Alfie Ruminates on Life, Love, and the Joys of Clean Feet

003 adoptables 033 Alfalfa 020 Alfalfa 022Hello there – I’m Alfie. I like having this name. The nice nurses at the hospital gave it to me, and some of them were REALLY cute. But it hides something that’s sad, and a little bit embarrassing. I’m only sharing here because I think it might help people understand something important about shelter cats.

I went to the shelter with a lot of sores on my feet and my tongue. I had what’s called an autoimmune disease, which really means my body was so stressed out, it couldn’t fight off something simple. Like when you get a cold, but you just had an appendectomy, so you get wind up in bed with pneumonia.

So when I showed up at the shelter, well, there’s no nice way to put this: I smelled bad. Like rotten hay. Because the sores on my feet and in my mouth had gotten infected. And those nice nurses, they took one look at me, and they knew what to do, and they fixed me right up. Plus gave me my name: Alfalfa.

Let’s face it, what chance does a cat who smells bad have in a shelter? Zippo, nada, none. That’s why I’m very grateful to the pretty nurses who got me all set with those salves and that shot (which hurt, but given the alternative I don’t mind).

I’m not gonna need any more medicine, because now that I’m not scared and hungry all the time, my body has taken care of the problem. I just needed a chance, y’know? A chance to rest up and not worry about anything and put some weight on. And I want you to know, if you had anything to do with helping me, or any cats with a little bit of damage like me, we’re very grateful. Cats aren’t famous for saying thank you, but when there are so many of us, sometimes people think they should give up on the ones with something wrong. I’m living proof that, if you’re willing to take five minutes to help us fix the problem, we will make it worth your while with a lifetime of love.

Now that I don’t smell bad, people like to hold me, and that’s my favorite thing in the world. I remember what it was like when they backed away with their faces all wrinkled, so I make sure the people know how much I’m loving being cuddled.

Oh yeah, I’m adoptable. I have fur that everybody says is really unusual and pretty – look at it one way and it’s stripes, but from the other way it’s spots. And it’s silver, changeable like mercury. So if you want to adopt me, I’m hanging out at the bookstore with some other cats who got a second chance. We’re none of us babies –  I think Izzy is the youngest, and she’s five months old. Real brat, too, if you ask me – but we’re all great purrsonalities. So come visit the bookstore and while you’re there be sure we get in a cuddle, okay? ‘Cause I wanna say thanks.

 

Give Peace a Chance

In this week’s guest post Jack reflects on recent events –

Back in the 1990s I used to manage transnational environmental education projects in partnership with other colleges and universities around Europe producing shared learning materials. Over the eight years or so that this work continued I visited Brussels a number of times for conferences and meetings of my various partners. So the news of the bombings at Brussels airport and metro station yesterday seemed more personal than other similar atrocities in the past.

It’s tempting in the face of such events to opt for two approaches – batten down the hatches and go nowhere, or call for an even more extreme military crackdown.

In my opinion neither of them are very sensible –

Despite the media hype (which rarely headline similar atrocities on Muslim populations by the same small minority), the chances of being caught up in this kind of attack are infinitesimally low; and the military strategy inevitably involves killing a great many innocent people and simply reinforces the perception among Muslims generally that they are subject to a new ‘crusade’. The ill-advised adventures in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya and Chechnya are precisely what have led to the present position.

As a Quaker I believe very strongly in non-violent and peaceful solutions to conflict. The proof that this approach can work is to be found in Northern Ireland where my good friend, storyteller Liz Weir, worked tirelessly with others to bring the two sides together through shared culture. Eventually a dialogue was initiated which resulted in the ‘Good Friday Agreement’, something which was largely satisfactory to both sides. Many hundreds of deaths over many years failed to bring about the resolution that patient discussion and openness to dialogue did achieve.

I’ve observed that most conflicts around the world have eventually had to be resolved in the end by two sides sitting down and talking. I believe this will happen in this current situation eventually as well and I’d prefer it to be sooner rather than later.

Meanwhile, my heart goes out to the folk who were caught up in the events in Brussels yesterday as well as in Istanbul, Ankara and Yemen in the last couple of weeks.