Karen's Journey

T at the cottage on Cape Cod in June. I'm wondering if it will be beachfront property come Monday. Some of the houses across the street seemingly teeter on the edge of the cliff. We thought it would be hundreds of years before they would ever fall into the bay, but with global warming, we very well might see it in our lifetime. The increase in water level is evident in the lack of beach at high tide. We are keeping our family and many friends along the eastern seaboard in our thoughts as Irene approaches. In the meantime, dang, isn't he cute? He loves that house. He wants to live in it forever. Would be nice...

We went on a Boston Duck tour the other day in what can only be described as weather made for a duck. T had been looking forward to this event, fascinated by the idea that there's a car that can transform into a boat. ( More on Boston Duck tours ). After a brief red-light running foray around the North End, we made our way around yet another Boston construction site and entered the Charles River for the amphibious portion of the tour. Once we got out of the canal and underway up the nearly boatless river -- why no sculls were out in the middle of a Nor'easter, I can't say -- the captain turned the boat over to any willing underage pilots. T eagerly ran up front and took his place at the wheel. "Where are you from?" asked the Captain. "Itiopia," responded the little guy, shyly and quietly. "Where?" asked the Captaiin, not hearing. "Itiopia," said T, a little louder. "Where?" asked the Captain yet again. "IT

Four years ago tomorrow, on Aug. 13, I lost my constant companion and head-warmer, Blackjack (June 1990 - Aug. 13, 2007). I don't think I will ever get over it. He was The King of all cats and my best friend. His favorite spot, except for summer, was next to me in bed, under the covers, with his head on the pillow. Her arrived on Halloween night, a scared thin, flea-bitten kitten running down the street, meowing pitifully. Worried for a black cat's safety on Halloween, I took him in, intending to find a home for him. Hah. He was so incorrigible that I feared that any home that took him in would put him out on the street again. He was the most maniacal kitten I'd ever had. But what a great spirit. There was something very special about him. He was everyone's favorite cat -- even his vet grabbed him off the table one time, swung him around in her arms and said, "I love this cat!" He was also Kia's constant companion. I took her in, intending to find a hom

Cape Cod Rose I love the beautiful pink roses that climb the weathered wooden fences on the Cape. Unfortunately, the blooms are usually mostly gone by at the time I'm there. I managed to find one that was still opening its delicate petals to the sunlight. The beach plum blossoms, alas, had all been scattered by the winds.

 Genny, the Therapy Cat There's been a spike in postings about therapy dogs on an attachment/developmental trauma listserv I'm on. Some people have had their already-living-in-the-home dogs unexpectedly turn out to be great therapy dogs; others have deliberately brought into their homes dogs that were in theory, supposed to be therapy dogs, with mixed results, I might add. We unexpectedly ended up with a therapy cat. She arrived in our family in October, 2005 -- a kitten I found in a parking lot on West Genesee Street, hence her name: Genny. She's our West Genny Wildcat (mascot for our local school system). I had no intention of keeping her; we already had four cats and that was enough. I was going to find her family, or, failing that, find her a new home. Period. But I had to go away on business a day or two later, so left her home with Sean for five days. On about day four, I got a plaintive, "Do we have to give her away?" I relented. For reasons I didn't