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Last Saturday, our cat Shadow died suddenly. Our family is shocked and grieved by the loss.

Shadow came to our family as a result of a Free Kitten sign and Zeke’s birthday wish. We named him Shadow, because as a kitten he would hide in the shadows and we could not see him until he pounced. He was naughty from the start.

He drank from the fish tank and the washing machine. He scratched through the packaging on bread and cake to help himself to a piece in the middle of the night. He hid under chairs and blankets to bite and scratch unsuspecting people’s feet.

He sprinted out through the door into the garage whenever we did not walk out backwards to prevent his escape. Then, Gabe would have to find him under the car or behind the motorcycle so we could safely pull out of the garage.

He chewed through earbud cords and ds charging cables and paper bags full of groceries. He taunted Blaze (the dog) and attacked Patches (Abby’s cat) whenever he was feeling excessively troublesome.

If he wanted to sleep in a room forbidden to him, he charged down the upstairs hall and slammed his head into bedroom doors to force them open (the latches were worn). He lay on the top upstairs step in the dark of night to cause Dale to nearly tumble down the stairs when he stepped on him as he went to work.

If not locked in jail (Abby’s room), he came to greet all those who visited by rubbing against them and was especially attentive to those with cat allergies. He sat on us, behind us, under us, and next to us.

He was a royal pain in the neck and we loved him dearly.

He was endearing when I would find him snuggled with Zeke watching t.v., when he would emerge from under Gabe’s blanket in the morning, and when he would guard Abby when she was ill. He made me smile when he would hang out with Josiah and his friends, and when Dale would laugh and proclaim “Look at Shadow.” He comforted me when I would be up late at night unable to sleep and he would lay purring on my chest looking questioningly into my eyes.

He managed to worm his way into our hearts in spite of all the trouble he caused. He became part of our life and our family and his death hurts our hearts and fills us with sadness.

Most nights we gather together as a family to pray prior to Zeke going to bed. Most often, we pray in the living room. The furniture in the living room consists of an armchair, an ottoman, a sofa, a love seat, a hope chest, and a child’s arm chair. There are plenty of spots for 6 people and 2 cats to sit.

Many nights it is a race and a fight for “my spot.”

I am usually sitting in the chair with my feet on the ottoman, Dale sits on the end of the sofa nearest me with his blanket ready for the times when he occasionally needs to lay down on the couch and “rest his eyes.” This action occurs while we’re watching t.v. together during most sporting events and comedies and dramas, but never for some strange reason during Chopped. People cooking with strange ingredients under tremendous time pressure keeps him alert.

If he is still laying down “resting his eyes” when I call the kids in to pray, Zeke will sit on top of Dale, Gabe will sit on top of Zeke, and Abby will push her way in from the outside edge.

They will push and elbow and argue and Zeke will get injured and Dale will sit up and Gabe will get pushed off onto the floor, yet he will have a vise grip upon the blanket and wrap it around himself as he rolls off the couch. A tug-of-war then commences for Dale’s blanket between Abby/Zeke and Gabe.

Meanwhile, Josiah (when not at college), will meander in to sit by himself on the loveseat. Shadow will dash in under the loveseat to scratch both it and Josiah.

Patches will then enter the room and walk upon the people and the furniture until she determines her place of superiority for the evening.

The squabbles of “my spot” vs “I was there first” continue until someone gets yelled at and the following occurs:

1. Gabe remains on the floor, but has won the blanket.

2. Zeke is sent to the children’s armchair, but decides instead to sit in my chair poking me with his elbows and knees.

3. Dale gets up and sits by Josiah which causes Josiah to get up and sit on the hope chest.

4. The four of them sit on the couch smashed together, each secretly tugging the blanket inch by inch towards themselves.

5. Shadow scratches someone badly after he is dragged away from scratching the loveseat for the 5th time.

This really puts us in a good mindset for prayer.

This week is Spirit Week at the school to celebrate winter homecoming. Each day, the kids must dress up according to a theme to earn points for their class. Today, Gabe went as a house of sticks and brought in a pot in which to boil the wolf. (His theme today is based on the story of the three little pigs.)

Yesterday, both he and Abby were required to dress up as senior citizens. Their grandparents were their inspiration.

Having grown up in the bitter north, one would think, concerning cold weather, I wouldn’t have become such a wimp. I recall going out on a date as a teenager when it was -25f. Mom was none too thrilled; but my hair was feathered, my leg warmers were on, and I wasn’t going to miss my first date. Bitter weather would not thwart me from the best entertainment Northern Minnesota could provide: watching an action flick and eating at pizza hut. Admittedly, what I once thought exciting, now seems a tad pitiful, but at the moment, I wouldn’t be deterred by the possibility of the car stuck in the ditch and me freezing to death.

Growing up, we had school cancelled if the plows could not get through and the buses would not start. With fearless snow plow drivers and engine block heaters, snow days did not happen often. I remember one kid getting on the bus after standing at the end of his driveway with dripping wet hair. His hair had frozen solid, and once he was on the bus, he began to snap sections off his hair. Only on the Iron Range, do people save money on haircuts by freezing their hair and snapping it off.

The most beautiful nights in Minnesota were always the coldest. The Northern Lights would dance in the sky in a gorgeous array of colors. I sat on the porch steps with our dog Josh and watched the show. It is still one of the most wondrous sights I have ever seen. No matter the temperature, the dog refused to come into the house. He curled up in his pile of straw under the steps and shivered the night away guarding and protecting us from skunks and porcupines. If only he had enough sense to protect himself, he wouldn’t have smelled so bad and gotten quills stuck down his throat.

Because he was a Rhodesian Ridgeback and had been bred to hunt, he spent most days hidden in a pile of snow or down in the ditch, hunting my siblings and I. Often we would see him and tell him we could see him, but he would not move until we were at the perfect distance to spring at, pounce upon and knock to the ground.

This week, extreme cold temperatures which hadn’t been felt in decades returned to Minnesota, and the governor closed schools for two days. The low temperature at my sister Marie’s house was -20f with a wind chill of -46f. My brother in law, Rich, an Iron Ranger born and bred, grumbled, as a matter of principle, about the schools closing.

I no longer live in the North. Virginia received only a tip of the cold air mass covering the country. Our low temperature was 7f with a wind chill of -3f. School was canceled because of windchill. The Minnesotan in me thinks this is ridiculous. The Virginian, however, is wrapped in a down comforter in front of the pellet stove.

Oh the New Years goals – they come and go – then come and go again. Of the four goals I set for myself in 2013, I fully accomplished one, I mostly accomplished another, I was diligent about the third for several months in a row, and the fourth was a complete washout.

(Zeke has come to ask what he should do with the ear wax vac Gabe sold him on the sly. Gabe bought it for himself when I refused to buy it for him and then to his dismay discovered it did not work.)

Books, studies, and personal experience contend that writing down your goals and being accountable to someone will greatly increase your likelihood of success.

(At this moment Zeke and Dale have decided that a chopsticks duet on the piano will aide my writing.)

“Why don’t you write more? Why do you disappear from the blog for entire lengths of time?” Friends ask me.

(Zeke has come to ask where to put a flag he found in his room because his Dad didn’t know what to tell him.)

My primary New Years goal for this year is to have dedicated blocks of writing time. I have designated when my writing time is most effective and am attempting to increase it.

(Dale has the t.v. turned on to ‘one louder’ so I can hear snatches of commercial breaks during bowl games. I fast forward commercials or mute commercials, but my family loves commercials and quotes them loudly to annoy me.)

Dennis Rupert, a previous pastor/elder in my church, had a most effective tool when he was writing out his sermon – an orange cone. It was known as the Cone of Silence. The cone, when positioned outside his office, was a signal to his large family that he was not to be disturbed and noise was to be kept to a minimum.

(Abby started to ask me a question, but found what she was looking for without my help and walked away.)

I am an auditory learner. My primary means of learning is through listening. Hence, I often read things out loud, much to Dale’s dismay. Excessive noise derails my thoughts as it is difficult for me to tune things out. Dale, however, can hardly operate without some noise in the background: t.v., radio, screaming children, fighting cats. He falls asleep during football games and only wakes up when I mute the commercials.

(Josiah has finally emerged into the light. Rarely have we greeted him with “Good Morning” since he returned from college. I stopped writing this blog to slice a pear for him in a desperate attempt to stave off scurvy before his next four month ‘no fruits and veg’ college excursion.)

I was supposed to write from 0700 -1100 this morning for I knew all but Gabe would be quietly asleep. It had snowed overnight, it was 20f (-6c). No Manry had to go anywhere or do anything. Oh laziness – the cause of many a missed opportunity.

I consider the Cone of Silence a brilliant idea. I believe it will help me achieve my goal for 2014. Unfortunately, today I have missed it and must now write within the Manry Clan’s Cone of Noise.