A Cat's Handle

 

It's Only A Yawn!

🖤🤍🖤

She was small.

She was black and white.

She walked in the awareness of hazard. Always.

 

          One dark damp November day she was snoozing around at home. No one else was there but Mr. Baby Sir. But as usual even he was outdoors doing a little desultory predating. She had the house to herself. It was so quiet she could hear spiders snoring from wherever they lurk in a house. Her mind was in a state of neutral zonk.

          There was a subtle disturbance.

          “Charley! Are you listening?” said the disturbance.

          “I don’t know anyone named Charley,” she thought drowsily.

          “Ah ha! You can hear me!” purred Toots, seconded by Suzy.

          “Wake up and talk to us. We’re here to help!” said Suzy.

          She opened her eyes and looked around the room to see who was speaking. The room appeared to be empty. A mystery! Now she was alert!

          “We are inviting you into a Purr. A PowerPurr™ Charley. We understand that you are having some issues when you go visiting with your lady,” said Toots, firmly.

          “Where are you, anyhow,” she said, still searching the room. The chairs were all empty. No one was working in the kitchen. No one was taking a shower or listening to music.

          “Doesn’t matter, honey. You’ve proven that you can hear us,” said Suzy.

          “My name isn’t Charley! That lady named me that! I’m not a tomcat!” hissed ‘Charley.’ “When I see her, I let her know too.”

          “Well, that in a nutshell, is what this meeting is about. It has come to our attention that you have behaved terribly, in an uncivilized manner, when visiting the home where your life was saved!” said Suzy.

          “Oh! You’re there aren’t you!” Now she was really alarmed!

          “One of us is! So, what does your lady call you?” Toots asked.

          “I love her, but she calls me Nips! That’s not my name either,” mewed ‘Nips’ a bit sadly.

          “I feel kind of crazy talking to the air. Are you two sure you are real? I’m not crazy?” She curled up into a little black and white ball.

          “Hey, honey, what do you want us to call you?” Both lady cats asked at once!

          “Claudette,” said the tiny grumpy cat.

          “Claudette?” inquired Toots and Suzy.

          “Yes.”

          “Why?”

          “It’s fierce!” said Claudette.

          “Why do you need to be extra fierce?” said Suzy, who is a little jumpy herself, if the truth were told.

          “My lady brings me to the Place Where Bad Things Happened!”

          “But, darling Claudette! It’s also the Place Where Very Good Things Happened! Think on that! The big boy saved your life. He kept you alive until you were strong enough to live with your lady!” said Toots, who had heard the whole story.

          “You should be nice. Purr! Don’t hiss and spit and hit! They really do love you; you know?” said Suzy. “I know!”

          “Do you think they still love me now,” said Claudette.

          “Oh, yes! It takes more than a little hissing kitty to kill love, dear,” said Toots.

          “I’ll try to be brave and remember the Very Good Things,” said the little black and white cat softly.

          “That’s a good girl! We’ll talk again, and we’ll remember your name, even if the lady calls you Nips!” laughed Suzy.

          It seemed to the girls that it had been a very good Purr!

          We can only hope that Ms. Claudette remembers her promise!   

In Which Ralph Answers A Few Queries

 

A Few Questions For Ralph

Millicent Price

 
    
            Some of my readers have called or written to me wondering if I would be willing to convey a few questions to Ralph since we have a good working relationship.
            I agreed, of course, thinking that it was an excellent idea. The following is the fruit of our latest conversation which took place in an undisclosed location, of course.
 
*One gentleman asks: What’s your relationship with Ranger Rick like?
 
            “Oh, we’re friends. He’s cool. But he has a professional reputation to protect. So he pretends not to know anything to do with any Forest People. But he also keeps the park admin off our backs, you know? He runs interference if anyone official gets a little nosy about how things work in the park. He and I run the park, not them.  Know what I mean?
            “It’s a balancing act. He “knows nothing” and makes sure no one else does either! If anyone wanted to mess with him they would hear from me!”
 
*A young reader, quite local, asks: What is your advice about picking and eating mushrooms in the forest?
 
            “Aw, come on dude. Is that a trick question? Learning mushrooms is like learning to read. You have to put in your time and get it right, or you’ll run out of time!
            “I can’t teach you that in an interview question. Get yourself somebody with lots of mushroom experience and GO OUT in the woods with them and see up close which ones they pick! There is no short cut.”
 
*My own question is: How has learning to speak as we do, in English, changed you? Or has it?
 
            “Somebody, maybe it was Thaga, I can’t remember where I heard stuff all the time, said that you become responsible for what you know. As it turns out Saslingua is a rather basic language. It deals mostly with day to day life and interactions between us. Also there is some dreaming and poetry.
            “But English bestows a whole lot of complicated information on us, and it grows constantly. I mean there are more and more ideas all the time, just from talking with various of you Hairless. Lol. Relatively hairless that is.
            “So, the words have forced us to take positions that we would never have had to consider before! It’s a burden in a way.
            “An example? Let me see. Well, there’s all the stuff in the sky. Space. Stars and planets. We just enjoyed them before. Now we must accept or reject various points of view about what these things are and our relationship to them. Like that.”
 
*One girl wants to know: How do you stay relaxed in trying times?
            “Aw honey, I’m almost always relaxed. I have to think about why. Hm. I guess the most important thing is that I’m pretty much afraid of nothing. Sure, I’m big and strong, but it’s not just that. I have a rock solid kinda childish knowledge clear down to my bones that the Holy Maker of All is there, everywhere, in everything and that for reasons of his own goodness, He loves me.
            “I walk around knowing that. He is good and He loves me and you. Nothing that happens in life can take that away. Keep it in mind. It’s a matter of perspective.”
 
*The same young lady asks: What make a good father?
 
            “Important questions. I won’t pretend it’s easy or automatic. I think this question is related to your first question in a way. Levels of authority. A good father knows that he is under authority. This higher authority, your word is God, requires certain things of him.
            “Once he is a father his life is not only about himself. He must live sacrificially or fail as a father.  He must give up his own time. He must make sure that his child and its mother have what they need. He must teach his child.
            “This sounds heavy, but it’s supposed to be a joy and a privilege. It is to me. I have a lot of fun with my kids. I like em. They’re the best thing I have going after Ramona.”
 
*Another question that came in: Why do you think we Hairless don’t have your special abilities?
 
            “I really don’t know. It’s something I wonder about too. Partly, it’s just how we’re made I guess. But really, I bet that if some of you would just relax your minds and go with it you could do some these things that seem uncanny to you. Belief makes worlds of difference.
            “I don’t know if you could really vanish if you sang my little vanishing song, but I think you could walk unseen by an enemy if your mind was right. Fear makes you vulnerable. You can’t let fear lead you around looking like a victim.
            “I know you could do healing and waking the dead. Why not? The Maker said to do it!
 
*Another reader asks: Who taught Maeve to talk?  Is it a good thing? She seems awfully gossipy!
 
            “I don’t think she needed a teacher. She just hung around us until she picked it up too. Or maybe she already knew.  She is a fey old bird. Some ravens are just big black birds, and some are Ravens. Since she is a good old bird, she doesn’t partake of the raven’s dire reputation, according to some who fear them.
            “One man’s gossip is another man’s information, though she can dish it out if she wants!!
            “She is great for carrying messages! Couldn’t do without her!
            “I hope that answered the heart of your question, and didn’t just add complication.”
 
*Another: How long do you Squatches live in regular human years?
 
            “It’s all relative! If I lived in Milltown in a house on a street I might only live 80 or 90 years. It’s something about where I live. In our transcendent world inside the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest who knows? There is a timeless element to it. We may just live on!
            “That’s a complicated way of not giving you a straight answer.  Best I can do is, it depends.
            “I think I will always be there though.”

*One reader asks: Ralph, what do you do just for the fun of it?

            "Oh, most everything! When I was younger I liked to prank the Hairless, before I knew any of you to talk to. I try to resist, but once in a while.....

            "It's hard to pick. I love hanging out on my log, smoking a cigar and having a beer with anyone who might wander by for a chat. I really like just talking. It's a great invention, language!

            "I really love floating down the river and grabbing fish. I love just sitting around our fire.

            "Some of the most fun things are just playing with Twigg and Cherry and the puma bros!"

                                                                '
 
*Final question, unless more comes in later: Ralph, what is your best word to the Hairless?
 
            “My best advice is for you guys is to follow directions. You know, you got the same ones we got. Love your Maker and take care of each other. Be decent. You know what that is. We’re all trying to live up to that standard, out here in the woods too. It’s a high calling, simple but profound.”
 
Thanks Ralph. You’ve been a good sport. Thanks for giving the reader’s questions some serious thought.
Give your family my love. MP

Over The River

 

Personally, I believe such beasts should live and be well!

And Through The Woods...

          The year has rolled over and is settling itself in for another snooze before winter comes in earnest. We find ourselves over halfway through November.

          So, of course, thoughts turn to the second most iconic American festival. It will be on the 28^th this year. I had to check to be sure.
          We have so many memories of other years. Some Thanksgivings were jolly, some were somber. Ours are usually quiet these days. All of the grandparents have left us. It’s different now. It’s smaller. The branches of the family are scattered. Some years lately we have gone up the hill to my sister’s house, which is much roomier than this one. Still, it’s a small gathering. But, we carry on!
          I would love to hear of your family’s traditions, special dishes, and that sort of thing. Will you be traveling to see distant relatives or friends?
          Do you have memories that you would like to share?
          Do you have exciting plans?

Space * The Final Meow!

 

          “Willie, they’re confusing me again,” said Suzie, squinting her eyes up into little green slits.

            “Who’s confusing you,” said her brother.
            “Them. All of them. The ones here, and the other ones. You know. Mostly her!” mewed Suzie in dismay.
            “What is it this time?” he yawned and opened one eye.
            “Well, it’s space. Sometimes she’s talking about needing more space in the kitchen. I get that. Space is a place to put something, or for something to be. Sometimes she’s talking about some other kind of space,” said Suzie.
            Willie giggled, sort of, cat style, and said, “in space no one can hear you meow!”
            “Brrrrrt!” said Suzie and smacked him on top of his head.
            “I’m going to go talk to Toots! She’s not stupid!” announced Suzie. “In fact, Toots is mysteriously wise, and inscrutable, Willie. Slumber on!”
            She left him, napping away, in the living room and headed to the back porch for a quiet moment of communication with her friend Toots.
            “Toots, are you there? Can you talk?” said Suzie with her head bowed and eyes closed, tucked snugly behind the old upright piano where it’s quiet.
            Toots happened to be available for consultation.
            “Yes, Suzie. I’m in the window, but nothing is going on out there at the moment,” returned Toots. “There was some funny business last night, with all that moonlight, but nothing right now, even though the moon is bright again.” As she spoke her busy eyes never left the space outside the window.
            “I decided to talk to you because Willie is being stupid. I was asking him about the other kind of space, and he said, ‘in space no one can hear you meow!’ I know darn well anybody can hear you when you meow in any space in the house! Anywhere!” said Suzie.
            “Oh! He means out in Space!,” said Toots. “That’s where the Aliens live, Suzie!”
            “Hah! There have been Aliens in my house! A little mean black and white one, that we call Charley, who needs a good PowerPurr™, and a big fluffy dummy with long whiskers named something too stupid to repeat! Do I live in Space?” asked Suzie. “I never knew!”
            “Let me think,” said Toots. “We might be mixing things up.”
            “Here, let me send this. It’s online, if you know how to search for it!” said Toots!
 

space (n.)

c. 1300, "extent or area; room" (to do something), a shortening of Old French espace "period of time, distance, interval" (12c.), from Latin spatium "room, area, distance, stretch of time," a word of unknown origin (also source of Spanish espacio, Italian spazio).
From early 14c. as "amount or extent of time," and in Middle English the word was largely used of time (space of an hour, etc.). Also from early 14c. as "a place;" it is attested from mid-14c. as "distance, interval between two or more objects;" from late 14c. as "ground, land, territory; extension in three dimensions; distance between two or more points." It is recorded by early 15c. as "size, bulk," also "an assigned position."

🌟🌎🌖 

The astronomical sense of "stellar depths, immense emptiness between the worlds as a characteristic of the universe" is by 1723, perhaps as early as "Paradise Lost" (1667), but common from 1890s.

 
            “The word sure moved around a lot, Toots,” said Suzy. “I wish my Aliens were out somewhere between other worlds, whatever those are!”
            “It’s a little bit hazy isn’t it? But, in context, it appears that there are other worlds somewhere else! It seems to have something to do with time and distance Suzy, more distance than we have ever considered before!” said Toots at last, very thoughtfully.
            “No wonder then,” said Suzy, “that it was confusing. All that talk of Space and Time and other worlds makes my ears twitch and my tail do crazy things like when that comet was flying over!”
            “I wonder how much space there is in Space?” said Toots.
            “I don’t think any of them know!” said Suzy. “I guess I’ll go tell my very funny brother all about it,”. “Maybe, just maybe, there is enough space in his head to get it!”
            “Good luck!,” said Toots, “and goodnight, Honey! Let’s talk soon! I think I see something moving out there….later!”
            End of transmission.

Later That Same Day At Jim's Place

 

📺💚🐟

        The first thing Jim did after Masie Gunderson left his apartment, was to go into his bedroom, strip off his dirty clothes, ball them up and toss them in the basket, and head for the shower. Deep thinking often happens under hot running water and he was hoping that just that normal activity would reset his memory.
        Standing there, eyes closed, wet and warm, Jim had a sense that a great deal had happened to him recently, but he couldn’t get quite through some kind of block. The state he was in when found was evidence enough of that. But the shower was very pleasant and he relaxed for the first time since he had been picked up in the cemetery among the gravestones and flowers, and all the stuff tribal sons and daughters decorate grave sites with. It had been an odd scene to his eyes.
        He toweled off, and found clean jeans and a t shirt in his closet. Then he explored his own kitchen, as if he had never seen it before. The milk had gone sour. There wasn’t much in the fridge. He found some packets in the freezer compartment. His homecoming meal turned out to be a Marie Callender spaghetti.

        He made coffee too. He found a sugar bowl on the counter and put a spoonful of sugar in his mug, wondering if he always took his coffee with sugar.
        Jim wondered if looking in a mirror at his own face would remind him of anything. He went back into the bathroom and stared at his image in the glass. Nothing special. About half an inch of beard. He decided it looked okay. But it didn’t help either.
        He wandered into the living room and switched on the TV. As he was leaning back in his chair asking himself if he was always much of a TV viewer, he fell asleep.
        When he woke an hour later, after a moment the room seemed like a place he had seen before. The TV was still on. A Blue Planet program was running. It was a program including underwater scenes. His eyes stayed locked on the screen. There was something about it that drew him. Then he got it. He remembered water, but not clear tropical water. He remembered hazy dim water from somewhere else like in a dream.
        He sat forward, elbows on knees and concentrated. He remembered the bottom of a body of water littered with detritus, boat hulls, long stretches of sand, dimly revealed creatures, large and small. How did he get there he wondered. What was he doing underwater….?
        The vessel doing the photography in the video had bright spotlights on board. He remembered a bright light shining underwater, through that dim hazy water. Then he remembered being in a vessel underwater.
        Memories of his recent past crowded into his mind in a rush. The whole thing. Legion Park at night. The strange light in the bay. The ring of light coming toward him. And he remembered an incredible person called Art, and a very broad joke based on Art Bell’s voice. Jim laughed out loud, alone in his room, still monitoring the Blue Planet program.
        “Gotcha, Little Art&Annie! Gotcha! I remember!” he snorted.
        Someone was banging on his door, so he got up and opened it. His daughter, looking hastily put together, was standing there. Twenty eight years of dark curls, blue eyes, and a temper. She burst into tears and came in, slamming the door shut behind herself.
        “Where were you? I nearly hired a detective! I nearly died of fear!” yelled Sylvia.
        “Hi kiddo,” said Jim rather weakly.
        “Oh! So, you know who I am?” said Sylvia, moderating her tone.
        “I wouldn’t have known an hour ago,” said her father. “I wasn’t supposed to remember. They zapped me.”
        “You’re not making sense, daddy. Who zapped you?”
        “Sit down, Sylvia, and I’ll tell you a story and you probably would rather that I had a psychic break and was just certifiable,” said Jim.
        They sat. Sylvia looked at him, waiting. Jim could hear his wall clock ticking the seconds.
        “I was aboard an interstellar space craft piloted by a golden furred ET for ten days,” said Jim.
        “You were not!” She was yelling again.
        “Sorry, kiddo, I really was. Before flying away to the stars they asked me what I wanted to see on Earth. I had a list. First I wanted to see the bottom of Puget Sound. Very interesting. The water is quite cloudy but full of living things. All shapes.
        "I wanted to zoom Area 51. We did that. Funny stuff. We had to evade some air traffic up there! We did some more of that too, you know, secret bases and stuff. The ETs know where all the secret bases are. Remember that old video about All Your Base? Nah. You’re too young.”
        “You’re my father. You don’t generally lie to me,” said Sylvia. She threw a sofa pillow across the room.
        “I’m not lying now! Relax. It was fun as heck. I wanted to fly down the Grand Canyon, we did it and the Black Canyon too. Then the list grew and grew. We visited every site on Earth that I could think of. Then you know what? I decided that I wanted to live on Earth! Earth has some pretty interesting stuff going on, plus it needs help. Can’t always run away. Or fly. Pretty crazy huh? Who decides that?
        “I bailed on the trip to the stars. I changed my mind. So, when they dropped me off, they scrubbed my memory. Self protection I guess. Little Art said he was sorry and he hoped we could take that trip to the stars some day.  I don’t know why or how I ended up in the Suwal Tribe’s cemetery, but Art, the pilot, is a big joker,” said Jim. “I’m not really sure where they dropped me off. Maybe I hitchhiked out there?

        "But the block didn't keep! I remembered everything!
        “Oh dad. Even if I could believe you, what are you going to do now? Your boss called me and said if you didn’t appear days ago they were firing you!”
        He started laughing. “I didn’t want to drive taxis anyhow!”
        “Maybe you are certifiable, daddy. Really, what are you going to do?”
        “Maybe I’ll get a job in the Arboretum greenhouse at Legion Park, scene of the crime,” giggled Jim.
        “Maybe I’ll get a job pulling shots at some espresso stand! Barristo Jim!”
        “I guess if everything goes to hell, you can live in my basement. Bill likes you,” said his daughter.
        “I could write science fiction and sell millions of books,” said Jim, deadpan. He wondered what Little Art would think of that, speaking of possible accidental exposure!
        “Fiction sounds like a good start, daddy,” said Sylvia. “Nobody expects it to be true.”

Local Man Found Wandering

 

Mystery Solved; Local Man Found Wandering

Millicent Price

        Suwal Tribal police reported yesterday that a shoe-less man in his late forties was found wandering the grounds of the tribal cemetery early in the morning, just at daybreak. A local woman there to decorate her mother’s grave met him there and noticed that he seemed confused. When she spoke to him he didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t explain why he was there or where his shoes were. He didn’t appear to be intoxicated.
        Alice Jones called the tribal police because he “seemed nice” and like he needed help of some kind. Officer Daniel Wilson met with the man in the cemetery. Noting that it was cold and the man must be in distress, Officer Wilson put him in the backseat of his car and warmed him up. Since this man was unknown to the tribe, Officer Wilson called the Snohomish County Sheriff’s Dept.
        While they waiting for the county to arrive Officer Wilson questioned him, but didn’t get anything much from him. The man didn’t know his name or where he lived. He was thin and a little sunburned. His clothing were intact, but looked like he had been wearing the same shirt and pants for many days. Officer Wilson noted an odd odor about him.
        Unknown to the county, Milltown Police had impounded a car a week or so ago at Legion Park’s overlook section. It was unlocked. Many personal effects were found in the Taurus, including a wallet with ID. The driver, named Jim Martin apparently, was missing. 

        He was not located after searching the area, his apartment, or his daughter’s home in Arlington. Police were left with a mystery that they had no way of solving. Mr. Martin’s bank and phone company reported no action in his accounts for over a week. He seemed to have truly vanished. Mr. Martin’s daughter, Sylvia Freese, is looking to hire a detective, since the city made no progress finding her father.
        Officer Jeff Hanson of the Snohomish Sheriff’s Dept. met the mysterious man, who had no memory, and Suwal Tribal Police Officer Daniel Wilson at the cemetery. Officer Hanson took custody of the man and drove him to Milltown General Hospital for a general check-up.
        The man was fully cooperative, wishing to know how he had gotten there and who he was, in fact. He seemed somewhat embarrassed to find himself smelly and lost.
        Doctors pronounced him healthy, if a little hungry and sunburned. As he was resting there, Officer Hanson continued to question him, attempting to instigate any sort of memory in his mind. The only thing the man could summon up was something about a “golden ring of light.” Officer Hanson asked the man to say the first male name that came to his mind. The man said, “maybe Tim, or maybe James.” But that was all.
        Office Hanson remembered hearing about the mysterious abandoned car at Legion park ten days before and wondered if there could be a connection to his amnesia case. He called Milltown Police, and they sent an image of the ID photo to him. It was obvious that the lost man was, in fact, Jim Martin. So both city and county knew who he was, but Mr. Martin had no memory of his previous life when he was informed while resting in Milltown General. He said he “didn’t feel like a Jim,” with a “wistful smile,” according to Officer Hanson.
        Officer Masie Gunderson of the Milltown Police interviewed Mr. Martin on the day of his release from the hospital, today. She drove him to the city impound lot, gave him his wallet and ID and came in with him while he paid the impound fee and took custody of his vehicle.         Before they left the yard he put on his socks and shoes. Officer Gunderson wanted to make sure that Mr. Martin remembered how to drive so that he could go home safely. She followed him to his apartment building and accompanied him inside his unit. She remained with him for some minutes to see that he was situated.
        Officer Gunderson wasn’t sure that he should remain alone, so she called Mrs. Freese, Mr. Martin’s daughter, who was eager to come to see her father and ascertain his state of mind. Before she left him, Officer Gunderson informed him that he had been a taxi driver in Milltown for several years. She suggested that he call his employer. Mr. Martin said he would, although he said he didn’t see how he could drive taxi, as he didn’t remember the town or the area at all.
        So, the mystery man has been found, but will he find himself? Only time will tell.

---

A Wave In Passing

Katsushika Hokusai’s much celebrated series, Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji (Fugaku sanjûrokkei), was begun in 1830, when the artist was 70 years old. This tour-de-force series established the popularity of landscape prints, which continues to this day. Perhaps most striking about the series is Hokusai’s copious use of the newly affordable Berlin blue pigment, featured in many of the compositions in the color for the sky and water. Mount Fuji is the protagonist in each scene, viewed from afar or up close, during various weather conditions and seasons, and from all directions.

*O*

    Why ever did I post it? Well, I love those Japanese wood block prints and this one especially.

    There are things to puzzle about in the scene. Are those tentacles? Or what? Is that some sort of a boat up on the right side? Or is that blade-like thing in front of Fuji-Yama the prow of a long thin craft?

    I hope you like it too. There are many others, equally fine.

    Below is one by Utagawa Hiroshige. 

    Another water scene, but much calmer!

    And one last one by Kawase Hasui, who lived until 1957, so it's much newer.

    I could sure live with one of those on the wall!