FIVE SECOND STORIES

David Crosby, member of the Byrds and Crosby, Stills, Nash (and Young), died on January 18. Go well, brother.

c.1974 me and my best pal Lowell letting our freak flag fly

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I was cleaning and chopping some leeks the other day and came across this curious curvy cross section:

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As I related the background story of Buddy to a friend: born in the wild; captured, neutered, released with a docked ear for future identification; rescued from a Hoarder house where he had been bullied; sent to a foster home for socialization and finally, taken to an adoption agency for hopeful placement in a home, it struck me how this easily parallels the experience of a young human. There are those who take on the challenge to bring up a child with a difficult past and some do this multiple times. Good on them. I don't have that kind of courage.

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Mrs. Redbird grabbing a snack after a recent snow

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Buddy's newest daytime place to snooze: Mom's chair in her office. Note the Lisa Simpson "Smart Girl" coffee cup on the desk.

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True to form, Buddy's Mom the Professor, bought him an educational toy. A small form obstacle course containing four levels of progressive difficulty, whose goal for the participant is "find the treats." Buddy snarfled through level 1 and 2 (the middle courses), managed to get his paws into the level 3 clear cups (learn to use your claws!) but was stymied by level 4 and after several tries, walked away. "Well Buddy, this is something we can work on the next time we meet. Come to office hours if you need some extra help."

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Few things are more sublime than when a cat chooses to curl up purring next to you for a nap.

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We've decided that Buddy's latest proper name will be Longfellow as he has a very long body and tail. And of course, the literary reference to the poet. It has an Old English feel where surnames reflected the trade or physical attribute of that individual. Like King Edward I, who was known as Longshanks because of his height. He was a warring king, notably taking on the rebellious Scots led by William Wallace (featured in the movie Braveheart).

ILLUSTRATION BY PAWEL KUCZYNSKI

A modern variant of the Japanese proverb "The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." The elite 1% who control most of the money and governments on the planet say to the masses: we will tell you all you need to know, so stay tuned to your Iphones. Those who manage to break their mesmerization and dare to stick their heads up out of the crowd to see what is going on will be promptly mowed down by one of the Master's servants, who is nicely, primly dressed for gardening. Oh, but so, so environmentally conscious: he's got a EV mulching mower and a catch bag so the leavings can be composted.

 

TREE OF HALF LIFE-1997 PINK FLOYD

 

© Pink Floyd Music, Art by StormStudios

 Image by Storm Thorgerson, post-Hipgnosis.

HIPGNOSIS DESIGN GROUP

Hipgnosis Design Group was founded in 1968 when members of Pink Floyd asked their friends Storm Thorgerson and Aubrey Powell to design an album cover for them. Later, Hipgnosis created the iconic album cover for The Dark Side of the Moon. They had a number of clients- Genesis, Peter Gabriel, Paul McCartney, Led Zeppelin, Al Stewart to name a few. Hipgnosis disbanded in 1982.

While I was studying graphic design, I first became acquainted with and loved their work. This was back in the design Dark Ages-before Photoshop, when we were using press-on type (neva heard of it? look it up). Their work was photography-based, which appealed to me. They used all sorts of darkroom tricks with a good dash of surreal and clever imagery and visual puns. One of my favs:

The band, Uno was a short-lived Italian prog-rock band. I'm not in love with the typeface-it's the image.The original is pretty grainy and all I could find online is of marginal quality. The checkered cloak has the black squares removed to reveal the grassy image behind. In the background hillside is this:

This is the Long Man of Wilmington in East Sussex, England. 235 feet tall, originally cut into the turf to expose the underlying chalk-the modern version is formed with white painted concrete blocks. For many years its origin was thought to date to Neolithic times but modern archeology suggests it was made in the 16th-17th Century.

One of these days (Floyd reference), on my bucket list, is to visit these grand, history-drenched isles that are just chock full of ancient sites and curious visuals like the Long Man. Someday.

 

 

THE LEGACY OF ANCIENT OAKS-DRAWINGS BY MARK FRITH

Filmmaker and artist Mark Frith in 2011, began a project which was commissioned by the late publisher and poet Felix Dennis to draw 20 large scale, intricate portraits of Britain’s ancient oak trees. Each graphite drawing measures 59" x 51". Many of the trees are over a thousand years old.

Detail of one of the drawings

Queen Elizabeth I oak, Lodsworth, Sussex

Major oak, Sherwood Forest, Nottinghamshire

 

 

EXTRAORDINARY 3D PAVEMENT ART BY KURT WENNER, FORMER NASA ILLUSTRATOR

THE STORY BEHIND "GRACE" PHOTOGRAPH

 

Growing up in the 50's and 60's, it was not unusual to see this image in the homes of my relatives out in the country especially if they were elderly. Usually, it was in the form of a painting and only until recently, I thought it was from some obscure 19th Century European artist. Nope. The original was a photograph. 

It was made by Eric Enstrom c.1918 who had a photography studio on Bovey, MN. The subject was Charles Wilden, a near-penniless peddler who lived in a sod house. Enstrom thought the man had an interesting face and paid him $5 to pose. The large book, many thought was the Bible was actually a dictionary. 

The image became quite popular thanks in part to the many devout folk in the country in the first half of the 20th Century. It provided Enstrom a modest sum of money for the rest of his life. 

I also had no idea of the title "Grace"-I had always figured it was "Our Daily Bread" which may have come from some ad campaign that used the image in conjunction with those words.

OUR BUDDY

 

Our green-eyed boy has been with us for three weeks. His adaptation to the new environment and us has been remarkable and it seems each day brings another positive movement forward. While he still retreats to his safe place up in the basement rafters, he is spending more and more time upstairs. In fact, for the past two nights, he has snoozed on the love seat in the Great Room. We no longer have to sequester him in the kitchen to prevent him from keeping us awake with endless mewing. He has quieted down radically and he is beginning to relax more and more. Now, his skittishness seems more of an expression of youthful (he's only 1.5 not 2 years old as earlier reported) energy. We're learning more and more about each other. For example, he is not much of a toy kitty. Poor Mom went out yesterday and bought him a couple of interactive toys and while he played with them a bit (perhaps out of politeness), his overall reaction was "meh." We are delighted that he hangs out on the loveseat with us while we are watching the TV in front of the fire. He's a roller and enjoys rolling back and forth over C's shoes. He loves belly rubs which is so surprising: this is a big, big taboo in felineworld-the belly is the vulnerable underside of their body and our previous crew would rarely allow us access, giving the offender a stern look: "just what the hell you think you are doing there, pal?" before giving us The Claw. Not the Budster. I've never seen a cat who rolls onto his back, both front legs straight up in the air and loving a generous full belly rub. One thing though: he is a vigorous kneader so when engaging, it is important for his humans to have a claw guard between him and their flesh.

He has begun to do what must be in some sort of feline genetic memory (or as C has remarked, he found an owner's manual left by our crew): jumping up sticking his tail and butt in C's face as she tries to work at her computer and helping Mom "make" the beds. He enjoys hanging out with me on the couch while I watch something on my side wrapped in a blanket. After some scritches, he'll settle down between my bent knees and the couch back and take a snooze. Good boy.

We have decided to make his interim name of Buddy permanent. Nothing else seemed to work and Buddy can easily morph into various iterations: Buddy, Bud, Budster, Mr. B. Spud, Spudly. From Wiki: "1802, colloquial butty (“companion”), also the form of an older dialect term meaning workmate, associated with coal mining. Itself believed derived from 1530 as booty fellow, a partner with whom one shares booty or loot. Alternatively, an alteration of brother." One persona has already been created: Buddyluv-when he wants an interactive cuddle with lots of belly rubs and kneading- Cue up the Barry White! Alternatively, C came up with this reference from an old Budweiser commercial from the early '70's:

We're so happy to have this beautiful guy in our lives and hope we have many years with all of us together. A home without a cat is empty for us and there are few things better on a cold afternoon than gathering around the hearth with each other, good food and drink and a handsome katter.

 

REALISTIC NUTRITION LABELS

Nutrition labels are packed with numbers and percentages, which at a glance, become meaningless especially when you're in a hurry at the market. An easier to understand alternative:

THE LIMBO

From Wiki: The Limbo dance originated as an event that took place at wakes in Trinidad and Tobago, and was popularized by dance pioneer Julia Edwards (known as the First Lady of Limbo) and her company, which appeared in several films, in particular “Fire Down Below” (1957), and toured internationally in the 1960s and beyond.

The origins date back to the early-middle 19th century and for many scholars, has links with the slave trade. Consistent with certain African beliefs, the game reflects the whole cycle of life....The players move under a pole that is gradually lowered from chest level and they emerge on the other side as their heads clear the pole as in the triumph of life over death.

BACKYARD SQUIRREL OLYMPICS 3.0

 

Clever work by this maker of miniatures and backyard obstacle courses complete with guest appearances from neighborhood fans, including Fat Tail the rat whose walk-on theme is a burst of Death Metal and annoyingly spot-on satire of sports hosts talking heads and one of the reasons I stopped watching the Olympics and sports in general: they chatter endlessly like they are in the monkey house and never shut the f up.

THE ANCIENT CITY OF NAN MADOL

Nan Madol is said to have been created circa 2nd century AD although some scholars disagree. An extraordinary complex made of balsalt logs and boulders in a shallow lagoon adjacent to the island of Pohnpei. Its purpose was to serve as the capital for the Saudeleur dynasty until about 1628. The elite centre was a special residence for the nobility and of mortuary activities presided over by priests. High walls surrounded the tombs sometimes reaching 18-25 feet.

From Wiki-Detail of columnar basalt pieces

No fresh water or food was available within the complex and had to be brought in from the mainland. A series of internal strife led to the overthrow of the Saudeleurs but eventually the site was abandoned because of the food and water issue.

JANUARY

 

A beautiful mid-January day with crystalline blue skies, nippy breeze, barely 20 degrees. A typical day this time of year in Michigan. Except this year, one very important feature is missing: snow. Usually, we have snow cover and the snow is sparkly from the temps going down into the teens. Not this year. The only snow around are those stalwart piles in parking lots from the big storm in December. This, feels like a sharply cold day in early March. Weird Winter.

C IN LUV

 

SATURDAY NIGHT MUSIC: BARBARA LEWIS "HELLO STRANGER"

A number 1 hit on the R&B charts from 1963 written by Lewis. Her vocals on "Baby I'm Yours" help shoot the single to #11 on Billboards "Hot 100" in 1965. She is from Salem, MI which is located between South Lyon and Plymouth, MI

FIVE SECOND STORIES

 

This is "Postcards From Italy" by the band Beirut, a fav of mine. The imagery seems to be a collection of 60's family home movies from front man Zack Condon who grew up in Santa Fe, NM. At 2.55 in the vid, there looks to be a group of African Americans in plantation gear, dancing in circles in a stadium. Rerunning this grainy series of images, it appears to be one of the oddest examples of Blackface I have ever encountered. Instead of makeup, it looks like they are wearing hatted and scarved headdresses atop a hood of black mesh that is tucked into their collars. 

Did this take place in Italy or NM? If in NM, then what was the event in a stadium? Old school US history depicting "those  darkies who whoop it up every night cuz they're so happy being slaves?" 

I'm curious to know the origin.

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As seen on TV: an ad for Cologuard, a colon cancer screening kit for adults 45+, depicting men and women in that demographic dancing down their streets and in the market to the tune of an unknown yet familiar Broadway show. Ta Da!

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If you live in northern climes and all your people have done so since leaving Africa, the cold seasons are eased by a hearth and candles. (and for us, cats as well)

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My brother was with Special Forces in Vietnam during the mid-60's. He established passwords to be used by his team based on Slovak words he learned from his Grandfather. The reasoning was that confidence was quite high that none of the Viet Cong or NVA they encountered would know Slovak. It was yet another strategy employed to keep the team alive. Alas, despite their efforts, he was the only one who made it home.

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How an armadillo defends itself from predators.

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Missouri House Republicans have just adopted a new dress code for its members...just the females only. Professional business attire with one significant feature: No bare arms. And y'all thought I am hyperbolic when I refer to these people as the Christian Taliban. Turn back the clocks and cue up "Anything Goes."

"In olden days, a glimpse of stocking
Was looked on as something shocking.
But now, God knows,
Anything goes."

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We were watching The Simpsons the other night and in one episode, Mr. Burns refers to someone as a Mooncalf. I was not acquainted with the terms but luckily, I am married to an EM whose knowledge base is much wider than mine.

The term comes from European folklore blaming abortive fetuses in livestock on sinister influences by the moon. Shakespeare uses the term to refer to any monstrous or grotesque thing. A more modern use is to indicate a foolish or not very bright person. 

In the Harry Potter series, a mooncalf is a magical creature who dances in the moonlight and is responsible for crop circles.

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How to deal with bullies, kids, in the early 60's! Updated version for 2023, a Hawaiian Punch is replaced with a 9mm handgun that stupid Mommy bought and left, loaded, in her nightstand.

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Rewards systems that retail companies offer their customers are a giant PIA for those working in the stores. Anyone who has shopped at Kohls can attest to witnessing "professional shoppers" gatorwrassling cashiers or return clerks over Kohls rewards, holding up the line for those wanting to simply buy a pair of socks.

My final job as a worker was at a Health & Supplement Store that was family owned. The owner, being both cheap and stupid, would buy systems that were either barely operational, non-updated and buggy. Of course this applied to the members reward system which, as in other businesses, became a major cudgel for a certain type of difficult asshole customer to beat the workers with. We loathed the owner for setting up these circumstances, which he, being a cheap bastard, would not fix. "You fucking bastard" we seethed, "you let us suffer and use your customers to do your beatings for you. You don't respect us enough to do it yourself. You fucking coward."

OUR NEW CAT

 

Please welcome our new cat, a 2 year old neutered male brown tabby. His foster name was Big Fuzz which we switched to our current working name of Buddy. This guy has had a tough life. He has a notched ear indicating that he might have grown up feral and had been part of a catch, neuter, release program. He was rescued from a hoarder house where according to his foster mom, he was bullied by other cats and had little human interaction. His safety defense was to hide. He currently resides in a space between the basement foundation walls and the rafters. After a week, he began to feel confident enough to come down to a shelf barely in reach to receive scritches. Within a few days later, he came down further on top of a bench that is about hip high. We have discovered in the past 2 days that he will come to the bottom of the stairs and mew-which we can hear in the Great Room while watching a movie. A funny new activity is that he will come up to the stair landing where C has laid out food and mew. C goes out and sees him poking his head around the corner. Sometimes we will hear him mew and when we investigate, he has run downstairs. It's as if he enjoys a snack and mews to thank us. He's a polite lad-we have noticed that he is v carefully about keeping his claws sheathed when we handle him. It's gonna be a process with this guy and we hope in the end, he will feel comfortable and safe with his humans and enjoy a good life.

PS. This evening marked an Apollo mission event for Buddy: he came upstairs. Not only did he stay in the kitchen for a snack but he came and explored the library and Great Room! He probably saw the first fireplace he had ever seen, jumped up on both the couch and loveseat, visited both C and I as we lay by the fire watching a movie. He systematically checked out the corners and chin rubbed (scent glands) as much as possible. Mine! I claim this to be mine! He did the same to C as she stood beckoning him in the library, he came up and tail brushed her leg. All the while, he was quite vocal mewing constantly. I read this as kitten behavior-when they begin to venture from their Mum, they vocalize I think to serve as a beacon. A change in pitch or frequency will alert Mum-Mum! I'm scared! Mum, come help! Mum! I'm lost!

MOLLS' TALES

 

Molls engaged in Sun Yoga

Some enduring memories of our late friend:

In her last couple of years, one of Molls' personas was that of Madame L'inspectrice. Often, when I was sitting on the pot taking care of business, Madame would politely scratch at the door. Upon opening the sliding door, there, patiently waiting, in my mind's eye dressed in a railway cap and carrying a clipboard was L'inspectrice. She would come in and check out the corners and cheek rub the small wooden shelving unit. She was unfazed by the sound of the exhaust fan or any odor (gee Dad, did you eat a bad mouse for supper last night?) for she was doing her job as it was her duty to ensure that my bathroom met rigorous standards. After a few scritches and chin rubs, Madame would exit leaving her report.

Molls was mischievous. She would lie hidden in the tall lilies that grew at the base of her buddy Mr. Locust. C would be in the area bent over weeding, when a paw would quickly snake out and tap her ankle. This of course, gave C a start which was the whole point. If a cat could chuckle in delight, she would have.

Last Summer when C began doing deck yoga in the early evening, Molls would usually join her. One day, C heard a loud hiss and looked behind herself to see Molls squared off against one of the raccoon Katzenjammer kids who evidently had a crush of C. Not so fast, buddy boy! Why don't you just leave! He reluctantly withdrew.

WHAT'S THE ORIGIN OF GENIE IN A LAMP?

 

C and I were chatting the other night and Aladdin and Genies came up and we wondered just where this tale came from. Check out this article (long read):

https://writinginmargins.weebly.com/home/why-is-aladdins-genie-inside-a-lamp#:~:text=In%20the%20story%20of%20%22Aladdin,an%20even%20more%20powerful%20genie. 

DEJA VU ALBUM COVER

 

Deja Vu by CSNY is a fav of mine, not only for the music but also for the album cover. The entire concept appeals to me-the old timey style family photo album with its bumpy surface, the sepia toned image the arrangement of the characters, the gold stamped type. 

The cover was designed by Gary Burden who is considered one of the pioneers of the concept of album cover art. According to the late Mr. Burden's website: "The inspiration for this artwork came from Stephen Stills' love of the elaborate old tintypes and family journals of the 1860s." The image is an actual tintype made by Mr. Burden having researched the process.

What the grouping of individuals represents has always been a point of curiosity. For me, this is a post-Civil War portrait of Southern Men. They left the South after the defeat in 1865 for the Frontier. Young and Nash were from wealthy families, Young the dandier of the two. Stills, remaining in his old uniform, is a true believer of the Cause. Crosby, wearing buckskins, along with Taylor (drums) are Frontiersmen, making money where they can and well-armed. Reeves (bass) is curious-his vest embroidery reminds me of Indigenous or Creole origin pointing to perhaps a mixed race heritage. Standing behind Nash, makes me wonder if Reeves worked for Nash's family and being trustworthy, went along when Nash moved West. 

Is this a family portrait of four brothers? Perhaps a couple of brothers and their close cousins? There's not much of family resemblance so this points to them having ties to each other like brothers much like CSNY were in real life. 

According to Mr. Burden "The record company was not amused… and they called Stephen (Stills) ranting and raving about the costs, he told them it was what he wanted and to get out of the way and let it happen. That they would make a lot of money on this album. He was right. It went platinum in weeks."

 

 

MODERN FABLE: REAL ESTATE COVENANT

A couple who always had cats in the many years that they lived in their house stipulated that the house would only be sold to Cat People. Their stated reasoning was thus:

"The spirit of cat will be too strong for dogs. The sense of their being will turn doggie into a hyperneurotic hypochondriac. Not to mention the wild neighbors. Many generations of squirrels have lived here in relative harmony with the cats. They will turn any dog into yapping madness as they are experts in canine torture."

This was viewed by many buyers as bat shit crazy or to be generous, quite eccentric. These people didn't grasp that the couple's insistence was based on compassion and fairness for the dogs. "Why put your beloved pet through this?" was their question. "They won't be happy here and neither will you."

TWELFTH NIGHT

 

 

FIVE SECOND STORIES

Awful opening for a natdoc on the oceans: "Water, the primary substance that make up our oceans..." Just weird-is their audience stupid or 3 year olds?

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Surfing YouTube, I came across a v high end auto ad for the Jeep Grand Wagoneer. $90k! The ad was pushing one of the prized features: McIntosh music system. I had not heard of McIntosh stereo equipment in years and thought they had disappeared. They were considered the shit back in the day. Nope. Just got v v pricey. An integrated stereo system costs $6500!!! Yeah, nuthin' hoi polloi can afford.

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C posted this on her FB feed and I immediately thought of LOTR where the Orcs rode the wolf-like Wargs into battle.

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Meanwhile, a sandhill crane directs a gator to mosey off the cart path on a Florida golf course. Mr. Crane is part of a local inter-species community liaison group promoting peace amongst species. 

Crane: "C'mon on now sir, you know you are not allowed on the Ape's walkways. It upsets them and you don't really want your day ruined by an intervention by their animal control."

Alligator: "This is my home! The damn Apes have messed it up and NOW are telling me where I can or can't go. F them!!"

Crane: (gently) I understand sir. I've had the same problem. We've all suffered with the Apes. Let's just try to get along and live our lives. Hopefully, in a few generations, they'll be gone.

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She remembered riding one of these at the grocery store as a kid like so many from her generation. When the pandemic came, the horses were pulled so to protect little ones from the spread of the virus. She felt a pang of sadness, having loved flesh and blood horses, thinking of warehouses full of these creatures. Not in stables but locked up in crates and crates stacked upon each other. Now that COVID has waned, she was happy to see them back in the stores, bringing momentary joy to their riders.

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THE CROW WITNESS

As I got out of the car at the vets to pick up Molls' cremains, I noticed on the largest crows I have ever seen perched atop the bare tree next to the building. He was facing me and I murmured a salutation. He was still there when I returned to the car. 

He is an overseer of the dead and his purpose is one part sentinel and one part witness of Molls' final journey. All dying creatures are assigned an overseer and their form varies from region to region and culture. It is to ensure that all who die do not do so unaccompanied. Even with the recycling from one life to another, this witness honors that particular life which has ended.

COTTON CANDY VENDING MACHINE

 

C was in Lansing Mall the other day and came across one of these contraptions. She had never seen one and was astonished. I had no idea either.

EXTRAORDINARY DANCE

I've never been a fan of America's Got Talent but I recently stumbled on this one while YT surfing. Yeah, the constant cutting to the reactions of the judges but never mind. The dance performed here is just so extraordinary and creative. Hats off and good luck to this talented Russian man.

MEME FOR TRANSGENDER FOLK AND SUPPORTERS

Meet Cirrhilabrus Finifenmaa aka rose-veiled fairy wrasse, one of nearly 500 species of fish that change genders as a reproductive strategy for the perpetuation of their species.  

For our species, folks change for a different reason but nevertheless, they truly cannot be considered a freak of nature as many allege.

IN MEMORIAM: GREY MOLLY

 

The little grey in the lilies at the base of the Locust tree.

It is great sorrow that C and I announce the death of Grey Molly on December 27, 2022 at the age of 19. She is the last of the three cats who lived with us for the past 12 years.

Molls was a Chartreux/Tiger mix. Her mother, who was living with a breeder south of Paris, escaped one night and had a brief liaison with one of the local lads. The owner was none too pleased as he was in the pure breed business. A friend of C's heard he had kittens for sale and C got Molls as a companion for Tomi. Growing up in Montrouge, a southern Parisian suburb, Molls was known in the neighborhood as a very curious, mischievous scamp who loved to visit. Window screens aren't prevalent in France as they are here and Molls  took full advantage of this. Once, a young couple who lived in the same courtyard of residences as C, called to say that had caught Molls sampling their marinara sauce (on the stove!) and was licking their plated butter. She often visited another couple while the husband was shaving. She terrorized their koi pond and they ended up installing netting over it to prevent Molls from dipping her paw in for a morning snack. Molls also was a thief and one of her favorite things to steal were gloves which she deposited with great pride back home. Despite her shenanigans, the neighbors were tolerant and held no malice towards Molls or her Mom. 

In 2009, C moved to Michigan with three cats: Tomi, Molls and her son Minnaloushe who C helped mid-wife. Alas, Minn, a great wanderer who sometimes was gone for days at a time, was killed in traffic less than 5 months of moving to our new home in 2010. Bin was with us then, literally coming with the house for he had been living rough after being abandoned by people up the street. Good next-door neighbor Benny put out food for him and that kept him alive. Bin was not well-embraced by the rest. Tomi, who had established herself as the alpha seemingly despised him and great fights broke out between them. Molls pretty much tolerated him but got in a few right hooks now and then. Bin, being the tenacious and gregarious sort that he was, hung in there and became well loved by us. Eventually, some sort of detente was established and the three co-existed in relative harmony.

We lived in a duplex in East Lansing after C came over and had begun her professorship at MSU. Tomi, being a skitty-kitty, was absolutely freaked out by my presence. She would be upstairs with C but upon hearing my morning toilet flush, would scramble downstairs for safety. Molls was reserved and a bit stroppy. Minn was friendly. 

I hadn't been around cats since Michele died and I moved our cat Oscar to the boarding stables who had bought one of our horses. I had to sell the house and I knew trying to keep him inside all day in an apartment was not going to work. He lived the rest of his days there as champion mouser and instructor to younger barn cats. 

Molls quickly showed the qualities that were well known and admired about her breed: a stone-cold killer. I remember my first encounter with this one afternoon arriving home from work to find a CSI crime scene of sheer brutality. Blood splatters, bits of unrecognizable half-eaten flesh, drag marks and what was left of the corpse. All that was missing were the numbered evidence triangles. Oscar had not been a big hunter and did most of his work outside. With Molls, I came to realize that she was a whole different breed-one that had truly retained more of her wildness than others. "This is what we do" she would say with her large, unblinking yellow eyes. 

For the most part over the years, we were on cordial terms except when we took her to the vet (I AM BEING VIOLATED) or when I (with C's help restraining her) administered her monthly flea med (YOU ARE VIOLATING ME). She was indiscriminate in issuing The Claw to any offender.  Bin was my BFF in those days and Molls was closer to C. Bin and Molls had a morning routine (sometimes with fisticuffs) over who would get laptime from Mom who was struggling to use her laptop. However, once the other two had died, Moll's personality shifted and her main persona was that of the dowager queen, Madame. We wondered if the other two had gotten on her nerves-Tomi was a high-strung PIA and Bin was this (sniff) undignified, provincial male. Now, as the one-and-only top cat, she mellowed. Molls and I became better acquainted and soon, most afternoons, Molls would join me and hang out on the couch for a scritch session. It seemed  some agreement had been reached: she would be granted certain wild attributes without strenuous objection and in return, she allowed me to touch her. Up to this point, this had largely been C's domain.

Molls ready for a session after a bad day, see 9/12/22 post

Cats are endlessly entertaining and in response, we created many tales about them. They were Los Tres Amigos.

 Molls loved boxes.

She enjoyed a good book.

One of her personas: Madam Maruska, sun yoga instructor

Madame demonstrating the Balasana pose

In late November of this year, she was off her feed again and we took her into the vet who found a lump in her lower belly. She advised that we take her to get an ultra-sound. The techs found multiple cancerous masses. With her being 19 years old and having no idea if any were treatable, we decided to let nature take its course and spare her the pain and scariness of surgery and recovery. This was December 1. She ate little but was still out and about. Madame still hung out with me on the couch but it was soon clear that this was going to be an ordeal. Yet, she didn't cry in pain or seem in discomfort. Just was slowly fading away.

Catching some warm sun on her old bones.

 

 

By Christmas, she was light as a feather and unable to jump up on the couch. I carried her and put her on a blanket in while we gathered Christmas morning in front of the fireplace. She was purring and bunting my hand when I rubbed her chin.

On December 27, I had slept in late-8am. C had been up at 6am. Molls was lying on her side across from the Christmas tree and to me, it was obvious that the time was near. C fetched her a blanket for her head and covered her with another.

We both gave her gentle strokes and Molls soon died. It was as if she had held on for all three of us together for the last time. She left on her terms, which we wanted to afford her this decision, however painful to us, honoring her wildness, without us arbitrarily doing this for her. 

An hour later, we were at the vet's bringing her body to be cremated. A peculiar thing happened: the credit card that I used for this service disappeared. We couldn't find it, the vet's staff couldn't either. That evening by the fireplace I came up with my final Moll's tale: she was a hidden Ra (felines that had been given special powers by the Aliens, that are passed down the genetic lines) and during her journey to the quiet place of transition that Bin had described, her younger, mischievous self played her final trick and made the credit card vanish. That made us smile.

So ends the era of Los Tres Amigos, our beautiful trio of cats who gave us years of the pleasure of their companionship and I hope, they were able to give and receive love and friendship in the manner of their species.

Best of luck on the recycle, Madame. I wish you a loving and happy family who will love you as much as we did. 

Fare thee well, my darling little grey.

꩜