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Here, at THE CAT'S MEOW, tomorrow is the day of the "last frost". The garden was tilled, yesterday, and all but the herbs (which go in planters in the backyard), and a few flowers have been planted. Schools will soon start Summer Vacation; our first warm-weather holiday, Memorial Day, will signal the unofficial beginning of the Mosquito, Swimsuit, and Picnic Season. And, so, in honor of the start of Summer, we offer you this week's issue of THE CAT'S MEOW....

Be sure to check our website, this week! We're continuing to update and improve our features to serve you better; we've added FREE kitty postcards for all occasions, complete with music, and customizable background and text colors. And, barring unexpected problems in creating a .pdf version (something new for us), the long-awaited tutorial, "HTML For The eZine Publisher" -- designed for those of you who'd love to publish your own ezine or newsletter, but are intimidated by the 'difficulty' of learning NTML, will be available on our Desktop Publishing page sometime next week!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE TO NEW SUBSCRIBERS
Due to problems with the mailing program that's used to send out new subscriber thank you notes, THE CAT'S MEOW has been unable to send links for the free book! You may download Paradigm Shift at the author's site. We regret the inconvenience.

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Carl's Garden


Carl was a quiet man. He didn't talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well. Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us.
 
He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity. When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister's residence, he responded in his characteristically unassuming manner.Without fanfare, he just signed up.
 
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?" The tallest and toughest looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure," with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl's arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down
 
Hiswet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the
hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?""I've got to finish my watering. It's been very dry lately", came the calm reply.Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
 
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This time they didn't rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water. When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, making catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done. Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
 
The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him. He braced himself for the expected attack. "Don't worry old man, I'm not gonna hurt you this time." The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl. As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What's this?" Carl asked. "It's your stuff," the man explained. "It's your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
 
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you", he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it. But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn't hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I couldn't sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag's my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.
 
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
 
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter. Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the
 
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to Care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister's office door. Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you'll have me," the young man said.
 
The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl's kindness had turned this man's life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him."
 
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
 
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn't care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she's bringing him home on Saturday.
 
"Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That's wonderful! What's the baby's  name?"
 
"Carl," he replied.
 
That's the whole gospel message simply stated.
 
 
     ~Unknown


Reprinted from More From Rondout



Make Your Own Garden of Friendship
 
"Plant three rows of peas:
 
Peas of mind
Peas of heart
Peas of soul
 
 
Plant four rows of squash:
 
Squash gossip
Squash indifference
Squash grumbling
Squash selfishness
 
 
Plant four rows of lettuce:
 
Lettuce be faithful
Lettuce be kind
Lettuce be happy
Lettuce really love one another
 
 
No garden should be without turnips:
 
Turnip for service when needed
Turnip to help one another
Turnip the music and dance
 
 
Water freely with patience and
Cultivate with love.
 
There is much fruit in your garden
Because you reap what you sow
 
 
To conclude our garden
We must have thyme:
 
Thyme for fun
Thyme for rest
Thyme for ourselves
 
 
Pretty nice garden, don't you think?
  
~Author Unknown~
 
 


Reprinted from Dobhran's Greetings


* Butterfly Boy
 
Small and gentle are your fingers,
Butterfly wings touching my cheek,
Your cosmic beauty silences me.
Here I find the words to express,
To show enough of the love I possess,
Little boy of the heavens,
Your starlight smile dripping laughter,
You call my name and I will always run,
Straight into the sound of you.
Shining with rays of moonlight so tender,
For you sweet child anything I would do.
Kissing your face is my soul's delight,
In the circle of my arms I hold you tight.
Here you are safe and pure,
And our love for you will forever endure.
 
Sarah Elise Carraway
 
Copyright ©2002 Sarah Elise Carraway

Reprinted from Prose - n - Poems





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SIMPLE THANK YOU by Michael Segal, MSW My mother-in-law is kind, loving, and generous -- boy, is she generous. Every year, Ami (her nickname, given to her by her grandchildren), takes the entire family on a week long vacation. Through the years, she has taken us to Jamaica, Turks and Cacos Islands, cruises, Disney World, dude ranches in Wyoming and Colorado, and Club Med in Florida. I remember all of Ami's vacations with fond memories. However, I remember Club Med perhaps even more. Being pulled by a rope at 20 miles per hour sounds painful, unless you are being pulled in a rubber tube by a motor boat. And that's exactly what I did everyday at Club Med Sandpiper in Port St. Lucie, Florida. Besides the tubing, and the time I spent with my family, there were many other activities that occupied my time. I also tried sailing, volleyball, being in a show, and even water skiing. What made those events so special for me was the fact that I am disabled. But the staff said, "If you want to try, we will do our best to accommodate you." And accommodate me they did. I had such a good time that week. I was so happy when they included me in the staff's water ski show. I was so proud when I got up on water skis. It was so much fun when the trapeze artist in the circus attempted to have me hang onto him while he attempted to swing from rope to rope. That week was truly a blast. As soon as we returned home, I wrote a thank you note to the CEO of Club Med at their corporate office in New York City. In the letter, I mentioned all the members of the staff in Florida who had been so kind to me. I sent a letter, assuming that I would receive a glowing return letter of thanks and appreciation. A few weeks later I did receive a letter from Club Med's corporate office. I ripped open the envelope ASSUMING that the note would read: Dear Mr. Segal: We're so happy that you enjoyed yourself at Club Med. We pride ourselves in hiring only great staff and we are so happy that John, Mary, Bob, were so helpful. Instead, upon opening the letter I read a standard form letter that said: Dear Sir, We thank you for taking the time to write. We understand your concerns and are currently looking into them. Sincerely, Club Med I read the letter again. I could not believe it. My letter was thanking the organization for what the staff had done for me. However, the organization's letter was quite confusing. I wanted to know what "concerns" it was referring to that required "looking into." I quickly drove in my car to the travel agent who had booked our fun vacation. I "demanded" from him an explanation after shoving the letter before his eyes. After scanning the letter he chuckled and exclaimed, "Mike, you don't understand? Club Med and other vacation companies receive so many letters, and about 99 percent of the time the letters are negative. Club Med receives countless letters. Being in the service industry they want to respond quickly. Therefore, one person's job is to open the mail and send a form letter reply, often, unfortunately, without reading the letter. Another individual's job is to read the letter and reply appropriately to the guest." The travel agent concluded by stating that he would be shocked if I did not receive a "more suitable" letter from Club Med in six to eight weeks. Sure enough, in six weeks I received that letter. The new letter made me feel good as I realized that "my friends" at Club Med might get some well deserved recognition. Now, I am constantly writing letters in response to some kind of service. Whether the service is good or bad, I believe the company wants to know, and should know, how the guests had been treated. If someone does not let the company know, it will simply assume that everything is perfect. So, I write letters -- usually "thank you" letters -- but occasionally I write letters of complaint (or to put it more positively, letters of "constructive criticism"). I have been so busy writing letters to companies that I have forgotten one major thing: "Thank You for Everything, Ami!" -- Michael Segal, MSW ___________________________________________ Michael is a social worker at Memorial Hermann Hospital, an author, and well sought after inspirational/motivational speaker. His "miraculous comeback" story has been featured on national television and magazines. Mike's story, "My Miraculous Family," was published in "Chicken Soup for the Christian Family Soul." Since then, he's had many of his stories in various anthologies, newsletters, and booklets. Mike lives in Houston with his wife, Sharon, and their daughter, Shawn. He is available for public speaking engagements and can be reached at: http://www.allworld.net/segal
Minute-by-Minute Guide to the May 15-16 Total Lunar Eclipse posted: 07:00 am ET 09 May 2003 No enthusiastic skywatcher ever misses a total eclipse of the Moon. Yet during the time that the Moon is entering into and later emerging from out of the Earth's shadow, secondary phenomena may be overlooked by any observer who isn't prepared. To guide you through the lunar eclipse of May 15-16, SPACE.com’s backyard astronomy columnist Joe Rao -- a veteran of 11 total lunar eclipses -- has prepared this chronology, including some of the things you might expect to see if you know when to look. Probably not all of the things mentioned will occur, because no two eclipses are exactly the same. But preparation improves your chances of spotting what does take place. Click on any stage in the timetable at the address below for a description of what will or might happen. All times in black are for the evening of May 15; red times correspond to the morning of May 16. Dashes indicate the Moon has not yet risen above the horizon. http://www.space.com/spacewatch/lunar_eclipse_feature_030509
Total Lunar Eclipse Set Thursday LOS ANGELES -- If the weather cooperates, a total lunar eclipse will be seen across North America late Thursday -- the first visible in the United States in three years -- and just before dawn Friday in western Europe and western and southern Africa. A lunar eclipse occurs when the Earth casts its shadow on the full moon, blocking the sunlight that otherwise reflects off the moon's surface. Unlike solar eclipses, lunar eclipses are safe to view with the naked eye. In North America, the moon will remain totally eclipsed for 53 minutes, and should turn substantially darker and reddish in color. The total eclipse will start at 8:13 PDT in Los Angeles, 11:13 p.m. EDT in New York. A second lunar eclipse, on Nov. 8, will be visible from North and South America. Eclipses once helped prove the Earth is round, because its shadow on the moon is curved. Naval Observatory: http://aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/LunarEclipse.html Griffith Observatory: http://www.griffithobs.org/lunareclipse.html


WHEN GOD CREATED MOTHERS


Erma Bombeck


When the good Lord was creating mothers, he was into his sixth day of overtime, when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this one? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic; have 180 moveable parts, all replaceable;run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that disappears when she stands up, a kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair,  and six pair of hands.
"The angel shook her head slowly and said,"Six pairs of hands...no way."
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord."It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. "One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, "What are you kids doing in there?" when she already knows. Another here, in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't, but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say, "I understand and I love you," without so much as uttering a word."
"Lord,"said the angel, touching his sleeve gently, "Rest for now. Tomorrow..."
"I can't," said the Lord. "I'm so close to creating something close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick, can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower.
"The angel circled the model of the mother very slowly."She's too soft," she sighed.
"But tough!" said the Lord excitedly. "You cannot imagine what the mother can do or endure."
"Can she think?"
"Not only think, but she can reason and compromise,"said the Creator. Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.
"There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you, you were trying to put too much into this model."
"It's not a leak," said the Lord. "It's a tear."
"What's it for?"
"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness and pride."
"You're a genius," said the angel. The Lord looked somber, "I didn't put it there."

Reprinted from Jan's Tasmanian pages
BUTTERSCOTCH



When I was in college, my mother had a grand total of seven cats in her home.

There was enough love to go around for all of them. Mom lived alone so they were more than just pets to her -- they were her babies as she lovingly referred to them. They all had their own unique personalities and she adored each and every one of them for it.

In my dorm I was unable to have pets so I looked forward to my visits home, when I could see all of Mom's babies. It lifted my heart to see the bright looks on each of the little ones' faces and hear their purrs of satisfaction.

It was on my Christmas break home during my last year of school that I went into the kitchen one day and stopped to gaze out the window. Something rather unusual looking on the porch caught my eye. My curiosity piqued, I bundled up against the cold and stepped outside to take a closer look.

At first glance it appeared to be a pile of blanket. What on earth? I wondered.

Edging closer I saw that it was some sort of shelter, no, a plastic house with a blue tarp constructed over it and there was indeed a pile of old blankets rigged over the top somehow. I had to admit it was an elaborate set.

I bent down to look inside. Almost on cue I heard a gentle meow issued from inside and then out came a beautiful orange colored cat. It looked to be one of last spring's babies. He (as I quickly noted the sex of the cat) was shorthaired and had the most gorgeous green eyes. He looked up at me with an inquisitive look and then promptly began to purr at a steady rhythm and rub against my legs. I picked him up and noted how soft his fur was.

"What an adorable baby you are!" I told him as I smiled and cuddled him close. "Who would get rid of a sweetie like you?"

"I wonder that myself. He is a lovely cat. I named him Butterscotch because of his color. I think it suits him. I see you two are making friends."

I turned around to see my mother standing there.

"Mom, you've got another baby!" I exclaimed.

"I have," she responded. "They always seem to know where to go when they are in search of a home. I help the ones I can."

"And you do an excellent job at it," I told her. "This house," I motioned to it, "is amazing. What brilliant idea will you think of next?"

Pleased at the compliment Mom said, "Butterscotch showed up one day in November, terribly skinny but as affectionate as ever. I called around and put signs up but nobody came to claim him. I had a full house and couldn't bring him inside but I couldn't let him suffer either and he was far too young to fend for himself. So I looked around until I found this little house. I tirelessly fixed it up until it lived up to my standards. I bought these special bags made of beanbags called Magic Bags and heat them for him continuously to keep him warm. It gets really cozy in there believe me!"

I shook my head in amazement. All that effort for one small cat!

"Mom I wanna be just like you when I grow up!" I teased her playfully.

"Oh go on!" she laughed back. "You're going to love this one -- these bags came from the drug store, they are actually meant to be used for sore muscles!"

We shared a laugh at that one.

Thanks to Mom's love and attention Butterscotch made it through the winter with no problem at all. I graduated the following spring and now Butterscotch, who is a little over a year old, lives with me and his new friend and constant companion, Adam -- a two month old grey and white kitten.

Mom's outdoor cat house is still in place in the event that another stray cat who is lost his or her way comes calling.

Who says no story has a happy ending?!

Anika Logan



____________________________________________



Anika is from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, and is a writer of short stories, poetry and personal essays. Her work has been published widely over the Internet. You can reach her by clicking here: mailto:ani_logan@yahoo.com You can visit her website at: http://www.authorsden.com/anikalogan



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