Tuesday, March 16, 2010
4:11 PM | 
Posted by
Neiswonger_Jeni
This story has been passed down to me by my father and anyone who knows him has heard it at least once. I decided to put in down on paper. Orginally by Ron Vevoda Sr.
Harry was a simple man who lived with his mother and his black cat named Pretty. He loved his cat more than anything. His mom did not talk much because of a stroke but his cat provided all the companionship he needed. He was planning a business trip and was concern about leaving Pretty overnight. He had never left her overnight before. He loved that cat. Harry called his brother who lived in town and asked if he could stay a few nights with Pretty. His brother agreed and reassured Harry that he would take good care of his furry friend. With much anguish, he left his precious feline in the hands of his brother.
As soon as Harry arrived at his hotel he called to check on Pretty.
His brother answered the phone and abruptly said, “Pretty is dead.”
Harry was shocked! He was silent for a few seconds then yelled, “What happened?”
His brother plainly said, “She got out and got hit by a car.”
Harry was mortified to think of his kitty gone but he was equally upset with the way his brother had broken the news. Harry explained that his brother chose a cruel way to tell him. Harry said, “You could have been kind and gentle. The first time I called you could have said, 'I am sorry. Pretty got out and she is stuck on the roof.' Then next time we talked you could have said you couldn’t get her down and she is sick. Then just before I was headed home you could have told me she died peacefully in her sleep.”
Harry’s brother agreed and said he was a bit insensitive. An awkward moment passed and Harry asked, “How’s mom?”
His brother replied, “She’s on the roof."
Harry was a simple man who lived with his mother and his black cat named Pretty. He loved his cat more than anything. His mom did not talk much because of a stroke but his cat provided all the companionship he needed. He was planning a business trip and was concern about leaving Pretty overnight. He had never left her overnight before. He loved that cat. Harry called his brother who lived in town and asked if he could stay a few nights with Pretty. His brother agreed and reassured Harry that he would take good care of his furry friend. With much anguish, he left his precious feline in the hands of his brother.
As soon as Harry arrived at his hotel he called to check on Pretty.His brother answered the phone and abruptly said, “Pretty is dead.”
Harry was shocked! He was silent for a few seconds then yelled, “What happened?”
His brother plainly said, “She got out and got hit by a car.”
Harry was mortified to think of his kitty gone but he was equally upset with the way his brother had broken the news. Harry explained that his brother chose a cruel way to tell him. Harry said, “You could have been kind and gentle. The first time I called you could have said, 'I am sorry. Pretty got out and she is stuck on the roof.' Then next time we talked you could have said you couldn’t get her down and she is sick. Then just before I was headed home you could have told me she died peacefully in her sleep.”
Harry’s brother agreed and said he was a bit insensitive. An awkward moment passed and Harry asked, “How’s mom?”
His brother replied, “She’s on the roof."
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Fight to Change and Glory in Your Transformation
I have crawled my way into this cocoon bound on every side. I was born into this world and this family. I had no choice. I am closed off and sealed shut. I could die here like others have or just sleep. I want to pretend that I am happy wrapped away from all harm in the arms of this suffocating thread. Somewhere deep inside I hear a voice say, “Fight!” I could ignore it’s beckoning but the calls ignite a spark of life deep inside my cold body. It is primal. If I listen I have a chance. I can be all I have been designed to be and no longer held back by these walls. My arms and legs are bound up tight extenuating my inability to resist my captive hold. I wiggle. I scoot. The movement creates the friction necessary to warm this cold place and causes me to feel what my liberation may bring. I feel alive again. I scrape and fight. As I dedicate myself to my freedom I have moments when my body and mind grow weary. I stop to rest but keep my ears attentive to the call to continue my battle. It beckons me again, “Fight!” I wiggle and feel an extremity reach out into the liberty beyond this tomb. The hairs on my arm seem to rise to meet the vast expanse which now surrounds my limb. For the first time a portion of the new me is revealed. It is invigorating. It is motivating. Endless moments within the hands of time slip by as I attempt to fully escape this hold. I Fight. I rest and I fight again. I never give up until I find myself totally free. I watch the lump of tangled relationships fall to the ground as I spread my wings far beyond and touch the outer limits of myself. These new found vehicles of independence did not existed before I rested in my captivity. They grew as I became aware of my own ability. A breeze gently blows under my velvet wings lifting my six legs off of the oak branch on which they rested. I feel myself soaring in the sun and look to see other’s like me beginning their journey into the air of independence.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Being Faithful
“Where were you last night,” he asked with his cold dark stare while his body was collapsed on 
the king size bed. I ignored his questioning at first by smiling and rustling my fingers in his hair just like I always do when he gives me the cold shoulder. This always seems to soften him up but not tonight. He did not budge. He just watched me with his eyes, accusing and punishing me for treating him as if he was insignificant. I began to undress out of my work clothes like I usually do. I removed my blouse, began to slip out of my skirt and stopped. Slowly turning back to him I said, “Do you want to say something?” He just stared. I let out a puff which could have been interpreted as a smirk, pulled my skirt back up and walked into the bathroom to change without the heat of his gaze.
I splashed some water on my face and stopped to look at myself in the mirror. “What is wrong with you?” I ask myself while outlining the wrinkles which showed the lack of sleep my body was wearing. I completed my nightly routine then walked past him into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of milk to help me relax then I noticed the present I had bought for him two days before still sitting on the counter. I walked back into the room leaned against the door frame and let out a sigh. I held the modest peace offering behind my back. He did not flinch. I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned down close to his face and softly asked, “Will this help?” I held up a twisted braid of cow-hide leather. He jumps to his feet, tips his lips up a little in the corner, takes the treat and hits me with his wagging tail as he heads to his corner of the bed for the night.
the king size bed. I ignored his questioning at first by smiling and rustling my fingers in his hair just like I always do when he gives me the cold shoulder. This always seems to soften him up but not tonight. He did not budge. He just watched me with his eyes, accusing and punishing me for treating him as if he was insignificant. I began to undress out of my work clothes like I usually do. I removed my blouse, began to slip out of my skirt and stopped. Slowly turning back to him I said, “Do you want to say something?” He just stared. I let out a puff which could have been interpreted as a smirk, pulled my skirt back up and walked into the bathroom to change without the heat of his gaze.I splashed some water on my face and stopped to look at myself in the mirror. “What is wrong with you?” I ask myself while outlining the wrinkles which showed the lack of sleep my body was wearing. I completed my nightly routine then walked past him into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of milk to help me relax then I noticed the present I had bought for him two days before still sitting on the counter. I walked back into the room leaned against the door frame and let out a sigh. I held the modest peace offering behind my back. He did not flinch. I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned down close to his face and softly asked, “Will this help?” I held up a twisted braid of cow-hide leather. He jumps to his feet, tips his lips up a little in the corner, takes the treat and hits me with his wagging tail as he heads to his corner of the bed for the night.
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