Tag Archives: VT

Who adopts who?

Nadine was crying. She seemed desperate for attention, but when I approached, the volume increased. She shoved an arm through the bars of her cage, and then pushed her little snout through as well. It was harder to yowl that way, but she gave it her best shot. I reached out my hand and she pulled back her face and stuck her other arm through, grabbing one of my fingers with both paws. She might as well have been speaking English her plea was so clear. She must not have known that there was a small plastic card taped to the top of her cage that said someone is thinking about taking her home. On the other hand, maybe she knew that in an animal shelter the fat lady doesn’t sing until she’s walking out the door with her adoptee.

Our boy cat, Boo, had only been gone three weeks when Hannah and I dropped in at the Windham County Humane Society in Brattleboro, Vermont, on our way to celebrate Thanksgiving in West Wardsboro. We often visited the shelter, but with two cats of our own, we only stopped for a quick cuddle and then we were on our way. Now that Scout was the only cat at home, I knew we’d be tempted, but I thought we could risk a visit. After all, without Andrew we didn’t have a quorum. I didn’t count on Hannah falling in love.

We adopted Boo and Scout from the WCHS eight years ago, when Hannah was still a little girl. She was not happy about getting cats, but we assumed they would grow on her. Well, we underestimated Hannah’s powers of resistance. It took a very long time before she was comfortable with them; years. She did come to love them, however, and she was as bereft as we were when Boo died, but I never would have dreamed that she’d be the catalyst for our next pet.

It was late in the day, the day before Thanksgiving, and the shelter was winding down for the holiday. There were only a few kittens in residence and I didn’t pay much attention to them. I was more interested in the older cats. Hannah, however, zeroed right in on a kitten the shelter volunteers were calling ChaCha and it was love at first sight. There was no way we were going to be able to adopt that day; the shelter was closing and would not be open for the holiday. We knew, though, that if we wanted to adopt the kitten there was a good chance that she’d still be available—if we got there early enough—the day after Thanksgiving. Now all we had to do was talk Andrew into it.

Andrew took a little convincing. He felt it would be disrespectful to get another cat so quickly, even though he wanted Scout to have company. I didn’t entirely disagree, but Hannah’s excitement was hard to ignore. The case she built included her fear that if we waited until after she went to college to get another cat she’d feel as if she’d been replaced. (Better Boo than her, I suppose.) And she wanted a kitten, something small enough not to be intimidating. I was sold.

We told Andrew that he didn’t have to decide until he met the kitten. We knew she would close the deal, and indeed she did. So here she is, the newest member of our family, Harper.

harper at 3mnth

And it was a happy Thanksgiving for Nadine, too. She’s now in her forever home where I’m sure she’s making her new family very happy, just like Harper.


Massage done right is a wonderful thing

A German friend once said, “You Americans and your therapists. In Germany I saw a massage therapist once a week. That’s a therapist worth seeing.”  I had not yet had a massage, so I was in no position to argue, but in the years since, I’ve come to appreciate the value of a good massage, and if the proliferation of Massage Envy locations is any indication, so has the rest of the East Coast.

The first massage I had was given to me as a present, to be done at a fancy, new-agey, wellness center in Cambridge. The lobby had muted lighting, stone walls, and a fountain, a little babbling brook pouring over a tower of smooth rocks; it radiated relaxation. And the experience continued to be soothing, from the background music, to the warmed blanket, to the incredibly strong, gentle, hands whose touch brought to life my friend’s assertion.

The next time I went to that wellness center, the original masseuse was not available and they were doing construction. I was directed to a trailer, the kind you would expect to see at a construction site with a Steelcase desk and a couple of guys in hardhats inside. I was relieved to discover that they’d dolled it up with all the appropriate massage trappings, but the soothing music could not drown out the noise coming from the jack-hammers outside, which turned out to be the perfect accompaniment for the woman who was giving me my massage. Whatever she was doing was so painful that I had to bite my lips a few times to keep from crying out. It was the antithesis of relaxing.

Years passed, the memory of elbows digging into my shoulders dimmed, and I decided to try again. The place in Cambridge had disappeared, along with all traces of the original masseuse. I visited a few other masseuses and while I never had a repeat of the horrible trailer experience, neither was I able to find the bliss of my original massage. And therein lies the rub. (Let’s pause while we all acknowledge what a great pun that was.) All masseuses are not created equal. I have learned that it is folly to pay for a massage unless you have gotten at least one recommendation from someone you know.

If you are reading this, you probably know me. If you don’t know me, but you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know me well enough. I’m going to recommend a masseuse for you to see the next time you’re in Burlington, Vermont. Genevieve Henry is a massage therapist who has just opened her own practice, Massage Journey. In the interest of full disclosure, I will tell you that Genie is part of my extended family and I would promote her business even if she was selling dog food, but that is not was she is doing. She is giving wonderful, relaxing, restorative massages. And I speak from experience.


Genie is a loving, caring, supportive woman. For the past several years, she has been a partner in Birth Journeys, also in Burlington, VT, providing doula services and childbirth education. Imagine having a woman expectant mothers trust dedicating an hour to your well-being. It’s almost worth traveling to Vermont for. I know most of you don’t live in Vermont, but surely you have friends there. Be sure to tell them about Genie and her business, Massage Journey. They will thank you. I promise.