I am the lonely old possum that hangs by my tail, in the ‘seen better days’ tree. The good news is, I am not really lonely. I am a Cool Dude. I have a caring Mama and a nest of siblings that I purposely escape each day. I make my way to my favourite perch, an evergreen. I scamper up, higher and higher, looping my tail around a branch, like a bungee cord, free-falling, so I can get an unobstructed view of the terrain below.
Why would I choose that tree, in that location? Well, you know, Momma lives there with all of her Cool Inside / Outside cats,her Hot Dog,Mr. Grey Squirrel, his family and friends,the rabbitsand colourful birds, oh and don’t forget the raccoons. I like watching them too…and the bats, that at dusk, fly in formation, like bewitching shadows, their wings extended, as they glide, noiselessly, swooping and swaying, to their own inner antenna.
Jakita considers me an unsub.Whatever! I just don’t pass the sight and smell test. She constantly sounds the alarm, like ‘Do something Momma’. Maybe she thinks that Momma should climb the tree and poke me. Forget that. Momma would then make me part of her entourage, give me a schedule, expect me to fit in, what ever that means.
Jakita (left) Kitty Club Med, left to right, Beau, Gen (calico) and Andy.
The cats, I shall subdivide for you. The Inside Kitty Club Med cats, ignore me. They sashay indoors, never acknowledging my existence. I can handle that. I have to say, the feral cats, the rabbits and raccoons, even the birds and the squirrels, think all outside trees belong to them exclusively and are hostile accordingly. Sharing is not their strong point.
Do you think it bothers me?This is the room with the viewand I am not going anywhere, at least, until after I fall out of the tree and meander back to my den, to snuggle with Mama and my siblings.
So get this straight from the horse’s (or in my case cat’s) mouth. I am not a bully. I am a sweet♥ . Just ask Momma. Everyday when she is sitting in RIP Daddy’s easy chair, reading the paper (yup, she has not gone digital yet), I jump on her lap, purring loudly, sending sections helter–skelter. I scrounge around for a good place to exercise my kneading, latch on to suck on her oversize winter cardigan, finally settling down, then falling in to a blissful sleep.
So see what I said. I am such a Brainiac, I shade my eyes with my paw when I fall asleep in the daytime.
No, I am not a mean cat but unfortunately, like all male (cats), sometime my testosterone runs high. This can cast me in a poor light, but get a grip, I am the Brainiac. I know when to stop. If I don’t, well, both Jakita and Momma are more than willing to settle me down.
I confess that when I am home bound in the winter, I act a trifle wired. I mean, when it is too cold for a Club Med kittyto venture outside, I look around for ways to burn off my abundance of hormones.
First I consider, should I give chase to the Diva Calico Gen? On the plus side, she loves a good chase, if I give her a head start. However, she is so pretty and my little sister, as well as Jakita’s best friend forever. If I take on Gen, I take on Jakita who will join the chase, jump on my back and chew my ears. That is no fun.
Gen and Jakita, BFF, asleep with Gen’s Kitty, Tigger.
Well, there is always Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte (Charlie). But that is problematic as well because Jakita is not kidding, she has ears that hear the butterflies flap their wings in Africa. The first hiss out of Charlie and Jakita barks to tell on me. Momma comes running, shoos me away, comforts Charlie, praises Jakita and I am the one in the proverbial dog house.
However, I have a secret. Jakita is afraid when Momma vacuums because her ears are so sensitive to noise, so she hunkers down by me for protection. So good luck with that hard ball you sometimes send my way, Jakita. Who said, what goes around, comes around?
A picture is worth a thousand words. Look at Jakita’s worried look as she presses against me, cool as a cucumber, while Momma vacuums.
Something very disturbing happenedlast night. Since Gen, Charlie and Jakita sleep on Momma’s bed every night, I thought, I did, if you can’t beat them, join them. Once lights were out, I jumped so lightly on the end of the bed, Momma did not even feel me launching. I was nowhere near her, but still, Charlie took exception and emitted a low, steady growl. She was not sharing a sleeping space with me and she was not going anywhere. Momma turned on the lamp, looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Sorry Bad Boy Andy, you got to learn to play nice if you want to earn a space on my bed.’
Okay, got it already. This Lover Boy Sweet♥ Cat will go sleep by myself, in the sun porch or on the couch, or on the heat register, apparently anywhere butMomma’s bed. Nobody has a sense of humor anymore.
So between you and me, Momma prays…a lot. Sometimes she never learns because, well, she always said, she prayed so hard to have Wonder Boy (prayer answered), and that he would be smart (also, prayer answered) but in retrospect, you get what you wish for (sometimes).Momma believes that she should have asked that Wonder Boy be not that smart, because she may have avoided a lot of phone calls from overworked and under appreciated teachers, as he always invented, not re-invented the wheel.
It is Momma’s contention, long after Wonder Boy graduated from Secondary school that she still got a recorded message every day letting her know her son had skipped classes, again!She lived in fear that the Professors would get her phone number when he was in University but once you reach the world of Academia, the rules change.Apparently, it all worked, because he did graduate, with Honors, I am told.Oh, and Momma prays for wisdom.How is that working out, you ask? Not so much, like her memory, it comes and goes, but she was wise enough to take me home.
Ok, Ok, he is cute but somehow, over the years, Wonder Boy has learned to fly without wings!
Once Momma and I started working on this Blog, she fervently prayed again that there would be an appreciative audience because she was so considerate of how much time and effort that her Hot Dog (me), the Cool Cats, the Wildlife and Others, cheerfully contributed without setting any boundaries between truth and well, being out there.
Momma’s no techie. She has lived long enough to see it ‘all’ but by jing, she never anticipated that her prayers would be answered so succinctly. Apparently God opened the skies and poured pages and pages and pages of comments, questions, and input (mostly positive along with, well thought up suggestions) from you, the very glue that makes this venture all worthwhile. There was only one problem. In the dump, your contact information was lost so it is impossible to answer individual questions.
As far as themes, background, design, headers, or photos, blame Momma. She just perseveres, putting down the stories we tell her, cropping, re-sizing, rotating photos until she more or less is flipped herself. It is so boring for me. I lay on the floor, beside the computer as she looks at everything from all angles, auto correcting, readjusting, checking then double checking, until her standard is met.Sometimes, dare I say, often times, it is not exactly our voices portrayed and the images look no better than when the process began. That is the risk you run with a Ghost Writer. Big Sigh!
Stain glass flowers, butterflies and gems of every hue create a house of rainbows.
For all of you that has reached out to Momma’s Four Footed Hot Dog and Cool Cats, we thank you and are thrilled many folks from all corners of the earth plane who share our sense of humor. Keep on keeping on. We love your feedback.
So a Shout Out to all the fine folks from different countries and continents who have reached out to us. Even as we speak, Momma is combing through the pages and pages and pages of comments. And just when you thought your greetings went into the Bermuda Triangle or the feared Black Hole, all of a sudden you will see something that looks familiar and appreciate the power of prayer. Like, who knew?
God’s gift to us on sunny days, lighting up rainbows of all shapes and sizes on the walls, ceilings and floors of our century old+ home, because of Momma’s passion for crystals and stain glass.
So heads up fellow bloggers, don’t despair if you get no or few comments and are wondering if any one even reads your articles. The Hot Dog (me)and the Cool Cats think your number is coming up very soon and you too may get pages and pages and pagesof a Comment / Message dump, delivered by the Mystery of the Reality. Hallelujah and pass the biscuits! Remember, you got to find the end of therainbowto discover your pot of gold.
Iremember, Iremember that morning because it was my favourite kind of day – it had snowed overnight and the landscape was a carpet of thick, wet white snow. Momma snapped on my lead and we were off, out the door, for a walk. With no tracks in the morning snow, the site before me was mine to discover, to carve out, like a romp down the roadto visit the WonderfulWizardofOz.
Snow banks on either side of Daddy’s freshly plowed gateway.
Yet some 6th sense or premonition stopped me dead in my tracks. It was like a dark shadow crossed my peripheral vision. I stopped, and turned back toward the house. I saw Daddy, standing in the window of the sun porch, wearing his gray-green, unzipped snow parka. When my eyes met his, he raised his hand and waved, a big smile on his face.It felt like an eclipse, a big black cloud momentarily covered the sun. I bolted as if I was being chased by Seven Devils,dragging Momma across the neighbor’s lawn, over our gateway, up the stairs, through the door where I flung my trembling body at Daddy’s ankles. If I had given Daddy a million dollars cash, he would not have been more pleased.
“Did you see that, Momma?” Daddy bragged. “Jakita never has done that before.” Momma was speechless. She had been dragged over snow banks, like a car hitched on a tow truck, and as for me, I had no clue to what had just happened or why.
That the way, uh huh, uh huh, I liked it…not so much now……
In order to regain some semblance of the here and now, I did a long, deep body shake.Somehow, someway, a forewarning of what the day would bring had materialized, leaving a sense of inexplicable foreboding, warning me to not leave Daddy’s side. But I am just a dog. I don’t make the rules nor do I interpret feelings… I gave myself a few more total body shakes,a couple of praying dog stretchesand followed him to watch the news, resting along side my beaming Daddy.
Daddy, a good,good man who shared his breakfast, dinner and supper with me. I miss Daddy!
Then the phone rang, breaking the drone of the talking heads on the Sports-Net Channel. First mistake – Momma answered it. Second mistake, she told Daddy that one of his customers needed a quick favour.Rule #1 for Daddy was treat the Customer like King or in this case, Queen.At the end of the day, Daddy’s Second Rule was NEVER say no to money.
But of course this story does not end here – it never does, for Momma!
It is with great sadness that we tell you that on Sunday August 4, 2013 @6:30pm approximately Caseyjoined Cat Mao and Cat Manduin PetHeaven, where puppies do not snarl and kitties do not hiss.
Here I am, no scars, clean eyes, my fur no longer patchy. I am a fine-looking fellow.
Casey left behind his new Best Friend Forever Jakita (even though she nipped him when he was shooed from the table). How was a feral cat to know that was considered bad manners…tell me, how?
Casey will also miss his kitty family, new pal, Bad Boy Andy, his sometimes Ally, Beaudepending on the day of the week it was, and Diva Calico Gen who would even sleep on the same bed as him, and of course, all his Cat Colony friends, especially Seven.
So, I have only been inside two weeks but I know what a pillow is for.
More importantly, Casey knows he left a tiny hole in Momma, and Wonder Boys’ heartsbecause Momma said, she did, that he was the most amazingly easy feral cat to become domesticated.He will always cherish having a home to claim as his own and feeling beloved, even if it only lasted two and a half months.
No flowers, but next time you give to the SPCA, think of Casey – he had 2.5 months of bliss. Your every little contributions and kind deeds help make stray cat lives, no matter how short, better.
FYI: Caseywas fine Saturday, even ventured outside twice. He refused to eat food Sunday morning, which totally baffled and worried Momma. He would not leave the room. By the afternoon, Casey heard Momma and Wonder Boy in the kitchen and inched himself forward on his belly, to be with them in the kitchen. Momma picked him up and took him wherever she went. At suppertime, sensing Casey needed quiet, Momma shut him in his bedroom, (away from curious, pesky Jakita), snuggling him in a clothes basket, lined with comfy towels. Like a lamp that dims as it runs out of oil, he left the earth realm.
Pretty Little Cat Mao
Miss Mandu .
Casey was greeted by fellow Angel kitties, Cat Manduand Cat Mao at the Golden Gates. He has reached his eternal rest yet we believe he will still keep an eye out to see what we are up to down on earth.
So, if he can be of any help, just call him. He’s waiting………
I am a fine-looking Tom Cat, with various shades of gray to charcoal to black.
Postscript from Momma: Poor precious, brave Casey. Although only between two to three years old by the time he was rescued, he had been too famished for too long and battled too many diseases to be able to have a normal span of cat life. Our vet warned us not to get attached but the heart, like the wind, goes wherever it wants to go.
Caught in the act. Mr. Grey Squirrel heads to the top of our birch tree, swings on to our roof and then takes squatters rights to a new level of intensity.
Previously I had let you know how Mr. Grey Squirrel, cheeky and capricious, had persevered until he was successful at setting up residence in our attic loft. Whenever he heard Momma or her family go in to the shed room, he would pop out of the trap door, high on the rafters and eyeball us, chattering non stop, to make sure we knew, he had won.
One day Super Boy came over and went out to the Shed Room to get a soft drink. He came back to the kitchen, asking, “Uh, are you supposed to have a squirrel in your Shed Room?” Sister-Itty-Bitty, her friend, Wonder Boy, Daddy, Momma and I all went trooping out and there he sat on his haunches, front paws folded as if in prayer.
Daddy explained to our bemused family that it was okay, we would drive him out once the spring came. We heard, but never saw Mrs. (Black) Grey Squirrel. That is not till ‘that’ day – the day she had a mission. Apparently Baby Black Grey Squirrel decided to explore the home he lived in. How do we know? They were caught in the act. RIP Daddy had gone out to get drinks for his cooler. Mrs. (Black) Grey Squirrel gave him a “back off look” – walked right over his feet, with something in her mouth. When Daddy bent over and looked closer, he was amazed to see The Sequel – Baby Black Grey Squirrel, (obviously his mama was doing the rescue of a kid gone bad). Then she nonchalantly did a Spider-(wo)man crawl back up the rafters, though the little door to the attic.
Another generation of squirrels to stake claim to the house. It would not hurt so badly if they would be kind enough to contribute to the mortgage payments. But I am thinking that in today’s economy, it would be hard for a squirrel to get a job. It is even tough for Momma and you know how versatile she is:
BEFORE Momma was: Climbing a rickety imaginary corporate ladder trying to break that elusive glass ceiling (not so successful).
NOW Momma is: Climbing a wobbly aluminum ladder to paint the stucco ceilings (successful), even if she falls off and lands in the paint tray, bruising her tail bone, as a consequence. (I tell her, I tell her, DO NOT CLIMB LADDERS. I can not be responsible for her inability to listen).
Maybe some day the city will start paying the squirrels for cleaning all the chestnuts that fall to the sidewalk from my neighbors’ massive tree.
So these are the kind of trees Mr. Grey Squirrel and Family zip up and down, knocking treasures to the ground for winter safekeeping.
Should that happen, Mr. Grey Squirrel, maybe you can contribute to the household expenses, at least enough to repair the holes in the roof you create. Till then, let me warn you, Mr. Grey Squirrel and Family, your number is up – I know spring is here already and we have not made a move. But just wait till it gets warmer. As the Baseball Umpire says, ‘You’re out of here’. This we promise you.
Ok, I don’t ‘do’ the dog park – far too many tail wagging, slobbering, barking and humping canines for me. Anyway, my Vet said it is off-limits because I can no longer get vaccines (because of my unstable immune system). However, worse case scenario, if I bit a person or another dog, since I did not have my Rabies Shot, I would be quarantined. So much for my Life of Riley. But forget-about-it, I do not bite and I’m not keen on Dog Parks anyway because well, you know, I am Superior.
Here I am, with my favorite bone on a leash just in case I do a ‘Jack Rabbit’.
It really doesn’t matter because I live by a huge park, with enormous trees, green grass for kids to romp on, a fenced in baseball diamond, tennis courts, and walking paths. You can stroll for miles. I am ashamed to say, once Momma took me there a few times and being brilliant and adventuresome, I soon knew the way by myself. When I was young and foolish it was one of the areas that I would do a ‘jack rabbit’ to, with Momma and Daddy in hot pursuit, trying to woo me with treats, coaxing me to come back and well, I always did, once I had my fill of running, just gasping for breath, my tongue hanging on the ground. I know, I know, I am lucky I lived to tell the tale. I could have ended the same fate as Zanny.
Tall Trees, Giant Tiger Lilies for Butterflies and Colorful Ground Cover. So much to explore, sniff and route in.
What a great place to wander around, sniffing the trees and grass, seeing all the teeny, tiny bugs that scoot around on the ground, the bees and butterflies hovering on the flower petals. In this Shangri-la, Momma & I meet up with many dogs from around the area and their owners. Some I make friendly with but mostly I just stop and give them my ‘get out of Jakitaville’ stare. It is not like I cut all dogs dead. There are a couple of Border Collies on our street. I like them, they like me, we greet by sniffing each others’ noses, there is no power struggle. However a Husky dog we meet often is kind of freaky – pale green eyes, plops down in front of me and stares straight through me. Her Momma can not move her. It is like she becomes a frozen statue. Then there is that little black dog, smaller than me, younger than me and meaner than me. I don’t get it, he was so sweet the first couple years of his life, then his Momma died and over night his personality changed . I mean, Daddy died and I did not turn in to a weirdo. Help him, quick, get the Dog Whisperer.
One day when we went for a walk in the park, Momma and I saw something so sad, I still have nightmares about it. It was in the winter, very cold, wind chill factor of maybe -30 degrees. Momma and I could not believe our eyes. Tied to a bench was a German Sheppard Dog, definitely a candidate for frost bite, probably hungry and so sad and dejected. We could not go near, Momma said, because the poor dog may attack us, from fear. Momma and I went right home and called the animal shelter and here is the amazing thing. Not only were we the sixth call about this abandoned dog, one of the callers volunteered to take him. Momma said that is the neighborhood we reside in, good souls surround us, looking out for those who cannot look out for themselves. Don’t you wish you lived here?
But still, I confess. I prefer the Two Footed any day over dogs. They feed us, walk us, play with us, love us. Sometimes our Masters need training to come around but still, would a Four Footed Dog be able to meet all of our demands, I ask you? Not likely! It doesn’t take a Rocket Scientist to figure this out!
Sometimes I am in awe when I look at the sky to see a plethora of rainbow shades coloring my world. The Rocket Scientists would know what this is all about.
