November 2016 – Hot Dog Cool Cats

We Believe In Angels

It’s not like Momma was ever some Angel, glistening on a Christmas tree. I’ve told you before….she can be trouble and it seemed when she was with her Cousin Buddy…Best-Friend-Til-He-Did-A-Houdini, she kicked it up a notch.

You remember, Cousin Buddy (on his Father’s side)… always had Momma’s back and a plan to destroy anyone or anything that irritated, challenged or did not meet the cast in stone standards written in indelible ink somewhere, somehow. You could say he maybe had a problem with authority but if you were ‘in’, you ruled but if you were ‘out’, May God Have Mercy On You and Your Loved Ones…

Take Miss Tattle-Tale Rena, Buddy’s cousin (on his Mother’s side). She had this annoying habit. She listened to conversations, and then took the parts that would cause trouble and reported it back to their mothers (who thanked her for the information but did not react to it). In desperation she would take it to others who did believe Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes. Now we all know adults can not handle the truth but somehow that bulletin passed Miss Tattle-Tale Rena.

Our annual bonfire at the beach. From Morguefile.com IMG_3598ed.jpgBy Dzz — Fire…From Morguefile.com
IMG_3598ed.jpg By Dzz

Buddy had the fix – he always had sure-fire cures. He went over to Miss Tattle-Tale Rena’s porch, kidnapped her new yellow rain coat that she was so proud of, and took it back home. He went in, got a pair of scissor and cut it up in a thousand one inch squares. From that point forward, Miss Tattle-Tale Rena was definitely out of a club since it was more rewarding making, than being trouble in her Goody-Two-Shoe-World. Like, duh?

Note: To be fair, Rena actually helped Momma attain her first job but even that ended up putting a sour taste in Rena’s mouth because she had been slotted in the Mailroom and Momma was put in an Accounting Department (something about the scores on the aptitude test…LOL). However, it ended well for Rena, because she was a very good-looking. She was befriended (alright, alright picked up) by a (probably) married Air Pilot (yeah, you’ve heard stories about those pilots, too) who helped her get a job as a stewardess. Cousin Buddy made sure he was never on her flight! No use to tempt fate…..or Miss Tattle-Tale Rena.

At Family Dinners, our Auntie Who-Never-Saw-Good-In-Anyone, (except Miss Tattle-Tale Rena) assigned Kitchen Duty to the cousins. Buddy, Momma and Her-Sister-That-Taught-Her-Most-Of-The-Things-Momma-Knew, would be sent in to the kitchen to peel pots of potatoes, carrots, turnips and what ever else grew in the garden.

In silent protest, Buddy came up with a passive-aggressive solution. He suggested they wash the carrots with the toilet brush and tell their mothers so like us, they would avoid eating them. (Momma’s father did not eat veggies and Buddy never saw eye to eye with his own father, so would gladly exact revenge on him, any chance he got). Then they would sit like Angels at the table and pass along the bowl of carrots, with smirks and snickers.

Buddy in the front...busy, busy...Momma front row Left, Sister-Who-Taught-Momma-Most-Of-The-Things-She-Knows on Right. — Buddy in the front…busy, busy…Momma front row Left, Sister-Who-Taught-Momma-Most-Of-The-Things-She-Knows on Right, plus brother and 3 other sisters.

But the work was not done. After supper, Her-Sister-That-Taught-Her-Most-Of-The-Things-Momma-Knew, Buddy and Momma were expected to wash and put away the dishes – funny how those days it was considered girl’s work but Buddy never get mad at helping. He got even.

Like a military drill, the three of them got in position. Momma, who was undoubtedly the clumsiest, would toss a dish to Her-Sister-That-Taught-Her-Most-Of-The-Things-Momma-Knew, who was at the half way point. Her job was to throw it to Buddy, who would put it in the appropriate China Cabinet, if it arrived in one piece. Crash, Bang, ‘Whoops, that one did not make it’, they commiserated in glee. Who knows for sure if the walls have ears, or if there was a spy looking in the window (where was Miss Tattle-Tale Rena, you ask). Soon after that, an adult or two (other than their not-to-be-trusted-entirely mothers who resented their kids being used as hired help, without the pay) were always assigned to the kitchen, to ensure that for the next dinner that there would still be enough plates to go around.

So such a planner, such a schemer, some would say… who would be shocked that Buddy has popped up, taken over, invaded Sister Itty Bitty’s dreams since she became so sick? Not Momma. Itty Bitty, was so much younger than him, that she never really had the pleasure to know him, but now, he is her Knight-In-Shining-Armor…still busy, busy…

After such a long, uninterrupted silence, Momma is so glad you are back, Buddy, Best-Friend-Til-You-Did-A-Houdini… Like really, when you told Momma all those years ago, she rolled her eyes and said…yeah, whatever…..but now…

Angels..that look over us... — Angels..that look over us…

We believe in angels….When we know the time is right for all…You’ll cross the stream…Be in our dream….You’ll cross the stream…..Be in our dream…..(Paraphrase ABBA)

And I Say to Myself…

It’s a wonderful world.

Well, as you know, I know a lot about a little and a little about a lot. It never stops me from having an opinion, or giving an opinion but, end of day, face it…I don’t control much….because Wonder Boy and Momma call the shots…and what hasn’t been nailed down or written down in some indelible ink, somewhere in the universe, I get to decide….really, trust me….

It started the minute Momma lifted me out of my pen, away from my carefree siblings and took me to my Forever Home. Right away, can’t wait… I needed a grooming, a baby tub filled with luke warm water, eco-friendly shampoo, snarl free conditioner all invented (apparently) for little doggies like me. I was feeling deathly cold and trembling with fear but no worries…a big old terry cloth towel quickly took care of the first layers of water…and then my introduction to a beauty salon, lowest level possible hair blower and I was dry and silky in no time. Even so, I was left breathless and panting. How often was this going to happen to me?

The rest of the first day was spent in doing the same thing, often…like being taken outside, put down on the freshly sprouting green lawn (it was April) to do my business. Let’s see, I had lived in a barn, always inside, Check, I had lived in an apartment, always inside, Check, so what exactly were the expectations and how exactly did I go about I achieving them?

I was given some food in a shiny dish as well as a hard plastic water dish, placed on a braided mat, (just in case I was a sloppy eater), who had not attended Etiquette Training 101. Now eating, I understood….. Manners…not so much.

Since I am the Ultimate Einstein Earth Dog, I soon had the schedule worked out….get up time, go outside, take care of business, come in, eat. Little Nap followed by short bursts of training Jakita - the things I would do for a treat Sit, Good Girl, Stand, Good Girl, Walk, Good Girl, Come, Stop, Twirl….. it seems I am a Good, Good, Good Girl. More outside time, food and water. Longer Nap. More Training. More Eating. More Outside time…you got it …until after supper when I turned into a Holy Terror. Apparently, Puppy Burn, is a well documented phenomenon but the experts did not have the solution or timing down…I mean, like a Duracell battery I kept going and going and going, until I fell in an exhausted heap on my doggie pillow, cranky and bewildered. Yet over the months, the Puppy Burn faded until one day it was just Gone. Baby. Gone. Big sigh of relief from Momma & Daddy….

A couple weeks later in my Forever Home, a leash was brought out and laid on the floor and a matching harness. Hm, what was that? I sniffed, I chewed and was told. No. Stop. Okay…no smell… no taste.. not inviting anyway. A couple of days later, and just put your front paws here, Bob’s your uncle, clip on the leash and we are ready to go, says Momma. Huh? I just turned into a Douglas Fir Tree. I was going nowhere until this contraption was off me, I conveyed with my eyes. So dear, sweet Quite Contrary Momma says if I don’t want to move, so be it. We will walk another day and marched away to scrub some corner or mop the floor. Hey, did I just lose, ya think?

My Momma said not to put Beans in my ears.... — My Momma said not to put Beans in my ears….

So I flopped down with a big sigh, harness, leash and all and sulked. I wasn’t a horse…I did not need a harness…I was descended from freedom loving wolves….did you ever see a wolf with a harness??? (Sleigh dogs don’t count).

Finally in exasperation I found my doggie pillow and napped. An hour or so later Momma came and took off the offending equipment but promised me, we’d try again tomorrow and if I was a Good Girl, we would go for a walk, outside, where there are so many adventures to be had for a puppy…as long as they were leashed, harnessed, secure.

Wake up Jakita...it's play time..... — Wake up Jakita…it’s play time…..

Did I sign up for this….come to think of it….did I sign anything? Still you know me, always a dreaming and a scheming…I’d figure out something I could control ….and that I did… so have faith…I tell you…I got my ways…..

Would I Lie to You

Would I lie to you? Would I lie to you honey? Now would I say something that wasn’t true?…Tell me pretty babies….Would I lie to you? (Paraphrase Eurythmics)

‘Once upon a time, a long time ago, when RIP Daddy walked the earth plane and you, Jakita, were not even on the path to touchdown, a Sad story with a Happily Ever then a not so Happy (depending on your role in the scenario) happened’, said Bad Boy Andy, while Diva Calico Gen looked on, nodding her head in agreement as they all laid out in the Sun in the back yard, watching squirrels jump from the shed roof to the tree, to the fence, going like Red Devils with pitchforks were after them.

A squirrel nest in a big old tree. Fr: Morguefile By: Iceman0 — A squirrel nest in a big old tree.
Fr: Morguefile By: Iceman0

Mama Squirrel had fashioned a nest in a big old tree cavity for her new family, expected any day. She worked long and hard to arrange the nest to protect her babies from the weather and predators such as hawks and owls with their beady eyes…. And she rejoiced at the birth of Baby Mickey and Minnie Squirrel. Mama Squirrel taught them right from wrong, how to go up and down tree trunks, fly from tree branch to tree branch and AVOID wildlife like foxes, coyotes, even snakes.

‘What about the Two Footed?’ asked Jakita. Ah, the Two Footed…who to trust, who to avoid and how to tell the difference…that was the million dollar question.

Mama Squirrel. Fr Morguefile P1110675.JPG By Natureworks — Mama Squirrel.
Fr Morguefile P1110675.JPG
By Natureworks

One day, when the sun was high, Mama Squirrel left her babies, Mickey and Minnie Squirrel. to go on a scavenger hunt for a couple of hours. There was much cooing, oooing and aaahhhing when the family was reunited. So emboldened by the success, Mamma Squirrel went out again, and again and again, for longer periods each time, leaving Mickey and Minnie Squirrel to their own devices…It was all part of the launch to embrace and experience reality of a Squirrel’s life. And then, one day she did not come home.

After a few days alone Mickey and Minnie Squirrel were hungry, scared. A week later, survival instincts kicked in. Do or Die…Choose Life. High up in the tree they look at the Two Footed down below. They were nice to other Squirrels, to their dog and cats.

Baby Mickey Squirrel in Daddy's hand. Fr: Morguefile By: Marykbaird — Baby Mickey Squirrel in Daddy’s hand.
Fr: Morguefile By: Marykbaird

Why not throw ourselves at their mercy. the Baby Squirrels decided. Down the tree trunk they scurried, up to the front porch and waited…..

In front row seats on the bench sat Bad Boy Andy, Handsome Beau Beau (still alive at this point) and Diva Calico Gen, Egyptian style, paws tucked under, watching waiting, wondering. What would Momma and Daddy do? There was no Policy and Procedure Manual to follow because Jakita was not even a twinkle in her Papa’s eyes. Even so, rules of engagement forbade full-grown cats from harming babies, even squirrels.

Jakita (left) Kitty Club Med, left to right, Beau, Gen (calico) and Andy. — Jakita (left) Kitty Club Med, left to right, Beau, Gen (Calico) and Andy.

Still, in the mind of Kitty Club Med, their Momma always had a solution to every problem. It had better be well thought out because Baby Squirrels do become annoying adult squirrels. Might as well just sit back and enjoy the show…… It ‘s not like we would be given a vote on the outcome…..

There’s A Cat That Lives A Life

….of Danger!

We are gathered together in our official meeting place, Momma’s bed of course, with Ruby and we ask Momma … where is Clem? I mean we don’t keep daily diaries but it seemed he hadn’t been home in a long time…definitely a month, maybe longer…sometime in August or was it July…no, it was August, when Itty Bitty was on Life Support …

A thoughtful Ruby, Charlie, Gen and Jakita

When we spent long endless days, waiting for you to come home from the hospital, Momma…but no blame, really, no blame!

Momma tried to make light of Clem the No Show…where does a light go, when it goes out….but she could see we weren’t buying what she was selling…this was, like serious…should we set up a Clem Kadiddle-Hopper Alert like poor little puppy Sophie….Had she ever got home? Only God knows…

It wasn’t that simple, explained Momma. Sure we had lots of pictures we could bang up on telephone and hydro poles

(like who we ask. put up the Moose Alerts saying ‘You’ll Miss Us When We’re Gone’… ‘Gone Where, Momma?’ I asked…I never saw a moose, not even a deer, in our suburban metropolis). Clem was a feral and like a Secret Agent Cat ‘To everyone he meets he stays a stranger’ …. He would conceal himself, hiding in thick foliage, up a tree, under bushes, or behind decks, as he spied with his little eyes.

Still, it seemed that invisible lines had mapped out a Safe Zone on our front bench and steps, where Clem could catch the rays or wait for Momma or his Wonder Boy to open the front door under the benevolent gaze of Bad Boy Andy Cat or Diva Calico Gen Cat. Once inside it was all a neutral territory, patrolled by Momma and Jakita who tolerated no skirmishes. In full appreciation, Clem would sniff kiss Senorita Jakita and ignore Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte Cat.

But that was then.. this is now…what gives?

What we do know…every time we saw Clem, he was more emancipated. Yet he ate less…and then could not be convinced to linger…no, it was eat, bolt to the door to be let out, ears back, tail twitching.

What we don’t know…is Clem teasing us? Has he got some lofty promotion, making him Chairman of the Board of Stray Cats… or even worse…has Clem pledged Allegiance to another Two Footed Family…. For like a Secret Agent…

There’s a cat who leads a life of danger… To everyone he meets he stays a stranger…With every move he makes…Another chance he plays… So odds are he won’t live to see tomorrow. (Paraphrase Johnny Rivers)

We are waiting Clem Ka-Diddle-Hopper…Come home, come home…Ye who are weary…come home.

When the Work’s All Done

And the sun is setting low…Thank God I’m a country boy …(John Denver)…

So that it has been written, so let it be done… Those poor local cops, scratching their heads…the good folk of the town wanted more…more explanations, more dirty laundry now that Misfit Molly had left them a treasure trove of information…like everyone, end of day, wondered…had their names made it in the journals? Had she found out about the time…..??? You know what I mean….

Ok, it is not a fiddle but all Wonder Boy has is guitars... — Ok, it is not a fiddle but all Wonder Boy has are guitars…and drums,an organ…

The consensus was no one should be charged for a harmless hobby….well except the Judge who put away someone’s son, father, cousin nephew or friend on trumped-up charges….did not even keep him local but sent him off to a tough provincial prison where you are lucky to get out with your life…now that was a chargeable offense,

Where deep, dark secrets lurk, be you Sinner or Saint.

And what about the Organ Lady? Sometimes in life, especially if your country born and bred,( like for the last eight generations), you stumble upon deep, dark secrets which never should see the light of day… like the Organ Lady who righteously played the organ in the local ‘All ye who are sinners‘ church, must be going on forty years now… so high and mighty, if a farmer would cuss in front of her she would slay him with a haughty look and put him on her naughty list……telling anyone who would listen that he was uncouth, past redemption, Amen! Shoe was on the other foot now…

That being said, Misfit Molly had plenty to say about the Organ Lady in those volumes of journals….Seemed all these years, the Organ Lady had been stepping out, with a married man…with children. Like a Satellite, outside human command, Misfit Molly recorded all activities, benign or toxic and ‘Let the Good Lord Sort It Out.’ Let’s see the Organ Lady in Court for Perjury, pretending to be a Vestal Virgin (a stretch, but did she not break an adultery commandment?) Nah, it was decided that would be vindictive…she’ll have to face St. Peter at the Pearly Gates soon enough…now was a good time to start working on cleaning up her act.

Casting shadows. From Morguefile. — Casting shadows.
From Morguefile.

Scrying in some form (like gossiping) had been going on in that area since Moses was a pup. Yet no money changed hands…and it is not like they killed people although sometimes they foresaw dark shadow gather over certain unfortunates. Darned if there was any criminal activity in a hobby that predicted such mundane things as a good crop one year and a bust the next.

That left the Judge to stand alone, much like the Cheese in the Farmer in the Dell. And so it was that a Grand Jury was convened by a recruited city-slicker (Gasp) Lady Prosecutor, with no skin in the game, so-to-speak, that had never stepped foot in the county or even the country side before.

The Judge on the left Panel, the Jury on the Right.

There were many outstanding citizens (whose names so far had not surfaced in Misfit Molly’s journals) who volunteered their services to be part of the panel, just to hear the lurid details. They swore to decide, based on all evidence, if the Judge, a proud member of the Secret Society of Scryers had actually, in bad faith (or even better a bribe) and without the evidence to support the charge, locked up someone’s son, father, cousin nephew or friend, whether for personal (come election day) or monetary gain.

We got a Prosecutor (even if it is questionable since she was a Lady). Check. We got a Jury. Check. We got a questionable abuse of power. Check.

Let the games begin….

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