My sister's kids brought home some cuddly soft kitties when they were here visiting, last summer. They turned into cats, of course. So my mom ended up with a whole gang of cats that hang around -- too many for practical purpose, too many to feed, too many...
Well, she tried giving some away. It worked okay with the gray cat -- he's been gone for a long time now. So she thought the other cats would be willing candidates for adoption by some family with lots of affectionate and loving kids.
The black-and-gray striped cat went to Kimballs, nearby. That cat has been transported to a new home numerous times, accompanied by generous supply of cat provisions. It keeps coming back. Won't stay away.
Today we spotted the little black cat, returned. So now the full compelment of cats has returned. The only one that has stayed adopted is the dirty gray-white cat that moved up the mountain to Annette Grant's house a couple of years back.
Cats are notional creatures, I guess. They have a mind of their own, about where they decide to call home.
6 comments:
I like that.
I think I'd tweak the ending a bit though. Mayabe it's not anything they decide. Maybe home is deeper place than anything we decide.
Cats who think they can decide where to call home can never really get there, maybe.
I still live in the somewhat shabby, out of the way little town where I grew up. T.S. Eliot said there are some things we can only see by standing still.
Ooops. I didn't realize till after I posted that last comment that my daughter had been using my computer and it was logged in as her.
WHAT!?! Stories about kitties accompanied by cute pink and yellow illustrations from some kid's book? I come here for the pictures of chain saws and work boots and gut-it-out rehab stories.
Guess I'll have to find the blog of some other lumberjack-type recovering from a stroke.
But it reminds me of a story. I used to catch turtles and keep them in surplus navy tubs (of some sort), where I observed them, fed them, then let them go. I used to catch a lot of spotted turtles. Once I caught one living in a puddle beside the Eastern Seaboard Coastline tracks that ran by our property maybe 600-1000 ft. from our house. We had 5 acres then, part of it in hickory, white oak and pine forest. A deep drainage ditch trimmed the edge of our property and the woods bordering the track. A kid's wonderland.
ANYWAY, I caught this turtle missing half of his back leg and a front foot. I wondered how he survived like that. I took him home and put him in the tank with my other turtles. The next a.m. when I went out to check on him, he was gone! He'd somehow escaped a tank bigger and more whole turtles hadn't been able to.
A few days later, I was back at the tracks and found him in the pond where I caught him. This means he had to negotiate the thick weeds surrounding our house, somehow cross the irrigation ditch, and maneuver the woods to return to the exact spot where I found him before. I caught him again, took him home, and put him in the tank, thinking his escape was lucky the first time -- no way could he pull it off again.
Next a.m. -- no Stumpy. He'd done it again, pulled a turtle Houdini, or maybe stacked up his fellow captives, Yertle-the-Turtle style, and climbed over them to freedom.
A few days later I found him back by the tracks, skittering from sight into the leaf litter at the bottom of the puddle. This time I left him alone. I figured I'd learned enough from this turtle.
Patricia,
Thanks for the very entertaining story about your adventures with turtles. I miss the turtles that are so common in the South where I have lived for a time.
When we first moved to Huntsville, AL, there was a large box turtle trundling down the middle of the road through for lanes of busy traffic. All the cars managed to avoid him. That was our welcome and intro to the Southeast.
When I was living in North Carolina for a time, I enjoyed my hikes along the river. Whenever I would come in sight of a new stretch of water, coming around the bend, I would see lots of little box turtles diving off their rocks in alarm. I actually saw only a few of them, just heard their splashes. They must have some kind of early warning system that tells them of encroaching foes.
In any case, I am as admiring and in wonderment of animals wild and domestic as the next guy. Nothing exclusive to lumberjacks or powersaw users here. There is a tender place in every heart for a warm furry kitten. But perhaps they are not quite so endearing to us when they grow up into big fat cats.
Well you know that I love big Fat Cats as well as tiny Little Kittens. But I did think they would be happy to stay at homes where children would be playing with them and petting them. Maybe I will give it another try. Mom
Ok I keep trying to write you a note that will post to your Blog.Very confusing. Mom
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