Daily Archives: September 21, 2003

Becoming independent

 

Part of becoming independent is learning how to drive. 

Today we were doing just that learning to drive.

The car jerks backwards. 

The trip

down

     our convoluted driveway

 takes five tries

and then we switch.

The lesson can be retried again till it is done with ease another day.

 

Out on the straight streets

The car moves smoothly, the speed good

Till the corner when

                                     It is

                                            Obvious

                                     That we’ve

                                Swung a little

                        Too wide.

Need to work on that.

 

Then on to lane switches.

Not too bad,

Good shoulder checking.

No screeching brakes from other lanes yet.

The turns are getting better.

The four way stop’s a breeze.

Then we                              to try parallel parking.

                switch drivers —     

Not too bad.

No dents or scratches yet!

 

Okay all you drivers passing us!

Be patient.

You learned once too!

We have a kitten.  I have never been a real cat lover – tending to like dogs more than cats.  I think dogs are more trainable and maybe return affection to their masters in different ways than cats.

But Michelle, my daughter-in-law found this little kitten in the hedge by her moms house out north of town.  We have no idea how he got there or what happened to him but somewhere along the way he lost a leg.  If it had just been a well kitten, it would have taken up residence amoung the many cats at the farm.  But this little guy wouldn’t stand a chance on his own on a farm.  Not with only three legs.  Especially since the stump has not healed over very well.

Like Michelle, I have a soft spot for “weak little things”.  The kitten needed a place, needed antibiotics and a bit of extra care.  So we are now ( I claim him as mine) cat owners.  Our dog was a bit miffed but the kitten had enough spunk to put her in her place right away.  A tiny hiss and a swat to the nose did it.  Now the kitten can eat in peace and has the run of the house.

His name is Triple.  Tripy for short.  He snuggles up beside me as I write here this morning, trying to get my attention by batting at the back of my elbow.