Throw a husband in there for two week,
Stir in some mischief,
with zero ounces of prevention
a pinchbunchquart cup of stress
shake to the left
shake to the right
Five little devils in cat's clothing live with me now,
a sixth peeks into the window morning and night if a cat eats a crumb of food from your plate he's yours for the rest of his life...
Ever heard these words?
It's true :(
DON'T FEED THE CAT...YOU'LL BE SOOOOORRY!
Husband made his every six months pilgrimage to the local Walmart
and stuffed kitty litter bags into every nook and cranny of the house.
Hey! Those two ton bags are heavy
and I've become puny delicate in my old older age.
Took a two week vacation from work to work...don't ask me why...I'm piggish that way.
Husband had to run for his life back overseas for some needed rest ;(
Driving a new Camry without bells and whistles. Didn't want to be stranded when the old Solara gives up the ghost.
Locked out of my back door and locked into my back yard last night...40 degree weather in my cotton dress and sandals for two hours, br-r-r-r-r!
Guess I should feel fortunate that even though my distress yell was answered by someone with no cell phone or drivers license but claimed he was an expert at climbing chain-link fences and picking locks????? finally just sawed the lock off the gate.
Guess I should feel double fortunate that one of my neighbors finally came home from a night out on the town, and took me into their home to thaw out and call someone with a key.
Guess I should breathe a sigh of relief that tomorrow I will only be replacing my dead washer and not a dead dryer also.
Guess I should be jumping for joy that although I feel like my house is falling down around me, it's really only settling badly into the ground.
Sardine Fridays! Yah! Yah! Yah!!! The day each week when the domesticated fuzzballs of this address morph into raving manics biting the hands that feed them. A Valium guzzled down with a quart of beer is needed after that feeding frenzy of furry piranhas is done.
Time to slowly fade into another life void of this blog, as growing older waits for no one, and the time to grow in other ways doesn't last forever. I haven't much more to give all by myself here at little fourth acre gardens...
The only silence with my regrets is that I hardly ever think of them when happy; but in sad times they all come floating to the surface like dead fish in poisoned waters. I hurt today. I'll get over it...I always do...but for now whenever a lull in time passes over me, crying comes with it. Walking as a whisper on the wind, they've always been and probably always will be in the shadows of the gardens. There's a connection with people somewhere back in their time or the mother's, and when a vagabond life turns desperate they appear out of what we perceive as nowhere trying to survive. It's easy to assume they were just dumped, but the abandonment may have occurred seasons ago. Some compassionate souls collect them like flies to leftovers, and life as they used to know it has been sucked down that vortex of never-ending need leaving them circling a growing black hole that becomes impossible to escape. It's hopeless to eradicate what others have irresponsibly brought into being and continue to enable. This whole other world of run-away thoughtlessness has always escaped me, and I have to believe that until now some kind of immense karma protected me from this fallout of human disregard, karma that malevolently sold me out at this stage of my sheltered life. I believe enough lives were saved, lives that many judge trivial; to justify my decision to step off that spinning out of control merry-go-round and abandon the mission that was mutating way beyond my ability to cope. Someday perhaps I will feel the forgiveness I so desperately need every time that sweet face that showed up at feeding time a week ago to take food from the mouths I already was committed to protect haunts me with the resolution I chose. Small, less than a year in age, she ate from their plates for a week. She chose to trust me; I chose to betray her. She never knew what was coming in her so short of a life. How could she, after all, she was just a cat, and although we love to paste human traits onto the essences of our pets, she was still just a cat, an innocent in a world of humans not so innocent. I left her at Metro Animal Control and walked out of her life. I'd like to think, since she was labeled a stray instead of feral, that she had a pinch of a chance of them keeping her to adopt out, but wishful thinking is seldom a reality. Her beautiful face will always haunt me till the end of my days, and I leave this post crying again.
"Did you know that your mutt ran over the top of me last night when he got excited?"
"Your point being, kitty destructo?" "He's dangerous and an irritant to Lacey." Smile..... "Did I say something funny?" "I'm curious. Lacey told me a different tale this morning from her perch high on top of the bookcase that you can't reach as yet." "She's got it in for me. She offers to play, then she hisses and tries to kick all my fur off when I oblige." "Playing, hmmmmm...Lacey called it something different." "I told you, mommy dearest, she totally has it in for me. To believe her tales of fantasy would be a grave mistake." "Are you threatening me, kitty butt pain?" "Oh no mommy, kiss kiss, I love you to pieces. I like playing with you too, even though you get a little rough booting me about with the foot, making me hold on for dear life with my teeth and claws." "Hmmmmm...you seem to have an odd perception as to the meaning of play." "I'll make it up to Lacey; I promise, mommy." "Really! I see your front and back legs crossed. Isn't that a little uncomfortable?" "Not at all, mommy...not at all." "I think your 537th play date with the calico was the last straw." "An exaggeration! It can't be more than 400." "She mentioned a mission to wipe your memory off the face of the earth." "Why would my memory be on the face of the earth?" "I don't think that was quite what she meant, kitty clueless." "I'm just a happy kitten, making happy, happy all around me." "Pardon me, while I go look for a shovel."
"Problem solving...while felines and their inquisitive thirst for knowledge kind of open mindedness that brilliantly cool cats always possess, approach a problem head on with maybe a few lug nuts reducing to ashes the first of their nine lives; brownnosing dogs, falling all over their masters, remain so discombobulated (how does he even know what that word means?) when their sniffing schnozes discover a problem, that they must then present it to master to solve."
This bit of unsolicited insight was left for me to mull over as that meddling, nosy little snoop sat on the bottom shelf of the opened cupboard with a frizzed ended Q-Tip sticking out his mouth and a chewed up carefree pad resting under his butt. I visualized a hot pursuit of child-proof paraphernalia in my near future.
Scooting him off the shelf with my bare foot, silly me...let's rephrase that...attempting to keep that rolled up ball of razor sharp teeth and needlepoint claws from perforating my bare foot as I nudged him towards the edge of his kingdom of mayhem and onto the floor, I wondered if this entry into kitty purgatory was a sign that the apocalypse was just around the next corner.
A yes-mommy fido contently looking at a closed cupboard for the rest of his life, while this paw manipulating Houdini is accidentally shutout behind a door knob apparatus is beginning to look tremendously exciting.
Thomas and Casey are now Simba and Smokey ;) so totally not me, but then again they are so totally not mine anymore. They've moved up a notch or two on the plush scale of easy living in an elite neighborhood. I tried purring, but their new owners thought I was too grown up to take in and settled for the four month old's instead. I was so happy...until a third face showed up for dinner last night :( This seems to be the beginning of the never ending never ending never ending story. Oh, pooh!
garden out my front door. It's right under my nose, but it seems far away over the next
horizon of wishful thinking. Dog days of
summer have slowed the chaos to a stop and maybe in a month or two it will be under control enough to be enjoyed in the cooling of
long does one hold onto nothing, before they let go; before they throw up their
arms, toss out lost hopes, flop into the rusty deck chair and vegetate with an
iced drink until the first snowflakes of winter tease their nose.
this season and thoughts of what might have been have turned to dust and the
storm of disenchantment takes my breath away.
I feel the reminders around me that a fool’s paradise and tangibility
don’t mix; but maybe…maybe this trip is all it’s about, and the end is…well,
the end is just that…THE END.