Because you can almost never go wrong with a picture of a cat....
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Monday, January 04, 2010
No Room At The Inn
So, an odd sort of Christmas parable. Just before Christmas, yet again there was a day when both Lily and I perked up our ears and thought we heard something as we passed through Darrell's indoor shop.
('Indoor' being a relative term. Yes, the room is framed in out of part of the garage space, and insulated to a degree, and heated very mildly, but that's about as far as it goes. For all intents and purposes it is *outside* of the house. In fact, come wintertime, it becomes extra pantry and root cellar storage in a pinch, because things will keep cold enough!)
Anyway, Lily mistrusts the room for reasons known best to herself and her little cat mind, so the attempt to let her out into the rest of the garage, which was far less deep than the official outdoors, didn't go so well. And then I heard the tiny voice. A little mewing voice. Lily heard it too. And went over to stare at the cupboards under the sink, and the ceiling above it.
Since last fall we'd had abandoned kittens that had stuffed themselves in the soffits (go figure...) I layered on the winter gear to explore that possibility.
[Note: winter in Wareham can be a polar experience. We're in the snowbelt. And then some. We get the 'north of Toronto' snow. We get 'lake effect' snow. We get the 'highest point in Ontario' snow. In short, we get snow. You've seen the pictures, right?]
In fact, winter in Wareham can be very much like the descriptive passage from Jean Shepherd's A Christmas Story.
"Preparing for school during an Indiana winter was like getting ready for extended deep-sea diving. Long johns, three pairs of socks, high tops, overshoes, corduroy knickers, flannel lumberjack shirt, four sweaters, fleece-lined leatherette sheepskin coat, gloves, mittens over the gloves, stocking cap, ear flap hat over the stocking cap... and a scarf wound around and around until only the faint glint of two eyes peering out of a mound of moving dry goods told you that there was a kid in there. Somewhere."
So, we'd had snow, and moving through the yard as opposed to around the outer edges of the yard is less of an option. So I put on the big boots. (Several years ago, I gave up on the idea of any boots remotely resembling something ladylike or fashionable and have just opted for big winter snowboots, or bigger higher wellies for short duration slogs. And snowshoes if I really intend to make it to the compost heap....) And the big coat, and gloves, and a scarf. And wormed my way out and around the winter barricade of tarps and 2x4's that we erect about ourselves in winter, in hopes of leaving some lifeline to the outer world traversible. At least with the minimum of tunneling.
And then I floundered my way around the side of the building to check for small animals on the outside.
(Seems the lost cat was smarter than I was!)
After I scrabbled my way back in and emptied the boots, I tried making inviting, small animal noises in the loft, and then again in the main room of our driveshed garage space. Eventually I was answered, and a skinny black cat emerged from the depths of under or over the shop space, and demanded attention. (No nervous feral barn cat this...)
He also seemed to have no particular fear of any of our cats. Though they didn't think much of him, and announced it quite plainly.
Because the weather took a turn for the colder, and the Spare Cat didn't show any interest at all in leaving, or looking for somewhere he should have been that wasn't here, Darrell rigged up a milk crate with a worklight attached for warmth. Last thing we wanted was to discover a catsicle in the morning!
As is usual, no-one on the crossroads appeared to have lost him, or know anyone further afield who might have. And, of course, they all already have their share of adopted abandoned animals.
He was definitely a people cat, and more than determined that we should let him in. Soft-hearted that we are, he eventually managed to spend some of his time in Darrell's shop.
Then, as Christmas loomed, he got cunning and discovered that if anyone wasn't wary enough as they went into the house, or their hands were full, he could streak by and get in too! That was fun.
He was a very persistent little cat!
We didn't worry too much. Although we weren't really looking to adopt another cat, if there were no other options, and our other cats would allow it...
Thing is, we'd lost our fourth cat in August. Both Darrell and I miss her a great deal, but we'd realized shortly after that, just how much our cats don't. It was only after we were back to the original trio that we saw just how unhappy Bear had been with her around, and how much his personality had changed now she was gone again.
It had always been a bit like a bar in the Neutral Zone with Klingons and StarFleet not getting along... After over three years with Coco, it was still just a shaky temporary cease fire, not peacetime.
Anyway, Spare Cat was pleased to come in where there was heat and comfortable places to sit, and tried to become invisible so no-one would throw him out. But the amount of time he could sit still was pretty limited and eventually he'd just be in to too many places he shouldn't be, or have upset the cats too much, and out he'd get tossed again!
Just before Christmas, a good friend who'd been 'pimping him out' to everyone she knew figured she'd found a possible new home for him, so we didn't worry as much, and we'd let him come in for visits more frequently, until he'd wear out his welcome.
And after the Christmas weekend, we bundled him off to a new life, with a new person and fellow-cat and name. So, hopefully another abandoned or lost cat has been saved. I wish I knew where they keep coming from. And why the cats that show up seem to always be nice cats, friendly cats, attractive cats, cats of an age where they need to be neutered, coincidentally just about when people need to step up and accept some responsibility for owning a pet...
But I'm so happy that there are also people out there who helped us, and were willing to take a little spare cat into their home. It made our Christmas a bit happier.
('Indoor' being a relative term. Yes, the room is framed in out of part of the garage space, and insulated to a degree, and heated very mildly, but that's about as far as it goes. For all intents and purposes it is *outside* of the house. In fact, come wintertime, it becomes extra pantry and root cellar storage in a pinch, because things will keep cold enough!)
Anyway, Lily mistrusts the room for reasons known best to herself and her little cat mind, so the attempt to let her out into the rest of the garage, which was far less deep than the official outdoors, didn't go so well. And then I heard the tiny voice. A little mewing voice. Lily heard it too. And went over to stare at the cupboards under the sink, and the ceiling above it.
Since last fall we'd had abandoned kittens that had stuffed themselves in the soffits (go figure...) I layered on the winter gear to explore that possibility.
[Note: winter in Wareham can be a polar experience. We're in the snowbelt. And then some. We get the 'north of Toronto' snow. We get 'lake effect' snow. We get the 'highest point in Ontario' snow. In short, we get snow. You've seen the pictures, right?]
In fact, winter in Wareham can be very much like the descriptive passage from Jean Shepherd's A Christmas Story.
"Preparing for school during an Indiana winter was like getting ready for extended deep-sea diving. Long johns, three pairs of socks, high tops, overshoes, corduroy knickers, flannel lumberjack shirt, four sweaters, fleece-lined leatherette sheepskin coat, gloves, mittens over the gloves, stocking cap, ear flap hat over the stocking cap... and a scarf wound around and around until only the faint glint of two eyes peering out of a mound of moving dry goods told you that there was a kid in there. Somewhere."
So, we'd had snow, and moving through the yard as opposed to around the outer edges of the yard is less of an option. So I put on the big boots. (Several years ago, I gave up on the idea of any boots remotely resembling something ladylike or fashionable and have just opted for big winter snowboots, or bigger higher wellies for short duration slogs. And snowshoes if I really intend to make it to the compost heap....) And the big coat, and gloves, and a scarf. And wormed my way out and around the winter barricade of tarps and 2x4's that we erect about ourselves in winter, in hopes of leaving some lifeline to the outer world traversible. At least with the minimum of tunneling.
And then I floundered my way around the side of the building to check for small animals on the outside.
(Seems the lost cat was smarter than I was!)
After I scrabbled my way back in and emptied the boots, I tried making inviting, small animal noises in the loft, and then again in the main room of our driveshed garage space. Eventually I was answered, and a skinny black cat emerged from the depths of under or over the shop space, and demanded attention. (No nervous feral barn cat this...)
He also seemed to have no particular fear of any of our cats. Though they didn't think much of him, and announced it quite plainly.
Because the weather took a turn for the colder, and the Spare Cat didn't show any interest at all in leaving, or looking for somewhere he should have been that wasn't here, Darrell rigged up a milk crate with a worklight attached for warmth. Last thing we wanted was to discover a catsicle in the morning!
As is usual, no-one on the crossroads appeared to have lost him, or know anyone further afield who might have. And, of course, they all already have their share of adopted abandoned animals.
He was definitely a people cat, and more than determined that we should let him in. Soft-hearted that we are, he eventually managed to spend some of his time in Darrell's shop.Then, as Christmas loomed, he got cunning and discovered that if anyone wasn't wary enough as they went into the house, or their hands were full, he could streak by and get in too! That was fun.
He was a very persistent little cat!
We didn't worry too much. Although we weren't really looking to adopt another cat, if there were no other options, and our other cats would allow it...
Thing is, we'd lost our fourth cat in August. Both Darrell and I miss her a great deal, but we'd realized shortly after that, just how much our cats don't. It was only after we were back to the original trio that we saw just how unhappy Bear had been with her around, and how much his personality had changed now she was gone again.
It had always been a bit like a bar in the Neutral Zone with Klingons and StarFleet not getting along... After over three years with Coco, it was still just a shaky temporary cease fire, not peacetime.
Anyway, Spare Cat was pleased to come in where there was heat and comfortable places to sit, and tried to become invisible so no-one would throw him out. But the amount of time he could sit still was pretty limited and eventually he'd just be in to too many places he shouldn't be, or have upset the cats too much, and out he'd get tossed again!
Just before Christmas, a good friend who'd been 'pimping him out' to everyone she knew figured she'd found a possible new home for him, so we didn't worry as much, and we'd let him come in for visits more frequently, until he'd wear out his welcome.
And after the Christmas weekend, we bundled him off to a new life, with a new person and fellow-cat and name. So, hopefully another abandoned or lost cat has been saved. I wish I knew where they keep coming from. And why the cats that show up seem to always be nice cats, friendly cats, attractive cats, cats of an age where they need to be neutered, coincidentally just about when people need to step up and accept some responsibility for owning a pet...But I'm so happy that there are also people out there who helped us, and were willing to take a little spare cat into their home. It made our Christmas a bit happier.
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