I was sitting at my kitchen table eating breakfast and looking outside at the trees. I find a beauty in their nakedness with all their leaves stripped off. It may be from the time of year I was born, the fall, and those were some of my first images my retina was processing. What I like about the trees now is that you can see their basis structure. There are these straight, curvy, bent, contorted vertical wood shapes, each different from the other. I like looking at them.
While I was mulling over the view and enjoying my egg, this strange crashing sound was happenning at the same time. Several cardinals fly around the bushes outside and perch in my azaleas. I can't tell if it's the same one but a very bright red one, must be the male, keeps on crashing into a mirror I have hanging outside on my laundry wall. ( I have an outdoor laundry area that has a few walls around it.) It is the funniest thing. He darts by and then all of a sudden goes in front of the mirror fluttering like crazy and then slams himself into it. I have tried to photograph him from inside the house and also standing very quietly outside the house but he is way too quick to let me capture him. I would probably have to post a tripod with a video to record the smashing of the red bird. What astonishes me is the repetition. I assume its the same bird and he does this over and over again. He never gets that the image he is seeing is himself, so attracted is he to the likeness of himself. Obviously the pain of hitting the hardness of the mirror hasn't daunted him. He comes back for more pleasure and pain repeatedly.
The lessons of the red bird are not lost on me. So much of our life is repeated activities. Some of it works. Some of it doesn't. It's all life but I can't help thinking that, like the red bird, humanity needs to move on and quit hurting itself with repeated activites that only cause pain and never lead to real answers.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Stalked by My Cat
The last few days have been rather peculiar. I am alone at my home because my husband is away at a seminar in Washington. I live in a rural area in the country and normally I have no problem living a the end of a road in the woods in Florida. The nights are incredible. I can see the full sky at night and relish those walks when the meteors are flying all over the place. I was reminded of the natural cycle of life and death last week when the full moon was aglow. The cows which border our property were mooing all night long. Calling out to each other, back and forth, back and forth. I realized that the females were birthing. It was February and from past years I began to remember that they give birth in the winter. The next day my husband saw small cows next to their mothers up the road. Sweet!
So I am alone and no one is around. It is getting colder and colder outside. From an afternoon temperature of 70, it has now dropped to about 42. I am relaxing after working in my studio all day and am rather exhausted from the concentration. I fixed myself an Indian frozen dinner, rice, spinach, and tofu with a few beans with sauce. It was great! Now a cup of after dinner decaf. I have been drinking a Kona coffee decaffeinated at night, no caffeine after 4 or I can't sleep, or worse, I sleep and then wake up at 2 when the caffeine really kicks in and then can't go back to sleep. So, settling down with my decaf and ready to watch a series on the telly that I love so much, Da Vinci's Inquest on Sleuth. It's an old Canadian Broadcast series, well, the latest episodes were produced on the first half of the first decade of 2000. The acting is terrific, the plot rivals the Wire, in my opinion, maybe a little tamer and the pathos is all there.
So I'm sitting, heater on, blanket on, drink nearby and up jumps Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray also known in his earlier days as PC or Pottery Cat is eighteen years old. He is trim, slightly demented with a notch in his ear from a cat fight about six years ago and all gray. He starts nuzzling my knee. Pushes his nose right into it. Not once but twice. I say, "Stop it." Then gently push him away. He has a nice blanket on the chair next to me that he will eventually go to. He likes to sit on the edge of the easy boy recliner when it is at full position, on top of my blanket. It's a great position because he can sleep and be warm and he is on the blanket and not bothering me.
I mainly don't want to have my drink spill on myself or him. I often let him sit on me if he doesn't do kitty biscuits. He is eighteen and still does kitty biscuits. I believe that he has problems stemming from mother rejection when he was a baby.
Mr. Gray grew up with our two dogs. And that relationship with one of the dogs has formed his personality and possibly warped him. A case of mistaken identity. One day my husband, to whom I had casually been talking about getting a dog for our two young children, brought home two young puppies, black labs. Not purebreeds. A mix of dachshund and shepherd perhaps. Rather strange in a way with shorter legs, the dachshund, and the shape of the face more like a German shepherd. They were sisters. I was kind of p***** off at my husband because I didn't have a say in choosing the animals, would of only chosen one, knowing that I would end up being the caretaker. But the children seemed to be okay with all of this so I was game. The problem was the alpha dog. The dominant female was so aggressive in guarding us that she wouldn't let the sister be first or come to us individually. If she tried to come to us, the alpha dog would make her grovel when she approached us. I hated that. I hate groveling period. And to see a wonderful animal like a dog grovel when she can be relaxed and confident in her dogdom was disturbing. This was going on for a very long time. Months turned into years and I was unsuccessful in changing either dogs behavior. I started praying for the alpha's demise. I couldn't stand seeing the abuse. I didn't know how to stop it and should have taken a doggie discipline class. Shoulda, coulda.
One day the alpha disappeared. Since the dog was in our care, we did make an effort to look for her. Secretly I was so happy! Maybe someone took her! Maybe she found another home! We kept on looking. Days went by. She never returned. A few months later my sister in law, who lived 1/4 mile away said she was taking a walk up by Brownlee creek. This is a huge tract of land that was originally going to be developed but the county didn't want to invest in utilities where we live. So it just sat there and was great for exploring. Linda said that in her walk she came upon a few bags of garbage in the woods quite a ways away. Nearby was the skeletal figure of an animal that she presumed to be our dog. We figure that Lady got into some bad garbage somehow and died. That was the end of her life on planet earth.
Well, Mr. Gray couldn't have been happier. His mother KC, a very sweet loving cat, had rejected Mr. Gray when he was a baby. We aren't sure if she did this to teach him independence or if she really didn't like him. KC was our cat too and she always seemed to swat him out of the way. He found companionship with the alpha dog's sister, our remaining dog, Beauty. Beauty and Mr. Gray would lay together. They were quite a twosome. Finally Beauty could walk around and hold her head up high. It took a while to teach her that she didn't have to grovel and a slight condensation remained but for the most part she came out of herself and seemed happier. She became our dog. And her and Mr. Gray were companions.
The only thing we began to notice is that Mr. Gray started herding us. Beauty used to chase the cows sometimes, a latent herding instinct, I guess. Mr. Gray was pretty smart and for some reason thought this was cool. He began herding us. Not cool. He would be walking with us down the path between our house and the studio which was okay. Then all of a sudden he would merge in front of us and make us stumble and trip over him. He never got over this habit. It is especially dangerous at night when I can't see him. I know he is there walking with me. I just don't know when he is going to turn into me. I have to tell him, " move over, don't get in front of me. I don't want to step on you."
So we have this old cat now. Still does kitty biscuits. Herds. Rubs into me obsessively. Stares.
Okay, cats stare. I have had cats my whole life and I love them. But Mr. Gray has an old, I've been around for 100 cat lives kind of stare. I have gotten used to it but sometimes it is creepy.
So he gets up and goes into the kitchen. Food is there. Water is there. Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow. Okay, Okay, Okay. Put Da Vinci on pause. Maybe if I give some Boar's Head chicken he will leave me alone. It's worked before. I put one half of a slice in his bowl shredded. He goes for it. Great! Now leave me alone!.
I go back to my perch. Da Vinci is fighting with the mayor and police chief. A conspiracy is brewing. It is getting good although my drink has cooled down too much. I wonder if I should heat it up in the microwave. All of a sudden I look up and the cat is on the counter staring at me. I decide not to get up. I continue to watch my show. It's really heating up. One drug dealer is so devious; he is setting up another detective to discredit her so he can advance. Real slimy. Now the cat is on the table in front of me sitting full stance between me and the TV. "What's the matter," I ask. He continues to stare. Now he is getting ready to jump on me. He puts his paw on my blanket, timidly. You can come over, I tell him. Just don't do kitty biscuits. He comes over but doesn't listen.
He starts trying to climb up to the upper body position. I watch and wait to see if he does kitty biscuits. He starts doing kitty biscuits. I take his paws and gently fold them under. "See, like this," I tell him and gently try to push him to sit or lay down. He finally settles down by my stomach on the blanket.
This will be repeated each day, each night, each month forever. He is Mr. Gray.
So I am alone and no one is around. It is getting colder and colder outside. From an afternoon temperature of 70, it has now dropped to about 42. I am relaxing after working in my studio all day and am rather exhausted from the concentration. I fixed myself an Indian frozen dinner, rice, spinach, and tofu with a few beans with sauce. It was great! Now a cup of after dinner decaf. I have been drinking a Kona coffee decaffeinated at night, no caffeine after 4 or I can't sleep, or worse, I sleep and then wake up at 2 when the caffeine really kicks in and then can't go back to sleep. So, settling down with my decaf and ready to watch a series on the telly that I love so much, Da Vinci's Inquest on Sleuth. It's an old Canadian Broadcast series, well, the latest episodes were produced on the first half of the first decade of 2000. The acting is terrific, the plot rivals the Wire, in my opinion, maybe a little tamer and the pathos is all there.
So I'm sitting, heater on, blanket on, drink nearby and up jumps Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray also known in his earlier days as PC or Pottery Cat is eighteen years old. He is trim, slightly demented with a notch in his ear from a cat fight about six years ago and all gray. He starts nuzzling my knee. Pushes his nose right into it. Not once but twice. I say, "Stop it." Then gently push him away. He has a nice blanket on the chair next to me that he will eventually go to. He likes to sit on the edge of the easy boy recliner when it is at full position, on top of my blanket. It's a great position because he can sleep and be warm and he is on the blanket and not bothering me.
I mainly don't want to have my drink spill on myself or him. I often let him sit on me if he doesn't do kitty biscuits. He is eighteen and still does kitty biscuits. I believe that he has problems stemming from mother rejection when he was a baby.
Mr. Gray grew up with our two dogs. And that relationship with one of the dogs has formed his personality and possibly warped him. A case of mistaken identity. One day my husband, to whom I had casually been talking about getting a dog for our two young children, brought home two young puppies, black labs. Not purebreeds. A mix of dachshund and shepherd perhaps. Rather strange in a way with shorter legs, the dachshund, and the shape of the face more like a German shepherd. They were sisters. I was kind of p***** off at my husband because I didn't have a say in choosing the animals, would of only chosen one, knowing that I would end up being the caretaker. But the children seemed to be okay with all of this so I was game. The problem was the alpha dog. The dominant female was so aggressive in guarding us that she wouldn't let the sister be first or come to us individually. If she tried to come to us, the alpha dog would make her grovel when she approached us. I hated that. I hate groveling period. And to see a wonderful animal like a dog grovel when she can be relaxed and confident in her dogdom was disturbing. This was going on for a very long time. Months turned into years and I was unsuccessful in changing either dogs behavior. I started praying for the alpha's demise. I couldn't stand seeing the abuse. I didn't know how to stop it and should have taken a doggie discipline class. Shoulda, coulda.
One day the alpha disappeared. Since the dog was in our care, we did make an effort to look for her. Secretly I was so happy! Maybe someone took her! Maybe she found another home! We kept on looking. Days went by. She never returned. A few months later my sister in law, who lived 1/4 mile away said she was taking a walk up by Brownlee creek. This is a huge tract of land that was originally going to be developed but the county didn't want to invest in utilities where we live. So it just sat there and was great for exploring. Linda said that in her walk she came upon a few bags of garbage in the woods quite a ways away. Nearby was the skeletal figure of an animal that she presumed to be our dog. We figure that Lady got into some bad garbage somehow and died. That was the end of her life on planet earth.
Well, Mr. Gray couldn't have been happier. His mother KC, a very sweet loving cat, had rejected Mr. Gray when he was a baby. We aren't sure if she did this to teach him independence or if she really didn't like him. KC was our cat too and she always seemed to swat him out of the way. He found companionship with the alpha dog's sister, our remaining dog, Beauty. Beauty and Mr. Gray would lay together. They were quite a twosome. Finally Beauty could walk around and hold her head up high. It took a while to teach her that she didn't have to grovel and a slight condensation remained but for the most part she came out of herself and seemed happier. She became our dog. And her and Mr. Gray were companions.
The only thing we began to notice is that Mr. Gray started herding us. Beauty used to chase the cows sometimes, a latent herding instinct, I guess. Mr. Gray was pretty smart and for some reason thought this was cool. He began herding us. Not cool. He would be walking with us down the path between our house and the studio which was okay. Then all of a sudden he would merge in front of us and make us stumble and trip over him. He never got over this habit. It is especially dangerous at night when I can't see him. I know he is there walking with me. I just don't know when he is going to turn into me. I have to tell him, " move over, don't get in front of me. I don't want to step on you."
So we have this old cat now. Still does kitty biscuits. Herds. Rubs into me obsessively. Stares.
Okay, cats stare. I have had cats my whole life and I love them. But Mr. Gray has an old, I've been around for 100 cat lives kind of stare. I have gotten used to it but sometimes it is creepy.
So he gets up and goes into the kitchen. Food is there. Water is there. Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow. Okay, Okay, Okay. Put Da Vinci on pause. Maybe if I give some Boar's Head chicken he will leave me alone. It's worked before. I put one half of a slice in his bowl shredded. He goes for it. Great! Now leave me alone!.
I go back to my perch. Da Vinci is fighting with the mayor and police chief. A conspiracy is brewing. It is getting good although my drink has cooled down too much. I wonder if I should heat it up in the microwave. All of a sudden I look up and the cat is on the counter staring at me. I decide not to get up. I continue to watch my show. It's really heating up. One drug dealer is so devious; he is setting up another detective to discredit her so he can advance. Real slimy. Now the cat is on the table in front of me sitting full stance between me and the TV. "What's the matter," I ask. He continues to stare. Now he is getting ready to jump on me. He puts his paw on my blanket, timidly. You can come over, I tell him. Just don't do kitty biscuits. He comes over but doesn't listen.
He starts trying to climb up to the upper body position. I watch and wait to see if he does kitty biscuits. He starts doing kitty biscuits. I take his paws and gently fold them under. "See, like this," I tell him and gently try to push him to sit or lay down. He finally settles down by my stomach on the blanket.
This will be repeated each day, each night, each month forever. He is Mr. Gray.
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