Well, that didn't take long

What's Christmas without a little extra something in the tree?

dusk

purrs and mews

Surprise! We adopted the kittehs. (You never saw it coming, did you?) They had their booster shots yesterday (and a feline leukemia test and a squirt of revolution) and were perfectly behaved, and now they're officially part of the family.

They're lovely and playful and fierce hunters of toes and a lot of fun. They spend less and less time under things (Jasper still freaks them out a bit) and more and more time with their motors running full-throttle, being petted and flopping with all feet in the air for belly rubs. Wish I was that comfortable with people! (Well, maybe not. I think rubbing my belly might be a definite mood-breaker during committee meetings.)

They've also taken over the sunny windowsills in the living room (Fine, huffs Lucy, lashing her tail, I'll go out to the one in the kitchen) and do a fine job of napping, little bodies all wound up together like a jigsaw.

Now we need to figure out the great de-clawing question. But that can probably wait for a bit.

We're busy enjoying all the purrs and mews.

black and white

We have been watching the sofa intently for the last few hours, with breaks to go jiggle toys behind the couch and shake treat bags.

No, honestly, we haven't gone insane. We're fostering two wary kitties.

 They were found in a port town near here, and were not socialized as tinies, and it shows.  They came today from a foster home where they learned to trust enough to jump up in people's laps and be petted, but tonight is a whole new ballgame and they've been using the underside of the couch as homebase. Now that things have quieted down (I sent the kids to bed - of course, they're back down here now, but it's calm at least) they've been weaving in and out around the floor and taking tiny bites of food.  In the last half an hour they've progressed to jumping on the couch and checking out the windowsill, and I'm sure they'll be in the litterbox tonight.

Lucy is decidedly unimpressed but we expected there would be a few days of outraged shrieking before the order of things is settled.

They were named for clouds when they came. The girl is white with a grey smudge on top of her head, and her brother is coal black with flashy gold eyes. 

I say we're fostering (it's something I believe in whole-heartedly) but I've got a sneaking suspicion that while I went over and over the concept with Rosey and Cass until they understood that these kitties were temporary, I was having the conversation with the wrong person.

Yep. Bear might be a problem. He's been the one most actively gathering them up and ooh-ing and aah-ing over how little they are, how sweet, how their purrs are so loud....

('Course, now I'm remembering when Lucy came to stay, and how she picked Bear out within hours of her arrival, and sealed the deal with a big rumble purr and a lick on the cheek.)

And, of course (no fool them) they've been turning their volume controls up, cuddling, playing when he tosses the toy, etc.

I'll try to get some pictures soon as they don't run when they see me coming. But the house feels good tonight, warm and full.

the third act

When I moved to Nova Scotia from Michigan, I brought three cats with me. (Hey, noone ever accused me of packing light!) Panda, Katie, and Chumba. Panda died some years back, Chumba last year, and Kate....

well, we put my sweet old girl down today.

Last night she had (we think) a series of small strokes, leaving her blind, unable to walk more than a few feet, and with a permanent head-tilt.

It was time.

Bear took her in to the vets, and now she's buried up on the hill at the edge of the blueberry bushes where the sun warms the grass every morning, next to her best pal Chumba.

We'll miss you, Katie-baby.

Katie was the first one to greet both kids home from the hospital, the first to accept Bear, the first to bound on the bed in the morning and let us know it was time to get up! and see what the new day had brought! She moved across Michigan several times with me, enduring several different roommates and boyfriends, and then staked out Bear as her very own once she was settled in here at the house.

Tonight was spent in quiet cries with the kids. They both seem to be doing okay right now, since they knew she was frail and elderly. Lucy is lost, though.

I'm sure soon there will be the tiny feet of kittens running around the house, because remembering your summer as 'The summer vacation my cat died' is just awful. And seriously? Our house with just one cat?

Perish the thought.

this is planet earth

I'm watching 'Planet Earth' (no, not the Duran Duran video, the BBC series) and listening to David Attenborough talk about baby polar bears and wondering why, for God's sakes, why, I watch these (admittedly gorgeous and interesting) nature programs when I know there's going to be at least one baby animal that doesn't make it.

Tonight's cute and cuddly snack du jour  (well, so far, we're still not sure if the polar bear cubs will survive) is a baby caribou.

And now it's on to birds, which are almost as sparkly and purty as my husband today after Rosey got after him with her Glitter Barbie makeup. (He said I could blog about it, but drew the line at photographic evidence, sadly.)

Crap. The wild dogs are after the impala. Y'know, I understand that this is real life and not a Gary Larson cartoon, but I still can't help wishing that the impalas could just catch a break.

Elephants swim, did you know? I mean, all four-feet off the ground swim? And how joyous they look, carrying their trunks over their heads and 'creek-ing' at each other.

So many creatures, all of us, inhabiting the same space.

This film makes me wonder what Lucy is thinking when she chews off the zipper pull on my purse (does the leather make her think she's hunting something?  Or is she just....delusional? However far back her 'hunting memories' go back, I have a hard time believing any of my calico house-cat's family brought down a cow.)

But then again, all things are possible here...on Planet Earth.


(And yes, I'm humming the bah,bah,bu-bah from the Duran Duran song. Of course.)

we have a new neighbor

We always have deer around
.
And birds.

And a few desultory porcupines, complaining their way (It's hard to be covered in spines! There's very little supportive hugging.) through the orchard.

In springtime we see turtles and hawks, eagles and monarch butterflies. Barney  (I have a suspicion he is Barney II, or at least Son of Barney by now - how long do garter snakes live?) makes an appearance every once in awhile, and gulls, terns and the odd loon show up on the river. Cormorants and even a few herons. Squirrels.

Maybe a raccoon now and then. Oh! And crows. We do see crows, and some of the biggest blue jays you've ever seen in your life.

Tonight, though, we discovered there's someone new in town. Someone we'd never met before.

 (a very blurry picture of a lovely pair of wild turkeys)

She politely even brought one of her young'uns to show us as well.

They seem to be hanging out in the watershed. Maybe I'll take some grain down and scatter it.

Y'know, to be neighborly. And welcoming.

she doubles as an alarm clock too

Wow, so much to tell you! I went to an Ice Wine festival with some very funny ladies and had an amazing time, and I can't wait to tell you, but right now I'm getting The Look:

Guess it's time for bed. Tomorrow, then!

and then there were two

 Goodbye, Chumba.

We had to put down one of our cats the day before yesterday, and the house feels strange and well, stupid without him.
We were resigned to it - he's been going downhill for some time - but the stark silence where there was once a rumble purr will take some getting used to.

The other cats are unsettled and looking for him. Kate yowl and stares out the window, and won't be pacified with extra ear-rubs and attention. Lucy is digging her way through every closet in the house, keeping up a mumbled conversation, wondering where on earth her friend has gone.

The hardest part about being a pet-owner is knowing that you have to let them go. They depend on me for food and water and to help them feel better - even when the best thing you can do for them is to send them into that good night.

I knew that. I just didn't expect it to be so soon.


B and I are agreed that soon, we'll think about another cat. Maybe even a kitten this time. Just as soon as we can stop reaching up in the middle of the night to that place on my pillowcase where our ginger-furred kitty slept. But thirteen year old habits are hard to break.



*Even though this came out sad and raw (and I suppose in some ways we are) we're not all huddled in the fetal position, crying puddles. Actually, the kids and I are off to the farm market, the library and the grocery. Maybe we'll go walking in the park too. Pictures later!*

mr bunny man

We have a rabbit living in the side yard.


Now, this is a new experience for me. While we have deer (in abundance) and the occasional blue jay or woodpecker wander through, we generally don't have bunnies. But I live far enough out of the city in a rural enough setting that if someone decided to dump get rid of a pet to think we'd (or someone) would take care of their bunny.
Or cat. Or dog.

Note to anyone who has ever dropped off a pet near a farmhouse or on a quiet road: Your pet does NOT get adopted and live out its' remaining days in comfort. Nine times out of ten, it gets HIT BY A CAR. And that last remaining time? It STARVES, because it doesn't trust humans anymore - well, would you? - and won't eat any food it finds.

Ahem! /end rant

Anyhoo, the bunny. He's cute. All white and black, like a chocolate chip cookie, and a good size. He first appeared in my neighbors yard about two weeks ago (setting off a chain of phone calls where we had to figure out what to do with the poor thing. We found it a home with other bunnies but it won't be caught [see paragraph above] and now is apparently the neighborhood rabbit.) and has now migrated to mine. The kids looove having the bunn-ya appear in the yard and have left him carrots and treats, hoping to convince him that they're not bad guys and mayyybe, just maaayyybe, they'd like to give him a pat or two.

Mr. Rabbit? Is NOT HAVING IT. [See two paragraphs above]

Last night I was relaxing on the couch, finishing a book and dawdling in that happy hallowed time when the house is quiet and I don't have to go to bed yet. I was all ready for bed - still towel drying my hair! -
and there was a SHRIEK from upstairs.

Rosey was still up and reading (the minx!) in the last bit of sunshine coming through her window. She looked down into the golden glow of the side yard and noticed: a cat.

Not my cat. A strange cat. And it was stalking The Bun. Bunny was eating a dandelion, ignoring the treats and carrots and parsnips the kids had sprinkled around, ignoring the cat.

Visions of rabbit carcasses and the sad faces of my children ran through my head. I jumped for my shoes and flew out the door, waving my arms and hollering and generally making a huge racket.

The cat went streaking off one way, the bunny the other. I'm not really sure who I scared the most.

I am sure, however, that I scared everyone gathered in the full parking lot of the fire hall.

(sigh)

it's not just Santa that's watching you

.....so be good, for goodness sake!

(It's her newest hang-out*. The cats are determined to re-establish their claim on the downstairs, no matter what the dog would prefer. No wonder Jasper's grumpy.)

*Just to the left of the angel's wing. See her now?

need a new place to sit

Me: Rosey, it's almost time for bed!

Kate: YAWN. That was a LOVELY nap. Wait. Did she just say......bedtime?

Kate: I'm taking my owly ears and stripedy tail and getting out of.....

Kate: Oh, mzzzzimp. Huffswa. If we must.

Me: Rosey, do you have everything? Blankie? Did you kiss Daddy?
Do you have a cuddly toy to take upstairs.....
Kate: AHEM.


So of course I had to rescue my lovely but doddering feline from the clutches of She-That-Squeezes-Too-Hard (that's her name in Cat, honest) and by the time that was all sorted out, I'd completely lost the thread of what I wanted to post.

Which might not be a bad thing. I seem to be running a little bit dry for the blog recently.

No, I'm not closing up shop. I love my place here. November is just rushed for me.

Hopefully, I'll find more words soon. Stick around, would you?

intermission

I have a sick girl right now, and most of my computer time is spent darting nervous glances over at her, making bets with myself which part of the sickness will show up next....

So, today, a bit of nonsense about my cats.

People who say cats have no character don't have cats.
There are entire Kabuki plays going on over here when I let the cat bowls get too empty.

First there's the yellow alert. This happens when a kibbling cat noses a crunchie and - oh, quelle horrour, there's the bottom of the bowl! - even if it's only in one spot. Much yowling and weaving around the ankles commences.

(You can tell by the size of my cats that I often forget to feed them. Yeeeaah.)

When the space at the bottom grows bigger and all the full size kibble is gone? Oh mah holy hell. Chumba, who usually sleeps on my pillow, becomes a full-time boyfriend. With the cat food gone, he plants his furriness on my hair and licks my ear, rumbling sweet nothings about ketchup and hoomins are so tasteeeee and flicking his tail into my nose so I won't miss his point.

Lucy has a more direct approach. She plants her weight* on my back and casually extends a nail whereever she thinks it will attract the most attention. Forget to feed me? Feel the wrath, woman! All done with a most-innocent-of-all look on her painted features.

Kate, the oldest (and wisest) of them all, rolls her eyes and curls up on the couch. 'Y'know', she says, conversationally, 'they always get food in the morning....'

And when the others ignore her, she harrumphs something about whippersnappers and has a nap.





*Substantial kitty. Her nickname is Ham and Two Drumsticks. When she flops on you? You know.

teachable moment

I froze.

Look, look! There! See the porcupine?

He was gorgeous. Shyly peeping around the corner, fat and bristled with fawn-ish fringed quills, he paused near the woodshed and considered his options.

The kids oohed and aahed, then stood on tip-toes, watching our glimpse of wild kingdom in our backyard...

Bear strode past me, his arms filled with things to put away. 'Hey! Are you all taking a break?'

No, wait! You'll scare him!

B peered. He followed my pointing finger. He narrowed his eyes.
Then he sighed.

'It's a piece of wood, Jess, you foolish thing.'


I did it again. Unbelievable.

frontier girl, I'm not

Gorgeous, full-bellied sunrise up over the trees, a fresh breeze crisping up the air, just a few leaves beginning to skitter upon the ground....


B had been hard at work all day, splitting firewood (Jess, meet Mount MustStack'EmSoon.) while I was at work, and the kids helped a bit in the morning and then got all dressed up and went to a party.

So when I rolled in, I had just enough time to fix my hair and check my teeth before B and I went to the same function, which was lovely. And the kiddles had been good while B and I weren't there. It's amazing how proud I am when someone compliments the kids. I mean, I know they're awesome - but it blows me away when other people notice it too.


After the party, B started splitting wood again while C and R went off to play with balloons in the breeze. And it wasn't long before I got called off the slopes to go and rescue the balloons, which were firmly trapped in the woods. Wedged between a (thorny) rose bush and some (thorny) raspberry canes. Of course.

Juuuuust out of reach. Of course.

Well, maybe I could get to them if I tromped through the underbrush and the fallen growth and made a path through the trees.


Well. This was a bad decision.
I fell down.
Lost both my shoes. (I may never get all the pluff* mud off my toes.)
Turned the air blue with cursing. (I tend to do that when my ass is wet.)
Thought seriously about having one of the kids go find B and have him get a rope. I was trapped in a thicket of young maple canes, stepping on broken bits of downed branches, on an incline.


I gasped and swore and fumbled my way up to the top, finally breaking out of the trees nowhere near where I thought I was - of course.

The damned balloons are still there.

Then - then! we were all stacking wood and B gave C something to show Rosey.

It was a termite.

Have you ever seen a termite? Lord love a duck. So after R saw it and I (shudder) saw it, Cass dropped it to the ground and stepped on it.

And Rosey burst out sobbing like we'd torched her Barbies. "It was my friend!"

Aw, crap.

*According to Dictionary.com, this isn't the right word for what I want - but I grew up calling that rich, dark swamp mud - you know, the stuff that smells like you should be able to watch things grow out of it? - pluff.

einstein he's not

Drippy dusk, and I was outside with Jasper the Empty-Headed.

He was doing his usual circle-circle-circle-slow down- whoops! -circle circle circle, and I was gazing vacantly out into the trees, noting the colored leaves (there are a few now!) absently, thinking about sugar cookie dough and ticking off the Monday morning checklist in my head (lunches...check! Next up: showers!) and suddenly I noticed Jasper was sucking in his breaths, great inhalations that ballooned out his sides like bellows, head down, serious eyes and trembly whiskers.
(Although he was drilling holes with his eyes at a lawn chair, so I don't think he had a clue)

I peered around, slowly, dipping my head a little to look through the trees. Nope, all's quiet here.

C'mon, Jas, you crazy thing. Do your business so I can get out of the rain, and

....and there was a cough. From the woods.

Jasper was still huffing and intent on the lawn furniture. I swung around and caught just a blur from the corner of my vision. One...no, two...no, there was a baby!
A family of deer were grazing in the watershed, and were discreetly commenting to themselves about the fool human and the even more foolish dawg who were hanging out in the rain getting wet. Disturbing their dinner. For shame.

I watched them for awhile, wondering if this was the same family group that hang out in our side yard early in the morning and wake the cats with their soft snuffle-snorts and sproings up on their hindlegs into the apple trees at first light, then gathered the now uh...emptied dog and walked toward the house.

Jasper tugged at the leash and dragged me almost into the quince bush, where he beat a path underneath and began to root for something while I did a hoppy-dance of my own and tried to avoid the very large and very green frog in our path that Jasper had almost run over as he ran to wrestle....

an apple.

It's a good thing I kinda like him. 'Cause he's just...not...swift.

Or, you know, observant.

jeepers creepers

We haven't been in the pool lately, so I had a lot of scooping to do before the kiddles could get in and splash around. Our pool is under the spreading branches of an old oak tree, you see, and it merrily drops acorns and bits of leafy debris.

My pool is also the place caterpillars and dragonflies go to die. It seem every time I use the net or vacuum I find a sodden little body - usually it's the striped furry crawlies that decide life in the trees isn't worth living and plunge to their watery graves below.

So there I was, raking the acorns out of the pool, keeping an eye out for any suspicious shadows on the bottom. I like to get them before happy little feet turn them into squishy spots that must be scrubbed off.

I worked my way around the pool, and had just reached the pump when I spotted a bright green fir cone whirling in the bucket of the intake of the pump. I almost reached in with my fingers - what in hell? We don't have any pines right here! - and drew back when I saw something that looked like

eyes?!?!?!
Legs?!!?(Credit card offered for size comparison. As far as we know, it didn't off itself over its credit limit. BUT WHO COULD KNOW FOR SURE?)

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

It was the size of my thumb. It was the size of cat poop. It was...it was a Pixar character come to life. It was horrifying.

I didn't want to believe it. I wanted it to be a plastic toy.

But IT WASN'T.



Nova Scotia is a beautiful place, with no poisonous snakes and lots of gorgeous wildlife.

And apparently, bugs that will KNOCK YOU OUT if they fall on you.

**We're flummoxed by this - Bear has lived in Nova S his entire life, and has NEVER seen one this big. We also don't live near any power plants and our neighbors aren't mad scientist types.**

ve have questions

Whump!

I opened my eyes reluctantly. 'Hi, Lucy.'

Lucy put her paw on my nose again. Wake up! Lazy humans.... That's better.

'Ow. Quit with your pokey little paws, cat!'

Don't make me bare my claws....Hey! This is important. Someone has stolen the children. They're not in their beds.

'No, they're not. The house is going to be quiet for a few days - they're on vacation.'

You let someone take my petting people away?


I yawned. 'Think of it as a vacation for you from getting dressed up in doll clothes.'

Lucy did a double-take. But...who will pet me? Who will purr him to sleep? Who will leave cat-hair on her clothing? Are they alone on this vacation?

'Naw, Luce. There's a dog on the trip with them.'

You did what???

I'd like my boy back now, please.

never take the dog out at two a.m.

Y'know what's fun?

Taking the dog out really late at night (because he's rapidly developing a shy bladder that only allows him to pee when he's with you)

hearing a hooty-owl in the deep woods

and then, full of the peace and tranquility a rushing river and velvet darkness of Spring brings,

nearly stepping on a giant frog in the path and doing the shit-shit-shit-shit! dance with the perplexed dog, who didn't see the thing and so thinks you want to play.

Convincing the mutt (who's barely seen you in two days and thinks being out this late is wonderful, y'know, plus the whole pee thing) that you're not up for a late night game of romp around the lawn is not easy.

But at least you aren't scraping frog off your shoe.

thursday night commercial, scene eleven

tip o'the hat to Giggle Pops Design Studio Thanks Ricki!



And this is why most of us have dogs. We could all use a little good press now and then.

Plus dogs will help you hide the bodies (they're natural born diggers, y'all!)