Aileen Jeffries

When we moved in, our backyard was a steeply sloped showcase for weeds and bits of refuse that don’t biodegrade. To make matters worse, it abuts the grounds of the Hopewell House Hospice which are at all times beautifully landscaped. So, our yard was even shabbier by comparison. We finally tackled this problem this spring. The retaining wall and deck from our remodeling project provided a nice canvas. We brought in good dirt, gravel and some pretty but surprisingly heavy “Pennsylvania Lavender Bluestone” flagstones. Kes wheelbarrowed most of them around the house, and we teamed up on the largest to roll them back, much like our cave-dwelling distant ancestors would have done before the invention of slavery.

I was arranging the flagstones into a pleasant seating area when I crushed my right index finger between two mammoth slabs. It promptly swelled up and turned an angry aubergine hue I don’t typically associate with living tissue.

That was the first assault on my right hand, the second coming a few days later in the form of a most-likely-not-rabid stray cat. We’ve named her Macy and she’s the mom of both of our cats. We feed her but could hardly call her our own. Bit by bit, Kes gained her trust and lured her into our house. Our plan was to take her into the vet and relieve her of the reproductive system she’s used so extensively up to this point. That meant catching her and stuffing her in a cat carrier. I should say in my defense that Macy is a shy, petite kitty – meek even. She was doing her best to make herself as small as possible, curled up near the printer in Kes’s office. I had the thought that I could just swiftly grab her and slide her little body into the carrier which in retrospect was one of the dumber ideas I’ve had. There were so many limbs, not a one of them actually going into the door of the carrier. I had to let go when she turned her sweet, small face toward me and delivered a powerful bite to my right hand.

Consulting the Internet as I do on all matters health-related, I discovered that cat bites almost invariably lead to rabies or death by bacterial infection. Best case scenario: amputation. Nervous, I headed into urgent care. The Internet turned out to be half right; almost all cat bites become infected due to the teeming village of evil bacteria that live in any cat’s mouth. But, getting rabies is actually quite rare. Especially since she had been hanging around our house for weeks looking perfectly healthy, there was little concern. So, one course of broad-spectrum antibiotics later and I’m good as new.

That’s 39 pounds in 39 days. Eleven more to go, although I highly doubt I’ll be able to shed them in 11 days. Apparently, it isn’t normal or healthy to lose a pound a day.

I’ll admit this is only possible because my Citizens are delightfully stretchy and there’s some unfortunate muffin-toppery going on, but I’ll take this victory.

Others have pointed this out (there’s probably an entire blog devoted to this inanity somewhere), but I’ve long followed the headlines on home page of cnn.com with a mixture of bemusement and disdain. There are usually a few each day that are clearly intended to appeal to the worst of what makes us human. “Baby mauled by family puppy as mom sleeps – watch!” “Small Plane Flies into Manhattan Skyscraper. Fire! Death! Confusion! Terrorism?” And the all-time great: “Pandas! Pandas! Pandas!”

It is with some embarrassment that I admit to getting sucked in by one such headline today: 6th severed foot found off Canadian coast. The article is all that I was hoping it would be. Apparently, feet, still in shoes, are washing up near a small town in British Columbia. The first four were all right feet.

Aside from, um, the responsibility and considerable expense of raising a little human being to adulthood, I’ve discovered – too late – a rather heart-breaking consequence of my decision to breed.

My feet have gone up a 1/2 size. Research has determined they’re likely to stay at this new size. That means my rather impressive shoe library will have to be rebuilt from the ground up. Good-bye Vince Camuto. So long Linea Paolo. Take care Cole Haan boots purchased just last fall, my buttery-soft friends.