in. He brought in a huge rat. This really freaked us out. We moved out of our room so that Mike could set up a traps. For three days the rodent would carefully eat around the traps. I posed a question to Mike, “What if the rat is pregnant?” That did it for Mike, and he went upstairs to take control of the situation. I heard slamming and banging for about an hour. Finally, Mike proudly surfaced with his prize catch. After 14 years, we had to put Mookie down because he did not brush his teeth and needed major dental work that did not guarantee a good quality of life.

Today we share our home with two cats. Both of these creatures belonged to our daughter Sonja. How they both ended by here is no mystery. Maxine, the pesky one, was Sonja’s college cat and when she moved back home for a season, Maxine stayed with us. Maxine is at least 19 years old, and much to Mike’s chagrin she enjoys great health. She is not spiritual and will most likely spend the rest of time in purgatory when she finally dies.

Prudence, the other cat, is the cool cat. Unlike Maxine, she does not require tender loving care. I first met Prudence while Sonja and Russ were on their honeymoon; their cats needed to eat and guess who volunteered to go feed them! Prudence slapped my face when we first met, I picked her up to cuddle, her and she went for round two. Prudence was rescued from the alleys of Costa Mesa, California. She was a thug; having to fend for herself left her with emotional scars of not being loved. Since our yellow lab Shardrach’s passing, Prudence has the run of the back yard and she loves to go out for a few minutes, and comes running back inside to use her litter box, so considerate of her. Sonja and Russ had two cats at the time and poor Cleo (the other cat) was getting her butt kicked by Prudence on a daily basis. So that is why Prudence moved in with us and now beats up Maxine.

Mike is not a fan of cats, and for that reason we have three cat boxes. We both share in the cleaning of the boxes. Even though it appears that cats are well groomed, they are messy, and leave fur and hair balls everywhere. They also jump on to the tables we eat off and barf on our clean bedding. Their most offensive act is leaving their business inches from the cat box.

There is no mention of Cats in the Bible, but they were created by God to give us life learning lessons; they teach us who’s the boss.

The only thing that is certain about my life is that I have peace, a peace that surpasses all understanding. I have had my health issues, some of which I brought on by my own doing, like when I broke my leg a few years ago. I was coming down the stairs with a hand full of odds and ends to help Joanna, the lady that cleans my house. I noticed a sizable patch of cat puke on the wooden floor. I was thinking that I had to clean up the vomit when I missed the last step and fell. Falling is never a graceful act and the noise startled Joanna. Immediately a sharp pain went up my leg. I hobbled over to the couch and asked her to bring me a bag of ice, but nothing was relieving the discomfort. I called Mike, who helps with when I have a  traumas, and I  cried like a baby, and explained what happened. He rushed home to help taking me to urgent care, and it was clear from the x-ray that my right leg was broken near the ankle. From there, with the most unattractive black air cast and crutches, I made an appointment with an orthopedic specialist the following morning.

The doctor told me that I could not drive for a month and to keep my foot elevated and to sleep in the ugly bulky air cast. For the first week everything that spewed out of my mouth was a gasp, followed by a grunt and ending with a complaint. Once I got upstairs for the night, I stayed in my room and when morning came I stayed downstairs. I had my son-in-law Russ bring one of the office chairs into the kitchen, and I got around by rolling from one part of the kitchen to the other. I was on crutches and that was the worst part of the injury. Crutches were invented in a workshop in hell and I could never get over the discomfort of using them. On one of my follow-up visits I was told that the crutches were too high. No wonder my armpits screamed at every use, and I developed honest-to-goodness stomach muscles from the strain.

When I finally got the clearance to drive, I had to remove my boot in order to do so, this just added to all the extra time it took to get ready for anything.  By this time I had mastered patience, because even if I was in a rush, my pace was as slow as molasses. One day I had a great epiphany  that I should order a scooter for my rehab. Amazon  to the rescue, within a week an adorable blue scooter arrived just in time for a family outing. We were all going to meet at Down Town Disney for a celebratory dinner for Russ. I had not broken in the scooter, but I was certain that it was going to be easy. I tried it around my family room and it felt odd and uncomfortable, but I brushed it off without giving it another thought. We arrived at the hotel the following day and I was going to use the scooter, but Mike thought that we should take complimentary shuttle instead, so we loaded up the scooter and headed out. Downtown Disney was where I broke in the scooter. We arrived at Fossil, the store that my daughter was managing at the time. I kept getting stuck in corners of the already cramped store, and was not getting the hang of the scooter. We leave to go to dinner and suddenly it all came together, the cool breeze from the movement of the scooter was making my hair softly flow back, and I felt like I was part of  an advertisement for a shampoo commercial. I was filled with pride and confidence as people stared and watched me maneuver the new ride. Then it happened. I was traveling a little too fast and the scooter caught a slight lift on the sidewalk. I could hear Mike and Sonja yelling for me to slow down, but it was too late. I flipped over the handlebars of the killer scooter and landed flat on my face. I could hear the foreigners screaming and saying things in other languages, and people gasping with great concern. It took a legion of angels to flip my body around, I held out one hand and said “I’m ok, I’m ok.” From that point a terror gripped my heart and the sweet scooter became a death trap. I wanted my crutches back but I left them at home. In all humility I slowly rolled into the restaurant. Dinner was most unpleasant because I knew that I had to ride that thing back to the hotel. When It was time to leave, I mounted the beast and a massive cramp seized my injured leg. The drama that ensued was my grandkids fighting to take turns on the scooter. Mike and Mikos wanted no part in this and abandoned me. Russ had to push me the rest of the way while Jenny and Sonja laughed most of the way back.

At my next follow up-visit, the doctor was a completely insensitive when asking me,”Who told you to get a scooter? I did not order that for you!” Really? now he asking that question! I wanted to remind him of the time that he made me wait four hours in his office to see him, but I was not going to rude like him. I did ask him for a handicap placard and he agreed with only a one month prescription. I loved that placard and was greatly disappointed when it expired.

It took the full three months to recover from this injury, with each day producing for more freedom. This was a hidden spiritual journey and I learned many things from this experience.  Patience really is a virtue, and it was a hard lesson for me. Healing of  broken bones takes time. I learned to appreciate Mike’s empathetic heart and how he stepped up to care for me. I had to depend on others to take me to doctor’s appointments and to run errands. I could no longer attend daily Mass, but one time my son Mikos took me to church, a very special occasion for me.

I am more mindful of my age and hold on to the rail with ascending and desending the stairs.

James 1:2-4
My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.

From the time our children Mikos and Sonja were in early grammar school, they were skiing. I have never liked this sport or any sport for that matter, so my experience with skiing was always a new adventure. Before Mike and I were married we went on a  skiing date. I wore jeans and borrowed a pair of my mother’s leather gloves to protect my hands. As I was a novice, this experience was a series of falls, wet jeans and freezing hands. This sports trauma never changed; year after year we skied, and year after year I was still a beginner.

We had this fully loaded blue van that we named Vanna. Vanna weathered many annual trips to Utah and Mammoth Lakes. Utah was our base for skiing. Deer Valley was our favorite and back in the 90’s the lift tickets cost was a whopping $35. We worked hard selling Christmas masa (raw corn flour for making tamales) from our tortilla factory, and used this money to supplement our ski trips.

We stayed in Salt Lake City and drove the half hour up the hill to ski. Skiing was like getting ready for work, Mike and Mikos loaded up all the ski gear while Sonja and I got ready.  Once we arrived, Mike handed  over my heavy skis. I would lift the K-2’s over my shoulder and they would always split apart. I was a hazard even before putting on my skis. As I kept forgetting how long skis were, people would dodge my approach when I turned.

Mike purchased the tickets, making sure that we fastened them to our jackets, and then he had to deal with me. I could never buckle my boots and this became part of Mike’s daily ski routine. The boots were so bulky and uncomfortable that when the last buckle around my ankle was secured, I wanted to scream. It took several attempts to get this right and Mike was always the one to do it. It was no wonder that he was in a solemn mood by the time he got on the lifts.

The chair lifts were another hazard, and I was always in prayer that my ride up the hill  would be safe.  One time, the chair lift operator helped me on, he accidentally stepped on my ski and it fell off. As the chair went up I looked back in horror as my right  ski was at the bottom by the chair lift. Getting off a chair lift was already a challenge and now having only one ski added to my stress. It was the longest lift ride so I had plenty of time to plan the exit strategies off the chair. I remembered that it was a snowy day but I was was sweating profusely. Setting next to a stranger filled with useless advice just added to my impending fall. “Is it my balance that makes me fall?” I asked myself. My mind was running wild with ways to get off the chair without causing a dog pile. Finally the last jerk on the lift before the exit, and I told the stranger to steer clear of me (at that point I had not decided if I was going right, left or straight). With my left foot securely in the boot attached to the ski, and poles in my left hand, I scooted to the edge of chair lift. As if a pair of winged angels gently guided me in slow motion, I made it off safely and then I fell.  A few chair lifts behind was a man carrying the lone ski, I quickly put it on and skied to the lodge for some much deserved hot chocolate.

Back in the 90’s the tickets were punched to see how many runs you accomplished. To me, it was a bragging right and I wanted nothing to do with it. Mike on the other hand saw this as an investment, and he was going to make sure that we were getting our money’s worth. A stern reprimand followed when he found out that by lunch time I had only two runs. I reluctantly agreed to ski the rest of the afternoon.

Sonja was my ski partner but she quickly advanced, so I was the lonely skier of the family. Mikos and Mike were advanced skiers and never had the patience for me. My family would ride up with me on the chair lifts and then disappear. I once took a wrong turn on a pretty steep hill and the only way down was to ski. Remember the  MC Hammer song, “That’s Why We Pray”? Remembering the song is the reason I am still alive today. Traverse, snow plow across the wide mountain, fall, get up and repeat while singing MC Hammer’s song. This was my biggest ski accomplishment on a black diamond run (most difficult) and it was done without a single family member witnessing. This story will forever go down as a rumor industriously spread by none other than myself, but God is my witness, and it took almost half of the afternoon to get back to the lodge.

In the 20 years of skiing I have so many fond memories of family bonding. Both Mikos and Sonja have continued with the family tradition of skiing and believe it or not, Mike is still a great skier. Not me, I gave it up.

“He says to the snow, Fall on the earth,” and to the rain shower, “Be mighty and downpour.” Job 37:6