Aurel Dragoş Munteanu, Marile Iubiri (Fragment in limba romana ; tradus in engleza)

 

Mycenean vase that copies the famous Minoan octopus motif (Photo: Tudor B. Munteanu).

"Dauer îşi lăsă capul pe speteaza fotoliului, închise ochii şi văzu din nou vasul grecesc de la Herescu, imaginea caracatiţei întinsă pe toată rotunjimea lui, într-o mişcare fără capăt, încremenită în mişcare, ca şi cum ar fi fost vie şi totuşi fără de moarte, împotriva firii care voia ca toate să aibă un capăt. Minoianul ăsta îmi spune ceva, un lucru nelămurit, dar despre care simt că este viaţa mea, că are de-a face cu mine mai mult decît ceea ce trăiesc. Este o poveste despre viaţă şi moarte, iată, au murit şi cetatea şi oamenii ei, s-au dus, îngropaţi în pulbere, ca şi cum n-ar fi fost niciodată. Merită oare să ştim istoria lor? Ce înseamnă ea? Mai aflăm încă o dată că oamenii se bucură şi suferă, că fac copii şi-şi zidesc locuinţe, că se îmbolnăvesc şi îmbătrînesc şi mor, că iubesc şi fac războaie, că au fost buni şi răi? Ştim toate astea, poveştile seamănă prea mult între ele... Ce spune în plus un tablou sau o carte? Este ceva acolo, insesizabil şi îmbătător, ca o moarte, lunecarea animalului marin, trăieşte ceva în mişcarea braţelor sale, care nu există în realitatea lui de caracatiţă, care a fost pus numai de omul acela sărac ce s-a trudit şi a vrut ca vasul lui să fie frumos. Dar dacă a fost făcut o dată, de ce mai simt oamenii nevoia să facă lucruri noi şi tot mai frumoase? Eu aş putea să mă lipsesc de toată arta lumii, dacă Herescu mi-ar da mie vasul lui minunat. De ce alţii nu se mulţumesc şi vor să mai spună o dată povestea frumuseţii? De ce Bruegel sau ucenicul lui au vrut să înfăţişeze ceea ce Biblia spusese foarte bine? De ce mă frige pe mine la inimă cînd văd minoianul lui Herescu şi aş vrea să-l ucid pe monstrul ăla bătrîn şi pe femeia vulgară si cretină, să-i toc şi să mă îmbăt de vederea albului aceluia lăptos şi a caracatiţei ce se întinde, se întinde si se întinde?..."(Aurel Dragoş Munteanu, Marile Iubiri)

Dauer leaned his head back on the armchair, closed his eyes and saw again the Greek vase from Herescu's, the image of the squid spread all over its roundness, in a movement without end, frozen in its movement, as if it were alive and still without death, against nature that wanted all things to have an ending. This Minoan tells me something, there is something unclear about that thing, of which I feel it''s my life, that it has more to do with me than my own living experience. It''s a story about life and death, behold, they died, the city and its people, they''re gone, buried in dust, as if they never were. Is it worth knowing their history? What does it mean? We find once again that people are joyful and suffering, that they make children and build dwellings, they get sick, get old and die, they love and make war, that they were good and evil? We know all this, the stories are too similar to each other... What can a painting or a book add to all this? There''s something there, unnoticeable and intoxicating, like dying, the slipping away of this aquatic animal, something is dwelling in the movement of its arms, that does not exist in its concrete reality as a squid, something placed there by that poor man who worked so hard and wanted his vase to be beautiful. If it was made once, why do people fell the need to make new things, even more beautiful? I could do without all the art in the world, if Herescu gave me his wonderful vase. Why others are not satisfied and want to tell the story of beauty over and over again? Why Bruegel and his apprentice wanted to present what the Bible had said very well? Why does my heart burn when I see Herescu''s Minoan and I would like to kill that old monster and that vulgar and idiotic woman, to mash them up and intoxicate myself from seeing that milky white color and the squid spreading all over, and over, and over?...(translated by Tudor B. Munteanu)

– My Surgery Story by Anca Munteanu

 

August 29, 2020 – My Surgery Story by Anca Munteanu

 

This year seemed to arrive with a lot of excitement for many people. A new decade, a nice round number, the new roaring 20s full of the promise of adventure and fun.

 

For me it was a year that started with the realization and sadness that I was going to lose my grandmother. I was blessed to have two beautiful grandmothers; they both taught me about love, giving, selflessness but also about perseverance and strength. I was lucky to have my grandma Lucia for a long time, she was 48 when I was born and died this year at 98. Not too many people are this lucky! And she has always been special to me and my role model. She was beautiful (the movie star kind of beauty) but she also had a beautiful soul. She was a rebel in her own way (I know I have it from her), fierce and strong when it came to her loved ones, family and what is right, although she was feminine and tiny. She loved fashion (I took that from her too), she made the best desserts I have ever eaten (because she used the secret ingredient, love) and she loved us with such devotion. In February I had to travel to Romania to say goodbye to her as she was nearing the end of her life. It was the hardest trip I had to make but I wanted to spend some final quality time with her. I will never forget her kind demeanor and how happy she was to see me; her kind words thanking me for being there or taking care of her; her prayers kept us safe throughout our life. She passed away peacefully on April 9 and is now with God whom she loved so much.

 

Then Covid started…something I never expected to experience for so many reasons! Not just the peril the virus brought for so many but also the economic destruction and societal problems we still feel and we will have to deal with for a long time. The adjustment of being confined in our own homes, working long hours and harder than ever was not easy and it brought a fury of feelings: sadness, fear, anger and resentment. Life was forever changed! The only good thing that happened was that it brought my family closer together. My husband and I loved being around each other more; we each have our own working space that gives us some separation, while spending more time together. And we have been supporting each other so well in all this.

 

Covid started around my birthday…a birthday I dreaded! Because I was turning 50. A number I didn’t look forward to. It seemed too close to being old, to changes that come with aging, on so many levels. I don’t like talking about my age because I truly believe “age is just a number” and what you make of it, so many didn’t even know how old I am. I also know that there is a lot of prejudice about aging: “you are in your 50s now, you shouldn’t wear a short skirt anymore,” or “you should cut your hair,” or “you should behave your age.” I have always been a rebel and never believed in preconceived notions about anything, or old-fashioned mentalities. I am lucky to have good genes when it comes to not looking my age (thank you mom and grandma!) and always looked younger. I remember when I was in my 20s, I hated that because I felt that it didn’t help me in my career, because people didn’t take me seriously as I looked too young. I started really appreciating it in my 30s and 40s, especially when people thought I was my daughter’s sister on many occasions. Nobody usually guesses my age. I am saying this not with pride, it has just been a fact. So, I didn’t really want to celebrate my birthday and it was overshadowed by the pandemic anyway.

 

I never thought though that 50 would bring health challenges that I never imagined. For the past 3 years I have been extremely healthy. I lost weight and maintained it; my health has been better than ever. I took up Pilates Reformer, which I completely love and has transformed my body. I became strong and felt really good about myself. 

 

Then all of a sudden, around May or June, I started having very strong headaches. At first, I thought they were caused by stress and working too many hours. But they were very different than any headache I have ever encountered. I also had a weird noise in my ear when laying down, it felt like I was hearing my heartbeat or blood flow in my ear.  The headaches started affecting my day to day functioning, they woke me up in the middle of the night, or “paralyzed” me in the mornings. At the beginning of August, I thought it was time to call my primary care doctor (a Covid survivor). He wasn’t in the office at the time but took my call and said to go see him when he is back. On August 6 I had an eye doctor appointment – my driver’s license had expired (I forgot that I needed to renew it on my birthday) and to renew it online, I had to get my eyes checked; plus, I needed new contacts. So, I thought that I could get a neurologist appointment, while I was there. I knew something was really not right. Dr. Gold was wonderful, very thorough, asked me lots of questions. There were a couple of things that made her suspicious and she ordered an MRI/MRA. While the MRI looks at the brain tissues, the MRA looks at your brain’s vascular system. I had the MRI/MRA on August 14 and an hour after the procedure I received a call with the diagnosis: I had a rare vascular malformation called dural atriovascular fistula. Came down like a ton of bricks! The bad news was that I had a ticking bomb in my head which can cause a stroke or deadly hemorrhaging; the good news was that they knew how to fix it through minimally invasive vascular brain surgery. Or that I didn’t have a tumor! I was already grateful that I didn’t have to shave my head and have my skull cut open! But I was scared!

 

On August 17 I had another in-person appointment with a vascular neurologist who confirmed the diagnostic of the malformation/fistula and told me they also found a blood clot that was partially obstructing the left sigmoid sinus in my brain, close to the fistula. The same day I had a telemedicine (video) appointment with the doctor that would fix the blood vessels in my brain. He is what they call an interventional radiologist, a different kind of brain surgeon that fixes problems through minimally invasive procedures.

 

I know that unfortunately, it is not uncommon for people not to trust doctors. I have heard so many “excuses” from people not wanting to go to the doctor because “they only want to take your money,” or “I know better what my body needs,” or “doctors are crooks.” I have a different opinion! I believe doctors are God’s soldiers. Sure, there are some bad ones (who left God’s army and joined the evil one), there is bad in everything and every category of people and professions but that is not the majority. I believe that we need doctors! I personally find doctors I can connect with on a few levels, the ones that I can build a good patient-doctor relationship with, that I can ask a million questions, that I can tell when I don’t agree with something, etc. I do my research: I look at their credentials, reviews and schooling but I also find out about what they do outside of their profession. I try to paint a whole picture about them as a person, not just being a doctor.

 

Although many thought I should get a second opinion, I felt comfortable with Dr. Raz, the man in whose hands I would have to entrust my life. He is Italian, he has an accent - we had something in common; he seemed passionate about his skill and seemed he had a little of the “rebel” vibe I like. I looked him up on Instagram and saw he enjoyed traveling, that he had a cute dog, loved his father. That he loved food but also ran a marathon. I had a good feeling about his energy.

 

He explained that I would need two procedures: an angiogram of my brain where he would go through my groin and take many pictures of the vascular system, which will give him the best view of what was wrong and help him plan the treatment (a procedure under general anesthesia that takes about an hour and a half) and then the actual surgery (endovascular brain embolization), to fix the malformation (which takes about four hours). There are people who want to avoid general anesthesia twice and want to have both in one. Dr. Raz said that it is better to do them separately, because doing the angiogram first will give him the opportunity to study my case better, confer with other colleagues and have the best strategy. So, I took his advice, trusted him completely and scheduled the angiogram for August 25^th and the embolization for August 26^th.

 

I am usually an open book and don’t believe in faking reality, feelings and what is going on. I am a very direct person (which often makes people not like me) but I believe I have good intentions and I try to be a good person. I believe in sharing and talking because that is how we learn from one another, how we support one another, how we discover things and grow. So, I told most of my friends and family what was ahead of me. I knew at least some would pray for me and God likes to see outpouring of love through prayers and is how He sends His love back to us. There were people praying for me in many places, including many churches.

 

I underestimated what was ahead of me! I didn’t realize that although minimally invasive (meaning I didn’t have to get my skull open to access the vascular system in my brain and they would access it through my groins), the surgery was still brain surgery. I didn’t realize the impact it would have on my body and also my psyche and my soul.

 

The first procedure was hard enough. General anesthesia with intubation is not fun. After the procedure, I had to lay flat on my back for 6 hours so the artery closes completely and I didn’t bleed. I was lucky to have the best recovery nurse, her name was Maria and I found out she was a practicing orthodox Christian like me. I believe she was sent by her namesake, Virgin Mary, to care for me! She was so kind and compassionate and sweet, she paid me the best compliment of my life! I hope God watches over her and keeps her safe. Dr. Raz said that he was able to take all the images he needed and that he would be able to close the fistula and fix the malformation but would probably not be able to get rid of the clot partially obstructing my sigmoid sinus.

 

The second procedure is what I called “hell and back.” I will never forget it because of so many reasons. I felt all the prayers that were lifting me up and God’s presence that never left me. I was wheeled into the surgery room and I was scared. Not so much of dying but of being left a burden for my family if something went wrong. Although I am not afraid of dying, I wanted more time to spend with my daughter and my husband. My life has finally been complete having both of them and I wanted to experience their love a little longer, in this dimension. I didn’t want to bring pain to any of them or my mom… So I was praying to God not to leave me and work through the doctor who had my life in his hands. Dr. Raz has been very compassionate when talking to me, his demeanor is warm and friendly.  He is not a tall man but has hands like a pianist. He wears his hair like a monk, with a small “man bun” and a short beard. [I had to tell him that the professional picture on the hospital website doesn’t do him justice and he needs to update it – because it doesn’t truly project his personality and that matters when patients look him up). Before the surgery, when I asked him again about the blood clot, he said that he studied my case (the day before he spent two hours looking at the images he took), he had asked for others’ opinions and he will try something that if successful, it will help with the clot. When he entered the operating room, he was a different person than what I have seen so far! He was like a general commanding an army that was going to war: firm, focused and determined. He was strategizing in a strong voice, reviewing my case out-loud and directing his team. That is the last image I had of him before I was gone in the land of general anesthesia. The General is his new nickname!

 

When I woke up it felt that I was in the torture of hell. My whole body was in excruciating pain. Again, I had to lay flat on my back for 6 hours after the surgery, so the incisions in both my groins would heal properly, without bleeding. I had been in surgery for over 5 hours and it was almost midnight when my daughter and husband were allowed to see me. They have gone through their own hell because they were not informed that they took me into surgery late (I had said goodbye to them at around 3:30 and didn’t have my phone to call them and let them know about the delay). They didn’t know what was taking so long and if I was dead or alive, if there were complications or what was going on. So, the reunion was very emotional, to say the least! Unfortunately, because of Covid rules in the hospital, they were not allowed to stay with me overnight. I know they were heartbroken leaving me there alone during the hardest part of my recovery. Lying flat on my back was excruciatingly painful. I also discovered that I had an egg size bump on the back of my had which freaked me out as it was on the side where I had the procedure. It seemed that because my head was squeezed in the half circle that held it on the operating table and probably how I was moved during intubation, there was an edema under my scalp, which starting hurting badly too. I, was cracking jokes to distract myself from the pain or was trying to talk to the nurse but for the most part I was left alone staring at the clock hoping that the torturous time will go faster; or at my phone, trying to manipulate it with one hand as the left one was in a contraption that held the artery needle stabilizing my blood pressure. The night nurse, a young man, wasn’t as compassionate as my recovery nurse the previous day. He was a good ICU nurse but pretty emotionally detached to have any real compassion. My friend Alina from Romania called me at around 2 in the morning and stayed on the phone with me for over two hours, to distract me from the pain. She was one of God’s angels that watched over me as the time went so much faster talking to her; she had so much patience with me! The continuous talking was my mechanism to avoid focusing on the pain.

 

As the morning arrived and I was allowed to move, the sunrise uncovered a beautiful hospital (if you can call a hospital room beautiful), corner room with all top to bottom windows, spacious, with the most amazing view of Manhattan, including the Empire State Building. It almost felt like I was floating in the clouds. Alone, I had time to reflect on my experience and realized it was life changing. That it definitely changed my priorities and how I see life. That morning, I was able to talk to my mom and friends. The afternoon was for visitors and my sweet friend and co-worker Rebecca came to visit; then my daughter who brought be an otter stuffed animal (because I love otters for the way they show love) and a book of Elizabeth Taylor quotes (I opened it at: “I believe in life and I’ll fight for it. I believe you have to put up your dukes and fight even if you don’t know what you are fighting against.”, seemed so appropriate…) and my brother, followed by my loving husband and the love of my life!

 

Dr. Raz couldn’t visit me but he called. He asked dr. Nelson, his professor, to come take a look at the bump on the back of my head. Dr. Nelson is the doctor that perfected the endovascular technique used for my surgery, 30 years prior. Before that, my condition was treated with high risk open skull surgery and before MRIs, often misdiagnosed. Dr. Nelson explained to me that dr. Raz was able to get rid of the obstruction in my sinus by going in with a special balloon that when inflated opened the cavity and eliminated the blockage. He said that it was a complicated case that they were able to solve better than they had expected. I was grateful to say the least! For modern medicine and medical devices and for the amazing skill of my doctor! For being in this country and having access to all this. And first, to God for guiding him and working through him. I am still amazed at how he could spend 5 hours working through a small instrument in the arteries and veins of my brain, looking at a computer screen, to place special material that sealed the malformation. His craft is beyond amazing! I can see his work on the CT scan of my brain, little white dots that are now part of me. The material used is called onyx, so I joke that I am now precious.

 

As a joke, I now have a new appreciation for underwear. It was one of my concerns when thinking about surgery, that I will not be able to wear underwear. When they discharged me and I was able to slowly put on my underwear and regular clothes, I started feeling more normal again!

 

I am slowly recovering! My body feels like I’ve come back from battle (I was too part of the General’s war), general anesthesia and the trauma of surgery does a number on you. I am surrounded by love and attention! My family is amazing! I will have to do an MRI in for months and another angio in 6 months (hopefully through my arm and with sedation, so an easier procedure), to confirm the fistula is healed completely and will not come back (I still need prayers!) It will be around my 51^st birthday, so my family and I decided that we will celebrate that in style, hopefully with a trip somewhere!

 

I realize now more than ever how much I am loved! By God and His Saints that were all watching over me: Jesus our Savior, Mother of God, Saint Nektarios, Saint Luca of Crimea, Saint Parascheva of Iasi, Saint Haralambie, Saint Spiridon, Saint Pantelimon, Saint George, Archangel Michael and all the others. By my husband Alex, who is my guardian angel and warrior, by my daughter Isabelle, who is now glued to me, my sweet mom, my in-laws and my aunts in Romania, my cousin and godparents, all of my friends who prayed for me, texted and called, my spiritual Fathers both here and in Romania who prayed feverishly, my co-workers who sent me flowers, and all the people who called and sent good wishes on Facebook or other means. All of my doctors and nurses! And last but not least, I am grateful for Yris, a friend who went through a similar surgery a year ago and who walked me with patience and love through the whole process that she knew so well; she is my surgery sister. If I forget anyone, or didn’t mention you by name, please forgive me! I am grateful to all and hope that I can repay your love with love.

 

I am sharing all this because I believe sharing might help someone. Because my experience might help others, would give them faith and courage. That would give others trust in doctors and their bodies when something doesn’t feel right – check it out! It may save your life like it saved mine! And love, fiercely, first God and then people! Even if they don’t love you back!

46 FEMEIA. octombrie octombrie FEMEIA. 47
sănătate
Anca este o femeie frumoasă, feminină, dar modestă și smerită.
La un an de la marea cumpănă, e convinsă că prin credință și bunătate
suntem mai puternici și putem învinge chiar și afecțiuni complicate.
TEXT: Luminița Tăbăran FOTO: arhivă personală
Cumpăna
de la 50 de ani

file:///C:/Users/IM/Downloads/F08_049.pdf

Aurel- Dragos Munteanu: Et in Arcadia Ego

http://revista-apostrof.ro/apowp/reviste/200511-12.pdf
http://revista-apostrof.ro/apowp/reviste/200511-12.pdf

pg. 33 and 38

Fragment  din Articolul  scris cu ocazia aniversării absolvirii Liceului din Turda:

 „Privind în urmă, anii petrecuţi la Liceul din Turda au fost intenşi şi plini. Nu e nimic nostalgic în această perspectivă. Dacă la un prilej aniversar îmi este îngaduită o mărturisire, voi încerca să spun cât de mult datorez şcolii mele prin relatarea unei împrejurări oarecum semnificative. În august 1990, am prezidat Consiliul de Securitate al ONU la începutul uneia din cele mai acute crize mondiale de după cel de-al doilea război mondial. Când am intrat ca preşedinte în sala unde se ţin şedinţele oficiale ale celui mai important for mondial, mi-am dat seama brusc ce grea este povara responsabilităţii mele. În dreptul locului preşedintelui se adăugase o tăbliţă pe care scria: România. Era spre dimineaţă, ne aflam după douăzeci şi patru de ore de negocieri epuizante, continui, convinsesem statele să agreeze asupra unui text care urma să creeze cadrul politico-juridic pentru rezolvarea crizei. Văzând numele ţării şi realizând cu pregnanţă ce însemna autoritatea cu care fusesem investit, mi-am adus aminte o împrejurare care m-a urmărit peste ani. În prima zi de şcoală, în toamna anului 1959, m-am oprit la poarta liceului, copleşit de o imagine uluitoare. Pe străzile din jur se îndreptau spre poarta liceului şiruri-şiruri de adolescenţi venind din satele din jurul oraşului, majoritatea încă în hainele de acasă, costume româneşti, albe şi curate, strălucind în lumina zilei de toamnă. Acesta era neamul meu, năvalnic, răzbunând nedreptăţile istoriei, din trecut şi din prezent, prin setea de învăţătură. La New York, în fruntea Consiliului de Securitate, pe ei urma să-i reprezint, lor le aparţineam, copiilor acelora din satele româneşti, cu care intrasem pe poarta Liceului din Turda cu ani în urmă, într-un oraş de dietă transilvană, unde strămoşii mei nu aveau dreptul să se stabilească cu nici o sută de ani în urmă. Dreptul lor de a învăţa şi trăi în pace trebuia să-l apăr, nepermiţând unui vecin mai puternic să anexeze o ţară mai mică. Moralmente, drumul de la adolescentul care era mândru de cămăşile naţionale ale colegilor de şcoală până la preşedintele român al Consiliului de Securitate era foarte scurt, chiar dacă durase cât o viaţă de om” (Et in Arcadia ego, în Apostrof, nr. 11-12, 2005).

Face to Face: meet Ileana Munteanu of Enchanted Beads! by Erika Sandor

Life is unpredictable and takes many unexpected turns. The wind can blow us through half of the globe until we settle down again. However, we always carry something with us from our previous adventures in a different location. It’s not about the luggage! That something is inside us, and travels with us all the time.
Whenever I look at the art of Ileana Munteanu, something reminds me of the rich traditions of the beautiful mountainous country she was born in and which I was lucky to spend some time at during my university studies – in the same city and the same school where Ileana studied, too! I can’t explain it with the colours or shapes she uses. It’s something more and something deeper then that.

Erika Sandor, Febr 19, 2018

https://www.thestorytellingjeweller.com/face-face-meet-ileana-munteanu-enchanted-beads/

Friends By ILEANA MUNTEANU

                                   Based on a true story about a Cat, a Dog and a Baby

                              This book is dedicated to my wonderful granddaughter Isabelle.

                                                                                                    Ileana

The day the Baby came home Fifi the Cat and Missy the Dog were sitting in the living room.

Now, you might want to ask: “How do Fifi and Missy look like?”

Let’s see!

Fifi is a big Persian cat.

He is mostly gray, with a touch of white around his neck, like a bow.

His fur is long and very smooth. It feels like velvet.

He is really proud of his long and fury tail. He is showing it off, moving it along his body, as a dancing cobra.

                                                                                                                                 

Missy is a Maltese dog.

Her long and silky fur is entirely white.

She has black round eyes and a black little round nose.

When she is too hot, too tired or too excited a red tongue sticks out of her mouth. 

What about Missy’s tail?

Her tail is a very important part of the picture.

She is “talking” with it. Just by watching her tail you would know if Missy were happy or sad.

It was a sunny day but going outdoors was out of the question. It was too cold.

Fifi was purring next to the fireplace, in his favorite spot.

Missy was trying to sleep as well. From time to time she was opening her eyes looking out the window.

“ Why wasn’t Mommy home yet?  She’s been gone for such a long time!”

Snow started to fall, the first snow that year. It was mid-December.

When Mommy finally entered the living room, Fifi opened one eye. Missy jumped, as usual, in order to welcome her beloved.

“What’s happening? She is not taking her, Missy, in her arms, giving her a hug, as she does every time she comes home. This is strange!”

Mommy’s arms are full already; she is not alone.

She is carrying something, something very important, as you can see. It smells like Mommy but also different…

“One moment, please, Missy!” 

                                                                                                                          

Mommy goes into the bedroom, followed by Missy.  She puts the thing in the new crib that appeared suddenly in the house a few weeks ago.                                                                                                                            

She takes off her coat and, finally Missy is able to jump in her lap and give her a big kiss.

But all of a sudden, the thing starts screaming.

Mommy lets Missy go, she rushes at the crib, and …here she is… busy again.

Days go by.

Missy is trying to understand why her life has changed all of a sudden.

“Fifi, do you like this? What do you think? Why is Mommy ignoring us?”

No answer. All Fifi wants is to be left alone. As he is getting older, he needs more resting. He is sleeping all day long in his warm and cozy corner.

Mommy is always busy. So busy that Missy needs to remind her when it’s time for dinner.

How does she do it?

First she looks Mommy in her eyes, so deeply, anyone could figure out she is hungry. 

                                                                                                                               3

Not Mommy!  She is in a hurry: to feed the Baby, to change the Baby, to hold the Baby; the Baby, again and again. 

Mommy forgot about Missy.

“I’ll find a way to remind her I am here!”

Missy goes to the kitchen where her dining corner is: her two plastic dishes, one for food, and one for water.

“Let’s remind her!” Grabbing her bowl in her mouth Missy exits the kitchen and goes into the bedroom where Mommy is busy with the Baby.

“Here I am! I need food!”

Mommy is laughing with all her heart! 

                                                                                                                            “What a smart girl!  Here, come on! I completely forgot about you and Fifi. Sorry, I am really sorry.  Come on, guys!”

“Mission accomplished!  Fifi should thank me,” Missy thinks.  “He never does! Cats! They always believe they are the most intelligent, the most…everything.

Now, just figure it out: if it weren’t for me, who in the world would have fed him?”

                                                          

Months go by…The Baby is growing.

Little by little Fifi and Missy are getting used to their new life. They are learning to accept the Baby, even to like her.

First Missy approached the playpen, sniffing around, even standing, in order to see better and to get more familiar with the new smell.

She was able to feel and to enjoy the thing Mommy was so careful about: this little creature that looked and smelled like a human but was still just a…thing.

Missy was actually excited to be close to the Baby, and to observe her. She was happy also because she was able to sit next to Mommy, to cuddle her with her eyes.

From time to time Mommy would even take the little dog in her arms and let her kiss her face, like before.

Fifi was less sensitive.  Of course, he’s just a cat!  He was sleeping all day long in his corner, happy as always with his life. Until one day…                                                                                                                           

“Where is my favorite cushion?”  Fifi looked around. “I can’t find it. If I don’t find it I won’t be able to go to sleep.” 

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He continued to look in the living room, on the sofa, on the armchair. Then he went in the bedroom.  Nothing!  

“Let’s see…” Next to the bedroom it was Baby’s room. 

“Why don’t I take a look over there? Oh, yes! It must be there.”                                                                                                                             

Fifi tiptoed towards the playpen, where Baby was having a good time looking at some picture books.

“Boy this thing is growing! It seems like yesterday that it was my size and now it is so much bigger. But it can’t hurt me; after all I’m a cat!  Plus, it smells like Mommy, so it can’t be mean.”

Fifi sniffed for a while, and he decided to jump inside the playpen, in order to take a closer look.

“Here it is! My cushion! I found it!”

“I knew Mommy was moving around things. I knew that all of a sudden I had to share not just Mommy’s attention but also my stuff.”

“There is somebody in this house more important than I.”

“At least Mommy thinks that. Mommy had to bring this thing home too. As it wasn’t enough to have Missy around.”

“But it won’t keep me from sleeping!” 

Fifi ignored the Baby, headed towards the corner where his cushion was, made himself comfortable and started to purr.

Soon he was fast asleep.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Baby liked Fifi. 

She knew that Fifi was a cat, like one of her stuffed animals, just a little bigger and different somehow…He was warm and soft and it moved and made noises, especially when he was hungry. 

Baby always wanted to participate when Mommy was feeding him.  She even tried to pet him with Mommy’s help.

Now she was a little surprised when she saw him jumping in her playpen, but she wasn’t scared.

After Fifi fell asleep she went closer, so she could observe him better. She touched him and his fur felt so good!                                                                                                                         

She started to pet him: on his head, on his body, even on his bushy tail, the way Mommy showed her. 

Fifi was purring louder and louder.

The Baby continued to pet the furry cat until the soothing sound made her eyelids get heavier, and sleep took over.

                                                                                                                               5

When Mommy came to check the Baby, she was asleep in her playpen, hugging Fifi, her head next to him on the cushion.

Picture perfect!

Do you know how many things can fit in a playpen? 

A lot!  Cushions, blankets, storybooks, and toys.  Especially toys.

Baby had a lot of stuffed animals: horses and cows, cats and dogs, ducks and geese, even dinosaurs, and, of course, bears, I mean, Teddy Bears. 

Missy had a few toys as well.  Not as many as the Baby, though. She used to play especially with an old bone, made out of fabric.

It was already dirty and ripped from so much playing. But Missy seemed to like it so much that she didn’t even want to share it with Fifi. 

                                                                                                                               

“Cats don’t need toys! They have their tails to play with.”

As Missy got to know the Baby better and not be afraid to get closer, she started to observe her toys; especially those that were in the playpen.

She didn’t know yet which one she liked the best; all of them were colorful and had a nice smell.

”They smell a little like Mommy but there is something more.” 

Missy came closer.  She was really curious to see the Baby playing with her toys.

She was also determined to detect the smell she hasn’t recognized yet. 

She stopped, not too far from the playpen and laid down, her nose on her paws.

Now she was close enough. She was able to see and to feel everything that would happen inside.

The Baby was quiet. She seemed busy playing with her stuffed animals. 

All of a sudden, somehow, one of them fell off the playpen.  Or maybe the Baby dropped it. I don’t really know how it happened. It was out there, next to Missy. 

The little dog startled, and, surprised, couldn’t help from grabbing the toy with her mouth, shaking it continuously.

“Will it make a noise?” 

When she had enough shaking, she put the toy down and sniffed it.

“It smells like…Baby!” clicked in her doggy mind. 

Missy started to wag her tail; she was as happy as you can imagine.

“Victory! At last, the mystery is unveiled.”

                                                                                                                              6

Now, that she identified the new smell, Missy wanted to play with more of the Baby’s toys. 

Her old bone didn’t appeal to her anymore; it was really ripped and yucky and it smelled like…Anyway!  It didn’t smell like Baby, not even like Fifi.

Missy approached the playpen and tried to take a closer look at the stuffed animals. 

“I like the cat and the horse, I also like the duck, but most of all, I think… I like the Teddy Bear.  It looks so cuddly and soft.”

She wanted so badly to play with one of those toys, that she made up a plan.

“If I want the Baby to share her toys with me, I definitely have to share my toys with her.  

I hope she likes my favorite one.  It’s not so dirty, after all! It still looks like a bone, which is a nice and yummy thing, believe me!”

Missy went to her corner, in the kitchen, to look for her bone. After she found it, she grabbed it in her mouth.                                                                                                                              

She headed in a hurry back to the Baby’s room. She ran toward the playpen as quickly as she could.

She jumped in the air still holding the bone in her mouth. Then she released it inside the playpen, next to the Baby.

“Here is my bone, you can play with it as long as you wish”. 

“Now, can I have that Teddy Bear sitting in the corner?  Pleeeaaase!

                                                                                                                             

Can you imagine what happened next?

As if she totally understood what Missy told her in her doggy language, the Baby picked up the Teddy Bear. Believe me, it was her favorite as well.

She looked at Teddy’s face, examining his eyes, touching his nose and his ears.

Then she took him by his paws and she balanced the little bear in the air, outside the playpen.

She waited for a moment, and then she released her darling Teddy, who fell smoothly on the floor, next to Missy.

And from that day on the Baby shared all her toys with Missy. They had a lot of fun together. The Baby would drop her toys out of the playpen and Missy would pick them up and release them back inside.

“But what about Fifi?” you might want to ask.

                                                                                                                               7

As I told you before, Fifi liked to sleep a lot, because he was an old cat. He came back many times to baby’s playpen in order to find his favorite cushion. Actually he enjoyed Baby’s smell as well.

So everybody was happy.

And they lived happily ever after, as best friends.