Oliver-Over-the-Hill

Some days are so long and I feel like I am not accomplishing my mission in life.  I flop on the couch and think, think, think.  The world should know by now that although I am a creative genius,  with a glittery collar attached to a lead, I am kept in captivity like a Seal at Marine land, catching, fetching, flapping, all to gain attention .  Like a criminal, I do not get out the door with out an escort.

I know, (I SHOULD know) I have done some questionable things in the past and safeguards are in place to save my body and soul.  But the Indoor / Outdoor Cats, they smirk at me, behind their two-faced paws.  I am sure they feel superior because they are trusted to take care of themselves, to come back on time, while on the other hand, I went out of my way (in my youth, I tell you) to take the whole family on wild goose chases, down streets, over fields, through traffic, causing mayhem and refusing to stop on command.  I am no longer that puppy.  But Momma can not bear to lose me, so we spend a lot of time together and I am spoon fed stories to feed my sense of adventure and keep me happy while I am anchored.

Okay, Momma, I am flopped down and all ears. I am ready to hear some stories about when men were men.
Okay, Momma, I am ready to hear some stories about when men were men.

One day, when I was moping around, Momma tried to paint me a picture of her esoteric father, felled by a crippling stroke and yet still a strong life force, arranging, planning, executing with his last heart beats.

 

 

It was just another frantic weekend when Momma thought she would slip in to see her father in the Long Term Facility where he had been sent once medical intervention was no longer an option. The stroke had brought on abilities (to invent dramas….in his head) and real-time disabilities, (one of which was being paralyzed on his left side). Daddy and Wonder Boy also visited faithfully, but today they would get a break from the extra duty imposed by a sick family member, through no fault of his own.

Grandpappy at his 75th birthday party. See Jag Boy, his mouth open in amazement - so many candles. Beside his is Wonder Boy in front of Momma. Ah, the world was so much kinder then....
Grandpapa at his 75th birthday party in his wheel chair, the blue restraint across his midsection so he would not dive head first on the floor. Ah, the world was so much kinder then….

Momma got off the elevator on his floor and weaved her way between elderly patients in wheelchairs, charging at her with a vengeance and reckless abandon, since they could not control their walkers or wheelchairs or should they still be walking, their drunk-like gait.

When Momma reached my father’s room, he asked me, ‘Did you see Oliver Over-the-Hill on the elevator today?’ Now her father, with his confused brain, often told his family some fantastic tales.  It seemed John Major, the Prime Minister of England at that time, was using him as his political adviser.  He would explain the political decisions Mr. Major made, based on Momma’s father’s sound advice.  Also, Bob Barker from ‘The Price is Right’ was his cousin and my youngest sister was going to get a call from him, any day now, to replace Vanna as hostess on the game show.  Itty Bitty would smile, point out prizes, and clap when it was appropriate. She could handle that, one hand tied behind her back.

Oliver Over-the-Hill, Oliver Over-the-Hill, where had Momma heard that name, she thought frantically.  Then it came to her.  He was an old-timer from their neck of the woods, that died even before she was born. Even so, his legend lived on.  He had been a much respected, take charge business man who would step up and take control without invitation.

No Dad, I did not see him.  What ever is Oliver Over-the-Hill doing on the elevator?’, Momma asked, quite innocently. He leaned over to whisper in her ear so the other patients in the room would not hear and be frightened, ‘He is taking lost souls back to Heaven.’

Aaah,’ Momma said,  ‘I am just as glad I did not see him then or I might be  Heaven bound.’  Momma’s father’s expression read, mock you if you must, as he said, ‘Oh ye of little faith and less understanding.’

This says it all - the description and image of a Fairy Ring, the windmills and the Maple Leaf Forever, protecting the little benched angels and fairies who are resting until the moon comes out again.....

This says it all – the description and image of a Fairy Ring,where angels and fairies rest until the moon comes out again and they can leap and dance…..

I just wish I had met Momma’s father.  A man so connected, an advisor to John Major, a cousin to Bob Barker, a man who met up with Peter Cottontail, saw the fairies leap and dance around the Fairy Circle on a Moon Lit Night and actually saw Oliver Over-the-Hill’s ghost on the elevator.

They don’t make ’em like my Grandpapa any more.

 

Dream Weaver

Dream Angel.
Dream Angel.

At night we drift off to sleep without any control over the dreams or nightmares we may encounter.  When we awaken, next morning, it takes a minute or two to figure out the reality. Sometimes we open our eyes, feel peace surrounding us and out of the blue it hits us, like a ton of bricks.  We did something yesterday, that is going to ruin today….. Or we or someone in our family is leaving or sick or dying.  A sense of panic and inertia strikes us. We breathe deep and say like Scarlett O’Hara, ‘Tomorrow’s another day.’

But all dreams are not born equal. Buddy’s mother,  Momma’s Aunt, (although 100% Scottish born and bred) was a Spanish Marilyn Munroe look-alike, tall and curvaceous, with black hair, streaked with glowing hints of red and blue in the sun.

Gravestones EliteIn Momma’s dream, a sister of Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe dropped by her home in Ontario to let Momma know she and Daddy just had to go to Ruis’ Funeral Home, back home in Quebec that very night because it was the twenty-five year anniversary of Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe’s death and her husband, Uncle WW2 Sergeant was planning an anniversary that would amaze everyone.

Well, it was a fair distance from Ontario, maybe astro travel would work, but we would try, because we all adored Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe (besides Momma’s Mother-God-Rest Her-Soul,  would be observing and recording non-attendance.  Momma would never be forgiven if she was a no-show).

When Momma and Daddy arrived at the Funeral Parlor (don’t ask how, Momma was vague about the devil in the details), there was a long line up outside consisting of family and friends that they had not seen in years. They caught up with all the gossip, laughing at the absurdities of life,  commiserating about Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe and Uncle WW2 Sergeant’s son, Cousin Buddy, being AWOL since the mother he had adored, had been taken from him. Then again, there was the promise he made his Father. Well, Uncle WW2 Sergeant didn’t listen to him and married that ‘other’ woman, but Buddy kept his promise. Not only that, Buddy was right. Right or wrong, no one had seen him since.   Over the years Buddy had few supporters (except his club members who thought of him often), but the old folks seemed to have mellowed in their opinions in this setting. Also, they just wished he could be with them, in honor of the strong bond he and his mother shared, since it was them against the world on many occasions.

Finally the line snaked in to the Funeral Parlor.  They were in the room with the coffin.  Momma saw Uncle  WW2 Sergeant, looking smart in his best Legion Bib and Tucker, ready to go fight WW3, if needs be, standing by his late wife’s casket.

As Momma approached, Uncle WW2 Sergeant excitedly told her that Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe had a special message for her.  At that, Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe dressed in a white sleeveless dress, to best show her shiny black hair and perfect tan, sat up silently, in her coffin.  With out saying a word, she opened her big, sparkly brown eyes, rolled them to the left, then to the right, closed them and lay back down.

Life Staging
Life Staging

It was a miracle, Uncle WW2 Sergeant proclaimed, Momma had been the only person sent a message, but no one knew what it all meant exactly.

Momma’s Aunt had  died within six months of being diagnosed with cancer. And so it was, exactly six months after the dream, Momma was diagnosed with cancer. She successfully lived through Surgery, Chemotherapy and Radiation.  Is it not fitting, through a dream, Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe was warning Momma to “look at and listen to” her body?

Her we are, just sitting around, sharing tales of what was, what will be, just marveling at the mystery of the reality.
Here we are… just marveling at the mystery of the reality.

What do you think  Gen, Tigger and my Incredibly Wise Wide Eyed Stuffed Monkey Ruby?  Anything like that ever happen to you? I hate those dreams where some hungry mutt is chasing me because I look like a yummy snack.  I whimper, Momma sits up, pats me and says, ‘It’s okay, Jakita.  It is just a dream. Go back to sleep.’ I am still waiting for a dream with a message.  I am just saying, I am open to it, okay?

Thank you,  Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe.  You were always so strong and brave.  Thirty-nine years old was too young to die.

Momma says she learned a lot from you, both here on earth and of course, when you materialized mysteriously in a dream.  You saw first hand what your death did to your young family and wanted to make sure  history did not repeat itself.

They don’t make them like our Auntie anymore!!!!

Jakita Introduces Paddy

Story time
Story time

It is a ritual Every night after  supper, it is outside time for me.  Once I come back in,  Momma cleans and cleans my paws and tail and belly and back and head, with baby wipes, then rubs me down with a fluffy towel, while I lick her fingers.  Gen waits patiently for this routine to finish because, once Momma is done with me, it is play time for Gen and I.

I chase Gen around, she hides under the bed, I follow, then as I tire of the wait, she jumps out at me. I shrug her off, chase her round and round the kitchen, down the hall, to the living room, all the while barking and complaining. Gen comes to a complete halt, I somersault over her and pounce on her back, chewing on her ears. Girlie style, Gen emits mournful cries that brings Momma running, ready to protect the victim, and  eject the antagonized. I jump on the couch out of harm’s way.

Every night, same routine, Momma admonishes me, and comforts Gen, who jumps up beside me on the couch, lays down, her head resting on her milky white paws, purring and sidling closer to  me to show she has no hard feelings.

 

After the nightly chase, Jakita rests on the pillow and Gen snuggles next to her.
After the nightly chase, Jakita rests on the pillow and Gen snuggles next to her.

Now you know Momma is open to possibilities and holds dear the thought that she will one day be united with her loved ones and her hot dogs and cool cats, in heaven.

You will not believe me but I swear I see RIP Daddy in the living room on occasion, putting his hand on Momma’s shoulderHe has even patted my head on occasionI can see him but it is quite apparent Momma doesn’t.  Matter of fact, she says she has never seen a ghost but she heard one, she says, she does.

Apparently, it was a well-established fact that my Grandmama grew up in a haunted house.  They were told that the owner of the home, Paddy was on the roof with his hired help, when a fight broke out.  Somehow Paddy either slipped or was pushed off the roof to his death.  From that day forward he haunted the home, bought at a (killer…LOL) good price, since no one else would go near it. Paddy would turn on and off lights, kill flies with an invisible fly swatter and continually, relentlessly hammer shingles on the roof, trying to complete his task before the first snow of winter flew.

The old schoolhouse: Perfect for hotel, bar restaurant.
The haunted??? house? From Morguefile.

Momma said she well-remembered, when she stayed overnight at my grandparent’s home, sneaking in bed with Aunt-Second-Sister, knowing she was the only person in the home with her, yet hearing the persistent hammering on the roof. Bewildered by what her eyes could not see, but her ears could not deny, somewhere near dawn, Momma drifted off into a restless, troubled sleep.

Momma is told, even today, Paddy is still keeping her cousin’s family awake, as he works to finish the roof before the first snow of winter. The roof has been re-shingled many times since your death, Paddy. Everyone will long remember your existence and pass your story on, for generations to come.

How about it, Gen,  should you and I urge Paddy to ‘go in to the light’.  He has surely earned passage to his eternal rest.  Meanwhile when I am staring in to the distance, my tail wagging, it probably means I can see RIP Daddy, big smile, bending down to scratch my ears.  I just wish Momma could see what I see.

 

Jakita & Gen, staring in to the unknown. Do they see RIP Daddy or are they listening to a Momma discuss the Mystery of the Reality.
Jakita & Gen, eyes wide open, staring in to the unknown. Do they see RIP Daddy or are they listening to  Momma discuss the Mystery of the Reality?

So, what do you think Gen?  Oh, you ‘want more’ as Wonder Boy said, at fourteen mouths old – ‘more – want more’.  No worries, I got lots to tell .  You wonder if we should share this with the other cats.  No, Brainiac Andy,  would scoff at us  and Charlie would hide away in the basement for weeks, not wanting to embrace the ‘unknown’ since  the ‘known’, is even more than she can handle.  

But we could tell Ruby, the Wide Eyed Monkey.  She is so wise and all-seeing.  

Trust me, I have heard plenty,  so listen up, okay?

 

Senorita Jakita Walks On

GravestonesI am not tired yet, from my Neighbor hood exploration and Graveyard stroll so what other possibilities of entertainment is out here for me?  In the front garden, all of our Indoor-Outdoor  and Colony Kitties lay down, paws tucked under, Egyptian style, sheltered by the Japanese Maple, or stretched out on the Stepping Stones. They look so cool and introspective as they sit upright on the front step, staring through slit eyes at some  invisible spirits that only they have eyes to see. On my best behavior, I do not chase the cats out, instead I sniff, sniff, sniff, what is that smell?

 

See front garden, bushes @ back, lovely yellow tulip, geraniums and wildflowers - a perfect camouflage for a Dancing Fairy to conceal her true identity.
Front garden,with  bushes @ back, lovely yellow tulip, geraniums and wildflowers – a perfect camouflage for a Dancing Fairy to conceal her true identity.

 

Did another dog have the nerve to walk through our front garden? Did a dog pee on Momma’s flowers? The audacity – some people’s kids. Dog owners these days – they are just not up to the job. Momma never would let me walk in a neighbors’ front garden or yard, for that matter.     Let me share  a secret about  how this patch of bad grass and bramble bushes turned in to a front yard garden. It began long ago and far away when Daddy still walked the earth plane.

Yet even before Momma and  Daddy, there was Momma’s father who cajoled his children into looking at the unknown, to examine and question whether it was the wonder of nature, political or religious attitudes or just leaving behind the old to embrace the new.  He would taking his children and their friends on a walk, (the Pied Piper) on a lazy, summer afternoon, through the mill yard, over the fence, up the railroad tracks till they arrived at a piece of land that had a big round hole in the ground, which he  said was a fairy ring.

Now science might claim the hole was caused by a meteorite hurtling from outer space, creating the cavity in the earth.  But no, Momma’s father had seen with his own eyes (well, at least once), on a moonlit night tiny iridescent fairies with their gossamer wings, their tutus the very colors of the rainbow, whirling on bejeweled pink satin slippers as they performed the Circle of the Fairy Dance, for only those who “believe”.

Back in Real Time, we live in a friendly urban neighbor hood wherein, in order to keep the tradition going, Momma had Daddy pull up the front lawn and carefully lay down rich top soil, then plant bushes, ornamental grasses and flowers. Next came stepping-stones and rocks that bleed a river of silver when the sun is high in the sky.

Twirling in wild abandon in the shadow of sculptures and flowers.
Twirling in wild abandon in the shadow of sculptures and flowers.

 

Of course,   little statues and sun dials were put in place for tiny fairies to conceal themselves, peeping out from behind our miniature roses and Impatiens . Like The Field of Dreams, Momma and Daddy believed ‘if they built it, the Fairy Dance would come’. When the moon is high, Momma says, she does, that the fairies gather to effortlessly perform the Circle of the Fairy Dance.

Now it came to pass there was a lady across the street who, when she saw Momma and Daddy working in our garden, would wave and say they should come over and plant a garden for her (True Story).  Of course Daddy said he would, when he got some free time.  Unbeknownst to us, she had a lethal form of cancer, which she decided to treat with firewater, shunning conventional medicine. You know the weekend when the hydro failed here in The Big Smoke.  Ontario blamed New York and New York blamed Ontario and Quebec, with all their abundance of natural power, laughed at all of us.  That weekend, the lady across the street, slipped away, on to her greater reward, free of pain, man’s best friend, her faithful dog, at her side.

 

UNCONDITIONAL, HANG IN THERE LOVE. I AM WITH YOU , TIL DEATH DO US PART.
Unconditional, I am with you till-death-do-us-part-love.

Momma and I like to think the lady’s very spirit crossed the street, to the garden she loved, wherein on the Moonlit Nights, we have a new Lead Ballerina, twirling in bejeweled slippers, fully embracing the magic of the Circle of the Fairy Dance.  Come see come see, her energy now restored, her body once again lithe and strong,  effortlessly spinning in pink pointe ballet slippers in the midnight moon light!

 

The Fairy Band with instuments, the Angel, the picture of the Circle of the Fairy Dance behind the Resting Fairy. Only, in Canada. Pity.
See the three  Angels playing musical instruments, the Winged  Angel, and the picture of the Circle of the Fairy Dance behind the Resting Fairy. Only, in Canada. Pity.