Pet-sitters and vacations: I got home from my Thanksgiving road trip to Los Angeles and Las Vegas to find my cats happy and healthy, thanks to the pet sitter who miraculously appeared when I most needed her.

About six weeks before the trip, I phoned Janice Rizzi, who'd been recommended to me once upon a time. She's no longer pet-sitting - she's now owner of Rad Cat, a raw pet food manufacturing company. (Coincidentally - if you believe in coincidence - I've been feeding Rad Cat to my kitties on the recommendation of my vet.) She gave me the number of her pet-sitter, who was already booked for the Thankgiving and Christmas holidays.

She referred me to Lara Uskovich, who came by and met Garbo and Cellophane, got a tour of the apartment, and watched the feeding ritual, and learned where all the good cat toys live.

I worried. This was the first extended trip I'd taken for years. Lara assured me I could call her and check in anytime. I didn't want to seem like a stage mother, and she had my number in case of emergency, so I didn't call... but I did worry.

I came home to happy kitties - happier than they are when I have to go away for an overnight trip! Lara also left me the most delightful daily diary of each visit: how much they ate, where they were sleeping when she arrived, how much petting, brushing and play time they got... it was adorable.

If you need a pet-sitter, give Lara a call at Buck's Adventure Dogs. (Yes, she does dogs, too.)

On Inclusion

At a parish meeting many years ago, the rector announced the results of a safety inspection. The beautiful cedar trees surrounding the church needed to be fire-treated because of their proximity. Spend tens of thousands of dollars for the treatment... or endless thousands in city fines... or cut them down. We had to decide -- and act -- within the time limit on the citation.

The vestry (board of directors) recommended removing the trees. The rector asked for any discussion. After a long silence, the rector said, "Well, since there are no objections, we'll have the trees removed."

When we left church that day, a fellow parishioner approached me, horrified. "I can't believe they'd just go ahead and make a decision like that!"

"What are you talking about?" I said. "They asked for discussion!"

"I wasn't going to raise my hand. Nobody else did. I think people were intimidated. It sounded as though the decision had already been made."

"It was a recommendation," I said. It wasn't final until no one objected."

"Well, I think it's awful," the parishioner huffed.

"It's not like they were going to cut off your head if you asked for more details or objected," I said. "Nobody put a gag in your mouth. If you're too afraid to speak out in a room full of your friends, you've got no right to complain."

I was younger then and spoke more harshly than I would now. The encounter lingers, though, even 20 years later. I'm sure the rector and vestry wanted to include everyone in the decision -- otherwise, why ask for input? Could they have used another approach? Most certainly. Could it have been one that made everyone feel included?

Is it possible to "make" someone feel included? Or is inclusion defined by each individual, in a specific context? As a nominalization, I suspect inclusion is one of those things that needs to be described in observation language (what a videocamera would pick up) before any group can come up with useful strategies to achieve it.