http://www.care2.com/greenliving/the-power-of-purr-ayer.html
The Power of Purr-ayer
Ours is not a quiet household.
Despite a youthful tendency to position myself way too close to enormous speakers at countless rock concerts which left me chronically hearing-impaired, I honestly believed back then that my golden years would be spent in peace and quiet, naively expecting my then-strident voice (in print, it probably would have appeared entirely in UPPER CASE letters, much like the title character of author John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany) to evolve into a sweet, soothing, gentle tonality. I anticipated my “little old lady” days would feature an accompanying soundtrack of teapot whistles, John Denver records, cooing grandbabies, creaking rocking chairs, kitty meows, little dog yips and bird song. In lieu of the life I imagined When I’m 64, my theme song has become Wouldn’t It Be Loverly?
Today, some years shy of 64, my days are punctuated by a multitude of challenges, many of them auditory: If the telephone is not ringing, then someone’s banging on the door. Every few minutes, my computer loudly, commandingly, announces, “You’ve got mail!”; a short while later, the postman arrives with a similar, equally intrusive, declaration and I stifle the urge to kill one or both of the messengers.
My granddaughter, Lexie, is partial to raucous physical activity, so everything we do together is a noisome, laugh-provoking romp. Home school and play time co-mingle. Readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmatic go loudly hand-in-hand with card games, cookie cutter counting and kitty chasing. Thus far incapable of adjusting her outdoor voice into a more decibel-appropriate indoor level, Lexie shouts in glee when nature calls, demanding immediate ebulliant praise and reward for successfully anticipating potty time. Should Barney or Elmo be temporarily silenced by the mysterious “disappearance” of the TV remote control, Lexie sets her toy versions of those bothersome creatures to singing or giggling or telling the same stories repeatedly until the batteries require recharging. Seeking even more aural stimulation, Lexie invades the cookware cabinet where, wooden spoons banging away, she enthusiastically makes her own kind of music.
Well aware that I need and genuinely appreciate an occasional spell of silent solitude, my daughter, Amanda, usually wears ear buds while listening to her eclectic music collection - and I certainly do not object when she sings along because (Proud Mama Alert!) she has a beautiful, classically trained voice and knows the lyrics of almost every song ever performed in a Broadway or Hollywood musical. Amanda also has a passion for a very sophisticated, massively multi-player online role-playing game which features a plethora of eerie authoritative voices, anguished screams and tortured moans that enhance the game’s excitement, but bombard any nearby ears. And adding to the overall household cacophony are the shouts of quarreling neighbors, gleeful squeals shrieked by kids at play, barks, howls and caterwauling from area animals, and the omnipresent roars of muffler-impaired cars and trucks zooming down our street. Welcome to my world.
I am going somewhere with this.
“Please let me have a little quiet time,” I pray to the Creator in whom I believe, before welcoming the oblivion of sleep. “Don’t strike me deaf or anything quite that dramatic, but maybe just a couple of minutes with no noise, a few distraction-free seconds, the chance to be calm and reflective. Puh-leeze!”
And just like that - *poof* - my wish is granted.
Warmly wedged snugly against my cheek curls a fist-sized puff of silken fuzz and fur. Even in complete darkness, the tiny mouth nuzzling my earlobe and a gentle kneading motion easily identifies my pillow mate as baby Puggy, the most recent addition to our feline family. With no provocation but the single stroke of my hand, Puggy begins to purr. Soft. Low. A rhythmic rumble of simple contentment and affection that quietly, effectively, soothes me toward slumber, far more potent than the most powerful prescribed sleep aid.
In this personal precious moment, I add a postscript to the Creator. “Thank you for giving me such a loud, raucous, happy, boisterous, rambunctious, busy and noisy life. And even more thanks fur the power of purr-ayer!”
Born in NYC, NY and raised in Miami, Fla, Janet now lives in Nashville, TN. A professional journalist and environmental educator, Janet is devoted to a variety of community-based projects, which she either developed or supports in service of Planet Earth and all creatures great and small. Janet, her daughter Amanda, and her granddaughter Alexandra rescue and find homes for hundreds of stray or abandoned cats simply for the joy and love they give and get from their feline family.
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30 comments
add your comment »A cat's purr is one of the most relaxing sounds on earth.
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What a beautiful description of a cat's purr! My Jude has taken to sprawling around my head, so that when I wake, he's the first thing I see; and when I pat him, his satisfied and enthusiastic purr is the first thing I hear. It's a wonderful way to begin the day.
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o amanda -- i still feel baby's presence -- and she crossed the rainbow bridge in 2005. her friends hilda, missy and schwartz came to be with her that day so that she would not cross alone [they passed in 1999 and 2000, respectively].
i have added harley to my prayer candle.
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We lost our cat Harley three weeks ago after a brief illness. Poor guy had developed a UTI and after he failed to respond to the medication was taken back to the vet's for more tests and we found out he had diabetes on top of that! After conferring with my husband, we decided that the best thing to do for Harley, given his age of 11 1/2 and the fact that he had other infections working (judging by his blood count), was to have the vet help his spirit cross over to either another of his nine lives or straight across the Rainbow Bridge to Summerland (as Pagans, we believe that since cats have nine lives, their spirits get reborn into another one after they die until their lives are used up, in which case they get a ticket to cross the Rainbow Bridge straight into Summerland). It was not a hard decision to make, but proof that doing the right thing absolutely SUCKS sometimes!
Anyway, I digress...one of his tricks that I loved was his habit of coming up to me when I was in bed at night and batting me in the face with his paw. It was his way of saying, "Hey, give me a skritch before you go to sleep there!" And last night I was in bed, and it was cold (since we have baseboard heaters that jack the electric bill sky-high, we're delaying turning them on as long as is humanly possible), I missed his presence curled up by me. Thanks Janet, for making me laugh!
RIP
Harley
1998-2998
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i don't know how anyone could think that the word 'noisome' when referring to a cat litter box means noisy.
i can assure you, my cats are VERY quiet when they use theirs and yes, they ARE mischievious when using their noisome potty box -- we have to clean it a few times a day or it noisome-ness becomes apparent pungently.
again -- your story is a triumph!
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Well done, Liona! Several very intelligent readers have questioned my use of the word "noisome" thinking that it was erroneously meant as an adjective indicative of noise. Instead, I referred to a thesaurus and, just as you pointed out, chose it as a secondary synonym meaning "mischievous" which I thought implied silly, giggly play. In addition, considering that lovely "Horrible Childe" Lexie has not quite mastered the second part of potty training, appropriately #2, as well as the presence of an abundance of litter boxes occasionally not scooped immediately following use, the house can for a very short time be described as noisome in its most accurate, accepted & unpleasant definition. Thanks for clearing the air about an issue that apparently disturbed a lot of people.
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After having read and reread your latest story in an attempt to fully comprehend the many intricate details contained within, I realized that no matter how many times I tried to garner the complete meaning of your use of the word "noisome" in it's given context, I was still befuddled and left with no choice but to consult a dictionary. Merriam-Webster informed me that, at it's etymological heart, "noisome" literally means annoying. As I worked to reconcile this definition with your story, I decided it might behoove me to check for the word's synonyms. To this end, I visited Thesaurus.com and found that "noisome" can be noxious, malodorous, smelly and also mischievous. It is in these like terms that the meaning of your usage becomes clear. Aha!
Not only another triumph, Janet, but a testament to your brilliance and innumerable skills as a writer extraordinaire!
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If you switch to Outlook Express for AOL you won't get that annoying You've Got Mail sound when email comes in. You can set it to any sound you want. Plus create your own stationery. Also, have you considered teaching the kids to meditate for a half hour a day (if they'd be open to it so late in the game)? If the whole house just sits still and breathes for 1/2 an hour it's like a reset button has been pushed. You could put a sign on the front door saying to come back in 1/2 an hour after the meditation break and take the phone off the hook...
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This is a beautiful story and I'm so relieved to know my odd (and immeasurably precious) kitten isn't the only one who tries to suckle off an earlobe!
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At first my cat, Peaches, was a nervous, grumpy stray that I would not have picked on purpose. Now when he snuggles up on my lap and purrs, I take it as a complement that he feels safe with me. It reminds me to pray because we don't always get to choose who we're going to help.
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