Highway 21 Revisited

 

            It was July 1 of 2016. My daughter and I were out driving in eastern Washington. East and West don't really resemble each other in Washington. You could think you were in Montana, or any other wheat country. 

            Here is a Wiki on highway 21, just in case you'd like the details.

            I wouldn't mind being out there today, flying those big open spaces in some over-powered big rental car!

            I wish you a very good day!

            💮

Higher Level Cautiousness™

 

 

            “Psst, Toots,” said Suzie very early one morning, via KittyComm™.

            “Shhh!” Toots answered very quietly. “What’s up?”

            “I’m hiding from Them,” said Suzie. "They're acting weird again."

            “I’m hiding from Him! I’m not sure he’s Him. He looks changed!” said Toots, in a psychic whisper. “He might be able to hear me!”

            “She gave me a bowl of disgusting food. I think She might have been trying to transform me into a dog or something! And, that’s not all,” said Suzie. “Where are you hiding?”

            “I can’t say,” said Toots.

            “In the Bug engine compartment?” asked Suzie.

            “No! Too easy! He'd find me there,” said Toots.

            “But if he’s not Him, he wouldn’t know that,” said Suzie. “Unless, he’s an amalgam of some kind, and the new one knows what the old one knows!”

            “Ew! Stop talking like that, or I’ll never come out!” whispered Toots. “Say, where are you hiding? Behind the piano?”

            “Here she comes! She’ll never find me!” said Suzie. “I’m way back in a tiny cave behind stuff! She’s talking, but I’m not answering. She doesn’t even know I’m within three feet of her!”

            “That sounds like a closet! Is it the one in the bathroom?” guessed Toots.

            “Nope! They always look in closets when I’m in Higher Cautiousness™” said Suzie. “I’m in a place they never think of!”

            “Oh! I want to be in Higher Cautiousness™ too!” said Toots, eagerly.

            “Toots, honey, you are the queen of Higher Cautiousness™! You haven’t even told me where you’re hiding!” said Suzie. “I’m not likely to, pardon the expression, rat you out, am I?”

            “Not on purpose, but if your lady has been highjacked by 'aliens' she might be able to read your mind, then she might rat me out!” said Toots.

            “Nah, don’t worry about that. She’d probably highjack any ET silly enough to try her. Can you imagine? They’d be zapping around between dimensions, and she’d be going along for the ride. She put flea collars on us. That’s about it,” admitted Suzie.

            “Ew,” Toots shuddered delicately. “How can you bear it?”

            “Consider the alternative,” said Suzie. “That’s how I bear it. Besides, I’m getting very hungry. I think I’ll run out when she has her back turned. She’ll never know where I was!” said Suzie.

            “Oh, I don’t think any alien could get inside Him either,” said Toots. “Real ETs don’t do that, and fake ones would probably regret the attempt, and I’m hungry too!”

            “How do you know real ETs don’t do that?” said Suzie.

            “Come on, Suzie! We’ve been Out There! Did any ET grab us and bend our minds?” said Toots.

            “No. I didn’t even see any ET’s Out There,” said Suzie.

            “I bet they saw us! Maybe one day we’ll meet some of them! But right now, I want breakfast! Talk to you later, Suzie!” said Toots, ending the KittyComm™ conversation.

            Suzie was left with more questions than answers, but she decided to just go have some kitty soup, and then have a nice nap with P, and think about it all later!

 

Das Ende!

💙

Just Some Pink Roses for Suzday

 

            Suzday greetings! 
            Whether it's hot or not, wishing you a lovely summer day.

            Suzie is very proud of  her day, and she hopes it lives up to its reputation!

            Love, p

💮💚💮

In Celebration of Catfurday, Open Thread

 The sense memory never goes.

The love never dies away.

This is Henry having a nap in my arms.

Oh, he was a glamorous beast!

All of them were.

Bless  their fur and whiskers, and their tails too!

For they are love embodied.

💙

1954, The Backwoods of Washington

 

Grubby backwoods children.

 

            They were living in rentals in Seattle. I think he was still driving for the Metro. He was 26 years old. She was 23. There were four children ranging in age from 5 to 1 year. I don’t remember, of course, why they decided to move out of town. Maybe it was a sort of leftover farmer urge to own a little land.
            What they found and purchased was a ¾ acre plot of land, partially cleared of the second growth forest, with a shell of an unfinished two bedroom house, built by an actual Eskimo guy who was building these things and selling them unfinished. No power. No water. No plumbing.
            The price was $4000.00, $40.00 payments. I remember some tension surrounding getting those payments in. It sounds like a fairytale now.
            It sat in what would eventually become the suburbs north and east of Seattle, maybe 20 miles from where they had lived before.
            My clearest memory of those days involves the oddness of living among unfinished walls, merely framed in. It was like a forest of 2x4s! It was dark at night except for the kerosene lantern, and the bit of light from the also kerosene heater. It was almost like camping, but in a building. Mom hung up blankets to divide the space up a little. I remember bathing in a zinc watering tub!
            At that time, I kid you not, they were driving a Model T Ford. I don’t know the year.
            That first summer, before the waterline was put in out on the road, they fetched drinking water in milk cans from a free to anyone artesian well on 164^th, which means nothing to anyone but people who live here. There is now a major I-5 exit there. That was about a ten mile drive for two ten gallon milk cans of water.
            Of course, there was no bathroom. So, he had to dig a hole and build the dreaded outhouse. Thankfully, living with the “wee housie” didn’t last long.
            My father, at 26 years, wired the house. He plumbed it. He finished the inside too. It was never fancy. It was plain and adequate.
            Since he was incurably of that farmer mindset, the next thing was to clear the lot. I remember that we were sent inside when trees were falling, or he was blasting stumps. We burned all of those trees in the stove in the house. I remember a cheap sheet metal oval shaped thing in the living room. I still have the smell of alder smoke in my nose. It’s distinctive.
            He left a few trees, but cleared enough for a large garden. We children spent a fair amount of time "picking rocks." The ground was full of rather large round pebbles. Maybe a glacier left them there before wandering off.
            He cut that old Ford down and made a tractor of it. I learned to drive by helping him plow with it. I was about ten then.
            In a few years, he built three more bedrooms.
            They planted a row of fruit trees and two rows of raspberries.
            In those years, my mother had her hands full just wrangling the four of us. I remember having quite a bit of responsibility for the younger ones.
            Every bite of food we ate came from her hands. There were no trips to McDonald’s. No snacks. It was good. She did a good job.
            Our grocery shopping was done out on old 99, in Lynnwood and Alderwood Manor, some distance from home. There were long drives down gravel roads between stands of trees, just to get anything.
            I was sent to school that fall, by bus, to first grade in Bothell, WA. Strangely, I was taught to speed-read. I remember sentences projected on a screen. My next youngest sister would have been in Kindergarten.
            Ah, so it goes, or so it went.
            Now it seems that they were some kind of special beings, to do so much while so young. But, you know, I think that’s how it often was in the ‘50s, and before. Things are different now.
            It wasn’t all fun. There was a lot of real scraping by, and not much in the way of Christmas or birthdays. There is a reason I took up sewing my own clothing on my great grandmother’s treadle Singer! (I still have it and it works fine.)
            But, hey, the first time I heard the Beatles, I was sitting on the grass in that back yard listening to a cheesy little transistor radio. The tune was “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”  It’s all one very long story, and here I am in 2026, trying to let you sense a little of it.

🌳🏠🌳

Oh My Goodness, It's Warm! June 25th, 2026

 

Cats don't take gravity too seriously.

This youngster is Sweetie, in a real pose in the old closet.

It seems to be his favorite place to sleep.

Anyhow,

A fine day to you!

Ralph sends his love. He is very sleepy too.

"Evermore!" says Maeve.

💗

Any Cabin In A Storm

 

            It was raining in the foothills of the Cascade Range. The further he hiked up the trail the heavier the rain came down. He thought that maybe if he kept going he would emerge above the rainstorm. But it was not to be.
            It was windy too. Bursts of wind blew rain in his face. Water ran down to the tips of fir branches, dumping it right in the middle of the trail. It was getting cold, and what passed for daylight in these conditions was rapidly fading.
            This whole exercise began to feel extremely foolhardy. He began working on plan B, or plan C. Plan B involved finding a nice place to shelter. Plan C amounted to finding any kind of shelter. Both plans finisheded with hiking back down the trail and going home in the morning.
            He didn’t carry a tent. It wasn’t that kind of hike. He carried water, which seemed ironic at this point, and four Fuji apples, a jar of natural peanut butter, and crackers. He had two big bars of dark chocolate too. That was it, besides a flashlight, and a large folding knife. He had his phone of course. Oh, and a lighter.
            Joe was near the Great Forest, but not actually within its confines. Its location is a little hard to pin  down anyhow. He continued walking uphill. Water ran eagerly down the trail, heading ultimately for Puget Sound. It had a long way to go, and it wanted to get started, evidently. His socks inside his boots were getting wet. His jacket was soaked, his wool beanie did its best, but it was wet too.
            In the last bit of gray daylight, Joe saw something promising off to his right, somewhat below the trail. It appeared to be a manmade structure of some kind. He saw ragged tarpaper covering what appeared to be walls, and maybe a roof. It had to be a cabin left to rot away in the forest.
            “Well, shelter is shelter,” thought Joe. He turned off the trail, walking carefully over the thick layer of forest duff and leaves, hoping not slide to the cabin on his butt. He made it without falling.
            It didn’t look like much. The roof seemed intact. A rusty stovepipe poked crookedly out of the roof. The tarpaper curled in shreds. “When did they even do that?” thought Joe. The single window was mostly broken out. The door hung open. There was a large granite boulder on each side of the single step.
            Joe didn’t see the very large Raven sitting in one of the firs, with rain running down her feathers, watching him. Her black eyes blinked, and then she rose into the stormy wind and rain.
            He stepped inside, hoping that the floor wouldn’t collapse under his feet. If it had he might have fallen all of a foot, but it held.
            Looking around inside, Joe saw two wooden chairs, one intact, one having only three legs. There was a very rusty stove attached to that stovepipe. The door to the stove was missing. Joe laughed. “How does that happen?" But maybe he could make a fire and wait out the storm. He might even be able to dry his socks!
            He couldn’t hope to start a fire with anything outside, so with his knife, he began shaving some bits off of mostly dry broken chair. Using his lighter and a crumpled paper towel from his pocket he got a small fire going. When it looked pretty steady, he broke up the rest of the chair up and added it to the fire.
            He knew he was going to have to go outside and find a big branch or something. The chair fire wouldn’t last very long.
            Leaving his pack inside the cabin, he took his flashlight out to look for fuel. There is always deadfall in a forest, so he was successful in bringing in two large dead branches. He was able to break the smaller ends of the branches into pieces. He had no way to cut the heavier ends. He thought maybe when the time came he would just stick the ends in the fire and inch them forward as they burned. It would be smokey, he knew that.
            So, the storm blew, the rain fells, and Joe, sitting in the one chair, barefoot, with his socks arranged on his backpack before the fire and steaming, got very drowsy. Then he remembered he had food and water. He drank some water, ate a chocolate bar, and basically went to sleep sitting upright.
            An hour later, something woke him. After the shock of seeing where he was wore off, he noticed a horrible smell. It had not been there before. This was new. It smelled like rotten blood, and dog, along with a strong hormonal pong.
            “What the hell?” said Joe.
            “Hell, indeed,” said the dark figure crouched further into the cabin, maybe where a bed had once stood. The stench seemed to be stronger in that direction.
            “You’re kidding me,” said Joe, with a very sick feeling in his stomach. “You don’t exist.”
            “Wanna try me and see?” said the dark smelly thing. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow over there in the dark, and it snickered.
            “I was here first,” said Joe. “Why don’t you pack up and leave?”
            “I’m here to eat your liver, stupid, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
            “My liver? Are you nuts? Do you know you stink?” said Joe, putting his socks and boots back on, just in case he got a chance to make a break for it.
            Several things happened in quick succession. The shaggy dog raised itself to its full height, heading for the man in the chair.
            The man in the chair grabbed his pack and sprinted back out into the rain.
            The burning ends of the big branches fell out of the stove, still burning.
            The talking canine nightmare stepped on the burning branch and commenced screaming.
           Joe ran one way, and the injured dogthing ran the other, further downhill, howling like a jilted Banshee the whole way.
            When Joe got back up to the path, someone was already there.
            “The Raven said you needed help,” he said. “But you seem to have done alright on your own.”
            “Did I?” said Joe. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Who are you? Are you real too? Or have I entirely lost my mind,” said Joe.
            “I’m as real as this mountain. People call me Ralph, I’m sort of in charge around here, more or less, depending,” said Ralph, with rain sheeting off of his deep brown hair and dripping off of his nose and beard.
            “I don’t like those darn dogs,” said Ralph. “He’s darn lucky he ran off so quickly.”
            Behind them, downhill, the cabin burst into flame, totally involved. It lit up the whole area, so that Joe could finally see Ralph, all nine feet tall of Ralph.
            Joe laughed a little hysterically, but hung in there OK. “Hey! You are real! I heard you guys really like apples. I happen to have some. Could I offer you an apple, Sir?”
            “Why, yes! I would like an apple, say what’s your name?” said Ralph.
            “Joe. Humans call me Joe,” said Joe, a little breathlessly, pulling the apples out of his bag and handing them up the Ralph’s enormous hand. “How about some peanut butter?”
            “Sure, I’ll take your peanut butter,” said Ralph.
            “I guess I’ll head on downhill, Ralph,” said Joe.
            “Nice to meet you,” said Ralph.
            “You too, Brother,” said Joe.
            As Joe headed on down the trail, Ralph couldn’t help but notice that Joe had a long tail hanging out of his jacket, and pointy ears popping out of his beanie.
            “Well, I’ll be! I’ve never seen one of those,” said Ralph. “I can’t wait to tell Ramona!”

            Subsequent to all of that, though it didn’t happen instantly, the cabin burnt to the ground, leaving only the two boulders and the rusty doorless stove to prove that anyone had ever been there.

🌲🧝🏼‍♂️🌲

On The Other Side of The River

 

                                                                

            After talking with Ramona about his day, the abandoned campsite, and the mishap with Rick’s computer conversation with Mrs. Rick, Ralph was still puzzling on the question of what exactly could have spooked the campers enough to make them flee without their stuff.
            “Whatever it was, Baby, you are probably more equipped to handle it than the sheriff’s department is,” said Ramona. “You know what I mean.”
            “I do,” said Ralph. Though it has not been documented, this blue tent was the fourth tent he had discovered in that state. It was a real mystery. He kept picking at the bits of it in his mind. He knew that Ramona was probably right, she had a pretty good record of being right.
            He figured that this called for another trip across the river, and maybe seeing if he could find anything over there out of place.
            He knew all about Dogmen. But he  hadn’t smelled any of that and anyway the Dog guys knew to stay out of the Great Forest. So, though a Dog would have been enough to send the people flying, he didn’t think it was one of them.
            He waded across the river again.
            Apparently the sheriff’s department doesn’t clean up campsites. All the stuff was still there, though some animal had eaten the cold eggs, and knocked the cups of coffee over.
            He still didn’t smell anything. He looked all over the ground for footprints. There was nothing but a few obviously human prints. One larger pair of boots, and one smaller. Probably a couple then. He looked up into the trees around the campsite, not sure what to look for, but searching. There were some singed maple leaves way up high. Interesting. He wondered if maybe their campfire could possibly have done that, but decided no, it hadn’t.
            So, he walked northward along the riverbank. Everything seemed fine. The river murmured, and the wind sighed. Birds uttered small cries between themselves. The sun was getting lower behind him, to the west, but it was still warm enough to dry his hair.
            Ralph’s eye was drawn to something at last, and he wasn’t sure why. But he stopped walking to pay attention. It wasn’t remarkable. It was a mass of vegetation growing through the branches of a dead bush. Blackberry vines threaded in and out of the branches, as if it were a trellis meant for them to climb. Wild tiger lilies bloomed all around the bush. Some white daisies grew lower to the ground, and spikes of foxglove completed the picture. “Very pretty,” he thought. “Dreamlike,” he thought again as he stood looking at it and wondering why it had drawn his attention.
            The birds went silent. It was like the forest suddenly held its breath, waiting for something.
            The pretty picture began to morph. It appeared as if the bank of flowers and vines had folded in half. It folded again across the first fold, creating a fractured mirrored image. Then it did it twice more. The leaves and petals arranged themselves into a sort of circular pattern made of fractured sections of the image before Ralph. There appeared to be a sort of flower at the very center made up of bits of the total image. This flower grew and changed as it grew. The whole thing pulsed and changed becoming more and more complex.
            To say that he had never seen anything like this, is to say nothing. Its pulsing and changing made it almost hypnotic. But not quite. It was incredibly beautiful, but strange and fearsome at the same time.
            The center design vanished leaving a hollow place. The hollow place grew until it took up most of the whole image. At last, Ralph knew it for what it was. A portal, but so foreign to his gentle world. He knew that something must be coming. He stood his ground, dark and immense as he waited.
            A head appeared within the opening. It was reptilian in its basic form, and jeweled with scales made of gems, in blues and greens. It was huge. The eyes burned with a golden light. A snakelike tongue emerged from the vast maw, tasting the air of the Great Forest.
            The dragon’s head came some distance from the hollow space, followed by its shoulders and forearms. Behind the great body black leather wings billowed in some outlandish wind. The dragon smiled. His teeth shone in the light of the setting sun.
            “Hold, Beast,” said Ralph, “Come no further. I know your name!”
            “Do you bandy words with me, Bloodpod?” said the dragon, spitting a bit of fire on the ground at Ralph’s feet. Some grass sizzled and sparks littered the ground.
            “Indeed I do,” said Ralph, laughing because no trace of awe remained in his heart.
            The dragon advanced no further.
            “Say my name, if you know it, Pigbreath,” hissed the dragon.
            “The power is in the knowing, not the spewing, poor dragon,” said Ralph. “You don’t know my name, dragon, or the Power I serve.”
            “I will roast you where you stand,” said the unnamed lizard.
            “No. I call upon the Power to quench the fire within you!” said Ralph.
            The dragon’s gems dulled into plain scales. The fire in his eyes died, leaving ordinary lizard eyes. His wings fell flat and vanished.
            “Say my name,” said the shrinking beast in one last desperate yelp.
            “No. You are not here. You shall not be anywhere at all, lizard,” Ralph laughed again, looking at the thing as it dwindled away.
            Ralph watched, singing his Song of Reversals, as the strange image made of leaves and flowers unfolded and they went back to their proper nature.
            “This place is sealed forever” pronounced Ralph. “So let it be done.” And so it was, according to the Power Ralph served.
            It was still a pretty scene, though some burnt grass remained, soon to repair itself in the natural order of things.
            “I bet that fatheaded lizard is who scared those campers,” he said to himself. “I wish they would come and collect their things. But maybe they won’t,” he said to himself.
            He thought he could tell Ramona about it, but maybe not Rick.
            It was getting toward evening, and he was hungry.
            The sun was setting as he waded back across the river and set out for the Home Clearing.. Further down the path, he saw the fire of home and Ramona and Cherry waiting for him.

🐉

    *Image from Zubi's Storybook on YouTube.

He Found Another Abandoned Tent

 

            Ralph went out one morning early that hot summer to sweet talk another batch of trout. He carried a burlap bag, and he was already humming his fishing song even before he got over to the river. He passed Rabbit Town with its many burrows on his way.
            “Good morning, Bunnies,” said Ralph. “You’re safe from me. I don’t hunt Cherry’s friends. Going for fish today!”
            The very Cautious™ Bunnies heaved a sigh of relief and went back to bunny pursuits.
            When Ralph got to the riverbank, he saw that many fish were already lined up and waiting for him. But, when he looked across the river there was something unfamiliar on the opposite bank. A tent. It was a sort of shocking electric blue color. It really stood out.
            He decided to wade over and take a look. It looked deserted.
            “I’ll be back!” he told the fish, and stepped into the stream. You or I couldn’t wade this stream because we’re too short. But Ralph could, though in the middle only his head was above the surface. That makes the very deepest channel of the Silver River about 8 feet deep.
            When he got to the other side, dripping wet, the campsite looked even more deserted. No one was there. The blue tent was unzipped. There was a spot where there had been a fire, but it looked like it had been days since there was a fire there. There was a backpack inside the tent. Ralph thought this didn’t look good. There was no sign of struggle exactly, but it looked as if someone had left in a heck of a hurry. A skillet containing cold congealed eggs lay near the cold fire, along with two cups of cold coffee, and a couple of plates and forks.
            “Maybe Rick should know about this,” Ralph told himself. “Looks like somebody ran off. They might need help.”
            He waded back to the other side, taking time to submerge the burlap bag when he got there, to allow a crowd of enthusiastic trout to push their way in.
            “That’s all today!” he told the others.
            He took the dripping bag of wriggling fish to Ramona. Cherry was going to clean this bunch under the watchful eye of Ramona. It was one of those skills a Firekeeper needed to be good at.
            “I’m going to go talk to Rick, Mona. Somebody abandoned their tent and all their stuff across the river. It might be something he needs to do something about,” Ralph told her.
            “Might be, Baby! Hurry back!” said Ramona.
            “You got it!” he said, though that was purely speculative.
            It was only a quick stroll to the Ranger Station. Emerging from the forest behind the station dumpster, Ralph noted with a grunt that Rick’s truck was parked right where it should be. The hood was cold. So, he’d been there for a while. Ralph gave the hood a friendly whack, and headed for the station office door.
            As per usual, Ralph knocked on the door and then opened it. And there was Rick, as always, with his laptop open.
            Ralph called out in a voice like boulders tumbling down a mountain side, “You in here Rick? Oh, there you are! What cha doin’ there? Anything good?”
            Before Rick could open his mouth, Ralph slipped behind the desk to look at the screen.  What he saw there was a woman, Rick’s wife he presumed, looking at the screen in total shock with her mouth open and no sound coming out.
            Rick slapped the computer shut and pointed to the other side of the desk. Ralph can take a hint, so he moved around to his side of the desk and sat down. He started to open his mouth to make inquiries, naturally, but Rick made a zipping motion across his own mouth. So Ralph shut his and waited.
            Rick put his screen back up.
            “Rick!” a woman’s voice said, “What the hell was that?”
            “What was what?” said Rick, stalling for time to think of a good one.
            “That big freaking hairy SOB I saw behind you, Rick!” the woman continued, “with a voice like a tornado! Nobody talks like that!”
            Ralph, shocked, stuck his lower lip out, but didn’t say anything.
            “Oh, that must have been Bill in his costume, Honey! They’re having a Bigfoot festival in Stanwood. He was just showing me his costume,” countered Rick, hopefully.
            “Who the hell is Bill? You don’t know anybody named Bill,” she said.
            “Not a close friend, Honey. Just somebody who camps here a lot. I’ll talk to you later, Sweety! Bye!” said Rick, and he closed the computer.
            “Smooth move, Ralph!” said Rick. “You scared my wife. Now I have to play dumb until she forgets, like she’ll ever forget the sight of you over my shoulder!”
            “Sorry,” said Ralph. “Maybe you should introduce me and your wife?”
            “She’s a talker, Ralph. She knows everyone in the county, and she’s a talker, bless her heart,” said Rick, looking a little queasy.
            “What’s up, anyhow?” said Rick.
            So, Ralph started with the reason he was at the river, told him about the trout waiting to get into his burlap bag, and about seeing the campsite across the river, and what he found when he waded over there.
            “I thought whoever it was might be lost or need help or something, so I figured I better report the incident to you,” said Ralph, finally. Then, “You know it won’t work to have me find them. Word gets around.”
            “Ralph, the other side of the river is not in the park. I don’t have the budget or the jurisdiction for a search over there. But, I tell you what. I’ll call the sheriff’s office and hand it over to them. They will be interested for sure,” said Rick. “Thank you, it was kind of you to let me know.”
            “I wonder why I keep finding empty tents in the forest?” said Ralph.
            “Oh, something spooks ‘em, and they run like rabbits,” said Rick. “Maybe they saw you slinking around!”
            Ralph laughed. “Hope not! Next thing, they might be ‘investigators’!”
            “Saints preserve us, Ralph! Not that. I can only juggle so many sightings around here and keep my nose clean!” said Rick, who was now laughing too.
            “Give Mrs. Rick my love, I gotta go home and tell Ramona the tale,” said Ralph.
            “Oh, go home, give my love to Ramona. Skedaddle before Hannah sees you too!”
            So, that’s just what he did, after checking to make sure the coast was clear.
            Rick could hear Ralph whistling happily as he vanished back into his domain.

⛺

Let's Blow This Hamburger Stand!

         

              “Hey, Toots,” said Suzie one day, gazing into the dark glass of the back door.
            “Yeah, Suzie, what’s up?” said Toots from her perch at the window.
            “You wanna blow this hamburger stand?” mrrred Suzie.
            “Now what are you talking about?” said mystified Toots, with a little wrinkle on her forehead.
            “I heard that somewhere. I think it means do you really want to get out of here, like go somewhere else, like?” said Suzie.
            “What’s gotten into you? You sound weird,” said Toots.
            “I’m tired of this planet. There are too many dogs here, and there are fleas!” huffed Suzie. “How about some place where there has never been a flea since the worlds began?”
            “Right now?” said Toots.
            “The Whole Shiny Mewniverse awaits!” exulted Suzie. Her little pointy-eared head was full of visions of planets, and stars, the sun, the moon, and vast reaches too.
            “There’s been a dog hanging around. I mean inside the house. Maybe if I go away, when I come back, he will be gone!” said Suzie. “Like real gone!” Unfortunately, she was in kind of a Beat groove.
            Toots was beginning to think that getting Suzie off planet for a while might be a good idea. “Like, to divert her!” She thought to herself.  Appalled, Toots began to realize that the Beat thing might be contagious.
            “Maybe we ought to, like, stay in our own star system,” said Toots. She shivered. This was a hard thing to not do.
            “I can dig it,” said Suzie, grinning to herself. “Let’s go where no dog has gone before!”
            “Amen, Sister,” said Toots, purring rambunctiously.
            In the twinkling of a kitten’s eye, the two little points of vision found themselves high above the surface of Earth, higher than the communication satellites ever venture. Earth looked so beautiful from up there, with a blue hazy light wrapping the whole surface.
            “I can’t see any dogs or fleas from up here,” said Toots. “It looks wonderful.”
            “Honestly, Toots, that worries me a little bit about the other planets. I mean, if we can’t see them from here on Earth, what does that tell you about the other planets?” said Suzie.
            “Nothing. It tells us nothing. We just have to go look,” said Toots.
            “Well, pick one, man, I mean Toots,” said Suzie.
            “I like that big one that looks like a cat sleeping!” said Toots.
            “Wild! Let’s go!” agreed Suzie. “What’s that cat’s name?”
            “Something like Nehhhkktune I think. I’m pretty sure that’s what my Gentleman called it!” said Toots.
            Before either could speak another word, they hovered over this huge, dim gassy looking orb. Winds were whipping by at a terrifying rate of speed.
            “Well, it did look furry from Earth,” said Toots. “But now it just looks like a big round windy ball!”
            “Let’s go down and look for land. We’re not really here, so the wind can’t get us!” said Suzie, though truthfully she was beginning to feel very Cautious™.
            “I guess we better look,” said Toots.
            Down through the gassy haze and the terrific winds they descended, to get a better look. As they dropped down, staying carefully together, it got darker and darker. They began to perceive the massive weight of this gassy ball.
            “I don’t think anything could live here, Suzie, not even fleas,” said Toots.
            “And who would they bite?” said Suzie. “Not even dogs could live here. What would they eat? And where would they run around and bark? There is no there here, Toots!”
            “I’m not tired of Earth anymore, Toots,” said Suzie. “I want to go home!”
            Coming back up through the dark haze, until they were free of all that fierce wind and dim light, and at last into open space, the girls could see Earth shining in the far distance. It was as blue as a perfect jewel.
            “I think we did find a place where no dog or flea has ever lived, but what a bummer, man,” said Toots.
            “Why are you talking funny?” said Suzie.
            “You started it!” said Toots. “Oh, let’s just go home and Purrmitate™. There must be a lesson somewhere in this.”
            And just like that, Toots was back at her window, looking around for Sammie, and very happy to be home.
            Just as instantly, Suzie found herself at her usual spot on the back porch. She could hear the Scouts rattling around nearby. She was pleased to observe that the dog was indeed gone.
            “Real gone!” she thought to herself, and giggled, cat style.

 🌎

Why Is Ramona So Unflappably Serene?

 

            I think that if you asked her, she would say that her mother told her, and she has told Cherry, that counting your blessings really works. Just that process has a way of diminishing the other stuff. It’s practically mystical.
            If I asked her, she would probably tell me that her greatest blessing is Ralph. Of course. She knows as well as she knows that the sky is up, that she can rest in his constant good humor, and absolute good intentions. She orbits him like a planet does the sun, and that sun is always facing her with a smile.
            Wisdom is its own reward. She is wise, in that she understands her position in Creation. She doesn’t wish she was someone else. She doesn’t want more than she has. She does her best with what life has given her.
            This of course, comes back to a grateful heart. A grateful heart is so massively constructive that it’s hard to adequately express it.
            Ah, but like all of us, she’s human. She’s not some phony plaster saint.
            You remember the time she took a rock to the drone with a camera on it? The girl  has some spunk!
            Remember the time she wanted Thaga to make her a dress? She had to let that go, and it was hard for her.
            That’s all, just a thought for Catfurday. I wanted to take a minute to appreciate Ramona.
            Ralph didn’t put me up to this, but he agrees with every word! In fact, he told me so.

💌

I Know Your Name

 

            It was a high point in the breathless arc of a summer day in the Great Forest. Noon.
            Cherry had learned a thing or two from her friends, the Puma Bros. One of these things was to find a leafy spot underneath the local underbrush, where it is was cooler than the surrounding forest, and to rest there, in seclusion. Many times they had all three shared such a retreat. The cats crouched as cats do, golden eyes closed, panting.
            Cherry sat alone this time, on the forest floor, legs crossed in what they used to call Indian Style. On this particular summer day, she held court among the small creatures of the forest. She had the gift of speaking to the animals. Sometimes a few mice would come to  her with a tiny dispute, and she would help then sort it out for she had their confidence. Even insects would fly near her, and they would speak together about their lives, hers and theirs. She had the heartfelt respect of the dragon flies, other flies, mosquitoes even, and if truth be told, even fleas respected her. No flea had the temerity to bite Cherry!
            Many times small brown rabbits and their children stopped by, mostly to pay their respects. Rabbits are very adept at living their own lives successfully.
            So, once again, it was a typical day hidden away in the leafy undergrowth where enough sunlight reaches the ground to encourage bushy growth. A fisher cat had come and gone, staying just long enough to announce the progress of her kits.
            Cherry could hear an unfamiliar sound. A sort of low sad squeaking. She hadn’t heard anything like that before. It came closer as the moments went on and she listened silently. She heard light footsteps, and a sort of dragging sound maybe, like there were two creatures coming, but one of them wasn’t walking correctly.
            She waited, hands on knees, icy blue eyes looking in the direction of the strange whimpering cries and the footsteps.
            At last, a yellowish doglike animal appeared. He was not alone. He was accompanied by a much smaller version of himself. The small one didn’t really seem to walk along, he had to be nudged and dragged too, and his eyes were closed. The whimpering sound came from the small one.
            “Cherry!” said the father, for such he was. “I know your name!”
            “I know your name too, Jumpstart,” said Cherry in return greeting.
            “Have you brought me one of your children, Jumpstart?” she asked, formally.
            “My son, Cherry,” answered Jumpstart.
            “Tell me his name?” said she.
            “His mother called him Darkness, because he neither sees, nor speaks, or walks either, and yet as you see, he lives, but in darkness,” said Jumpstart, with his son huddled between his forelegs.
            “Yes. I think I will give him a new name. Are you willing to let me name him,” said Cherry. “That would be a good start.”
            “I know you, and yes, I trust you. Name my son,” said Jumpstart with a Coyote tear on his cheek.
            Cherry looked deeply into the young thing’s heart. She waited and listened for an answer. At last a name came to her.
            “His name shall be Sky, Jumpstart. Do you agree?” said Cherry.
            “I agree, yes,” said Jumpstart, and from that moment his son became Sky.
            “Sky” said Cherry, “open your eyes.”
            For the first time in his life, Sky opened his small brown eyes.
            “What do you see?” said Cherry.
            “I see my father. And I see you, Lady,” said the child, who had left off whimpering, in order to speak. “I see the forest all around me!”
            “Will you walk to me?” Cherry asked him, and he willingly trotted right over to where she sat. Then he sat as all canids do, looking all around himself, panting with his little pink tongue lolling as all canid tongues do.
            “Sky, will you do as your father does? Will you obey your mother? Will you do all things as a Coyote should from today?” Cherry asked Sky, formally.
            “I will do all as my father does,” Sky said. “I will obey my mother, yes. I will do all things as a Coyote should!”
            “I know you will,” said Cherry. She couldn’t help smiling.
            “Take him to his Mama, Jumpstart,” said Cherry. “I was very pleased to meet him!”
            “Yes, Lady Cherry, I will,” said Jumpstart. And with that, Jumpstart and Sky trotted away home.
            As Cherry rested her eyes for a little while, a small wind came from playing over the Silver River, to toss the leaves surrounding her. He stayed as long as she rested, then went on his way.
            When her eyes opened again, she thought of her mother, Ramona, and went to find her. Like every other day, she lived under Ramona’s teaching, desiring to be like her in every way.
            When she found her mother, Ramona said, “I think we should all go play in the river. Today is extra warm!”
            Ralph, who had been kind of snoozing in the heat agreed, so they all went over to the river to play until the sun had nearly set. While they were there, he gathered some fish, for an easy, quick dinner.

🐟

Wishing You A Grand June Purrsday

 

Somewhere in Montana, June 30, 2016.

My girl took the shot, I am sure, as my hands were on the wheel.

Such glory!

And I know, from personal experience, that most of the country

is open and wild!

I find that comforting.

A lovely day to you!

💮

The Conversation, A Sketch of A Dream

 

 

            Marcus sat alone at table. The Mediterranean morning light flooded the large quiet room. There was a second chair at the table, empty now. Until a moment before his wife, Julia, had been seated there. This was not a breakfast seating; it had been a difficult conversation.
            He sighed.
            Julia had gone to sit in the garden, out of the direct sunlight, with some of her women. He could hear women’s voices like birdcalls through the open window.
            He was no longer young. His hair was graying, and he bore the scars of battle. If authority wore a face, it might have looked much like Marcus.
            Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and thought about the slave. He had purchased her when she was a middling child. She came with some outlandish foreign name. Marcus called her Melum, a small sweet thing.
            Melum had grown up under his roof, serving Julia and himself in the house. If one of them wanted something from the kitchen, she ran for it. Her work was the many small things required in a great house, the little jobs of running and fetching. She waited at their table evenings, and brought things to the bedroom if one of them woke and was thirsty, or the light had gone out. Melum was always about like a pet bird. She was beautiful, adding to the dignity of the house she served.
            Marcus was fond of Melum. Now she had a child. He had watched her as her body changed and said nothing. Julia watched her too, and said nothing. Nothing needed to be said.
            He had no other children. But he hadn’t made his mind up about the fate of this one. A boy. A son. It rang in his mind like thunder.
            He had sent one of the house boys to her room. He wanted to see the infant before he decided whether to acknowledge his paternity, or to merely raise the child as a slave among many slaves.
            Silently, on small bare feet, carrying her son, Melum entered the brightly lit room, such a rich and beautiful room, with colorful frescoes on the walls, and mosaics exhibiting exotic marine motifs under her little feet. Her hair was a light wheaten color, her eyes were blue, and she wore the simple gown of a female slave. She wore no adornments.
            She walked to her usual spot beside the table and stood waiting, silently.
            “No. Sit down, Melum,” he said.
            Carefully she lowered herself into Julia’s chair.
            “Is he well? Is he strong?” said Marcus. “Are you well?”
            “He is well, as am I,” said Melum in a voice like the embodiment of fragrance.
            “If I say he is mine, he will become a great man in my name,” said Marcus.
            “Yes,” and she trembled.
            “Bring him to me,” he said finally.
            Carefully, she rose and walked around to the other side of the table. Marcus held out his hands to receive the newborn boy.
            Melum passed her son over. Marcus took him in his hands, as a man does who is not accustomed to infants. His left hand was under the child’s head, and his right hand supported the body.
            “Does he wake and cry out much?” he asked her.
            “Not much, Sir, only when he is hungry,” she said.
            “Well, he is a manchild,” said Marcus.
            Then the child opened his eyes and focused on his father’s eyes. A long moment passed between them. Marcus began thinking of a name for this child.
            “Melum, take my son, go and raise him well! Be at peace,” said Marcus.
            She left him then, on lighter steps, carrying the newborn son of the house back to her own room.
            Marcus had a lot of things to arrange, and he needed his lawyer for all of that.

☀️

The Voice From Inside The Fridge

 

For display purposes only!

            “Why?” I said. He was in there again. Only takes a second’s lapse in vigilance. It was Sweetie, of course. Though, I have seen Booker follow him in before.
            “What’s the compelling attraction, Mr. Cat?” says I.
            The voice answers, “Prrrrrr..”
            “Not talking? Nobody, not even a young cat does things for no reason.” I urged.
            “You can’t see me now!” he said, with satisfaction. “Nothing will ever make me come out! I rule here, on the steaks.”
            “That’s called 'hubris,' Youngster,” says I. 
            “It will take more than name calling to get me to come out, Ma,” the voice continued.
            “Exaggerated pride, or self-confidence. IOW arrogance! How does that sound? Do you want to be like that?” I said, pedantically.
            “All hidey-holes are mine, by right of conquest,” said the voice.
            “You’re sitting on my steaks,” I said, “Good thing they’re shrink-wrapped, eh?”
            “Right of conquest!” he chortled.
            “Baloney!” I yelped.
            “Do you have some?” he asked, looking up through the shelves. There was a lot of purring and fidgeting around. (Shrink-wrap is really a good thing, you know?)
            “I hear your brother calling you!” I said.
            “Nuh-uh!” and he crept further back. “I’m making room for him.”
            What could I do, but get out the big guns, the sound no cat can withstand? Yes. The Temptations container. I rattled it.
            He popped right out. Booker came running. Mr. Baby swarmed aboard too. Soon we were having a great old time with cat treats. What do they put in that stuff, that is so desirable? It looks pretty much like cat kibble. (I need to look up the etymology of ‘kibble.’) Suzie doesn’t like Temptations. She says they make her rhumatize kick up. Doubtful.
            They all wish all the other cats a Merry Tootsday, most of all Toots, herself!

🐈‍⬛

kibble(n.)

"ground-up meat used as dog food, etc.," 1957, apparently from the verb meaning "to bruise or grind coarsely," which is attested from 1790, first in milling; a word of unknown origin. The same or an identical word was used in the coal trade in the late 19c. and in mining from the 1670s for "bucket used to haul up ore or waste."

A Message In The Great Forest

 

 

            Cherry was getting to be a bigger girl. She was growing in wisdom and knowledge, and was a great observer of all about herself. She was taller than a human child, of course. and was still platinum blond all over with icy, pale blue eyes. When grown, she would be a beauty of the Forest Folk.
            Ramona had been doing a good job with her, helping her to remember the Firekeeper’s songs, which were essentially practical recipes set to a tune, to help memory. In fact, she had to have a very good memory, and she did. They don’t make books in the Great Forest. They remember, and pass it down.
            In addition, Cherry was very good with her hands. When she wasn’t assisting her mother, she was making things. Naturally, the materials she had to work with were natural things from her home environment. Sticks, rocks, vines, leaves, flowers, feathers, fur, even small bones, berries in season, that sort of stuff.
            This particular year she was making crowns or necklaces of vines, with flowers, woven and maybe some extra leaves to fill them out. She used salal a lot because it’s strong and doesn’t wilt. She liked fireweed when it was in season because it  had a good long stalk and was colorful. Later in the year there would be colored leaves, and she was looking forward to them.
            She made leafy crowns for her mother, and a big wreath for Ralph who obediently wore it around his neck. She wove them for Blue, and the Puma Bros, and wore one herself too. Hers had a big white daisy right in the middle above her eyes.
            She made a small house of sapling branches, and hoped the B’s would use it, but though some of the B’s good-naturedly visited it, just to make her happy, they couldn’t really use it.
            “It’s very pretty,” said a Bertha. “Thank you for thinking of us, Twigg’s Sister!”
            Then she gathered some small sticks about the size of pencils. She laid them out on the ground and looked at them, trying to think of something interesting to do with them. She began arranging them where they lay in various patterns. She was one of the Forest Folk, after all.
            Cherry kept coming back to a simple cross of two sticks. She wondered what could be done with that, even just to make it more stable. Maybe winding a vine through it, weaving around each of the four spokes, so to speak. So, that’s what she did, using a blackberry vine. The small thorns worked to keep it very sturdy. When she held it up, it was diamond shaped, which was surprising to her, she had sort of expected it to look square.
            Cherry was so pleased with her construction, that she took it to Ramona.
            “Look, Mama, I made this for you!” said Cherry.
            “Oh, Sweet Baby, it’s beautiful,” said Ramona. But it reminded her of something, something she had heard about long ago when she was a girl with her mother.
            “I’ve seen something like that a long time ago. But the winding was done with colored yarn. I’d like to show you, but we need Thaga’s help. Let’s just go see if she has some leftover yarn that we can use,” said Ramona.
            It was a pleasant summer stroll up and over the meadow and down the old path to the stone cabin, home of Thaga and Ooog. Ramona knocked, and Thaga asked them in, naturally.
            Ramona showed Thaga the interesting thing which Cherry had made.
            “Nice!” said Thaga.
            “I’ve seen something like this, but made with colored yarn. My mother had one. It was a gift passed down from her mother. I wonder if you have some bits of leftover yarn. The colors don’t matter except that we need some blue, for the eye!” said Ramona.
            Thaga went to her fabric closet and brought out her basket of leftover yarns.
            “Cherry, you may have them all!” said Thaga.
            There was a nice little ball of the blue that Thaga had used to knit her own blue sweater which she wore all the time. She put the leftover yarn in a cloth shopping bag, but kept her basket for when she had bits of leftover yarn again.
            Cherry said, “Thank you, Thaga. It’s all so pretty!”
            “It couldn’t go to a better person,” said Thaga happily.
            At home, near the Fire Circle, all during the afternoon, Ramona and Cherry worked. First Ramona showed her how to wind the yarn starting with the blue at the center, around each crossbar. Then she added other colors in stripes until most of the length of the crossbars was filled up with colored yarn in diamond shaped stripes.
            “My mother said that her mother said that the Native woman who gave to her said that the blue in the middle was supposed to make you think of the Maker of All and that he is watching all we do. This lady also said they put them in places where they would be seen, all along the paths that people walked on every day,” Ramona said to Cherry.
            “Now, you do one,” she said.
            Cherry did, and it was almost as tight and neat as Ramona’s. There was a lot of yarn in the bag, so she gathered more straight little sticks and over that day and evening and the next morning, Cherry made a couple dozen more of the Eyes. She made sure that there was a nice little loop on each one so that she could hang them on bushes at eye level.
            That next afternoon, Cherry hung them all over the area, near the Home Clearing, out on the meadow, and along the river.
            As she was finishing up, Maeve drifted down out of the sky, silently. She had noticed the unusual activity, and the colorful objects themselves.
            “Cherry, Sweetie, whatever are you up to?” said Maeve. She had plopped down beside Cherry on the riverbank.
            “These are reminders. I made them,” said the child.
            “They are very pretty. What should they remind us of,” said Maeve, though she had an idea.
            “They mean that the Maker of All is watching. Mama showed me how to do them, and Thaga gave me her yarn!” said Cherry.
            “Ah, very good, Little One. To be watched over by Love is a very fine thing!” said the wise old Raven.
            “Love?” said Cherry.
            “Yes, dear, Love,” said Maeve. “Now, let’s go on down to the Clearing. It’s time.”

💮