Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: CAMP (08/18/22)
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TITLE: Deliver Me from Minizookookhaha | Previous Challenge Entry
By LINDA GERMAIN
08/25/22 -
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I heard them talking in the kitchen. It sounded like she had a stack of pamphlets to convince him about a temporary location to leave me while they were out of town. He did not sound convinced.
He kept saying, “Hmm…well…uh,” and like that.
The second she made the pitch I knew she would keep pushing until he began to feel like a traitor for not agreeing. As usual, tears would be standing by as insurance. Sometimes they are his.
I tried to make a case against this silly plan but they are seldom interested in what I have to say. Getting louder does not help.
Harumph! Some day they may be sorry!
She won. They were going away for a while and choices for where I would stay were whittled down to one. Ugh! It sounded just a bit too cutesy for me!
Not every so-called camp with a tongue-twister name is derived from an authentic Native American tribe. This one was so poorly conceived it reeked of cartoon images. I expected to see Daffy, Bugs, or Goofy weaving belts or painting pinecones.
I was assigned to a quiet corner with my name taped to the top of the not-my-bed sleeping arrangement. One good thing was I had my favorite blue blanket from home. After a while, when nothing threatened to do me harm, I opened one eye, barely. Another “camper” was stirring in the next cubicle.
“Psst! Hey! You stayin’ long?”
Thinking that if I made a friend the time would go faster, I replied.
“A few days, but I’m homesick already and will NOT eat even if they try to force me.”
The nice voice was reassuring, like a low rumble.
“Aw, give it a chance. You might like it.”
Tolerate was a better word.
Suddenly, I was whisked off to play ball in some fuzzy attempt to convince me this was heaven on earth. Wasn’t!
When I showed zero interest in their irritating agenda, they left me alone. Now I could ponder serious things.
Why does anyone have the right to force any of us into being excruciatingly managed as if we were robots?
One size never fits all. Why was I expected to fit a mold? For goodness sakes, I have a brain and feelings.
When leaving day came, I was a bit weak but thrilled to be heading back to where I belonged. All the way home, she stared straight ahead, arms folded. He didn’t talk, but once inside the house he held me close for a long time. I felt safe and secure and may have smiled, at least on the inside.
Finally, as I pretended to nap, they argued again.
“Judy, dumping Grandpa in that smelly human warehouse was a bad idea!”
My ears perked up. What?
“Yes, but Joe, he cannot live here anymore. He gets confused.”
“Listen to me! We’re family. He still needs understanding and respect. Just think how scared he must be. Why do we shove our old folks into places that almost sound like summer camp, including juvenile art projects and games? They are adults. There has to be a better more dignified way.”
Now I realized where they had been. I may be just a big, beautiful, orange cat, but I can sympathize with poor Grandpa’s new adventure at a place he would rather not be.
When someone else is in charge of where we live and how we’re treated, it can be downright scary. Maybe he won’t eat either--or play ball.
I hope they took his favorite blanket to the new residence of captivity at Shady Acres (or maybe I heard it was shady idea).
At least I have the option to escape through that little door in the kitchen, but then who would be here for Joe? Sadly, Grandpa has no personal built-in exit with a flap. He’s kind of stuck at his new “relocation center.”
You might say it’s for his own good. Big debate there, but then I’m only a feline making ground-level observations based on instinct. Who listens to me anyway? Maybe I need to take a nap and think about it some more.
Humans! Harumph!
_____
Psalm 119:169
O LORD, listen to my cry; give me the discerning mind you promised.
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Oh, but poor Grandpa! Home is not always the safest place to be. However, assisted living apartments are a great alternative to nursing homes for our elders. When my father-in-law's dementia made him unsafe at home, we placed him in high-quality assisted living. He is thriving and is now happy there.