Journal of a Sabbatical

November 21, 2000

forever young

Today's Reading: The Story of the Stone (a.k.a. Dream of the Red Chamber): Volume 3 by Cao Xueqin, Autumn from the Journal of Henry David Thoreau edited by H.G.O. Blake

I started the day whacking my hand with a door and spilling a large coffee in the doorway at Perfecto's (the surreal one in Andover as opposed to the totally suburban normal one in North Andover). Things did get better after that though.

Princess (a.k.a. Princess Catnip 'cause she loves her catnip) got to be therapy pet today. She was the only one in the shelter friendly enough and predictable enough to trust with the elders. Chloe_II (we've got to get a new Chloe numbering scheme) is friendly as long as you don't try to hold her - heavily into being seen and acting cute but not into cuddling with tactile-deprived elders. A new cat, Otto, is very friendly but has a bum leg and I don't know him well enough yet. I just met him today. So it worked out to be just Princess with me and Martha. Normally we each bring one cat (this after we tried each bringing 2 and ended up chasing them under furniture). Two people, one cat. It works.

One woman we visited was lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling. When she saw Princess, she sat up on the edge of her bed and just totally came alive. Princess rose to the occasion. She sat on her lap, licked her, purred, was just the coziest cuddliest kitty you could imagine. The woman, who apparently has Alzheimer's started to tell us a story about a cat she had when she was a child. I could see her struggling for the words but I could also tell she knew what she was trying to say. She asked lots of questions about Princess like age, unusual coloring, cleft lip, reason for being at the shelter and stuff like that, which showed she was actively engaged with Princess and us as opposed to thinking Princess was her long ago cat (which sometimes happens with Alzheimer's people). This was our biggest success of the day.

After some room visits, we went to the dining room where people were playing some kind of word game involving things associated with Thanksgiving. The mention of boiled onions swimming in butter made me salivate. They'd pretty much finished their list and were summarizing when we joined them, so Princess made the rounds of people gathered for the Thanksgiving game. Martha was handling Princess and I was standing around talking about my China trip with one of the residents I've gotten kind of friendly with over the past couple of years. A woman from the Forever Young Club of Newbury came in with a bunch of kids delivering little Thanksgiving greeting cards made by the Forever Young people (who are apparently elders who think young). One of the kids handed me a card and wished me a Happy Thanksgiving. He didn't give one to Martha or M______ of B_____ who is the activities director, so I guess he thought I was a resident. Gee, I haven't felt so old since Andrea's kindergarten teacher called me Grandma!

Once the Forever Young kids had left to go do room visits, one of the residents still in the dining room started going on and on about how she had to get home because her father was waiting for her and she didn't know what to do. Other residents were telling her to be quiet. She seemed way more demented than some of the other Alzheimer's people I've met. Princess only distracted her for about 2 seconds. Then she started asking me to help her get home. I tried distracting her by comparing my Thanksgiving card with hers. They're all different. Hers had a funny sticker of a turkey wearing a pilgrim hat. This distracted her for maybe 3 seconds. I tried a few more distractions with less success before the activities director came to take her back to her room.

Martha and Princess followed Mrs. L. to her room for some quality time while I talked to a few more people who wanted to know about my trip (this is the first time I've visited them since I got back). Then I headed off to Mrs. L's room too. With Princess to pet and a cooking show on TV, she was in heaven. She loves cooking shows almost as much as she loves cats. Another group of kids was around visiting people and one little boy came in Mrs. L's room and stood stock still in front of the TV mesmerized by the cooking show. Then he noticed the cat and began petting Princess. I made some joke about how he must be a relative of Mrs. L because he likes cats and cooking shows. I tried asking the kid his name, how old he is, where he lives. No response. His mother walked by in the hallway. He went and got her to show her the cat. The only words he spoke were to his mother: "Look, a cat!"

Back at the shelter, we discovered that Buster, who is a real lovey-dovey lap cat kind of guy had been returned because he hid from his new owner for three days and allegedly didn't eat. Buster would have been a perfect therapy pet. Maybe next time, if he doesn't find a home first.

Meanwhile, Stormy, who I would be terrified to try as a therapy pet, was rending a clean towel from the pile of stuff waiting to be folded and put away. If she makes any more holes in it, Roy will have to take it home and cut it into dish cloths. Sandy let me pet him a whole lot without even trying to rend my skin. He even purred a little, a soft, light, bubbling purr. Both Martha and I spent time with Buster, who was rolling over and purring up a storm. Maybe he didn't like that home and wants to stay at the shelter. I petted Otto some more and headed for Angelina's and a veggie sub for supper before doing the grocery shopping.

May you be forever young.