Friday, July 31, 2009
Friday is here and some just cannot contain their excitement and are "gettin' down tonight". Chaiyka demonstrates how it's done:
Meanwhile, despite the various highly accessible water bowls around the house, it seems there is nothing tastier and more refreshing than a watering can that is accessed with some difficulty and awkwardness. No wonder there is a line-up down at the "watering hole".
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
So, I am beginning to be convinced there is a kitty website with directions to my house - for cats use only of course. Check it out: this a a picture of my porch - but - these are NOT my cats! I fear they may be homeless, and the tabby and white, we've named Rascal, is limping. The Siamese is so tiny, and doesn't seem to be growing - yesterday he was on this same chair curled up with our Chaiyka, and alas they moved before I could get a picture - they looked soooo cute! This, on the heels of having "grabbed" Mr. Poole (2nd photo, a bit hard to see), and taken him to the vet. Oh - have I not told you about Mr. Poole? Well, he's been around well over a month and when he first arrived he was just black/brown fur and bones - totally ravenous. He's been living outside it seems, and we were prepared to leave things be since it is summer. However, a week ago, I was stroking his head and noticed a bump, which became bigger and bigger. OMG! An abscess - right near the eyes. Well, needless to say, that could not wait - and off he went to the vet, where he got fixed as well. He's "home" now, but really doesn't look good - his eyes have discharge, and he makes a "snuffly" kind of sound. I suspect we will have to confer with our vet again. Sigh.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
I have come to the realization (again) that I am not a joyful person. This fact hit me full on after this past weekend’s big event – my high school reunion. The same people that were lively and vivacious are still so, while those who were a little shy, mostly in the background, remain so. On Facebook there is a quiz "What is your real age?” While these little quizzes are mostly silly and I don’t usually participate, I thought I’d give it a go. My result? I am 50 – my real age came out as 52. Those lively and vivacious ones? Pretty much same age as me, and their result was 22, or so. Kind of depressing. And yet, what can I do – especially at age 50? I have always been this way, and it’s not as if I have chosen to live life on the gloomy side. I would desperately love to be happy, and optimistic and full of zest for life like those girls from high school. But I can’t get up tomorrow and say to myself: “OK, from this day forward you are going to be joyful, embrace all of life and drink in its goodness!” That is not me, and it just doesn't work that way. And while I cannot say that I am miserable ALL the time, I tend to dwell too much on all my various fears: aging, pain, and death. I reflect on the often dark side of the human condition, the suffering of innocents, of animals, the destruction of our planet, and feel how can anyone in their right mind be happy.
But, as I observed to a dear friend recently, that is one of the reasons I have become so absorbed by gardening: when I am there, I do not think – I simply am. I am there with my plants, my cats, my little corner of paradise. I dig, weed, experiment, plant – observe,learn and just breathe. At the end of the day, when the sun’s last rays bathe the towering acacia trees in gold – I look upon what I have, and I think I am almost happy, and life, at least for that moment in time, is good - very good indeed.
Friday, July 03, 2009
It’s been raining and raining and raining! Almost no opportunities to weed, plant or anything – what was nicely and perfectly in bloom has been beaten down by the rain – all soggy and sad looking. The cats mostly have to stay indoors, but luckily these guys have a screened in porch from which they can still enjoy the outdoors without getting wet. Here we see Manitou in just such a spot, although his demeanor seems to be saying “I’d rather be outside – harrumph!”