It’s always wonderful when Paladin shows up for lunch, and today he came three times. He has been coming consistently for breakfast, and sometimes for a late-evening dinner.
Tomorrow he will spend the day in his “condo” my husband built for him. We have to remove his food at 9:00 P.M. and leave him with only water. This protocol is necessary because the following day he has an appointment. He is scheduled for surgery. He will be neutered. He will also be vaccinated for everything cats are vaccinated for, fully examined, treated for worms if they are present, and he will receive a microchip.
The condo is because, Paladin being a feral roamer, we can’t count on him showing up on time and properly fasted for his scheduled procedures, so we will secure him on his first stop, which is usually morning. We will bring him to the veterinary clinic Thursday morning and pick him up in the late afternoon. He will recover in our house for three days. He has never chosen to enter our house before. It’s a feral thing; Effie wouldn’t understand.
A few evenings ago, I opened the door for him to see whether he would come inside. He seemed ready and stepped in. But when I started to close the door behind him, the deal was off. He totally freaked, jumping four feet high on the inside of the door, terrified. I held the door as wide as possible and he jumped off and bolted. I was a basket case.
The following morning he showed up for breakfast, his usual cautiously cheerful self.
I now believe that anyone who thinks they understand cats is self-deceived. I know I did, and I was.
Flocks of starlings flew by, and Effie’s gaze was transfixed. She simply watched them the whole time, without licking her lips or making any guttural sounds, or shifting to a pounce position. The distance between the window from which she is observing the flock to the trees where the starlings have perched is approximately 100 feet.
As some of our friends know, my husband Vic is building an airplane. Vic is using public domain Piper plans for a PA-14, a four-seat bush plane, but our plane will have two seats. Effie, always faithfully curious of why we are occupying her floor space, looks on with supervisorial interest.
I looked up the hill and there was Halvor, sitting bolt upright, with what appeared to be a bushy black mustache across his mouth. I called him down, and he readily came to show me–and Effie–his catch. It was fairly large for a mouse, deep grey, with pink nose and ears. It was also either dying or already in throes. Halvor was proud of his catch, and I can’t say that I welcome mice near the house, and I was pleased with Halvor for removing a mouse from our field that might have decided to come closer to our house, or the vineyard or berries in Effieland.
Halvor carries his catch toward the shop where he eats, sleeps, and watches my husband work on various projects. Halvor will need to consume his feast outside.
We hadn’t expected a beautiful, clear sunny day, but there it was, and we decided on a walk along Asotin Creek, a nearby and fairly frequent destination.
The trail was slick with melting snow, but we sustained no casualties.
The green disc is more likely an artifact than Neptune wandering from its orbit.
Vic had to convert our tractor to its snowplow identity to plow our driveway this morning. It’s hard to tell which–the snow or the plow–Cat Halvor disliked less. In any case, the red tabby is out on an errand.
First is the Yawn. . .
followed by the Stretch. . .
and finally, the Nap.
With careful timing, this method of bringing about a Good Day can start in the morning and last well into the afternoon, especially when frosty weather may limit the fun of bounding about on frosty ground outdoors.
–Inspiration by Effie