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I just didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. There’s all kinds of bad things that can happen once you put the feet to the floor and turn on the radio. So I pretended sleep as long as I could feeling the heavy breathing and impatience of Rose, the cat, leaning over me. I think she thought I must have forgotten that I was responsible for her care — even on weekends. I told her to buzz off and turned the other way. I could hear her stealthily making her way to the other side of the bed. Now the plaintive meows started. A cat’s version of whining — I’m hungry! It’s morning (it was 6:30); I’m hungryhungryhungry.

I tried to explain to her that I was trying to remember a television show I used to watch a long time ago and her Meow-ing interrupted the degree of concentration that a “mature” woman needs to dig information out of the filing cabinet of her brain. I could have just put on my glasses and looked it up on my phone but I didn’t want to give in to that. My mind is lazy enough and if I don’t use it now how will I ever remember anything when I’m 90!

I could see all of the stars of the show what they wore, all the romances and dramas of living on the prairie in log cabins and shopping in general stores, oh, and all the mud. But I could not remember the name of the lead character which was also the name of the show. So you see my early morning dilemma.

I knew, it’s was not vitally important that I remember it. There are vastly more important things for my mind to focus on and to give precedence to for all my thinking time. But, here’s the truth, sometimes I just have to let go of the terribleness of the pandemic and the chaos in the US and the blatant racism that’s killing black folks and the horrible damage we people have done to this planet and my own fears about money and aging and aloneness. All of that is never far away in my heart and soul.But this morning,I just wanted to remember that name.

I was thinking about the show because I’m reading a wonderful book by Richard Wagamese, a Canadian Indigenous writer and that show, surprisingly, included stories of the Native Americans who lived there and their terrible treatment by the US government and the settlers. As Rose pouted, I managed to come up with part of the title — Dr. ???? Medicine Woman. I could see her but I could not remember her name. Rose reached the end of her tolerance of me and pulled out the big guns — in this case her pandemic long nails and just lightly touched my arm when I screamed she sat back and quietly licked her pure white belly. I got out of bed.

Needless to say, I did feed her. I did clean her litter. I did change both of her water bowls. I did sprinkle nip where she is used finding it. And I did go to Google and found Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman!

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