Happy Birthday Fanita Fanastica!
23, you're a big girl now.
23, you're a big girl now.
Photo: Anita viewing bones (not hers)Location: Rochester, NH (1990-ish)
Photo: "Tita" with Kitty and AliLocation: Albany, OH (1987)
Photo: Anita's Rockin' School PhotoLocation: Rochester, NH (1989-ish)
Photo: "Nita" of Cynita hugging Ali in close proximity to Em and "Cy" of CynitaLocation: Bryce Canyon, UT (April 24, 2006)
Happy Birthday littlest sis! I must love her if I am willing to humiliate myself with a picture donning questionable "Anthony Michael Hall" hair from the 80s. Clearly I was a very fashion-forward 11-year-old.
Some of you may remember that Anita had trouble with her name when she was learning to talk and she called herself "Tita". We all thought it was so funny that it stuck until about a year after we moved to New Hampshire.
Kitty, pictured with us, was the second orange cat we had while living in Ohio. The first cat, also named Kitty -- boy were we an original bunch -- was run over by a car while eating grasshoppers.
So distraught was I over the death of this cat that I sobbed and sobbed at the parent-teacher conference that evening. Naturally all this crying concerned the adults' assigned childcare duty and they asked me what was wrong several times.
Through my tears and hiccups I would respond, "My ca-a-a-a-t is deadddddddddd."
What they heard was, "My da-a-a-a-d is deadddddddddd".
This alarmed them since Dad was the school superintendent at the time and was supposed to be in that parent-teacher meeting. It took some explaining to get them to understand. You can imagine how much their level of sympathy dropped after they figured out that it was the cat, which was dead, and not my dad. I was truly disgusted with all of them for not seeing the tragedy in my dead cat. Kitty was later buried beside the garage where he may be to this day -- unless of course the people who live there now make the unfortunate mistake of digging up our dead cat. Eeek!
Some of you may remember that Anita had trouble with her name when she was learning to talk and she called herself "Tita". We all thought it was so funny that it stuck until about a year after we moved to New Hampshire.
Kitty, pictured with us, was the second orange cat we had while living in Ohio. The first cat, also named Kitty -- boy were we an original bunch -- was run over by a car while eating grasshoppers.
So distraught was I over the death of this cat that I sobbed and sobbed at the parent-teacher conference that evening. Naturally all this crying concerned the adults' assigned childcare duty and they asked me what was wrong several times.
Through my tears and hiccups I would respond, "My ca-a-a-a-t is deadddddddddd."
What they heard was, "My da-a-a-a-d is deadddddddddd".
This alarmed them since Dad was the school superintendent at the time and was supposed to be in that parent-teacher meeting. It took some explaining to get them to understand. You can imagine how much their level of sympathy dropped after they figured out that it was the cat, which was dead, and not my dad. I was truly disgusted with all of them for not seeing the tragedy in my dead cat. Kitty was later buried beside the garage where he may be to this day -- unless of course the people who live there now make the unfortunate mistake of digging up our dead cat. Eeek!
And now for an Anita story; also cat themed... She is the birthday girl after all. I do wish I had a picture for this story, but it is in an album in my parent's house in Oregon. You'll have to use your imagination.
One day, "the little girls", as they were called, were walking home from the legendary Lone Oak ice cream stand in Rochester. As they walked, a dog wandered over to make their acquaintance. Since no Yeagley spawn can possibly resist anything furry (mold excluded), they decided to invite said dog to our house for a visit and a snack.
Dog was invited into the house and introduced to Nermal, our mangy cat. Fur on end and hissing, Nermal leaped to the top of the fridge. Little Anita decided to try to save Nermal from the dog and attempted to retrieve the cat from the top of the fridge. Nermal, not wanting to be saved, jumped on top of Anita's head and hooked all her claws into Anita's scalp. After having the cat detached from her head, she went to the emergency room for staples and bandages.
She had to wear the bandages wrapped around her head for a several days. She did smile for the picture. Anita still loves cats and is the very best auntie to my cat and April's cats. She does not try to introduce them to strange dogs anymore.
~ Fin ~
4 comments:
In defense of Anita's head...she wasn't trying to retrieve the cat from the fridge, the cat was on the floor. She was trying to save the cat from the dog and the cat took it one step furthur by leaping from her head (located very near the side door) to the fridge which was a good 10 to 15 foot jump thus the staples/stitches combo. And also, that dog was really nice. If our cat wasn't such a wimp they could have been friends.
Inbthe defence of the cat the dog did growl, and in support of my stupidity of picking up cats when terrorists are in the house, it was a bad idea. I've since learned that as much as I like cats, thier lives are no longer worth a single hair on my head, let alone the many that they shaved off for the stiches and staples.
I stand corrected. Thank you April and Anita.
I've been corrected again. It was Phil and Anita. Sorry Phil.
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