Tag: Freya Charlotte

Columns

The most delicious gift is one-on-one time with sons

Cindy Hval

I fed them.

All of them.

From breast to bottle to mashed peas and sweet potatoes to countless homemade casseroles and cookies.

I spent hours shopping, prepping, baking and cooking. Keeping my four sons fed often felt like a full-time job.

With the work came the joy and satisfaction of watching them grow into healthy, strong and smart young men.

They all started working as teens. To my delight, each son began using their hard-earned cash to treat me to lunch or dinner – usually around my birthday. Watching your kid tell the server, “I’ll take the check,” is one of the sweetest things I’ve experienced as a parent.

More than that, it’s the precious one-on-one time that delights me.

Recently, Ethan our firstborn treated me to a meal at one of my favorite restaurants. It was fun introducing him to their stunning Happy Hour, but the happiest part was sitting across the table from him.

My time with our Ohio son Alex revolves around the grandkids. But before he became a dad, I flew out alone to visit him. We spent the day together sipping coffee and exploring a beautiful park and its lush gardens. He even slid down a wild slide built into a hillside – so much fun to see my little boy shining through my grown-up son’s eyes.

When our third-born began dating Naselle last year, Zach explained his tradition of taking his mom to lunch. She told him how special she thought that was, and he replied, “Well, she’s a special lady.”

“She must be to have a son like you,” she said.

Is it any wonder we adore her?

This year, they’re newlyweds, but she happily shared Zach so he could treat me to lunch on a Saturday afternoon.

Since our youngest son, Sam, moved to Texas, he takes me out when he comes home for the holidays in December. We go to dinner and a movie. I pick the restaurant, and he chooses a movie he thinks I’d enjoy – this visit we saw “Wicked.”

Of course, I still feed my crew.

The kids in town come to dinner twice a month. Sam spends the holidays and a stretch of summer with us, and I cook for Alex and his kids when we visit Ohio.

So, the blessing of having one of them treat me to a meal is something I don’t take for granted.

The food may be fabulous, but it’s the one-on-one time with my sons that truly feeds me.

Freya update

In a recent column, I lamented that Freya, the Fierce Sheep Poacher, had absconded with the cotton ball lamb from our Play-Doh nativity. But just like the Biblical parable of the lost sheep, there was great rejoicing last week when the wayward lamb was found. Freya had tucked it behind assorted cleaning products in a closet.

Also, my husband’s wish is sometimes my command. Derek said our athletic kitten needed a cape, and I found a pink-striped satin Freya-size cape at PetSmart. Boy, were they both surprised!

More memorable birthday feedback

Reader Eddy Birrer celebrated his 80th birthday at the Dome in Edinburgh, Scotland.

“I highly recommend it for its exceptionally great ambiance and quite modest cost,” he wrote.

Scotland is on my bucket list, but since I have a February birthday, I hope to visit in the fall or spring.

Susie Leonard Weller added a bit of joy to the world on her 70th birthday.

“Inspired by a friend’s example, I tithed my first Social Security check,” she said.

She asked friends to help celebrate her 70th birthday by giving to individuals in need or to charit able organizations. She sent $70 in cash to 34 friends, along with an explanation of the money’s purpose and a postcard. She asked them to return the postcard and to share, in writing as well as during a Birthday Zoom meeting, what they did with their donation.

“I loved hearing how the cash benefited their neighbors, as well as local, national, and international nonprofit organizations,” Weller said. “In a joyous Zoom meeting, friends who knew me from elementary school virtually met my other friends. Many people donated extra money as matching funds to increase the impact of their donation. I’m grateful my 70th birthday celebration provided an opportunity to bring more joy into the world.”

Columns

Double Trouble: A State of the Cats Address

Cindy Hval

2024 proved tumultuous for Sir Walter Scott.

In June, our fluffy tabby lost his best friend when our senior cat, Thor, died. Their friendship wasn’t reciprocal. Thor tolerated Walter at best, but Walter seemed convinced they were best friends. When we didn’t bring Thor home from his final vet visit in June, Walter paced the house searching for him.

A few weeks later, we went to see our grandkids in Ohio. Though family members take good care of our cats when we travel, I worried about Walter. He’d never been alone.

He seemed happy to see us when we returned, but then a contractor began working on my home office. As soon as Tim walked in the door, Walter went under our bed where he stayed, coming out only to eat and for cuddles and treats in the evening after Tim left.

His next stressor came with the arrival of a 2-pound black and white kitten we named Freya Charlotte. After a few days, Walter adjusted the Tuxedo tornado’s company, even allowing her to curl up next to him. He continued to hide under our bed for hours, so Freya gamely joined him for naps.

Then we noticed bumps on his chin. When they continued to spread, I took him to the vet.

Diagnosis: feline acne. This benign condition can have several possible causes, but the only one that seemed to apply to Walter was stress. As for the antibacterial wipes I used to treat it, Walter could hear me unscrewing the lid from across the house and would dive under the bed before I got close enough to swipe his chin.

Thankfully, all is well with Walter now. His acne cleared, and he’s back to sleeping on top of our (his) bed instead of underneath it. Freya is almost always beside him. Actually, we should have named her after the Biblical Ruth, who famously told her mother-in-law, “Where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge.”

Wherever Walter goes, Freya follows, though at 7 months, she’s getting good at coming up with solo adventures.

She’s next level when it comes to parkour. For those unfamiliar, parkour involves several movements, including running, jumping, climbing, vaulting and rolling, all aimed at traversing obstacles and moving from one point to another in the most efficient way.

I doubt that efficiency is her goal. She simply loves leaping and bouncing from one height to the next. She takes a running leap from the floor, bounces off the kitchen counter, skims the dining room table, and lands on the loveseat. She does this multiple times a day.

“She needs a cape,” Derek said. “I bet they sell them at PetSmart.”

Over the holidays, we discovered Freya is an accomplished sheep poacher.

A Play-Doh manger scene always has a place of honor on top of the piano at Christmas. Our son Alex made it when he was in kindergarten. This year, every morning, I’d find the tiny cotton ball sheep on the floor, in the bedroom, or in a closet.

Derek caught Freya tiptoeing (tippawing?) atop the piano, weaving amid fragile objects, her eye on the lone sheep.

One morning, we woke up, and it was gone for good. And no, I did not sift through the litter box looking for it.

We’ve raised four sons, but I no longer need to wonder what kind of dad Derek would have been to a daughter.

Last week, I heard him yelling, “Freya! You get off that refrigerator right now!”

A few seconds later, “No! Freya! Do NOT chew that cord!”

All was quiet for a bit, but I could hear him murmuring. I walked into the kitchen to see Freya in her cat tree basket and Derek stroking her head and rubbing her cheeks.

“You’re still a baby, aren’t you? You’re just a little baby girl, yes you are!”

He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed.

“Well she is,” he said.

Then he turned his attention back to the kitten.

“Aren’t you Freya? Aren’t you just a little baby girl?

I can’t swear to it, but I’m almost certain that cat was smiling as she closed her eyes.

Columns

The new girl

Cindy Hval

She sashays through our house like she owns the joint, the bell on her pink collar jingling.

A month ago, Freya Charlotte joined our clan. Derek and I were immediately smitten with the kitten, but it took our resident tabby a tad longer to warm up.

Though Sir Walter Scott keenly missed his buddy Thor, we hadn’t anticipated adding a kitten to our family quite so soon.

Like cat foster mom Gina said, “The Cat Distribution System struck again!”

She’s referring to the concept that cats or kittens just randomly appear in your life. The idea is that sometimes you don’t adopt a cat; rather, a cat adopts you.

All I know is from the moment we saw the tiny tuxedo’s photo on Gina’s Facebook, we knew she was ours.

The orphan kitten found alone near Progress Road in Spokane Valley got the best of care at Gina’s house. After she gained some weight and was spayed, chipped and had her first round of shots, we went to SCRAPS and officially adopted her.

We gave considerable thought to her name. A friend asked if we were naming our cats after South Hill streets, but Thor and Freya are prominent in Norse mythology.

Thor, the hammer-wielding god of thunder, is better known thanks to the Marvel comics and movies. But Freya is legendary in her own right. The fierce Norse goddess drove a chariot pulled by cats.

After some research, I found a middle name meant to curry favor with Walter. His namesake, Scottish author, historian and poet Sir Walter Scott, had four children. Charlotte Sophia was the eldest and his favorite.

Freya Charlotte Sophia is a bit of a mouthful, but it does get her off the top of the refrigerator in a hurry.

When we brought her home, Sir Walter sauntered up to peer into the carrier. Freya poked her nose out, and a horrified Walter bolted to our bedroom to hide under our bed.

He didn’t stay there long because Freya found him and assumed that he adored her like everyone else she’d met.

After a bit of hissing on both their parts, they moved on to chasing, pouncing and snuggling.

It’s been heartwarming to see their relationship blossom. Walter is a cuddly cat who longed to cozy up to Thor, but our senior tabby wouldn’t allow it.

Thankfully, Freya loves to snuggle next to him for a catnap. She submits to his grooming attention until she’s had enough and then gives a surprisingly deep, throaty growl. That’s enough for Walter to lay off the licking.

Another wonderful surprise is how much she likes people. Most cats are standoffish with strangers – not Freya.

On her third day in our home, Naselle, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, came over to meet with the wedding florist. Freya let both ladies hold her, then promptly curled up on Naselle’s lap and fell asleep.

The kitten is equally friendly with our sons, but her reaction to a contractor who came to work on our home shocked me. The contractor is a big guy, and Freya marched up to him and let him pick her up.

Sadly, Walter is not so brave. Every day the contractor was here, Walter hid under our bed and refused to come out. Not so his baby sister. She’d check on the progress of the room remodeling and then join Walter under the bed, curling up with him in solidarity.

She likes Walter, but she’s an absolute mama’s girl. Wherever I am is where she wants to be. I put a soft blanket on the chair near my desk. As I type this, she’s dozed off, but she much prefers to bury her nose in my neck when she’s sleepy. Her purrs sound more lionish than kittenish.

The one similarity she has with the late Thor is her food obsession. She’s slowly learning that she’s not allowed on the dining room table and that our plates are off-limits. So are the refrigerator, stove and sink.

Recently, Derek found her licking an omelet pan he’d left on the stove. Thankfully, the pan and the stove had cooled, but that behavior is not cool.

He sternly scolded Freya Charlotte Sophia. A few minutes later, he returned to the kitchen to load the dishwasher and found her in the sink, dabbing her paws into the pan he’d filled with water.

“Freya!” he hollered.

She looked him in the eye and slowly licked her dainty paw.

I think the new girl will keep all of us, including Walter, on our toes.