Dog Days

The Magnolias are in bloom (achoo), and I am doing OK

The arrival of spring with its sunshine and longer days brings with it a renewed energy.  The snowy days are gone and we notice that nature has put the bounce back into our step.  The song birds are chirping, the squirrels are scampering around the trees, and the old groundhog has come out of his hole to check out my gardens for potential food supplies. I also just saw my first bumble bee going from flower to flower on my Azalea bush.  It is time for busy bees to do their thing.

Yes, the pleasant weather is back and all creatures great and small have come out to play.  Well most have, but maybe not my son's four year old lab, Champ.  He is not exactly a bundle of energy. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0Fe2tAMIAg&feature=player_detailpage#t=18s

 

His companion, Brandy, could be a little more enthusiastic also.

 

 

Get those dogs some doggie Red Bull or at least, some Vitamin Water.

 

Stalkers in the Midst

We had a beautiful snowfall this week and I am doing OK.



A few days ago, hubby came running into the bedroom yelling, "Arleen, Arleen, look outside."  Not fully awake but startled by what he said, I stretched over and peered out the window.  There, sitting on a backyard tree were two large turkey vultures and they seemed to be looking into my window. I checked my pulse, and yep, I still had one.  I jumped out of bed, did a little dance and yelled for them to go away.  Heck, there is still plenty of life in this old girl yet.

This was not quite the happy New Year greeting I wanted.  I was hoping for the Bluebird of Happiness.

The Fog Comes On

Getting ready for the holidays, and I am doing OK

As I no longer go to work on a daily basis and time has lost its importance, I have, on occasion, woken up and am not sure what day it is. I look for clues and if hubby is not there, it means he went to work (big smile, big smile!). So now I am down to one of five or one of two and that is good enough for me.

Where, oh where, did that mind go that used to figure out complex programs and mathematical equations. I was that person who managed a small company and a large family and now I cringe when my grandchildren want me to play Angry Birds on their iPod. I used to be that person who jumped out of bed and quickly got her day going at 5:30 AM. Now as I slowly slide off the side of the mattress and onto the floor, my main purpose is to look for my glasses. Finding them within three minutes is sort of like getting a hole in one for me.

Monday, Schmonday, what does it matter now. It has taken me a while but I have learned to embrace a less stressful environment. Unless hubby is around, time is mine to do with what I want. I have a volunteer job that I love, love, love and gives me great satisfaction and joy.  I also now have time to spend with my grandchildren that I did not have before and I am making memories. I have replaced the stress and restraints I had by now doing things I choose. My early enthusiasm about doing chores that I had put off for years has waned. Purging the basement of unnecessary collections has not been accomplished although I do make attempts at it every now and then (the emphasis on "then). I have decided to focus on small victories rather than big burdensome tasks. Best of all, what I have found is that in this phase in life I do less complaining and am grateful for so much more.

So when I woke up this week and saw the thick fog, I did not worry about being out on the road trying to see through the mist. What I noticed was how beautiful it looked. There was silence and sweet peace in the scene.


The Fog
by the wonderful Carl Sandburg


The fog comes





















on little cat feet
























It sits looking
Over harbor and city (and suburbia)





















On silent haunches








































And then moves on




And so have I. 







 

Snaked

Had a good weekend with family and friends and I am doing OK.

The woods that border my home has a wandering creek flowing through it.  It attracts quite a bit of wildlife which I love.  The open space next to my house is a wetland and in the spring, the songs of the frogs entertain us in the evening.  Now and then I come across a snake in my garden which gives me pause, but if they keep to themselves, I'm cool with them also.   I love living in the country.





















The other night my hubby was organizing the garage and putting away gardening supplies.  As he fiddled around with the tools he noticed something in a dark corner that looked ominous.  Prodding the area with a small stick, he was greeted by a rather long snake.  He quickly  grabbed the nearest armament, a broom that was hanging on the wall, and with the swing and swiftness of Tiger Woods, he gave that reptile the old heave-ho out the door.  Only it was not just one snake, instead they were five large unknown types and they all went flying into the air. Being none too happy at his rude awakening, one of them, after landing down the driveway in one piece, turned and charged his attacker, extending his body upwards and hissing in rage.  Running on adrenalin and not to show any fear, my brave hero stood his ground and whipped that sucker one more time.  Now, surrounded by the rest of the gang of slithering varmints and no one and no creature backing down, it became an all out assault.  With his mighty weapon in hand, and  the chutzpah of a Navy Seal, my man went full force, and drove those snakes off the driveway, into the road and down the gully.  This now proud snake wrangler lifted his broom, swung it in a circle, blew off the dust of battle and hung it up for another day. 

Duel in the Sun

 Clint couldn't have done better.

Lost, But Now Found

Such a surprise, and I am feeling OK

I thought the little kitten that we tried to catch was gone forever. We had violent storms and stifling heat and I held out little hope for her survival. Tonight we were sitting out on our deck having dinner and saw BB sitting down by the woods. She is usually up on my deck looking for food about that time but she seemed to have something else she rather do.

Your Momma will always find you.

 

Kittens and Heartbreak

Upsetting weekend, but doing OK.




I have spoken before of the traveling kitties who like to spend part of their days at our neighbor farmer's pastures and the rest hanging around in my yard. As time has gone on though, two of them have more or less taken up residence on my deck or patio.   I usually wake up to see this beautiful Himalayan and her pal, a little grey British short hair, leaning against the French door window waiting for food and some pats on the head. I have grown very attached to them and when they are not there, I become worried as many animals meet their fate on the narrow, winding road by my house.

Big Bucks

 

Vanna Gogh



A few months ago the Himalayan, BB, was in season and became enamoured with a passing handsome black stranger. We watched to see if her girth was getting larger, but with all that hair, it was hard to tell. Then about five weeks ago, she disappeared. After a week or so, she surfaced again, but only for a quick bite to eat and then back in the woods she would go. For the past two weeks , we have seen more and more of her. Friday I went out on my my deck and heard some scurrying going on inside my gazebo. At first I feared raccoons, but then I saw a little tail. Upon investigation, I saw a small grey kitten, then another and later another. BB came up on the deck and quickly went to her babies. Not being sure what to do, I called hubby who told me to get in touch with the farmer across the road because she said she would take them. I then called my daughter, who works nearby, and asked her if she could come over for lunch and help me round them up.

The first one

The first one, a sweet docile kitten, was easy to catch.  The second one, the alpha baby, took a few pieces of my daughter's skin with her.  Finally, the last one, who did not want to be held, was put in the carrier.

Caught, and scared

Oh, but wait a minute, there was a fourth and she did not want to be part of the roundup.  Off the deck and down the rain spouts she ran.  Sarah and I looked all over, but she was not to be found.  A few hours later, I spotted her behind a bush, but decided to leave her there and not frighten her anymore.  I was hoping her mom would find her and bring her back.  Next morning, there they were, mother and daughter together in the gazebo.

Reunion

Sad to say, we were unable to catch the kitten and off she ran again.  We have not seen her since.

The other kitties were delivered to the farmer who has contact with a vet and a cat rescue agency.  Someone has agreed to foster them and they are in good hands now. 

It was a difficult situation and taking the kittens away from the mother who brought them to me was a very sad experience.  Losing the last one though and wondering if BB has found her is heavy on my mind. 

Saying goodbye

When they were taken away, I was assured by our neighbor that this was the best scenario. These kittens now have a chance to be domesticated and have someone to love and care for them.  Most feral cats lives are limited and many of them get hit by cars or succumb to the elements.  I knew she was right, but as I looked at BB, my heart broke for her. 

Doing the right thing does not always make you feel good.



Rocky Raccoon Comes A' Callin'

Wilting from the heat, but doing OK


I am very fortunate that my back yard borders a very nice woodland area.  It is lush with trees and flowering plants and because of the creek that flows through it, the zone is protected.  It was one of the reasons why we chose to buy this house.  I love all the wildlife that we get to see here and and always have our camera ready to catch any animal that happens to pop out into the open space.  I have to admit that I do feed them and often leave leftover vegetables and greens deep in the woods for them all.  Every winter, as the dusk of day descends, we encounter some large majestic buck.  However, by the time we get over our oohs and aahs, and get our camera focused, he is gone.  Mostly though, we have small creatures and as I have mentioned before, our neighbor farmer's cats who have come to know my yard as their second home.  Sharing my life with all these animals is a great joy for me.



Having said all that, I do believe that the animals and I should each have our own territory.  The woods are available to them, and they are welcome to the use of  my yard, if they do not eat my flowers and chew on my bushes.  So far, everything has been sypatico between us except for that rogue woodchuck who sometimes eats all my cabbages and some pesky bunnies who just love to chew my tulips down to the core. We also have the cows from across the road that visit us a few times a year right after a torrential rain storm and ruin hubby's perfect (no weeds allowed) lawn.  This does give us cause for concern, but I have to admit that we always get a good story or laugh out of those incidents. 


Now though, we have an issue.  Although hubby has a problem with birds eating out of the wrong feeders because he thinks they should know better, he gets very annoyed when the squirrels climb the poles and feast on his specialty seeds.  As mad as he gets at the squirrels, it is nothing compared to how ballistic he becomes when he sees a large raccoon swinging away on one of his feeders.  They not only drain all the food out of them but very often pull them apart.  We have many feeders and the brids of the East Coast will not suffer from the loss of one, but you would think it was a tragedy the way the man carries on.   It doesn't bother me as I think the raccoons and squirrels need to eat also and what difference does it make what creature partakes of the food that we leave out.  This is an argument that I never win.  However, I have been given a reason to rethink this all and as hard as it is to say this, maybe, just maybe, hubby is right this time (now that was hard to say and my fingers hurt typing that in).


We have lived here for 10 years and use our deck and patio five months a year.  They are our favorite rooms.  We often dine outside but are always very careful to clean up everything so as not to attract any unwanted company.  As I said before, the farmer's cats visit us daily and two of them often stay the night sleeping on one of the garden chairs.  Last week, as I laid on my couch in the family room, I saw through the window that the deck light went on.  This is a sensitivity light and will turn on when someone/something steps onto the outside area.  I was sure it was a cat and watched a tail go behind the patio dining table.  As it turned around and came ever closer to the French doors and brazingly stared in at me with his peering eyes, I knew it was not a cat, but it was Rocky Raccoon and he was hungry.  I am very grateful that I had my eye sight fixed a few months ago, and did not open the door to invite him in.

We checked with the farmer across the road and she has had a problem with a family of  raccoons.  They have eaten three of her chickens.  I am counting on her to solve the problem, however, I do not want to know how.

Maybe though, Rocky  remembers my high-pitched, blood curdling screams and is still running, preferably out of town.

 

Van Gogh, Part 2, Living a Feral Life

Got some news, and am doing OK


Update
As it turns out, Van Gogh had to be renamed Vanna Gogh.  Yes, we finally peeked.  However, the other day, Hubby spoke to the  owner of the farm up the street and discovered that our stray feline belongs to them and her real name is Pop-Pop's cat.  She is about 20 years old and has lived as a barn cat.  She means quite a bit to them as Pop-Pop passed away three years ago at Christmas time.  They said she had been missing for days and they thought the worst. Little did they know that she has been traveling back and forth between their house and ours for the past six months.  However, I could go out any time of the day and she would come running over to me, so I guess she just kind of settled down where the food was more gourmet.  She had only eaten dry food before and here we were giving her Friskies and treats.  We also sat and played with her which might have gone missing since the demise of her owner. 

Hubby also asked about the other cats that have been coming around in the last month or so.  Yes, they all belong to the farmer and must have smelled the tuna fish on Vanna's breath.   They were all once feral cats that wondered onto their farm.  About 8 years ago, animal control came by and and spayed and neutered them all.  By that time they had over 20 of these felines that kept producing more and more kittens.  These types of cats do not live long as they succumb to many elements, but were mostly done in by the  cars speeding along the winding, narrow roads of our area.  Vanna though, I mean Pop-Pop's Cat, beat all odds and is a fat happy old girl, way past her prime.  She looks pretty good for being around 97 (according to the cat-years calculator). 

I think how I was almost ready to try to catch her, put her in a carrier and take her to a vet to be checked over and given shots.  That nonagenarian would have been traumatized and the outcome may not have been very good.  Not knowing her past and thinking that she was an abandoned stray,  I was concerned about what was the right thing to do.  I agonized over it and thought about how she would  survive the winter out there in the woods.  Her coat is very thick as Mother Nature knows how to protect her creatures, but I wanted to make sure she was safe.  I am so glad we found out about her owners before we did something foolish.

So today I looked out my window into my yard and saw my friend sitting on the field stone in front of the woods, taking in the sun and looking contented.  If I went out, I knew she would come to me and I did not want that. Her constant traveling between the houses could do her in and I should not encourage her to come visiting anymore.  However, it is hard as I have become attached to her, but she does not belong to me and she has lived a life of freedom and doing what she wants.  She has survived on her own wits for a very long time and she should be left to be. 

May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields.

 Oh, I know, I am just an old softy who is a little sappy around the edges.  All animals, though, tug at my heartstrings especially those that seems so vulnerable. 

Now, about the farmer's cows that come a-callin' every now and then, well, that is another story for another day.

Van Gogh

I'm back and getting myself together, and I am doing OK.

Van Gogh, looking fat and happy.
Note the carrier behind him.

Catting around

I have become Cat Woman, sans the outfit. We have had felines in our lives for the past 19 or so years, but the first two pets were left here by our children. They weren't necessarily of our choosing (the cats, not the kids) but what were we to do? It did not take long for them to find a place in our hearts though.  When we lost sweet Casey to cancer six years ago, we got two sister kittens to be companions for our beloved Martian. This year we lost Martian, also to cancer, so our household became just myself, hubby,  Thelma and Louise. T and L are not a ball of energy,  as a matter of fact, one of them seldom gets off the bed.  However, I guess they fit into our lifestyle, as we aren't exactly the movers and shakers we once were either.  About six months ago, I noticed a very pretty grey cat at the edge of the woods that border our property.  I thought he belonged to someone down the street or perhaps the farmhouse across the way.  As time progressed, I saw that he lived in the large grasses that we have on the end of our yard.  He had picked a ideal spot, because right next to the grasses is a very large bird feeder.  We did not want him eating our feathered friends but we felt sad about his situation and started to leave some food out for him. If we provided food, he would not necessarily need to hunt.  Hubby noticed that half of one of his ears was missing, but it had healed over.  I would imagine that he lost (or maybe won) a fight with one of the other inhabitants of our woods.  We named him Van Gogh.  Naming a cat that does not belong to you is really not a good idea, as now they slowly sneak into your heart. We dared not try to catch him and bring him into the house as we did not want to put our other cats in danger of any disease he might have contracted.  We fretted about what we should do.  During the snow storm of October, we laid a tarp over the grasses to keep him dry and then started to think what will happen to him when the freezing temperatures of winter come along   How can we protect him?  Then hubby went out and bought a medium-sized dog carrier and a paw pad for him to lay upon hoping that he would find shelter in there.  So far,  I don't think he has tried it out except for going inside to eat.  However, his personality has changed and now when we go down to feed him he comes right over to us and before he starts to eat, he will rub around our legs and meows and purrs Last week my husband (whose name has now been changed from "Birdman of the Northeast" to "Cat Whisperer") stood in the middle of the yard and called to him.  Van Gogh came right over and  allowed himself to be picked up and cuddled.  He showed  no resistance and put his head against the crook of hubby's arm and purred over and over.  When he was put down, he stayed. This is not a feral cat, but a cat that was once loved. Perhaps he got lost or, in all probability, was left abandoned by the broken-down farmhouse up the street.   We are in a quandary as what to do about our new friend.

The one thing that I have left out in this above story is that in the past month we have not only been feeding Van Gogh, but a few more strange cats that have appeared out of nowhere.  Every week, there seems to be one more.  Do you think Van Gogh has been spreading the news of free food?  Instead of leaving one dish of food, we now leave four.  We are not naming these newbies though, although they all seem very sweet and also meow and purr.  I think Van Gogh must have told him about the act they must put on in order to get their dinner. No more voles or moles for them, the humans here give out prime gourmet food.

So now I am worried about becoming one of those women you read about in the papers, you know, the unkempt older ladies that collect cats.  Lordy, lordy, what have I gotten myself into. 

I might call the cat rescue place sooner than later.  However, I will miss Van Gogh and hope that someone will give him a good home.  He is a love.