A Gratitude Break

I am so very grateful that I can write. I can express what I am going through and, once it is out there, it allows me to examine my feelings more thoroughly. And I am even more grateful to you for reading what I have written and giving me feedback.

There is still a stupid social stigma associated with mental illness. I hope that by writing about what I go through you may realize that you are not alone. There are others out there who know exactly how you feel. Sometimes the difficulty is in finding those people.

I am grateful that I have access to health care when so many do not. While I don't like the fact that I have to rely on pharmaceuticals to balance my brain chemistry, I am grateful to have them. And the wonderful doctors and other members of my care team are so quick to respond when anything changes.

Much of the time I feel anxious but otherwise okay. For those times when I don't, I am thankful that help is only a phone call away.

Since I write about a myriad of subjects, I am always on the lookout for inspiration. Anything that can draw my attention is fair game. Did you know that today is National Men Make Dinner Day? No? Well, now you do. I found out myself only a couple of days ago.

But what I like to write about the most are the everyday occurrences that many people may pass by without noticing.

1. When the cool autumn breeze lightly brushes your face just right and makes you notice the changing leaves for the first time this year. 
2. When the kitty has just given herself a bath and feels extra fluffy and soft.
3. When that first sip of coffee is just exquisite. 
4. When your hands are warmed by the mug of hot chocolate someone fixed for you when you returned from a walk outdoors in the winter.
5. When you have washed the last dirty dish and you turn and there are not dirty pots and pans on the stove.

What does your writing do for you that makes you grateful for the ability?

Do you want to suggest something that you wish I would write about?

Story In Contest Part 2

I want to sincerely thank everyone who went and liked my story in the contest last week.

It did not win BUT I lost to a woman who is an established author of ebook novelettes. So I think that I did very well for going up against a real writer.

Thank you again for all your help. I really appreciated how many likes I got and I also got quite a few lovely, lovely comments.

Here is the story, for those who want to read it but didn't get to go to the website.

PINKY

It had been a long day. I had spent all morning at a job fair, having recently lost a very good job. I just wanted to kick off the heels and relax but first my cocker spaniel, Max, had to be taken out.

After a quick outing I was in the process of changing my clothes when he told me he had to go out again. Those with dogs know that look. Even though I was hot and tired I decided better safe than sorry and once again attached his leash.

Once outside he began pulling me, something he never does. He was leading me straight over to a neighbor’s truck. When we arrived at the truck he did something else I have never seen him do. He climbed under the truck.

After only a moment, before I could get down to see what he was doing, he came back to me. Following him was a tiny gray and white kitten. She was meowing her little head off. I had not heard a thing, being deaf in one ear. Evidently he had heard her from inside the house.

She was pitiful. Skin and bones. I could see that she had ringworm around one of her ears and she was covered in fleas. The neighbor whose truck it was was outside and I asked him if she belonged to him. When he replied that she was not his, that he had never seen her, I knew that I had to help the poor thing.

I had very little money but I had enough to take her to the vet. In addition to the ringworm and fleas she had intestinal worms and had evidently suffered a blow to the head. She was blind in one eye and only about four weeks old. Why was such a baby outside all alone? I was incensed.

A few weeks later I found out where she had come from. Another neighbor had thrown her out of his house because she had scratched his niece. I told him that I had no intention of returning her to him if that was the way he treated a tiny kitten and he said fine, he didn’t want her anyway, that he had her mom and dad.

The following weeks were tough on the little cat I named Pinky. My older cat, Jasper, was none too fond of her but seemed to know that the little one was sick. It took quite a while to cure the ringworm and get rid of the intestinal worms. The poor thing would growl while eating. I got her over that by hand feeding her.

What Pinky did for me, though, was wondrous. I was extremely depressed and she perked me up, gave me new purpose. She gave me new hope. I started writing short stories and poetry again. When I took her to the vet I learned they were hiring and got a wonderful job in the kennel. How I loved feeding and playing with the dogs and cats!  

All this was seven years ago and Pinky is healthy and happy. She never grew very big, weighing in at only five pounds. The vet said this is most likely due to malnutrition of her mother. She bosses around the cocker spaniel who found her for me.

And a sweet afterthought is – the day he found her was my birthday.