Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Bittersweet


Well, it’s official. Styx had a home. He was neutered as well as socially adjusted. I just came back from the veterinary office with an empty carrier.

You Can Just See the Gratitude, Can't You?
As it turned out, he had a microchip, which I had to remind the vet tech to scan for. She said it’s rare for cats to have them, though all our girls have received them.

Anyway, his family is ecstatic. His human called to thank me. She said he snuck out a week ago!

I’m thrilled for them. Now that I have a baby gate ordered to segregate my cats during introductions, it might be time to start visiting shelters and let SO pick out an older feline maybe or perhaps a pair of younger siblings.

What a great ending, no?

-

Sunday, June 17, 2018

A Sweet Boy and a Tweet Reply


It turns out that a friend snuck me into an Awww... Mondays blog hop on behalf of the little fellow starring in this post. Thanks to the sweetheart at Comedy Plus! You can find other participants at the bottom of this post.

I believe our little household has an official new member, a young orange tabby male who showed up meowing in the next door neighbor’s yard Friday morning. His wellness veterinary visit is scheduled for Tuesday, so for now he is segregated from our two old female cats until after that to avoid possible disease transmission. We will also have the vet tech scan for an identification chip.

Very Skinny Boy on Our Driveway, More Hungry Than Skittish
My SO, in particular, cannot believe a feral cat could be so friendly, which is probably true. I hope nobody claimed him prior for he is super sweet, very gentle with me, happy to lounge about, seeming grateful for his windfall.

He got his (we presume) first taste of catnip a few minutes ago. The reaction immediate, we had some fun before he wound down. Now he is on a foldable patio recliner next to my chair here in our carpeted cellar.
Styx Claiming the Cushion Used to Support My Laptop
We decided to name him after a favorite socio/political Youtube content creator, Styxhexenhammer666, known as ‘Styx’ for short. It seemed fitting, as both have a very thin build and are talented orators. Our little Styx made very clear he wanted our help. And Styx the man (real name Tarl Warwick) is also an accomplished gardener, so our four footed boy finding us working in ours sort of sealed the deal.

I also believe our kitty here crossed a river of adversity to find us. He didn’t have the benefit of Charon (another name I considered) ferrying him across the River Styx.

Yesterday afternoon I signed onto Twitter and mentioned my consideration, addressing Mr. Warwick by his handle. To my delight, the busy man responded.


Are you jealous like we are that felines can get high off a safe, legal herb?

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Saturday, June 16, 2018

Rainbow Snippet for June 16th and 17th





It’s hard to believe June is halfway over. Those more social than me continue commemorating the 1969 Stonewall riots in Manhattan and boosting awareness of LGBTQIA+ issues. I am still praying all attendees stay safe, have fun, and make a positive impact. This world needs to be safer and more loving toward everyone.

This weekend I am once again sharing from my unpublished “BloodMoon” series. “Dog with a Bone” is a little different, featuring Nick as a teenager. Neither funny nor erotic, this scene has the werewolf discovering that his best friends are murderers. And his inadvertent shout just gave his discovery away.

I hope you enjoy his tension and will check out more writers sharing on the Rainbow Snippets Facebook page. Have a great weekend!

Snippet:

Like that little boy in “The Shining”, only much faster, he retraced his steps in reverse making the barest contact with the carpet out of sheer panic. In his haste he didn’t quite engage the latch, but the door to the body dump stayed shut as he backpedaled to the sewing room.

Inside, recognizing the fact he had maybe thirty seconds before discovery, Nickolas cursed himself for not having converted the futon into a bed. Whipping off his shirt, he kicked the pillow toward the armrest and yanked the afghan around his shoulders.

Rolling himself prostrate within the blanket like a burrito, he channeled Danny’s crazed father at the Overlook Hotel, imitating those horrifying bellows the best he could. Andy’s voice reached him from down the hall.

~

How would you react, cornered by such a frightening discovery?

#rainbowsnippets
_

Friday, June 15, 2018

Guests in the Garden


Now that I understand how the code works, I've officially joined with Sandee of Comedy Plus and other cat lovers for Feline Friday. You can check out other kitty images at the bottom of my post. Meanwhile, here was my original post before Sandee kindly linked me up...

It has become our tradition this season to go out early in the morning while it’s cooler to tend vegetable planters and garden plots. Today no exception, I urged that we venture outside before full sunrise. And I’m glad I did.

Before sunlight heated me up I managed to rip out a huge load of weeds. Early on in the process, a praying mantis appeared. Knowing my husband wasn’t going to slog through crabapple tree branches like I did to see the little creature, I picked it up with care. Here you can see the tiny hunter, about an inch long, in the southeast garden patch.

A Favorite Insect
We also have flying neighbors. The vultures roost together in what’s called a ‘wake’. Once warmed by the sun they take off in so-called kettle formations (like a swirl of bubbles in boiling water) before dispersing. Today I didn’t experience large numbers as in past, but still appreciate seeing them.

Parting Ways
To be honest, the above photo of vultures and below of this hummingbird were taken a little later, after my breakfast. In fact, I photographed them in the process of writing this blog post. It’s behooved me to keep my camera handy. I liked how the sun shone on this little flyer.

Pit Stop
But I am still not done. Back to earlier, near the end of my weeding goal, I heard insistent meowing and spied a little tangerine colored tabby seeming just out of kitten-hood. With stinging sweat and the rising sun in my eyes, I didn’t recognize the feline’s undernourished condition.

DH did, and fetched a large disposable cup full of kibble and a paper plate. He even went back for a water bowl at my request. Left in charge of serving the animal, I poured about a third of the cupful on the plate.

About to Dig In
Then I poured another third, and finally the entire rest of what we had. Here is what’s left:

Maybe a Sixth of What I Served
And below is another shot of the friendly, desperate fellow. This pose (I saw some male bits when he rolled around at my feet later) really shows off how thin the poor guy is. After eating, he didn’t want to leave my side. Following me to a patio chair he either rubbed himself up and down my legs and feet or lolled between them. He also let me pick him up for a minute. I’m happy to report no visible sign of fleas or any injury.

Hungry Fellow
When at last he settled on the welcome mat, I rose to go inside for some much needed breakfast. He followed me into the garage. It would seem I have a new friend, and was told that I’m no longer allowed to garden. ~grin~ The cat looked ready to dash through the front door at one point but, sad to say, we couldn’t let him inside for fear of any infection or a fight with our old female cats.

The guy wandered off before I brought my plate of food outside. If he had not, he might be in my laundry room by now. My hope is to wrangle the cat for a checkup and neuter. Maybe he could fit into our little family. I don’t know.

Of course, my husband has said for years that he gets to choose the next cat (which he repeated, tongue in cheek, today) but I know he would accept this addition. Besides, we agree that God has put each of our three kitties into my path. If we were non-believers, we’d be saying that you don’t choose a cat, a cat chooses you. My big brother can attest.

How is your day shaping up?

-

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Happy Flag Day (and a Bonus)

Old Glory Flying Proud
Today in the United States we celebrate a holiday created just to honor our flag. I’ve put mine out, which is rare because my Harry Lauder’s walking stick (a type of hazel) and a nearby elm tree have grown so large as to hide my flag pole from half the neighborhood.

Named for Its Twisted Branches as You'll See Further Down
Can You Spot the Hummingbird?
And there is no simple way to move the holder, a sturdy work of engineering from a long deceased dear neighbor. I’m sad to say any intent to do so is pretty low on the priority list, especially with all the summertime chores eating into my time.

Famous Scottish Entertainer
Check out that Stick!
Meanwhile, it’s a gorgeous day. I just watched a pair of hummingbirds get into a tussle over the feeder. They really spiraled high in this aerial battle! I’m overjoyed to be out in low temperatures and humidity for a change.

As for the actual ‘bonus’ in my title, my husband and I married twenty-one years ago today. My unintentional choice of date was lauded by all at our small wedding as an easy way for him to remember our anniversary but, funny enough, the date didn’t occur to me until I tore off yesterday’s sheet from our page-a-day cat calendar! It’s a good thing neither of us gets offended by such lapses.

I’ve been offered a dinner out somewhere. To be honest, I think we should count our delightful lunch the other day as adequate celebration. I prefer we cook a nice meal together and toast with some cold, bubbly Zima (we're enjoying the limited release while it lasts).

Do you have anything special to celebrate today?

-

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Recalculating & a Little Mayhem


Not much of an adventurer, I haven’t driven north of Dayton, Ohio via Interstate 75 in many years. Anytime some obligation forces us to travel that direction, it makes more sense to bypass the city.

Yesterday, however, was a different story as SO and I took a little road trip to buy cat litter. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I mean, surely we could get non-clumping Tidy Cats almost anywhere.

But we save money buying huge bags at a members-only warehouse club store. Ordering and paying online means a quick trip with easy pickup, too. I don’t even have to get out of the car until the bags are wheeled over for me to load. (SO has a bad back) Alas, our local Sam’s Club didn’t have the litter in stock, or so the website indicated. Had I known this right away, my suggestion would have been to try the local sister store, Walmart.

Without consulting me, my dear partner went ahead and ordered from another Sam’s Club. Told this one was in Fairborn, I decided to make lemonade out of lemons, proposing lunch at a rather interesting place we visited many months ago after visiting the Wright-Patterson Air Force Museum. Not a chain restaurant, a nice change of pace, the Wandering Griffin is also a microbrewery.

Fortunately, I talked him into both shopping ahead of eating and firing up the navigation system before I backed out of the driveway. As it turned out, my plan to traverse the usual route around the city would have taken us far out of our way, as would dining in Fairborn.

It was interesting to see parts of Old North Dayton again, if only from the freeway. Little had changed that I could tell except for one important thing, the very Interstate, a long construction project making the road a bit safer.

At least I extracted a promise to dine at an old downtown favorite called Thai 9 in the historic Oregon District. Requested super spicy, their massaman curry with tofu is wonderful. SO appreciates the sushi menu. Heading south after a long wait at the understaffed Sam’s Club, I once again engaged the nav system.

That turned out to be a mistake. One thing wise engineers changed was moving the Third Street ramp from a left lane exit to the more logical right hand side. I almost missed it, our map system out of date.

Oops. Oh, well. It’s not the first time we have been mislead. One time our old portable Magellan told us we’d reached our destination when I pulled into a cemetery instead of our Indianapolis motel. I am happy to say we made our way to the Marilyn Manson concert okay that night; we just couldn’t find our car afterward.

Hey, it wasn’t our fault the venue directors herded everyone out of one entrance, confusing our sense of direction. We walked the huge lot for at least two hours before someone with a golf cart rounded up us and some other unfortunates. Apparently, folks getting lost happened on a regular basis there. I wonder if they have since changed their silly practice?

Yesterday I saw the exit sign in time and safely changed lanes. Perhaps we should have used his smart phone for the hour round trip. Either way, I am grateful for GPS.


Have you ever wandered around lost for hours at a time?

-

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Dangly Bits – A Walk Down Memory Lane & Major Pet Peeve

The best traits passed on to me from my dear departed mother revolve around the arts. She read to me as a child, procured my library card at the earliest age allowed, and encouraged my overall creativity. My father bequeathed me her (sadly) unused sketch book and box of pastels purchased in the early nineties.

Mom also shared my persnickety approach to language. We often discussed linguistic pet peeves, debating if we missed our calling by not getting into teaching English literature. Odd as it may sound, I don’t think either of us had the patience to work with children every day.

Today, one of my biggest annoyances with the media is dangling participles, hence the goofy title opening. While I’ve noted an increase in that as the Internet increases civilian participation (by the way, I support free speech for all even if it is poorly expressed), most talented writers I know make the mistake now and then. Some are dear friends, too, not that I would call them out on it.

I’m concerned that editing seems to have fallen by the wayside. The lame (main) stream media perpetrates this crime on a regular basis. The writing quality on a favorite television show, “Mysteries at the Museum”, caused me to pause the video stream yesterday to jot something down.

Check this out: “Founded in 1791, visitors to the Albany Institute of History and Art…”

Really? Current visitors are as aged as this oldest among United States museums? Perhaps it’s time I take a trip to Albany.

Any idea why we call it a pet peeve?

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