Tag: crazy cat lady

Climbin’ Psymon


Psymon (the “P” is silent, as in “psychedelic” and “psittacosis”) is just the most recent of many feline friends to have ingratiated themselves unexpectedly but permanently into my life and heart over the past four decades. I first noticed him during the dead of winter 2018, when I saw him, often accompanied by an all-black cat I’ve named, ummm, “Blackie.” (The “B” is voiced, as in “bafflegab” and “blowsabella,” which, I’m sorry to tell you, isn’t the name of one of Old Possum’s Practical Cats. I completely agree that it should be, though.) I’d see the two cats hanging out in the barn, or running in the snowy woods, and sometimes, worryingly, on the road. All my best efforts to entice them onto the porch for food failed, and I’d resigned myself to the thought that they’d either freeze to death, be run over, or be killed by predators. “Can’t save ’em all,” I’d think to myself in an attempt to bring reason to bear, while I fretted from day to day. Story of my life.

But. One cold day, almost exactly a year ago, I opened the front door and found an orange and white cat waiting for me, glaring intently at the entrance and drumming his paws rather impatiently on the brick patio. The moment he saw me, tail waving high, he marched into the house and has never left.** Proof positive, I suppose, that any cat can be saved, once he decides he wants to be. (I think that’s pretty much the way it works for members of the two-legged species, as well.)

The newly-dubbed “Psymon” spent slightly more than a week in my largest dog crate, stinking up the place with his toxic and overbearing (I’m not being catty about this) masculinity. Phew. Fortunately, a session with my veterinarian “fixed” this odiferous and argumentative problem, and he’s come up nothing but roses and agreeableness ever since. Would that all such problems could be solved so easily. She said. LOL.

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone? Or, Reasons Why I’m Still Single


shutterstock_86562538The other day, my sister-in-law commented on an article her friend posted on Facebook titled “Why Men Won’t Marry You.” Naturally, my ears perked up. Yes, I would like to know why I’m still single at my age. Please, Fox News article, tell me!

The arguments laid out are similar to those a member posted on the Ricochet Facebook page that caused quite the, um… stir. The author of the Fox News article makes a more compelling, less rude case for the decline in marriage rates, and breaks it down into two main reasons:

  1. Because, why not? With premarital sex not only having become commonplace but even expected, why buy the cow when you can get a gallon of 2% for free by the second or third date? Most of my friends think it’s not only weird, it’s folly to wait until engagement or marriage to have sex.
  2. What’s in it for men? Citing punitive, husband-hating divorce settlements so easily come by — especially in “no fault” states — men have an increasing fear of losing everything they’ve worked for. According to the article, marriage rates are way down in England and America — the lowest since 1895. The protesting party in this anti-marriage sit-in are usually the men, and I can certainly attest to that with my own dating experience.

Since moving back to Nashville from New York, in an attempt to steer clear of the charming sleazeballs I had dated in my early- to mid-20s, I vowed to only date men with a kind heart and a strong Christian faith. And I’ve done just that — over and over and over. In the past five years, I have been shocked by how many wonderful, smart, kind, morally centered men there are out there; men who would make wonderful husbands and fathers.