Homemade Cooking: Is it Becoming a Lost Art? Don't People Really Know How To Cook Anymore?

IMAGE SOURCES: ©MELANIE NEER~PERSONAL PHOTOS

Quiche Lorraine
Chicken Alfredo
Bœuf Bourguignon
Homemade Minestrone Soup

ABSTRACT: In today's society, many people have resorted to shortcuts in cooking, from getting processed foods, frozen dinners, and relying on fast food restaurants. Sadly, this means it seems the people have forgotten how to cook good old fashioned homemade meals.

CONTENT:

Once in awhile I reflect on different things, and only recently I was thinking of how real genuine, homemade cooking from scratch has become a lost "art' form. And yes, homemade cooking can be considered an art form, as it can take skill, time and patience. However these were qualities our ancestors seemed to have naturally; they had whether they liked it or not since there weren't the conveniences we have nowadays. Did one want to serve piping hot biscuits with their dinner? Well one couldn't simply go to the supermarket and get that pop-able Pillsbury canister, our ancestors had to make them from scratch. Did one want some kind of soup, no matter what kind? Yes, back in the old days one had to spend perhaps hours making it, from first making the homemade chicken, beef, or vegetable stock, then later adding in all the other ingredients. One couldn't simply open a can, pour into a saucepan and heat the soup on the stove or pop in a container and place into a microwave.

Another thing that kind of sparked my recent reflection of how cooking has become a lost art form was when one day I was talking to someone and I mentioned that I was planning to make homemade chicken pot pie. So here I was rattling on how I make the dough for the crust part from scratch, chop up the onion and garlic, cook up the chicken and vegetables and make a white sauce for it. The person listened to me with a great deal of interest and when I finished yakking about it, but she asked me, what is a white sauce? At that moment, I swear I was having a Hell's Kitchen Chef Gordon Ramsay moment and rolled my eyes up in disbelief.

As for myself, I must be one of those rare breeds of people. I absolutely love cooking and yes, I do things the old-fashioned way: I prefer to make everything from scratch. I must have inherited my great grandmother's skills in cooking, as she was known as THE cook of the family, while ironically my grandmother nor my mother could cook to save their lives. I had been told that in her younger days, my great grandmother would get up literally at the crack of dawn just to start making the homemade bread for the day. I do happen to know the joy of real, authentic homemade bread as I've done it myself in the past, and nothing beats smelling that yeasty aroma as the bread dough is rising, and then to actually bake it in the oven. I plain couldn't wait to "sample" a slice as the homemade bread came out of the oven and have it literally dripping with a lot of butter.

For awhile there, up until I was about five years old, my great grandmother, grandmother, mother and I all lived together. No one was really allowed to go into the kitchen as that was considered my great grandmother's domain, save for myself that is. Since both my grandmother and mother worked, my great grandmother became something of a babysitter to me, so I supposed to keep me busy and amused she actually would allow me into the kitchen to help out so to say. I remember her teaching me very, very basic things to cook at that young age, like scrambling eggs or frying up the bacon; she'd let me stir her homemade soups as they were simmering, and even taught me how to make something like homemade mashed potatoes.

After age five, my grandmother, mother and I moved out from my great grandmother's home. Well things changed. As I mentioned neither my grandmother nor mother could cook to save their lives. And yes, by that time there were more convenience foods, especially frozen TV dinners like Swanson's, other types of frozen foods like vegetables, canned soups like Campbell's, even instant mashed potatoes once could buy in a box. Yes, of course on occasion my mother would perhaps roast a chicken or form ground beef into hamburgers and fry them up, but my mother had a habit of burning everything she cooked, even the frozen dinners. Let's put it this way, growing up I often ate foods in various shades of grey or black. It's a wonder I survived my childhood!

As I got older, say in my teenage years and a bit older, yes I started to do some cooking, but very, very basic things. In other words, nothing fancy schmanchy, but at least I didn't burn anything. Then came my college years and I was about to embark on a journey so to say. It was during college that I decided to take a basic course in French. The course was entirely conducted in French by the professor but on occasion she would then speak in English and tell of various aspects of the French culture, which of course included French foods. By a coincidence one time I was watching an episode of Julia Child and she was introducing an upcoming new French chef, Jacques Pepin. Well that cinched it. I had become inspired by the talks about French foods via my French language professor and now with Jacques Pepin.

After buying a good number of French Cuisine type recipe books, including ones by Jacques Pepin of course, I now started my new "journey", that of attempting real cooking, not just scrambling eggs, frying up bacon, cooking up hamburgers and fries, I was to embark on real cooking journey and entirely from scratch. It didn't seem to take me long to acquire my new culinary skills, for as I said, I must have inherited my great grandmother's skill in cooking. Yes it did take skill, patience and time, but out of it all I was having fun with my new skills. I was making Crêpes, French Onion Soup, Bœuf Bourguignon, a myriad of French styled desserts and yes, I even did a few Soufflés.

It didn't stop with French cooking however, but I also ventured at making Italian, Oriental, German, and Mexican cooking, heck it really didn't matter what nationality, if it was food and a recipe sounded good to me I would make it. Even when I did old-fashioned American type cooking, I still would do everything from scratch, no short cuts. For example, if I were fixing a Thanksgiving Dinner, I would make some kind of homemade soup, usually Cream Of Celery, homemade stuffing of some kind, no Stove Top here! I would make homemade mashed butternut squash, the homemade biscuits, and no, Bisquick was never used and to this day, some thirty five years later i still won't use Bisquick. For dessert I would usually opt for sweet potato pie rather than pumpkin.

Don't get me wrong however since I'm not saying I don't use any kind of processed foods at all, I do as its not as if I'm making homemade pasta for instance, nor am I churning my own butter, but I do try to eliminate as many shortcuts and processed foods as possible. My freezer hasn't seen any kind of frozen foods stored in it in decades. Swanson? Lean Cuisine? Banquet? Healthy Choice? You might as well be speaking a foreign language to me. The only frozen foods I have stored are my own food that I cook in volume and and maybe some frozen vegetables, but that's it. Also, now that I'm on my own since both my grandmother and mother have passed on, I'm not exactly cooking the way I used to, but I'm still a stickler that when I cook for myself I still cook from scratch.

Now…I just might have another Hell's Kitchen Chef Gordon Ramsay moment and roll my eyes up as I wouldn't be surprised if you are wondering what a white sauce is. It's one of the most basic of all sauces to make, and basically it is a combo of melted butter, flour, milk or cream, salt and pepper; also by adding ingredients to it, it can also become Sauce Mornay, Alfredo Sauce and so forth. It's the type of sauce that is used when making chicken pot pie, macaroni and cheese, the base for creme-styled soups, potatoes au gratin and scalloped potatoes; goodness, the list is nearly endless.

To give you an idea of just how versatile white sauce can be, I've done a good number of articles in the past using white sauce and I have them listed in my Sources section.

Image Sources: ©MELANIE NEER~PERSONAL PHOTOS

Quiche Lorraine
Chicken Alfredo
Bœuf Bourguignon
Homemade Minestrone Soup

Sources:

Former articles of mine using white sauce which have been published. Originally at Yahoo.voices, now on my blog:

The Many Uses For White Sauce in Recipes: Cream Soups Without the Cream

http://myfavoriterecipecreations.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-many-uses-for-white-sauce-in.html

Old-Fashioned Baked Macaroni and Cheese

http://myfavoriterecipecreations.blogspot.com/2014/07/old-fashioned-baked-macaroni-and-cheese.html

Two Special Potato Recipes to Enhance Any Meal

Part Two: The Versatile Potato

http://myfavoriterecipecreations.blogspot.com/2014/07/article-two-special-potato-recipes-to.html

The Art Of Making Croquettes:

http://myfavoriterecipecreations.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-art-of-making-croquettes-special.html

The Skill and Art Of Making Crepes
Part Two: Creative Ideas for Using Leftovers by Making Crepes

http://myfavoriterecipecreations.blogspot.com/2014/07/article-skill-and-art-of-making-crepes.html

This article had been originally published on May 23, 2014 on the Yahoo.Voices website,which no longer exists

ARTICLE: Just HOW Did Our Ancestors Cope With The Hot Weather?

Photo Source: ©Melanie Neer. Personal collection. Glass photo of my great-great grandmother circa 1860s..yes folks that's my great-great grandmother!

It seems the older I get, the less I can tolerate the hot weather. I'm sitting here in front of my computer with one of my fans blowing full blast and it doesn't even seem to be making a dent in making it cooler in my place. Since I'm on very low income, to save money I plain don't have Air Conditioning as I just wouldn't be able to hack a higher electric bill.

I reflect on how things were when I was a kid and remember that during the summer I didn't think twice about playing, bike riding, running even in the hottest of days…I must have been out of my mind! Now that I'm older I'm dragging myself around, I have brain fog, I'm drinking so many liquids to keep hydrated I'll soon float. I also periodically go into the kitchen and literally dunk cold water on my head to cool off. Oh, and thank goodness people can't see me while I'm in front of the computer as I'm not exactly a fashion plate.

I then started thinking…just HOW did our ancestors cope with the hot weather? I'm particularly thinking of say during the time of my great-great grandparents and great-grandparents. Naturally in those days there was no such thing as Air Conditioning nor even fans to cool down. Clothing was completely different in those days. One wasn't exactly wearing shorts or sleeveless shirts, but instead "proper" women wore to the floor fully sleeved dresses and underneath usually some kind of petticoats and whalebone corsets, also stockings of some kind and heavy type shoes (no sandals). I also so remember my grandmother telling me that when a proper lady went out for the day, she would wear gloves…yes, even in the summertime! Gentlemen in those days would wear the full kit and caboodle consisting of a shirt, vest and suit at all times, even at home.

Also in those days gone by, if one wanted to eat, one had to quite literally slave over that hot stove to cook meals…uh, no microwave in those days. Since people of those times had to do ALL home cooking that would even mean making the bread for the day…there weren't exactly markets to buy what one needed. Another thing I remember my grandmother telling me was that my great grandmother would get up at the crack of dawn to start making the home made breads and biscuits when the temperature was a "tad" cooler. Yea gads, can you imagine being stuck in the kitchen, with the stove and/or oven on while dressed in the attire of those days? I can barely stand to heat up water on the stove let alone cook a full blown meal during the summer, which is why I usually stick to salads or something.

Anyway, bottom line. I'm no fan of the summer…I hate, hate, hate it. Uh, did I mention I hate the summer? It's only a few days into the official start of summer and I'm already wishing for snow!

How do you cope with the summer? Are you a fan or not?

Friskey: The Cat That Was To Be My First Heartbreak

Friskey...The First Heartbreak In My Life
May 19, 1968-July 5, 1975

I'm not really writing this in any particular order, but since I have already mentioned about Friskey, I thought I would relate what was to be my first heartbreak. Friskey came into my life on May 19, 1968, some six years after our very first cat Babette. He was a silver tabby cat who grew quite enormous. Uh, no, he wasn't fat...LOL. Just a gosh darn big cat. While large and maybe intimidating, he had the heart and love of a teddy bear, and one could never ask for a more gentle creature than he.

Since we didn't have that many cats at the time, when my grandmother, mother and myself would go away on vacations, usually to the Lancaster, Pa area, we took the cats with us. In fact the picture of him I have here, was taken on just such a trip and at the time we usually stayed at the Howard Johnson's that was there.

Sadly, Friskey was to only live about seven years and to this day I blame whatever happened while he was at the vet. The nearby vet we started taking our cats to, beginning with Babette, we had trusted completely, and never questioned his "professional" services. I would later, many years later find out that other people had had their own horror stories with this vet.

It was during the last week of June of 1975. At the time I was away for a few days visiting a friend, and when I came back home, Friskey wasn't there. My grandmother explained that one day, while I had been away, and my mother was working at the time, suddenly Friskey had some kind of health problem, but not knowing what was wrong, took him to our vet. The vet we trusted and had by now been going to for many years.

The vet kept Friskey there for nearly a week. When we asked if we could see him, the vet refused saying it would upset Friskey. At the time, we didn't realize how wrong this was. If you have a pet with a vet due to a health problem, one has the right to see their pet...we didn't know this, and like I said, since we trusted the vet, we thought he knew best. Finally, we had enough of it, and demanded to have our cat back as no one was telling us, what was wrong with Friskey. You have to remember, this was long before anyone thought of suing even a vet for any kind of malpractice.

He, the vet agreed to let us take Friskey home...No explanations what was wrong, no medications were given to us...nothing. Also since he was in his traveling case, we didn't notice anything suspicious until we got home. Once home and out of his carrier case, it was only then that we noticed his one leg was all bandaged up. Like what the hell was this?? Again, the vet offered no explanation when we called to find out what was what.

Friskey of course wasn't getting any better, only worse. His one leg that was bandaged up became weaker and we then took him to another veterinary place...one that was open 24/7, even holidays and had a noted good reputation. The news wasn't good. After the vet examined Friskey he told us that the leg had gangrene. Like how the hell did that happen? There had been nothing wrong with his leg when my grandmother took him to that first vet, and he certainly didn't give us any medications to combat any severe infections.

The vet gave us two options. The one was that Friskey's leg would be amputated, and he would then need physical therapy to get him used to walking on three legs...all at a cost I might add that was astronomical. The second option, as you can guess was the more difficult one...to have him put down. Neither my grandmother or mother could deal with the idea of putting him down, and left the decision solely up to me. Gee, thanks, like I really wanted to make such a lousy decision...but the two of them just couldn't give the word to have it done.

But what could we do? We just didn't have the money for the first option...it was way too expensive. I remember so vividly...being outside the exam room with my mother and grandmother...our tears were flowing uncontrollably...but it was me who had to give the final okay to put him down. That happened July 5, 1975, and Friskey is buried at the Wantaugh, Long Island Bide a Wee Cemetery. He was the first cat in my life to go to Rainbow Bridge...and one day, when it is time for me to pass from this world, I can meet him again, as I hope to meet all my "babies"

Originally written June 13, 2008

ARTICLE: Who Takes Care of the Caregiver? The Stressful Role of the Caregiver

Original design ©Melanie Neer

I thought the above illustration as appropriate as we caregivers DO need to be kind to ourselves

Originally Published on Yahoo.voices on October 5, 2007

As more and more of us in the baby-boomer age have discovered we are now facing the new role that we must confront, and that is to become the caregiver of our aging parents, a role that is far from easy. Naturally many of us hope, that as our parents grow older, and are reaching their seventies, eighties or beyond, they will age gracefully, without any complications, whether medically or emotionally, to contend with. That is the ideal scenario. But for far too many of us, this isn't the case, as was with my own mother.


Life with my mother, as I still lived with her, was far from easy in the last ten years or so of her life. First were the obvious emotional problems that seemed to have surfaced. Looking back, I believe she may have had emotional issues all along but they didn't become apparent until about ten years ago, when I began suspecting that she may have been suffering from depression, that got progressively worse as time went by. She had many of the classic symptoms of depression, mainly non-motivation or taking an interest in anything anymore. As her symptoms worsened, and I suggested that she get some psychological help. She did, but unfortunately she didn't benefit from this help. Why?

One is that my mother wasn't the type to openly discuss how she felt, whether medically or emotionally, not even to me, and I seriously doubt, she was capable of expressing herself to a virtual stranger, such as one in the psychiatric community. Also, since she didn't sign a proxy, at least not until the last few months of her life, and by then it was too little too late, I wasn't able to get involved with her clinical care, so in other words, I had no say in the matter due to those strict and stringent Hipaa Privacy Laws. It was unfortunate too, that her psychiatrist didn't catch on to her emotional problems, first of all, because he didn't see her on a weekly basis, as is customary in psychiatric field, but only every few months; also, truth be told, she was a great actress and could come across very differently to the outside world; only I saw her true personality.


It wasn't until March of 2006, a few months before her passing, that my finally signed a proxy. l then made sure I went with her, to what was to be her final visit to her therapist. I conveyed to her therapist about the severity of her emotional disorders and depression. It didn't impress him one bit, and even said to me, that my mother didn't look very depressed. My mother sitting next to me, had a radiant smile on her face, and all I could think of, this psychiatrist, was basing his pyscho-analytical diagnosis that my mother wasn't depressed due to the fact she was smiling?


You can imagine my frustration about this. However, I also did have private talks with her social worker, and she did indeed suspect what I had thought all along, that my mother did indeed have severe depression issues, plus as she put it, also had a variety of other personality disorders, ranging to possible bi-polar, to dementia. When I would go with my mother to visit her social worker, the two of us tried to get my mother interested in doing things again, to take an interest in something, like perhaps take up oil painting again, a hobby she had formerly once done with a passion in her younger years, or to join in any one of the activities that was sponsored by the hospital clinic geared for the elderly. Our suggestions went to deaf ears, as my mother continued to be unmotivated by any possible activity to get her going again.


Besides her emotional problems that I was witnessed to and had to care for, it was in the year 2005 that my mother was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. The discovery was quite by accident. For about two years prior to her being diagnosed with the cancer, my mother was doing a bulimic thing...yes, as soon as she'd eat, I would see her race into the kitchen, stick her finger down her throat to purge. Now at the time, I didn't know she had the cancer. She no doubt did her bulimia bout as it must have felt uncomfortable for her to eat, but at the time I thought, oh, great, another psychological problem.


And, you better believe I was trying to notify someone, anyone about what she was doing, but again, because of her failure to sign a proxy at that time, no one, not her doctors, psychiatrist, or her then social worker (a different one, from the one I got to know), would listen to me. It didn't help the fact that my mother was tight-lipped and not exactly telling anyone of her discomfort, except to say that she had a lot of congestion, so no one suspected her true medical condition. Each and every time I did try to alert professionals of what she was doing, all I would get from these people was that because of the Privacy Laws, my mother's clinical care could not be discussed with me.


It wasn't until June 8, 2005 that it was finally discovered as to the why of her bulimic episodes. I had to call 911 as my mother had passed out while taking a bath. She was out cold. I yelled at her, slapped at her face to bring her to consciousness, but nothing, thus my call to 911. After a week or so in the hospital and a battery of tests, including a mini-camera that went down to explore her esophagus, it was discovered she had a cancerous tumor. Now the real care of her came into view for me. My mother was an extremely stubborn person. When it had been suggested to her, after her being diagnosed with the cancer that she should go to a rehab/nursing home environment, to get her nutrition built up, and to undergo the chemo/radiation therapy, she wouldn't hear of it . She wanted to stay home and have me look after her. It was fortunate that the hospital in question, where she had been diagnosed was quite literally down the block and she was able to get her chemo/radiation therapy there, but as for her other care it was up to me. She had a G-tube inserted into her stomach, in which I would have to give her regular "feedings" of Ensure through it to make sure she was getting her nutrition as she couldn't eat anything by mouth.

She also was quite vocal, however, in not wanting any outside help, that is some kind of visiting nurse service that could have not only helped her out, but given me some kind of time off to myself to attend to my own needs. As I said, it was all extremely frustrating and stress producing to me, but I gave in, if anything to avoid the arguments that would have ensued every time I brought the subject up of outside help.


I suppose the main reason for this article and to point out and share all the difficulties I had in my own experience as a caregiver, is to perhaps give some kind of guidance to someone who is may also be facing the possibility of becoming a caregiver to an aging parent, and I'm hoping that you won't face the same problems as I had. First, of all, I was at least lucky in this regard, that since I didn't have my own family to raise I wasn't torn between my obligations of taking care of a spouse and/or children and of taking care of an aging parent. But I'm the exception, as this will not be the case with most people.


Despite all the hardships and demands on my time in taking care of my mother, I did manage to have some quality time out for myself on a daily basis. This is most important for any caregiver to prevent complete burnout and stress. Since my mother wasn't a complete invalid and was mobile, I took time off, usually by going out for a few hours, whether to do my own errands, or just simply take a refreshing walk, just to have that time to myself. I made sure I didn't neglect my own needs entirely and I also made sure that I had proper rest, sleep, and fulfilled my ow nutrition needs. Once my mother was able to eat solid foods again, I also had the benefit of the Meals On Wheels program which made daily home visits with a healthy, nutritious, balanced meal for the day. This gave me a little time off from constantly having to cook all the meals for my mother.


 It's almost ironic, that now that my mother has passed away, that it is only now that I'm finding out about programs geared for the caregiver, such as outreach programs and support groups that will help the caregiver be in contact with other caregivers so its members can vocalize the problems facing one who is a caregiver; this in itself can be therapeutic as knowing that others are going through the same concerns and stresses will make a person not feel so alone in this time-consuming and stressful new role that has been placed upon them. One can find support groups usually either in one's community, or one can even do a search on the internet. One really great website is Caregiver.com, which even has a discussion forum where people can discuss their challenges as a caregiver, and one can subscribe to their bi-monthly magazine, appropriately called "Today's Caregiver". 


Of course, there may come a time where it may become just too much for the caregiver to continue helping and providing entirely on their own their care of their aging parent, especially if their medical needs worsen, and this is when outside resources are a must. This may be anything from seeking the benefits of having a visiting nurse come to the home, to maybe having their parent go to some kind of adult day-care center, or perhaps short-term nursing home stays. This will give the caregiver some genuine time out for themselves so they don't have to take on all the responsibilities on their own. Finally, of course, may come the time, that one may have to think in terms of placing their parent in either a hospice, a qualified permanent nursing home or assisted living homes.


I hope this article will benefit anyone who in now facing the problems of becoming a caregiver to their aging parent. I invite the reader to visit any internet resources about caregivers, I have only listed two, but there are so many other websites that will be beneficial to the caregiver. All I know it that I sure wish I had known a lot of this material when I had taken on the role as caregiver to my mother.


Sources and information about caregivers:


1).Caregiver.com 



An excellent resource and includes a discussion forum and a bi-monthly magazine one can subscribe to, plus and e-mail newsletter:


http://www.caregiver.com/


2). womenshealth.gov 



 This website defines exactly what a caregiver is, and also defines caregiver stress and how to get help for it. 


http://www.4women.gov/faq/caregiver.htm#e



If one does a general Google search one will find a lot more resources to either help the “caregiver” or to even find caregivers that can help out.

ARTICLE: A VERY SPECIAL VALENTINE'S TO SOMEONE I LOVE SO DEAR

Image~©MELANIE NEER~Personal Photo of My Pyewacket (June 17, 2001-April 19, 2010)

Originally Written February 16, 2012)

A Valentine's Day dedication of love from a very different perspective, and dedicated to those who have loved their pets who have passed on and still miss them in their lives and who understand that it's "not just a cat or dog"

I just needed and wanted to let you know, that here it is Valentine's Day,
I wanted you to know just how much I have loved you
and have always loved you from the moment I met you.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
I loved all the times I cuddled up next to you, while you were lying in bed
and trying to read, yet being selfish and I didn't want you to read, since I wanted your love and attention solely on me...yes I was selfish, but that's how much I loved you.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
All those times I would cuddle up next to you on the sofa, while watching TV,
feeling safe and secure with you since I knew you loved me,
and I loved you...oh how I loved you and still do.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
And especially now I want you to know how special you were in my life
And yes, oh yes, I DO know how much you loved me, since I know you still grieve for me.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
I felt your pain and anguish, that day, that day, that took you and myself
away from us forever.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
That day that took us apart.
I felt your anguish that day.
When you realized I was gone,
You cradled me to your bosom like a baby and rocked me back and forth.
And in anguish and with tears, calling out my name over and over again,
Still not believing I was gone from your life.

I wanted you to know how special you were in my life.
You may not see me now.
You may not hear me anymore now.
You may not feel my cuddles anymore now.
But I'm still here.
I'm still with you and will always be in your heart.

On this Valentine's Day
I just wanted you to know....

I still love you and will be with you always.

Love all my love,
Pyewacket

©Melanie Neer~I dedicate this to all who have pets no longer in their lives and still feel the pain of their passing.

ARTICLE: What Is Crossposting And Does It Really Help?

Image~©Melanie Neer~Composite photo of "Dot", whom I renamed Ouija whom I adopted

Originally written May 9, 2013 for Bubblews, a website that no longer exists

I spend a lot of my time over at Facebook everyday crossposting the urgent pets that need to be saved/rescued/adopted/fostered from shelters, particularly the high kill shelters.

For those of you not familiar with just what crossposting is, let me explain. Facebook has become perhaps the greatest social networking website in order to "crosspost" urgent shelter pets. Over at Facebook, there are hundreds, if not thousands of pages or groups that on a daily basis post the urgent cats and dogs that are on "death row" and scheduled to be "euthanized" (a nice and polite way of saying killed). The "race" is on in which animal activists, advocates and rescuers share these posts by "crossposting", not only sharing the posts on their own profile walls, but on other pages and groups dedicated to saving the lives of shelter pets.

Some people can't understand the process though and wonder what good it does. I once came across the profile wall of a fellow crossposter, and underneath the posting was a comment made by one of her friends. She requested that the person, my friend, to stop sharing and "tagging" urgent cats on her wall. She said I live in Alabama, how can I possible help save a cat in a Georgia shelter. She just plain didn't get it, for you see, you may never know if you have someone on your friends list that IS in the area and can save the particular pet(s).

This indeed was something that personally happened not too long ago. I was lurking around on a friend's profile wall who is a tireless crossposter and who happens to be in Canada, nonetheless even though he's in Canada he posts the urgent cats from nearly all states of the USA. Late one night as I looked at his wall I came across one particular cat named Prince and was on "death row" scheduled to be killed the next day. The cat was in a high kill shelter in Florida. I decided to share the posting of Prince on my wall…and I'm from the NYC area mind you. Only a few moments passed, when one of my friends chimed in…she wanted to save the cat. Where was she? Yes you guessed…she lived nearby that particular shelter. You might say the race was on, time was ticking. Rather frantic emails and messages went back and forth between me, my friend and representatives of that shelter. Since it was well beyond business hours, one couldn't simply call the shelter. Bottom line though, it worked, the cat Prince was saved instead of killed and was adopted.

Sadly it doesn't always work, as too many shelter pets are still killed off each and everyday, but with crossposting is that glimmer of hope, that yes, many ARE saved. So if you're over at Facebook, and wonder why you have some friends who are maniacs about posting urgent pets and what good it does, tell that to that pet who was saved from death row, and perhaps consider crossposting urgent pets yourself. You never know…YOU just might have a friend on your list at Facebook that can help save a life.

I would also like to add, that there are scores of pets even in the no-kill shelters nationwide that also need to be crossposted as well, as many of these shelters can often be overwhelmed with pets needing rescue and adoption. It was by crossposting that I came upon a black cat and at first merely cosponsored him by sending money to the shelter that would go toward his vet and neuter fees. I was to later go one step further, and yes, adopted him.

The photo I include here is a composite of my black cat Ouija (his shelter name was Dot) whom I adopted via the Grayson County Humane Society in KY and was transported to me all the way to my home on December 1, 2012 here in the NYC area.

ARTICLE: The Bittersweet Moments Our Pets Show Us: Just One Demonstration of Unconditional Love a Pet Gave Me

Image~©MELANIE NEER~Personal photo of Tippy

Originally published February 8, 2011 on Associated Content/Yahoo.voices website which no longer exists

ABSTRACT: Our pets don't ask much from us, they don't judge us but accept us for who we are no matter what and know the meaning of Unconditional love CONTENT: I think many of us who have pets realize the wonderful unconditional love they have for us. They don't judge us, they don't really ask for much yet are capable of showing their love and affection to us without asking for anything much in return. They know the true meaning of unconditional love, something we humans could learn from.

I was talking about one of my cats over at Facebook. As many of my friends may know, my cat Pyewacket passed on April 19th 2010, yet this isn't about him but about one of my cats that I had years and years ago. Her name was Tippy. You might say I rescued her. It was on a warm May day, many, many years ago in 1983. I was at home and at one point, I looked out the window and saw a circle of kids tossing around a very young tiger-striped kitten as if it were a football. Enraged doesn't quite explain how I felt. I zoomed out of my apt. and went straight over to those kids and demanded they hand over the kitten to me; no doubt they must have thought I was a looney tunes and one kid had even said to me "It's just a cat." I cuddled the very scared kitten close to me and took her home.

Despite her ordeal of being treated like a mere object she didn't seem to fear me or her new surroundings considering the fact that I also had about five other cats at the time, and she quickly made herself at home. I named her Tippy since even though she was a tiger-striped cat, at the very tip of her tail was the color of an orange tabby...thus the name "Tippy"

Tippy became one of my cuddle bugs and velcro cat. She would hop on my bed to keep me company while I slept, and even gave me her version of a back message. All this attention she gave me unfortunately seemed to spark the jealousy of another cat named Bobbie. He began to antagonize her, bully her, wanted to fight her all the time, it was like a world war going on day in and day out. She began turning into a scared and timid cat and she felt her only safe place where Bobbie wouldn't bother her was to hop up into a cabinet over the refrigerator. She was to remain there for years and years after never coming down. I would have to place her food on top of the fridge and hoist up the litter pan for her to do her business. She just plain wouldn't come down.

Then one day in 1996 I was sitting in the living room when a movement attracted me from my peripheral vision. Looking directly to the "movement" my jaw dropped as I saw Tippy walking around the living room like she was the Queen of Sheba and unafraid of being bullied. At any moment I expected Bobbie to resort to bullying her again but he didn't. This should have maybe raised alarms, but I was just so happy to see her out and about again. She even resumed hopping up on my bed, giving me her back rubs, just as if nothing happened those years she stuck herself in the cabinet and not coming down from her "sanctuary".

About two weeks passed by after her initial daring day of her escape from her sanctuary , and Tippy remained feeling secure about being out and not afraid of Bobbie, and continued to snuggle up on my bed while I slept . Then one morning, I woke up and saw Tippy lying on the floor near the foot of my bed. I got up and went over to her to pet her thinking she was merely asleep, but no, she was still, lifeless....she had passed on. It was as if though, in her last moments of her life she wanted to be near me and why she was where she was on the floor at the foot of my bed.

I'm sure those of us who are pet owners have our own stories to tell of a pet or pets, who demonstrated their unconditional and trusting love for us even in their final moments of life. The story of Tippy is just one of many for me and I will always remember until my own final day.