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Death of summer and Mamakitty: some pictures and seasonal rambles and thoughts (with bonus August).
I was playing Animal Crossing and thinking late-summer thoughts this evening, about to wrap up, when I glanced out the front window and saw Mamakitty's tail whisking by the corner. (Should you need a refresher: this is Mamakitty.)
Here's an open secret (secret insofar as I'm afraid that if I say it will happen, something will go horribly wrong; but if I keep a veil of "probably not definitely," then I cannot be disappointed): Dee and I are planning to adopt Mama when the weather gets cold this year. We felt awful for her in the chilly, raining winter last year—and in the intervening months, Odi will have more time to grow up and learn to be not quite so OMG A CAT A CAT. But this is an idea we've been flirting with for some time, and all my caution aside it will most likely happen, and I can't wait. In preparation for adopting her, Dee's begun feeding her—taking over the duty from our next door neighbor. It's heartbreaking, the number of cats we're now feeding on the front porch: fascinating to watch while eating breakfast, but you just don't know how many neighborhood strays/outdoor cats there are until you're providing food.
After the tail sighting, I grabbed a few treats and went outside. One of the cats that eats the food is a skinny almost all-black shorthaired beast that I'd thought was skittish—but after I sat on the porch for a few minutes that kitty just came over to me and demanded in-depth scritches. So many scritches, in fact, that when Mamakitty came out from under the porch the black kitty batted at her with a territorial NO MY PEOPLE HANDS MY TOUCHIES. I did some wide-armed dual-cat scratching to pacify everyone until black kitty got bored, and then it was just me and Mama.
When I tried to go back inside she stared at me through the window screen and made me feel sad, so I ended up spending quite some time with her and she got oh so many treats.
You can sense the death of summer, now. The hundred degree days have passed (fingers crossed and fate willing); apples are falling from the tree out front, startling Mama with each thick thump. I found an over-eager red maple leaf on a tree when I walked the dog today. It's not imminent autumn, but it's the inkling of it: end-summer dry deadness promising a blaze of color; early harvest promising abundance.
The gray wood and white rails of the porch, those dead dry leaves, our seedy and still beautiful front garden all flatter Mama, bringing out the calico in her coat and the contrasting white blaze. She's a beauty, this cat, and absolutely ridiculous. She's fluffy and stout, a round thing; she gets awful mats, but our neighbor has been brushing them out of her and that means, one day, I'll be able to do the same (I love grooming animals way more than a simple "love" would imply). She's skittish, but loves treats and cuddles; she'll reach her paws towards you if you try to walk away, and when she's happy she drools so much that she leaves polkadots on the floor. All cats are perfect, but this one is especially magical and she'll fit right in to our house of strange people and weirder beasts.
But today she was right at home on our porch in the cool breezes at the dying end of summer.
That's nice, Juu, you say; how about some pictures? Well, okay.
With bonus:
Oh where, oh where has my cat's dignity gone
Oh where, oh where can it be...
For the record, this was a whole lot funnier before August knocked over a glass, spilling water onto my keyboard and causing apparently permanent damage: the "p" has been broken for a week, and the primary enter button seems to come and go. How many words really do use p, you ask? SO MANY WORDS and I have to use the onscreen keyboard to complete all of them.
Here's an open secret (secret insofar as I'm afraid that if I say it will happen, something will go horribly wrong; but if I keep a veil of "probably not definitely," then I cannot be disappointed): Dee and I are planning to adopt Mama when the weather gets cold this year. We felt awful for her in the chilly, raining winter last year—and in the intervening months, Odi will have more time to grow up and learn to be not quite so OMG A CAT A CAT. But this is an idea we've been flirting with for some time, and all my caution aside it will most likely happen, and I can't wait. In preparation for adopting her, Dee's begun feeding her—taking over the duty from our next door neighbor. It's heartbreaking, the number of cats we're now feeding on the front porch: fascinating to watch while eating breakfast, but you just don't know how many neighborhood strays/outdoor cats there are until you're providing food.
After the tail sighting, I grabbed a few treats and went outside. One of the cats that eats the food is a skinny almost all-black shorthaired beast that I'd thought was skittish—but after I sat on the porch for a few minutes that kitty just came over to me and demanded in-depth scritches. So many scritches, in fact, that when Mamakitty came out from under the porch the black kitty batted at her with a territorial NO MY PEOPLE HANDS MY TOUCHIES. I did some wide-armed dual-cat scratching to pacify everyone until black kitty got bored, and then it was just me and Mama.
When I tried to go back inside she stared at me through the window screen and made me feel sad, so I ended up spending quite some time with her and she got oh so many treats.
You can sense the death of summer, now. The hundred degree days have passed (fingers crossed and fate willing); apples are falling from the tree out front, startling Mama with each thick thump. I found an over-eager red maple leaf on a tree when I walked the dog today. It's not imminent autumn, but it's the inkling of it: end-summer dry deadness promising a blaze of color; early harvest promising abundance.
The gray wood and white rails of the porch, those dead dry leaves, our seedy and still beautiful front garden all flatter Mama, bringing out the calico in her coat and the contrasting white blaze. She's a beauty, this cat, and absolutely ridiculous. She's fluffy and stout, a round thing; she gets awful mats, but our neighbor has been brushing them out of her and that means, one day, I'll be able to do the same (I love grooming animals way more than a simple "love" would imply). She's skittish, but loves treats and cuddles; she'll reach her paws towards you if you try to walk away, and when she's happy she drools so much that she leaves polkadots on the floor. All cats are perfect, but this one is especially magical and she'll fit right in to our house of strange people and weirder beasts.
But today she was right at home on our porch in the cool breezes at the dying end of summer.
That's nice, Juu, you say; how about some pictures? Well, okay.
With bonus:
Oh where, oh where has my cat's dignity gone
Oh where, oh where can it be...
For the record, this was a whole lot funnier before August knocked over a glass, spilling water onto my keyboard and causing apparently permanent damage: the "p" has been broken for a week, and the primary enter button seems to come and go. How many words really do use p, you ask? SO MANY WORDS and I have to use the onscreen keyboard to complete all of them.