"George"

I thought for my first post, I'd share a story with you.

From the time I was around 8 years old, I played basketball. Back in the 1970s, when I was growing up, we didn't have all the school sponsored sports for youngsters, like they do now. Much of my time was spent playing outside, and not on a cell phone or video game. I did not have those, as they didn't even exist yet.

After moving to Michigan from Wisconsin when I was 10 years old, I began playing organized basketball on Saturday mornings at the high school gym. Both of my brothers played basketball for the high school. We lived in the country and my dad had cut out a piece of plywood to look like a backboard and attached a rim and net to that. Then he attached all of it to our garage. We had a dirt driveway, but it was soft and if we bounced the ball out there enough, it became very smooth. My brothers and I would play for hours.

One day, when I was out practicing on our dirt basketball court, I heard some high-pitched meows. I knew our one cat had been expecting and suspected it was her kittens I was hearing. I followed the sound out through the deep ditch across the road from our house and into some tall, dry grass. I would hear the screeching meows ever so often. I finally came upon what was making the sound. I was horrified at what I saw. Another animal, or more probably a male cat, had discovered the 4-5 kittens the mama had hidden in the long grass. The screeching was from the kittens, whose eyes were not even open yet. They had been torn apart. I ran crying, all the way to the house. I told my mom and dad what I had found. My dad and older brother went out across the road. I saw my dad carrying a shovel and my brother carrying a baseball bat. Again, I was shocked. I knew what it meant, however.

A while later, my dad and brother came back to the house and my dad was holding this little, dark gray, tabby kitten, who had a large bump on his head. He was the only kitten they were able to save. The others had been too injured. My mom and I began feeding the little guy with an eye dropper. We washed him in the sink and took care of him. Eventually, he grew up. We named him George. Well George was a bit dumb for a cat. He didn't really keep himself clean and you could do about anything you wanted with him. He was friendly and loving, but extremely laid back for a cat. We were pretty sure he had brain damage from the bump on his head.

I found that I could do things with George. So, this began my first posed pictures. I put George in the mailbox and he would just sit there, so I took a picture. I put George on my bike seat and again, he sat there, so I took a picture. I took picture after picture of George on my bike, in the mailbox, on the porch railing, in the tree; and thus began my passion for photography. 

Have a great week.