Of course, if C is for Cat then D must be for Dog. A dog named Dixie.

Let me say right up front that I am not a dog person. I never had a dog growing up (well, except for the brief and ill-fated attempt we had with an Irish Setter puppy in the winter of 1971 when I was 6) and I am very much a cat person. Dale, however, is a dog person and therefore we have a cat for me and a dog for him.

Truly, Dixie is a very sweet dog. She’s loyal and friendly. She jumps like a kangaroo when she’s excited to see you – and honestly, she’s excited to see you if you’ve been gone 5 days or 5 minutes. She’s a shameless food begger and has wonderfully expressive eyes. And those eyes clearly work to her advantage when she’s begging for food. She’s good company and loves to take us for a walk. She captured my heart when she was a puppy and she’s never let it go.

Maybe I am a bit of a dog person after all.

Of course, C is for Cat. You all know Mason, right?

Isn’t he beautiful?

I’ve always had a Siamese cat, even before I was born. You see, when my oldest brother was 11 he started begging for a cat. My parents agreed and sought permission from their downstairs neighbor and landlord. The landlord said okay but only if they got a Siamese cat because that’s what they had. My mom went out and got a book on Siamese cats and the search for the Siamese kitten began. It wasn’t long before they found one and they named him Simba, after a champion Siamese cat in the book my mom had purchased. Please note this was way before the lion king – this was 1964.

I came along in 1965 and Simba lived to be 18 so I really did have him my whole life. I was devastated when he died of old age as he really was the most wonderful cat. My parents eventually got another Siamese but I was in college then so I never really bonded with him. When I got married, of course, I wanted my own Siamese cat and we got Maxwell. He was wonderful and friendly but rather independent. I know, I know, he was a cat and that’s their nature but Max just never really needed people all that much.

When I married Dale I brought Max along with me to the marriage. He got along fairly well with Dale’s dog but I worried about him a lot because he was a cat who was used to going outdoors and we now lived on a very busy street. My worst fears came true when Max was hit and killed by a car. I shall pause for a moment now for all you cat lovers to collect yourselves.

I grieved for Max for a long time and it was over a year before I was ready to let another cat into my heart. But then came Mason. We got him on Valentine’s Day, 2002. He was so tiny he could sit in the palm of my hand. I was sewing a lot in those days and he loved to lay on the arm of my sewing machine, right under the light. He was truly the sweetest and cutest kitten I had ever seen.

And he has grown into the most wonderful cat. He sits with me while I knit and he sleeps in the crook of my arm – under the bed covers – most nights. He is quite vocal and has whole conversations with me about what he does all day when I’m at work. He is my buddy in every sense of the word and I love him far more than any woman should love a cat.

C is for cat. A cat named Mason.

One of my goals for this year is to eat better. I’d like to lose weight and I’d like to exercise more but the bottom line is I need to eat better. And the more I read about eating better the more I read that people who do eat better (how many times can I use that phrase in the first paragraph of this post?) eat breakfast. Every day.

Now, I love breakfast. I love it on Saturday and Sunday mornings and I love it to consist of eggs and pancakes and bacon and sausage and hash browns and toast and baked beans. Yes indeed all of that at once, please. Howsomever, I don’t think that’s what the people who advocate eating better and eating breakfast actually have in mind. Something tells me if I ate that every morning I probably wouldn’t lose any weigh. Heh.

Nevertheless, I’m here to tell you that I have eaten breakfast every morning for the past 27 days. I haven’t eaten breakfast that many days in a row since the 6th grade, I think. But I’m doing it. And I like it.

Some mornings I have cereal with banana along with wheat toast and peanut butter.

And some mornings I have a one egg omelet with a low cal English muffin.

And other mornings I have oatmeal with almonds and craisins and that piece of wheat toast with peanut butter again.

Variety is the spice of breakfast, apparently. So, there you have it. B is for Breakfast. Every morning. I think I’m eating better, kids.

When I did the 2006 ABC Along I had a rule that I wouldn’t use any people for my letter posts. This time around, though, things are going to be different. I mean, really, how could I not choose my beautiful little granddaughter to represent the letter A in my life?

This little angel stole my heart from the first time I saw her (you can read about that here, if you’d like) and I miss her desperately now that she has moved to Florida with her mom and dad. She’s 2 1/2 and time is passing too quickly. Her father tells us that she has developed quite a stubborn streak and the terrible twos have arrived in full force. But I’m her nana and it’s hard for me to imagine her as being anything other than sweet and lovable.

Soon, though, I won’t have to imagine at all. You see, A is also for Airplane and on Saturday Dale and I will be boarding an airplane and flying to Florida for a little visit.

I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. Turns out A is also for Anticipation.