Ed and I have an elephant in our farmhouse. Sometimes we talk about it, but most often, she just sits there, hazily, hugely, never letting us forget about her presence.
It has to do with Calico, the kitten who was so sick with vertigo, that she could not walk a straight line. Her legs would give in and she'd collapse before you.
She's not 100% her old self yet, but she is slowly getting better. She still walks with a telltale tilt to her head and I wouldn't trust her on a windowsill, but, she can saunter over to us when we come into the writer's shed without much difficulty. That's progress.
Except that we don't know if she will fully recover. And even if she does, something has changed: she now sees us as her caregivers. Her friends. She is supremely affectionate and she just cannot get enough of being petted, rubbed, stroked, as if making up for lost time.
Is this a problem? Well yes. Let me describe this morning: I walk out, the teen cats hover around me. I hear a mournful meowing. What now? Clearly something is up with Cutie (Calico's sister). Okay, let me feed the teens in the sheep shed and come back to the problem.
Ah. There she is, high up in the big willow, unable to get down.
What's with these little guys? Their older siblings run up and down trees all the time. These two little girls -- when they go up, they cannot get down.
So why is she up a tree, howling away? Perhaps the teen cats chased her. Or, did she hear her sister's meowing? The willow is right next to the writer's shed. The shed windows are open.
I coax Cutie down, feed her, then go on to look in on Calico. She is all over me, as usual. I feed her. She eats ravenously. And then I can't get away. I go to the door, she follows within an inch of my legs. She meows her mournful meow. Is it because she wants to go out? Is it that she heard her sister and is looking for her? In any case, I am stuck. If I open the door, she may run out and believe me, she is still far from being able to take care of herself in the mean real world. The vet prescribed yet another treatment to help her along. She needs to stay in the shed.
I try everything: running toward the door, distracting her with a rope, sitting down, standing up. She wont leave my side.
Well, eventually I lunge at the door and manage to slam it closed before she can follow me. But the fact is, this little cat is in a dangerous place: she is at once vulnerable, semi domesticated, fiercely attached to her caregivers, and most certainly missing her sister.
So where's the elephant? Oh, it's clear, no? The best solution is to bring Calico and Cutie into the farmhouse and complete the process of domesticating them. Only inside the house can they be safe from the teens and from anything else that may harm them. Ed would be thrilled if I agreed to it, but I just cannot. I am extremely fond of those kitties. When they are outside. I don't want them inside. I dont want to sit on the couch with their little nails digging affectionately into my thigh. I don't wan to sleep with a moving animal or two in our small bed. Ed already takes up 75% of the space. The cat swould take up just that much more. No. I don't want a cat jumping over the counters, eating foods that I leave out for us. I don't want any of it.
And yet, there is little Calico, needing protection. Needing love. Needing us. Needing her sister.
Quite the elephant, don't you think?
I worked a little in the garden, but you know, that effort is now minimal. Many of the plants are drying up, in part because it's late August and in part because we haven't had a good rain shower in a long time. So I do just a little. And I water, just a little.
And we eat breakfast and we talk about Calico, just a little.
The afternoon is split between time with my friend (well, Zoom time, as she lives in New Mexico) who is celebrating a milestone birthday...
... and a valiant attempt to get moving. I do lure Ed out for a walk, I do! Rural roads...
... with a detour into the new development. This gives us a nice segment of quiet, as well as some interesting opportunities to watch gravel and cement being poured into holes that soon will be houses. (A year ago -- nothing. Today -- at least three dozen new homes. Not quite the speed of construction in China, but pretty fast nonetheless!)
Tomorrow I'll be with the kids again. Today -- a frittata night, with greens and mushrooms and new garlic and new potatoes and corn. If it's August, there must be corn.
It has to do with Calico, the kitten who was so sick with vertigo, that she could not walk a straight line. Her legs would give in and she'd collapse before you.
She's not 100% her old self yet, but she is slowly getting better. She still walks with a telltale tilt to her head and I wouldn't trust her on a windowsill, but, she can saunter over to us when we come into the writer's shed without much difficulty. That's progress.
Except that we don't know if she will fully recover. And even if she does, something has changed: she now sees us as her caregivers. Her friends. She is supremely affectionate and she just cannot get enough of being petted, rubbed, stroked, as if making up for lost time.
Is this a problem? Well yes. Let me describe this morning: I walk out, the teen cats hover around me. I hear a mournful meowing. What now? Clearly something is up with Cutie (Calico's sister). Okay, let me feed the teens in the sheep shed and come back to the problem.
Ah. There she is, high up in the big willow, unable to get down.
What's with these little guys? Their older siblings run up and down trees all the time. These two little girls -- when they go up, they cannot get down.
So why is she up a tree, howling away? Perhaps the teen cats chased her. Or, did she hear her sister's meowing? The willow is right next to the writer's shed. The shed windows are open.
I coax Cutie down, feed her, then go on to look in on Calico. She is all over me, as usual. I feed her. She eats ravenously. And then I can't get away. I go to the door, she follows within an inch of my legs. She meows her mournful meow. Is it because she wants to go out? Is it that she heard her sister and is looking for her? In any case, I am stuck. If I open the door, she may run out and believe me, she is still far from being able to take care of herself in the mean real world. The vet prescribed yet another treatment to help her along. She needs to stay in the shed.
I try everything: running toward the door, distracting her with a rope, sitting down, standing up. She wont leave my side.
Well, eventually I lunge at the door and manage to slam it closed before she can follow me. But the fact is, this little cat is in a dangerous place: she is at once vulnerable, semi domesticated, fiercely attached to her caregivers, and most certainly missing her sister.
So where's the elephant? Oh, it's clear, no? The best solution is to bring Calico and Cutie into the farmhouse and complete the process of domesticating them. Only inside the house can they be safe from the teens and from anything else that may harm them. Ed would be thrilled if I agreed to it, but I just cannot. I am extremely fond of those kitties. When they are outside. I don't want them inside. I dont want to sit on the couch with their little nails digging affectionately into my thigh. I don't wan to sleep with a moving animal or two in our small bed. Ed already takes up 75% of the space. The cat swould take up just that much more. No. I don't want a cat jumping over the counters, eating foods that I leave out for us. I don't want any of it.
And yet, there is little Calico, needing protection. Needing love. Needing us. Needing her sister.
Quite the elephant, don't you think?
I worked a little in the garden, but you know, that effort is now minimal. Many of the plants are drying up, in part because it's late August and in part because we haven't had a good rain shower in a long time. So I do just a little. And I water, just a little.
And we eat breakfast and we talk about Calico, just a little.
The afternoon is split between time with my friend (well, Zoom time, as she lives in New Mexico) who is celebrating a milestone birthday...
... and a valiant attempt to get moving. I do lure Ed out for a walk, I do! Rural roads...
... with a detour into the new development. This gives us a nice segment of quiet, as well as some interesting opportunities to watch gravel and cement being poured into holes that soon will be houses. (A year ago -- nothing. Today -- at least three dozen new homes. Not quite the speed of construction in China, but pretty fast nonetheless!)
Tomorrow I'll be with the kids again. Today -- a frittata night, with greens and mushrooms and new garlic and new potatoes and corn. If it's August, there must be corn.
