Little Wild Animals

Our neighborhood cat had kittens a few weeks ago. 

She's not really a stray... more like communally owned, inasmuch as she is more or less housed, and certainly adequately fed, and she's friendly with people.  But nobody has full responsibility for her, which means she has no healthcare, which includes, of course, spaying.  Apparently she's had a litter a year in one of the garages along the block, popping out 5 to 7 kittens every summer.  The neighborhood is good about feeding and housing and finding homes for the kitties, but nobody wants to pony up to have the poor old girl spayed.

This litter started out at seven, but we lost one last week to unknown causes, so the number is down to six.  They mostly live in our next door neighbor's garage, but occasionally the mommacat attempts to relocate them to the next garage down.  Those neighbors are in the process of moving, so they move the babies back.  Poor little guys keep getting dragged by the next back and forth across the yard.

Mostly their healthy, fat little balls of fluff.  But a couple have had eye issues. Their eyes get gummy and seal shut, so I go over every evening with a warm damp rag and check them out. I soak their eyes open if their gummed over, and give them a general clean-up if needed. There's one I've been a bit worried about:  a little runty white one whose eyes looked pink and cloudy when I get them open.  And they seem sunken in the sockets.

Anyway, I worry over him.  Over all of them, really.  We'll need to find homes for them, and everyone knows the world does not need seven more kitties.  When we first moved in, there were two wild cats semi-inhabiting our back yard, until the dogs made a go for them, cornering the smallest against the fence. I got there in time to avoid injury to either side, but the kitten was wet all over and spitting in terror.  They haven't returned... wisely.

Kobi escaped the yard and went next door last week to check out the mommacat and babies.  I heard her yelp and saw her come out, tail down and eyes squinting from the slash she received across the face.  She had it coming.  She too has not returned, and I hope it keeps her from harrassing the kittens any further.  But they are only just now big enough to begin exploring a bit (when their eyes are not gummed shut).  So I hope there's no trouble when they are big enough to be bouncing around the yard like fluffy balls of bait.

And that day is coming up very soon.  Last night at about 10:30, my neighbor rang my doorbell, and when I opened the door she just said "you gotta come see this."

Well, all the kitties were out in the driveway, chasing and pouncing and rolling over one another. I had not seen them so active, and in fact just early that evening I'd had to pry open the eyes of two of them. But they were all wide-eyed, healthy and playful, with clearly not the slightest fear of people.  So I sat down right there on the concrete and let them all pile into my lap.

There is just not much that a lapful of 4-week-old kittens can't make you feel better about.  Not that I have any reason to feel sorry for myself just now, but I do sometimes get a little lonely.  But these little balls of play reminded me again of how good life can be.

For one thing: I have a neighbor who is nice enough to adopt a litter of homeless kittens, and a neighborhood that is nice enough to make sure they are fed and safe and healthy. And people who recognize the value of a lapfull of kittens enough to be willing to ring my doorbell at 10:30 at night to be sure I get a chance to enjoy it.  There's a lot to be thankful for.

UPDATE:
This is an old post that I forgot to upload.
The kitties are all thriving.  The momma moved them again to a new garage (possibly to get away from all the kids playing with them all the time), and the nice Cat Lady that lives there took in the whole litter and the mother, so they are all indoors now, cared for and fed.  We haven't seen them since then, but we know where they are.  Again, it's nice to have nice people around.

Return of the Prodigal

Hey there.
Remember me?  I used to hang out here.

There's plenty to update on.  I've relocated to Arkansas, changed jobs.... Settled in. In a way it's surprising how little time it takes to create a New Normal. On the other hand, Bentonville is a lot like Norman, in the way most small to medium sized towns in the middle of the US are like other small to medium sized towns in the middle of the US. Our ecountry has become curiously homogenous through the magic of Big Box stores, corporations and chains.  So I feel pretty much the same in the Starbucks on 14th street in Bentonville as I did in the Starbucks on Main in Norman.  Even the barrista looks the same.

That's cynical, and I don't mean to be. I do like it here a lot. I like how things are nearby. I like the people and the schools. I like my job. I really really like the landscape. That's probably the best perc of being here. It is really beautiful.  So green. I love Oklahoma, and I'm a plains girl to the bottom of my big, flat, feet.  But I belong in the forest.  I need running water and rocks.  It feels like home here in that respect, as much or more than my home felt.

I'm back to pretty much normal as far as routine goes, as well. The tension and drama of moving and starting a new job have settled down. Fortunately, the drama behind the scenes in my personal life has also settled down. I made peace with the X. (Some might say I cratered, but I did what I needed to do to make the escalating insanity stop.)  I think I've reached a manageable lifestyle with the Boyfriend, who just bought a house in Norman, so he's been busy moving, picking out upholstery fabric and home accessories, which certainly helps take the sting out of my defection to Arkansas. I've even settled into a routine of regular drives to the Missouri border for my weekly wine ration (Benton is a dry county).

I've pretty much gotten the hang of the job. I've learned almost everyone's name, can find my way around the building, and stay busy most of the time.  Sometimes I find I've got four or five projects going, but they're all in review and so I'm in waiting mode.  It's not natural for me.  I don't.... wait.  I'm accustomed to having thirty things going at once. If one project gets stonewalled, I move on to something else. There is no lag time. But here, well... I'm here to do two things: write, and edit. There are other people in charge of updating the web site and Facebook, booking advertisements, making TV appearances, talking with reporters, sizing ads, raising sponsorships, and doing voice overs. Me... I'm the copy writer and grammar police. My Chicago Style manual online is my best friend. It's a strange sort of vaccuum for me. It feels...guilty somehow... like I'm not really doing it right, somehow.

For those who were hoping for some inside scoop about life at the Next Great American Museum, I'm sorry to disappoint. Because the museum doesn't open until November, I've taken a strict Vow of Silence regarding goings on here. Everything is a big Surprise, so you'll just have to wait like everyone else. 

You Shall Not Pass

It seems the universe vacilates on its opinion of me.

First I'm soaring:  receiving the bounty of a new job, a fresh start.  I lose a house and gain a house, I serendipitously meet people who shine a positive light into my life. I feel like Everything is Meant to Be...

Then I'm snatched down as if by the flaming whiplash of the Balrog:  sucked childishly into acrimonious conflict with the X. Blazing into petty sniping with the boyfriend. Circling my office like an anxiety-ridden tiger in a cage, distracted to paralysis by the enormity of my To Do list.  Snapping at my son.  Yesterday my car wouldn't start. My camera stopped working. The external hard drive I purchased to transfer all my photos onto wouldn't format for the computer I'm using.



Today is my next to last day at work.  I have at least three more days worth of stuff to accomplish, and a doctor's appointment this morning to eat up a good hour of the day. 


What gives?  Did I get too cocky?  Too confident? Has the universe turned its back on me?


And as the chaos begins to wind itself up to the point at which I either overcome it or run howling mad through the streets... I have something of an epiphany. Eventually – and sooner rather than later – I will have to give up on getting everything done and just go....  Go.  Throw everything up in the air and run out from under it. Balrog or no Balrog.

"Fly, you fools."