Reading the Newspaper

Reading the Newspaper

I’m sitting here reading the newspaper. Can you hear the sound of the paper as I turn the pages? I don’t know about you but I still like holding a real newspaper instead of scrolling on the internet. My newspaper is like a good friend that comes in my rural mailbox every week and tells me what’s happening in our community.

I know we live in a time where many small newspapers are closing up shop because electronic mail and other forms of communication seem to be taking over, yet, I think our small town newspapers are wonderful.

Our local paper may not have as many pages, as much news about other countries, or national news like big city newspapers but it has something important. It has the news about what is happening right here in the area where we live.

Just think of all the information that we get in our local newspaper. There’s something to interest everyone. We read about our local school activities, ballgames, band performances, and board meetings. We see what is happening with healthcare, law enforcement, clubs, and organizations in our area. We learn about blood drives, benefits, church activities, and new businesses. Stores advertise what they sell, what is on sale, and what new products they have to offer our community.

We live in a time like no other with information flowing like a constant flash flood. There’s news and information on radio, television, internet sites, social media, along with tweets and text messaging. On top of that we have E-Mail and regular mail from the post office. We get a lot of junk mail that causes us to wear out the delete button on computers and open postal mail over the trash can.

Information seems to have gotten more like that old game of Gossip that we used to play as we sat in a circle and whispered a sentence in our neighbor’s ear. By the time the information reached the last person in the circle, it had changed to the point that it was hardly recognizable from the first time it was whispered.

Today information is flowing fast and furious but is it true? Many of the people I talk to are so frustrated by this problem that they are just not listening to news anymore.

When I have visitors from out of town, they pick up our local newspaper and say things like, “Wow! This is great.” When I ask what they like about it, it’s usually something about the hometown feel of the articles and stories. Where else can you read about what’s for lunch at the senior center, who got married, and who attended a birthday party?

We turn the page and there’s the listing of old time news with excerpts from the newspaper from ten, twenty, or even one hundred years ago.

I find it gratifying and amazing how our community comes together to raise money for worthy causes. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a fire department fundraising barbecue or a family experiencing a tragedy, everyone tries to help.

There are pictures and listings of anniversary celebrations and new babies that have arrived that bring us joy. As Carl Sandburg said, “A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”

Another special thing in our local newspaper is how they handle obituaries. There isn’t just a short paragraph like city papers that only have room for a few words. Our newspaper has full obituaries that tell life stories. We find out things that we didn’t know about people when we read their obituary in the newspaper. We see a list of relatives as well as learning about their occupation, hobbies, military service, organizations they were a part of, and church membership. All of this is important because, after all, an obituary is usually the last thing written about someone and it’s so nice to have this remembrance in the newspaper.

There is so much more to our local newspapers. We see articles and art work by local people and we also enjoy stories about our small towns back when they were teeming with stores and businesses. We also read about reflections on life, family, and friendship as well as humorous articles that make us laugh, and forget life’s problems for a while.

I know we can find news and even read newspapers, books, and magazines online as I often do. Yet, there’s just something special about the rattling sound of shaking the newspaper open and even the scent of the paper. And that’s why I’m sitting here, reading the newspaper.

By Pamela Perry Blaine

March 2021

Fun With Words

Fun With Words

Words can be fun and children often like to make up new words of their own. For instance the word supercalifragilisticexpialidocious was invented by brothers Richard and Robert Sherman. They simply thought back to their childhood and made up a word as they often did as children and eventually they came up with a word that they made into a song known as, supercalifragilisticexpialadocious which is a favorite song in the Mary Poppins movie of 1964.

Having fun with words seems to run in our family and it wasn’t unusual for us to make up funny words, arrange words differently, or change the pronunciation to make them sound amusing. My brother often offers me a “Coff of Cuppy” (Cup of Coffee). Daddy would tell Mom “Your birthday? Well, I’ll get you a “boo qwet” (bouquet) or maybe a “core sage”. Then there is my son-in-law who tells my daughter, the French teacher, “Mercy Bucket”, as she rolls her eyes. (Merci beau coup or thank you very much in French.)

My children loved to hear their Grandma Edna talk and tell stories because she used words and phrases that were unknown to them. A lot of her words were probably picked up from her own grandparents and older folks in her generation. She was also an English/Literature teacher so she probably used words and phrases from reading so much. We would laugh at her words and expressions because they were different and sometimes sounded as funny as their definitions. A few of the words used by Grandma Edna were:

Lollygag: wasting time

“He was always lollygagging around.”

Bumfuzzle: to be confused or perplexed.

“Well, I’ll be bumfuzzled!” (This is a regular occurrence for me.)

Bumbershoot: an umbrella

“Better get my bumbershoot, it looks like rain.”

Flibbertigibbet: a flighty person or one who talks incessantly

“That child is a flibbertigibbet.”

Malarkey: talk that is insincere, untrue, or foolish

“He’s full of malarkey.”

Persnickety: to be fussy about minor details

“She was very persnickety about how she dressed.”

Nincompoop: a silly or foolish person

“What a nincompoop!”

Whippersnapper: a young inexperienced and over confident person

“These young whippersnappers think they know everything.

Stringin’ Around: someone who is roaming around without purpose

“You don’t have any business stringin’ around town!”

If you are a persnickety flibbertigibbet and find yourself lollygagging or stringin’ around, take along your bumbershoot in case of rain but at least stop for a coff of cuppy. Remember to stay away from nincompoops and young whippersnappers because they are all full of malarkey and will cause you to be completely bumfuzzled.


Pamela Perry Blaine, a logomaniac

February 2021



I stopped by the drink cooler at the grocery store the other day, and I was trying to decide between orange juice and ice tea when someone began talking to me about what was happening around town. As I grabbed a bottle of tea they said, “Well, that’s the latest scuttlebutt anyway.”

Scuttlebutt? I had not heard that for a long time but I had heard the term before and knew what it meant, or so I thought, but where did that word come from anyway? What exactly is scuttlebutt? Well, according to Merriam-Webster it was originally a nautical term that was used in the 1800s aboard sailing ships.

A “butt” was a 126 gallon cask that was used to store fresh water aboard ships. It was hauled up on deck where sailors could get a drink when needed. After getting the butt up on deck, they would break the planks that sealed the top of the cask to “scuttle” the butt to get access to the water. A “scuttled butt” was what the drinking water came from but was later the cask was simply referred to as the scuttlebutt.

Sailors weren’t allowed to converse when they were on duty. There was work to be done so getting a drink from the scuttlebutt allowed a moment to exchange a few quick words with other sailors. Usually it was some useful information like, “Be careful there’s a storm a brewing” or “Watch out for the captain, he’s in a foul mood today.”

It’s easy to see how the word scuttlebutt evolved from a cask of water to talking around the water cooler in offices and businesses. Workers might not be aboard a ship surrounded by salt water but they still need a break and an occasional drink of water. While there is no cask these days, people still share the scuttlebutt.

Over the years the term scuttlebutt changed to include not just news or information but gossip and rumors so people began to know that what was said around the water cooler should be taken with a grain of salt, meaning whatever was said might not be true or it might be an exaggeration of the truth. And by the way, the phrase “to take something with a grain of salt” came from an ancient recommendation in 77 A.D. for taking a grain of salt as part of an antidote for poison. It kind of fits when thinking about words that are not completely true that can poison or hurt people. The idea in this phrase is that it would make it easier to swallow the distasteful antidote by adding a little salt to make it go down easier. The phase came to mean we should hold a degree of skepticism about whether something is true or not, so “take it with a grain of salt.”

It seems like there’s a lot of things hard to swallow these days and we might need more than a grain of salt so keep your salt shaker handy or better yet, search for the truth and stay away from the scuttlebutt.

Beware of the half truth…you may have gotten hold of the wrong half.”


By Pamela Perry Blaine

March 2021

Comforting Things for Uncertain Times

Comforting Things for Uncertain Times

I don’t know why but it seems that everything is more scary at night. If there is a pain anywhere in the body or worry on the mind, it escalates at night. Then there are the things that go bump in the night that may have also bumped in the day but the sound is more sinister and mysterious at night.

At night when sleep doesn’t come and the mind races and thinks about problems, it helps to think of comforting things. One way to think this way, especially at night, is a way that my friend, Lois, shared with me. Sometimes at night when she can’t go to sleep right away, she uses her imagination and thinks of comforting things. She closes her eyes and imagines the house where she lived as a child. Although the house no longer exists today, she could still see every detail in her mind as she would slowly walk up the pathway and enter her house. I decided to try this for myself one night. Come along and see:

As I close my eyes, I can see my childhood home in front of me. I hear tiny pieces of gravel beneath my feet crunch as I leisurely walk toward the steps to the porch. I see the piece of sidewalk near the steps that has a deep crack and sits a little crooked. As I go up the steps, to my right there’s an old wagon wheel, painted white, with a pinkish white hibiscus flower growing around and through the spokes of the wheel. As I step up on the porch, I feel the coolness of the concrete beneath my bare feet. My dog, Gerty, is lying on an old rug near the porch swing and jumps up, wagging her tail, to greet me. I stop to pet her and then I walk over and open the screen door. I step into the house and I hear the sound of the screen door as it slams behind me. I smell vanilla and I know Mama is making vanilla pudding and it makes my mouth water as I hope there will be a banana to add to that pudding. I can see the kitchen off to my right from where I’m standing, and Mama is stirring the pudding as she moves it from the stove. She’s wearing a black summer dress with swirls of pink and white flowers on it, she looks beautiful to me. I put the books I have carried home from the bookmobile on the table to my left. I will read them later. Further in front of me and to the left is the radio. KIRX radio station is playing a song and the Everly Brothers are singing, “All I Have to Do is Dream,” and I sing along with the radio. Daddy walks in from the kitchen. He smiles and adds harmony to my melody then he reaches for Mama and dances with her.

That’s all I remember before I fell asleep but my friend was right. It was very comforting to think about those things. Whether your thoughts go to your home place or to your favorite fishing hole, it’s worth thinking about good things that brought us comfort in the past, especially during trying times.

One of my most comforting childhood memories is lying in bed after prayers and hearing the comforting sounds around me. Sometimes Daddy was still up, walking around the house playing the accordion and I was lulled to sleep by songs like Sentimental Journey. Other comforting things before falling asleep were the sounds of evening. Sounds such as dishes being put away in the kitchen, doors being shut for the night, a horse neighing in the pasture, and the comforting sound of the lonesome train whistle in the distance. To feel safe and secure in the sameness of life and knowing my family was near was a blessing. I think Robert Browning captures this thought with his line, “God’s in His Heaven and all is right with the world.” Comforting words that tell us that in this uncertain world, we can know peace.

I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace.

In this world you will have trouble.

But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

Pippa’s Song

by Robert Browning

The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in His heaven,
All’s right with the world!

By Pamela Perry Blaine

January 2021



Nostalgia is defined as “a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past.” It is usually a pleasurable, bittersweet experience or a feeling of homesickness for a time in the past that held significance or good memories. I often write articles about what people would call nostalgia. I call it nostalgizing, although I don’t know if that is a word or not.

I didn’t think of my writings as nostalgic because when I first began to write, it was because I wanted to pass on family history to my children and grandchildren. I wanted them to know and remember the special relatives and friends that were here before them that they never had the opportunity to meet personally. Although most of those friends and relatives are now gone from this earth, they shaped our lives and helped make us who we are today and writing it down is a way of hoping future generations will know more about them and love them too.

Lately, I began thinking that maybe I should quit writing these stories. I wondered if they were helpful to others at all because it seemed to be looking backward instead of forward and we all need to think about the future and what we can do to make a difference for good in our world today.

When I looked up the word “nostalgia” I found that in the original language it is a compound word that means “homecoming” and “pain”. Then I happened to read an article that said that in the late 1600s, nostalgia was thought to be a neurological disease or disorder. I thought, “Oh great, what have I done?” However, as I read on, doctors later found that nostalgia was a good thing because nostalgia gives people roots and a sense of belonging. Nostalgia supplies strength to move forward and they also found that it counteracted loneliness, boredom, and anxiety.

Nostalgic stories often tell us about hard times and may sound depressing at first but a person nostalgizing may review a story from the past and be given hope. That grandfather or other relative who lived through a hard time like The Great Depression, a bankruptcy, or a terrible disaster gives us hope that situations can change. Maybe our own story of how we struggled through a catastrophe of our own will give someone else the hope of getting through a tough time. In other words, we can be an example to others by coping well through our own hard times. Studies have shown that soldiers who are away from home, people in nursing homes, or people who are home bound, benefit from remembering better times. This kind of nostalgia causes them to look forward to better times and they even begin to smile and laugh as past times are remembered.

If you think about it, there will come a time when future generations will be nostalgizing about us so perhaps a good way to help them when we are gone is to be making memories now. It’s not really something that you have to work at doing because children remember things you would not expect. I onece asked my children what they remembered from their childhood and I got answers like:

“I remember playing in the hayloft and using a rope to pass things up and down from the loft.”

“I remember coming home and you had made brownies!”

“Did you know I buried your steak knives in the woods?”

“I remember when we painted my room purple”

“I remember being Lazarus at church and Jesus raised me from the dead”

“I remember on road trips it always rained caramels in the van”

“ I remember playing fox and geese in the snow.”

These memories told me that it isn’t some big gift they remember or even a trip to a theme park that costs a lot of time and money. It’s the little day to day memories and being with family that is important to them. Oh yes, sometimes they throw a fit about having to take part in a required family outing or activity but when told that it was a family event and they were part of the family, the fit thrower who balked in the beginning ended up having the best time of all.

Do you ever do any nostalgizing? What do you remember?

I suppose I’ll keep nostalgizing and writing about it now and then. After all I don’t think I’ve told you about when Grandma Laura was 80 something and that big white rooster attacked her. Let’s just say he never bothered her again after being bonked on the head with her walking stick.

Remember the days of old; consider the generations long past.

Ask your father and he will tell you, your elders, and they will explain to you.”

Deuteronomy 32:7

By Pamela Perry Blaine

January 2021


Have You Been to Bethel?

It was a beautiful autumn day and I was taking pictures of the trees in the yard of the Bethlehem Church and cemetery in Pennsylvania. The date on the church building was 1843 and some of the grave stones in the church cemetery were very old. Many had epitaphs and I always find myself drawn to them though some were difficult to read because they were faded by time. Those words were important to someone and they wanted them to be carved in stone so their mother, father, child, or friend would be remembered. Anyone who has buried a loved one wants them to be remembered.

As I walked around I came across an epitaph that caught my attention. Beneath the name and dates on the stone it simply said, “A Friend”. I wondered what the story was behind those two words written on a man’s grave stone in the 1800s and my imagination caused me to want to make up a story for him. Perhaps he had no family but the church and community put up the stone for him because he was “A Friend” to all of them. Whether my thoughts were accurate or not, it seemed evident that someone cared enough to place the stone there to remember him.

While I was lost in these thoughts, an elderly man with a cane came slowly walking, with some difficulty, up the hill toward me from the back of the cemetery. He asked me if anyone was inside the church. I explained to him that I was visiting my daughter and her family who lived nearby and I didn’t live in the area, but we had been inside practicing music for the Sunday service. I told him the pastor was inside if he would like to speak to him. He seemed very happy that the pastor was there. My daughter walked up about that time and she walked him inside the church and introduced him to the pastor. I was curious to know if he wanted to talk to the pastor or if he just wanted to see the inside of the beautiful old church.

Later, my daughter told me that the man had said he was living in another state now but had attended Bethlehem Church in the past and he wanted to tell the pastor that he had accepted Jesus as his Savior in this very church when he was sixteen years old.

It seemed very important to him to come back to Bethlehem Church where he had met his Savior those many years ago and to go inside the church. I wondered if he looked for the pew where he once sat or the place at the alter where he had knelt to pray.

There is a similar story about another man who met God, not at Bethlehem Church but the name begins the same. He met God at a place called *Bethel. His name was Jacob and he had drifted away from God. (Genesis 35) God told Jacob to, “Go up to Bethel”. Bethel was the place where Jacob first met God. He was told to go back up to Bethel to the place he had met God so he would remember and renew his commitment. It was a new beginning for Jacob.

The elderly gentleman I met at Bethlehem Church was so intent on making that difficult uphill journey back to his Bethel that it made me think of my own Bethel.

What about you? Have you been to Bethel?

By Pamela Perry Blaine

October 2020

*Bethel means house of God

Lessons From the Kitchen

Lessons From the Kitchen

I have learned a lot in the church kitchen over the years. Things like butter always makes things taste better and when I was asked whether I should put a half or whole stick of butter in a large kettle full of mashed potatoes, I was told to go for the whole stick and never skimp on the butter.

I have learned that a huge pan of soup beans can be made in the oven at 300 degrees for three hours or so with ham or smoked turkey pieces and it is delicious and doesn’t even need salt. If you don’t have meat, just use butter. Yes, a whole stick. Never skimp on the butter.

I have learned that you can make garlic bread with leftover hot-dog buns and they are delicious. Just toast them in the oven after slathering them with garlic powder and butter. Remember, never skimp on the butter.

I have learned that you can still eat at church dinners if you can’t have butter or you are concerned about those annoying numbers on your blood work from the doctor’s office. The church kitchen people are all about trying to have something for everyone. You may find that you like our unique, tasty green salads even if you thought you didn’t like green salads. We will even leave off the butter on some garlic bread to with the salad.

I have learned that you eat with your eyes first. You can make anything look pretty on a plate if you take a little extra time.

I have learned to not give up. One of the best cooks I know told me that some of her best dishes were a failure the first few times so don’t give up, keep trying.

I have learned that you don’t come into the kitchen unless you want to work because, trust me, you will be given a job. As Proverbs 14:23 says, “Hard work always pays off; mere talk puts no bread on the table.”

I have learned to make a little more food than you think is required. Leftover food can be sent home with those who need it or delivered to those that are home bound.

I have learned that listening is just as important, if not more important, than talking. Learning happens when listening.

Yes, I’ve learned a lot in the church kitchen but some of the most important things I’ve learned is not about cooking or food but about meeting the needs of others and how to help and pray for each other.

The church kitchen is a place for working, learning, fellowship, and laughter. It is where we do our best to love God and serve others, and, of course, to never skimp on the butter!

By Pamela Perry Blaine

November 2020

Come, Sit By Me

Come, Sit By Me

My little grandson was playing on the floor with some wooden blocks and tiny plastic people. As I watched, he looked up at me and patted the rug next to him. When I didn’t move quickly, he patted the floor again and said, “Right here, Grammy, come sit by me.” Well, how could I refuse? Even if I had to call for a crane to get me back up, I was going to sit on that floor with my grandson.

“I don’t know much about legos,” I said. “It’s okay…I will help you,” he said as I sat with him. We spent quite a bit of time together as we built walls of protection for those little people so that the evil enemy on the other side could not get to them. We put lots of supplies inside our wall and blocked off entrances where the enemy might try to sneak in through a crevice in the wall.

Before long it was bedtime so we left our little fortress sit where it was because tomorrow would be another day to conquer the enemy. We both had a fine time together making a wall so the enemy could not conquer our people and I even managed to stand back up without the help of a crane.

The next morning before anyone else was up, I walked into my cozy room by the fireplace where the fortress still stood waiting for our return. Over by the window were two chairs sitting side by side with only a small table between them. On that table was a Bible that had been left open. As I stood there, my eyes looked back and forth from one side of the room to the other between the little fortress and the Bible between the two chairs.

As I studied the setting in the room, my grandson’s words seem to echo in my ears. “Come… sit by me.” I sat down in one of the two chairs and picked up the Bible. I wondered where I should begin but then I remembered, “It’s okay…I will help you.”

And a little child shall lead them.” Isaiah 11:6

By Pamela Perry Blaine

October 2020

Remembering Dana

Remembering My Friend, Dana

A Gracious Woman Attains Honor

Proverbs 11:16

Many years ago I met a lovely southern lady who became a dear friend to me. When I read Proverbs 11:16, I think of Dana because she was a gracious woman.

She had that beautiful southern accent and gentle voice. There was something calming about her voice and her presence that made me want to listen and learn from her. Dana didn’t speak if she didn’t have something to say which is in and of itself a special thing. Her words could be serious, wise, thought provoking, or funny but whenever she spoke I listened and I didn’t want her to stop talking because I wanted to hear more. I felt like a little girl sitting at the feet of a great lady because to me, Dana was exactly that and I loved her.

Dana and I went to the same church and we were in a ladies Bible study together and I know the other ladies in our group learned from Dana and loved her too.

Some of the things I learned from Dana were very simple things but they made an enormous difference to me. She wasn’t teaching as one might teach a class but she simply taught by her actions and stories. She had the gift of hospitality. She lived out the teachings in the Bible like it says in Titus 2 about the older women teaching the younger women to love their husbands and children and to be self-controlled, pure and kind. She did this sometimes by doing fun things together in our ladies’ group at church. We had tea parties together complete with the best tablecloths, napkins, and place settings. Good manners and serving others was Dana’s way of life. She talked about how to set a table properly. Who knew that tiny, narrow fork at the top of the plate was for shrimp cocktail? But Dana knew. She knew what to serve at tea time, and that one person at the table was to be “the mother of the tea” (the one serving tea to the others). Her tea had a delicious flavor and when I asked, she told me it was Earl Grey tea and it’s been my favorite ever since. (My grey cat is even named Earl Grey)

Dana was also an artist. She often said that God showed her things in pictures when she prayed. She used her artistic abilities at one of our ladies’ gatherings around St. Patrick’s Day. Dana gave us all Irish blessings that she had meticulously written for each of us using her calligraphy abilities.

Dana made me feel comfortable whether I stopped by her house or ran into her at a store. She was always glad to see me and never seemed too busy to stop and chat.

Dana worked at The Last Word book store when I first met her and it was the perfect position for Dana because she loved books and reading. She was so well read that she always had books to recommend to me and they were not just any books but she would find the best ones. It was Dana that got me to reading books by Frank Peretti, Randy Alcorn, and C.S. Lewis.

The most notable thing of all about Dana was her relationship with God. Dana knew her Bible and had a personal relationship with God. When she came to know the Lord, she didn’t settle for just being an average or lukewarm Christian. She wanted more of God in her life. Dana loved Holy Spirit and she talked a lot about what the Bible says about being “filled with the Spirit”. I learned from Dana to always look for more and not be satisfied with a little if there was more to know and there is ALWAYS more to know about God.

Dana loved her family with all her heart. She talked about them all…her husband, children, and grandchildren. I also remember her sharing about her childhood and her Mother and Daddy and how her family had a clothing boutique that was a family business in the South where they lived.

I will never forget Dana and I look forward to seeing her again. As one of her Irish blessings said:

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again.
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

Dana, thank you for being my friend. Until we meet again, I know the road you walk on now is paved with gold and the sun shines on your face as you behold the face of God who holds you forever in the palm of His hand.

Pamela Blaine, September 2020

Earl Grey

O’Malley, our yellow cat, lives outside. He has his own outdoor cat mansion, newly painted and shingled. He has plenty of food and water to add to his mouse catching diet, but I began to notice that either he was eating a lot more food or perhaps we were having a night time possum or raccoon visitor. Since the cat’s food is not left out at night, I was a little puzzled. Then one day I saw him. The culprit was a grey cat that was swiping food. The reason I hadn’t noticed him before was that he was very careful not to be seen. He would quickly dart behind a tree or under a vehicle at the slightest sound or movement. He was quite the escape artist because all I could see was a grey blur when I caught a glimpse of him. He was very mistrustful and afraid. At first I thought he would leave but he kept up his life of petty larceny as he continued filching food.

One rainy day when nobody was outside I happened to see him limping toward the shed as he was not using one front paw. I thought he might be hurt so I went outside and tried to coax him to come thinking that I could apply some healing salve to his injury and ease his pain. At first he just turned into that grey blur again as he ran away and hid even though I offered him tuna.

I named him Earl Grey and day after day I held out my hand and gently called him by name. He wanted to come but he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust me. When I offered him food, he would come closer but he would hiss and growl as he reluctantly limped toward me. Sometimes he held up his good paw as if to show me he would scratch me if I got any closer. He didn’t understand that I only wanted to help him.

Finally, one day he decided to trust me. He came up closer and let me touch him. At last I could get a look at his hurt foot. I saw that he had been hurt but it was an old injury from a long time ago and his leg had healed improperly. His leg had probably been broken in the past and he had held it up close to his heart where it had healed against his shoulder and the leg was not functional at all.

Life has certainly changed for Earl Grey who now resides in the cat mansion duplex. He no longer hides from me but he looks for me and comes when I call. When I go out to feed him, he doesn’t eat immediately but looks for my hand because he would rather feel my touch than to eat and he often sits beside me when I sit outside.

I remember a time when there was a loving Hand that reached down to me and even though I hissed and growled, He patiently waited for me to trust Him.

By Pamela Perry Blaine

August 2020