In the past week three animal stories have come to my attention.  They are not mine to write but I am grateful to have seen through the eyes of others more enamored with their pets than I have ever been.  And I am confident that this "broadening" of my appreciation will find its way into my attitude, if not events, in my future writing.

In one, a writer friend e-mailed about the little squirrel to whom she offered peanuts in her snowy yard.  Later she heard a scratching on the door and "the same little squirrel was there, wringing his paws for more peanuts."

I was invited to a memorial for an 18-year-old cat.  Curious and amused, I found myself among about 25 friends of the owner who, themselves, are pet lovers.  Our hostess, the grieving "mama," entertained us all  with charm and graciousness by reading quotations about cats from famous literary people.  And, in lieu of releasing doves as part of the memorial, we were each given a jar of bubbles to blow into the air.

The third story came when I related the one above to a friend here at my retirement complex.  She told me of burying her precious kitty in the California mountains . The next year a devastating fire consumed these montains.  When the road was again passable, she went up to inspect the grave of her kitty.  The fire had burned all around the circle of the grave, but the shrubs on top were not scorched.

All experiences are opportunities to learn.  Until Monday, Willma

.