Long Shadows

my cats
curled in beds
purr when 
I look
at them

Gracie
a friend's dog
squeals when
on seeing me
before our 
daily walk

I hope
she sleeps
now with
her human
home today
from hospital

elsewhere
people & pets
suffer, wait

and

we are
the lucky ones

Because Felis catus

1.

Interior Designer

2.

Plea Bargainer

3.

Carpet Cleaner and Photo Bomber

4.

Nursing Aide

5.

Apprentice Tutor

When I notice the cat fur

stuck to my awful popcorn ceilings
glued to the ceiling fan blades
stuffed under the hateful carpet edges
artistically lining a plate just taken out of the dishwasher
littering my favorite warm in-house pullover
in my sheets and my nose and my sink and . . .

then . . .


I need to look where
it should be
so I remember
I love cats
anyway

Lord Love a Cat

Here’s What Happened When God Let Cats Loose Upon the World

by Gene Weingarten

The Washington Post

The following document was obtained from sources close to God. Translated from the original Aramaic, it is a transcript of the final exit interview before Cat was loosed upon the world.

Cat: I have some demands.

God: That is not how it worketh, Cat.

Cat: I shall scratch their bellies and draw blood.

God: Fine.

Cat: Really?

God: Yes.

Cat: I shall to do it a lot.

God: I sayeth, fine.

Cat: I shall use my claws to communicate “no,” “yes,” “thank you,” “I’m bored” and “I love you.”

God: Okay.

Cat: I shall be doing some indiscriminate biting of bare feet.

God: That is strictly prohibited.

Cat: Freelance biting, then. Also, I am a lion.

God: Thou art a cat. Thou art not much larger than a baked potato.

Cat: MEOW!!

God: [Laughter.] Was that supposed to be a roar? Oooh, oooh, I am so afraid!

Cat: I am immune to mockery.

God: Are we done here?

Cat: I will say “Let there be light,” and there will be light!

God: That is taken care of already, Cat. Instead, I shall give you the power to cure cancer in those who care for you. You may exercise this power with compassion and gratitude anytime you wish.

Cat: Nah. Too much of a hassle.

God: Fine.

Cat: I will neither “fetch” nor “sit.” Do I have a name?

God: You shall be given a name, yes. It might be Tommy or Sandra or a name that is dreadful like Fluffykins.

Cat: I shall never respond to it.

God: Fine.

Cat: I shall never have to go on “walks.”

God: Fine.

Cat: Fine?

God: Indeed. That leads us to a central issue, Cat. You shall poop in a box.

Cat: WHAT?

God: A little box. From the time you are a small suckling you will know that you must do this and you will never, ever, ever make a mistake about this.

Cat: No!

God: Your life depends on it. Trusteth me on this.

Cat: I cannot ...

God: You can and you will. You scratch bellies. You bite feet. You live as a saboteur. You are an unconscionable jerk. In return for this license you will poop in a little box.

Cat: I am a very good boy.

God: You are not.

Cat: The sand that I shall poop in? Is it expensive?

God: Yes, it is very expensive, indeed.

Cat: Fine.

A Day in the Life of a Housecat

Mine start their day when mine begins. I don't know how, but they always know when I'll rise (before I do). At some point before I wake, they're both on the bed (where they have not been all night): BigAssCat on my right mid-body and Doodlebug on my left at head-level. As soon as I stir, they purr and insist on being stroked.

Then it's time for food for BAC and more cuddling for D.

After about an hour during which they check all their usual haunts for the occasional bug or odd bit of fluff on the floor, they take their morning naps.

One more brief mid-day period of activity is followed by the Long Afternoon Sleep, after which they plead for a sit by the kitchen screen door.

When I start closing up before bed, they wait on the steps. As soon as I turn on the stairway light, BAC leans in for a nose-to-nose check, then bounds upstairs, me following, and Doodle makes up the rear in one long leap from stairs to bed, where she stretches out like an apostrophe, belly up.

While BAC noshes and D cleans herself, I scoop out the litter box, after which BigAssCat bounds in (only when I lock the lid), insisting always that she'll be first.

More play, some cuddling, lights out, and they disappear.

In my next life, I'd like to be somebody's well-loved feline companion, like Tigger whose human lets him roam wherever he wants. Here he's on the kitchen island, aiming for a head butt. (And yes, he got what he wanted.)

Finding Peace in Wintry Mix

Snow in the morning.

Rain by noon.

Cold by night.

This is winter.

All good cats (and people who don't have to go elsewhere) know the remedy: stay put.

The Bluebirds Have Returned!

I
February 28, 2014

By this time last year my own bluebird had been knock, knock, knockin' on the door and windows, asserting his domain in preparation of moving his Mrs. into the bluebird box. Two months after beginning the long preparations, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird disappeared, thanks to a neighbor's cat.

I still haven't quite gotten over their absence. I had so wanted another crop of babies like the ones I had enjoyed the year before.

II
February 4, 2015

I have loved the bluebirds of Sewanee ever since I heard them sing and tap and saw them perch on telephone wires, leaping down to pluck a worm and watched them teach their young at the lake.

I have mourned their loss, but I have hoped for their return following my neighbors' move of themselves and their wandering cat.

III
Guess who?

The tapping was tentative, but my little cat's chattering and her sister's quick slither into the living room announced their return.

IV

The box is newly cleaned and re-hung. Welcome home! Come on, spring!

Feline Smackdown

I thought I had bought reading chairs.

My mistake.

IKEA does pet furniture, WWE style.

(Now if I could just teach them to read. ) 

Three Good Things on a Rainy Day

I
An unexpected gift of two bars of my favorite goat milk soap. L should know that I enjoyed a long soap using one this evening.

II
Two cats snug in their separate beds.

III
The promise of Indian food and art tomorrow.

Not As Innocent As They Look

I live with sister cats whose looks are deceiving.

Yes, Doodlebug is all sweet and adorable when wakened from her nap, cuddled into her little bed.

But.

That is not the whole story.

Now imagine her jumping from the floor onto my back and holding on with her claws. Yes, this is another Doodle, the flip-side of cuddly, even though she makes that leap to purr and climb up onto my shoulders.

Those claws can do damage.

Yes, B(ad)a(ss)c(at) [pronounced Bassy] looks all sweet and adorable when wakened from her nap, comfortably lodged on her window chair.

But.

That is not the whole story.

Now imagine her ripping my expensive terrycloth robe from the hanger on the back of my bedroom door, closing said door, and spending much of the evening shredding it into pieces just for the sake of sensory pleasure, purring all the while.

Those claws can do damage.

Beware: these cats are not as innocent as they look.

Who, Us?

I know it's here! I hid it under here last night so she wouldn't find it and get mad!

OK, but it's not there now!

Maybe here instead?

She enters, sees them.

They look up, see the human, and devote themselves to a moment of mutual grooming

She goes into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

Fooled again!

Look! I found it! Quick! It's way under here!

Later, when she discovers yet another pulled piece of fabric sticking out of the rug, she needn't wonder about the source.

Cats. 

Living with them is hard. 

Living without them is harder.

A Half Dozen Pleasures in One Day

1. A plethora of cooperative Odonates.

2. A package of old photographs, featuring my blood family and my might-as-well-be-blood family.

3. An ice cream cone with a friend.

4. An email from a cousin.

5. Fresh corn.

6. Two fat cats in one lap.

Day 30: Another Day That Changed My Life

After waking me, the cats lingered at the back door.

Then they napped.

Next they book-browsed and mouse-hunted.

Then they napped.

Next they washed and folded the laundry.

Then they napped.

All before 11 AM.

These two are highly satisfactory cats.

Day 23: Another Day That Changed My Life

Waking naturally today as I did in childhood, I slept a good sleep, a drug-free sleep for the first time in over a week (toothache), and soundly.

Now if only I could sleep with the abandon my cats enjoy.

Generosity

1.
I walked three strides from the parking lot gate toward the dam. Suddenly, the air shimmered with newly emerged Lancet Clubtails. Another few feet, and more flew toward the treeline and protection. Despite rain and clouds and more rain on the way, despite a temperature in the 60s, these hardy Odonates had decided, en masse apparently, to make their debut.

Such is the generosity of nature.

2.
A friend wondered if I might like to try out her Nikon DSLR. She said, "I don't really need it any longer. I use my iPhone for everything and you take the pictures of my new knitting patterns anyway. Come over if you'd like to try it out."

I went over, but thought I couldn't use the camera. "How do you adjust the viewfinder?" I asked. "I can't focus on anything."

"I don't think you can. I never tried."

"Ah, then it probably won't work for me."

But she convinced me to try it out, and so I did.

I shot the cats successfully.

I leaned into the irises.

I shot at least one clubtail fairly well, though not in complete focus.

I struggled to capture a Violet Dancer, the first I've seen this year, but with a true macro lens, I'm sure I could do it.

Most importantly, I learned in five minutes how to adjust the diopter.

She called again after I sent a couple of snaps in an email. "I've found all the lenses. Come on over!"

"I'll bring my checkbook," I said.

Such is the generosity of friends.

The Comforts of Home

These are highly satisfactory cats.

Tiny Doodlebug and Bacee (Big Ass Cat) sleep on my work sweater.

A Lazy Afternoon

After a rousing game of Mousey-in-the-Basket, what are teens to do?

Snuggle, of course. With the sibling. On the cuddly blankie. In the high chair. Looking out over the yard. Where critters roam.

Time to Open the Windows

so the cats can sit in the sun
sniff the air
and welcome me home

Outside/Inside

I
Outside this happened. Not once. Several times. With sun in between.

On Facebook, I asked, "If the devil is beating his wife when the sun shines during rain, what's he doing when the sun shines during a snowstorm?"

A former student, far more clever and quick-witted than I today, replied, "Maybe she's giving him the cold shoulder?"

II
No cold shoulders inside.

The Kindness of Strangers

At the Lake Cheston dam bridge, a large black and white cat lounged.

"Is the cat yours?" I asked the man teaching his children to cast.

"Yep."

"Does he follow you all or the dog?"

"Us! Usually our second cat walks with us, too."

I liked the man teaching his children to cast, finding it normal that his cats would join them on a stroll, belling his cat.

That large cat joined me on my stroll, rubbing my legs, weaving through them, lying on the path and rolling in the dirt, then running flat out ahead of me, turning and running back.

I didn't even need to call Here kitty kitty! because the cat was calling me, on.

At the trestle bridge, that black and white cat ran up the iron as if to dare his own companion, a female muted tortie who suddenly appeared. She too made my acquaintance, and then satisfied to have found each other, they nosed one another and lingered while I walked on.

Two more turns and I picked up other strange companions, a group six ducks, male and female, I think, adult and young, I think. They drifted toward the beach and I loped along on the path. When they stopped, I stopped, and when they paddled, I wandered.

For a moment, I feared they would fly off, startled as they were by the sight and sound of man and boy and two dogs, who happily did not see me or my ducks, and disappeared up the hill. Left with my little flock, I studied them and they ignored me, and when they turned back toward to the fat of the lake, I crossed over and wove around to find them joining a seventh duck, another kind, who had found the right place to dive.

All in all, I enjoyed a companionable stroll among strangers: two children learning to cast, one wet hairy dog, one kind man, two curious cats, and seven ducks of two kinds. That's my kind of late afternoon.