Pumpkin

Fearless

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Look at that little guy … a young praying mantis, sitting next to Pumpkin (R.I.P.), one of the most fearless animals I have ever known.

How is the mantis so brave? Is this innate to his species, or an individual who takes risks or is just naive and inexperienced?

Looking at ourselves, if we aren’t fearless like the mantis, how did we get this way? Perhaps the bigger question is can we become more brave?

I believe there are two core emotions – fear and love, the opposite of one another. To become fearless, or start heading in that direction, we need to love ourselves more, to tip the scales. We need to let go of things we were told that we were. These often had nothing to do with us, but more to do with the individuals that told us. Think about it.

Many of our behaviors that make us unhappy today were once developed as children because we needed them in order to cope or survive, whether to make others happy or comfortable or just to leave us alone. But we can look at ourselves now, at our fears, our outer coats of beliefs that no longer work in our lives, and release them.

It was Socrates who said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Looking and seeing who we are underneath those once-needed layers, we can love and accept ourselves for what we find, forgive ourselves for behaving in ways we have not understood. And we can change. It takes time, and it’s not always easy, but we are capable of change.

We are always braver than we believe.

p.s. As for the yet-unnoticed, young praying mantis … I called Pumpkin over to my back door for a snack, and the little one, apparently having made his point (to me), quickly disappeared.

Alone … kind of

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

If you love animals, chances are good that you are never alone. Whether you have people around you or not, we animal lovers likely have a pet keeping us company. Some think that doesn’t count, but it counts a great deal.

I was thinking this morning; Jazzy passed away nearly two months ago. She was the only animal in the house, and having no little four-footeds padding about is a big change. Of course, we need time to mourn and miss an animal who is no longer with us. But then came an interesting stage which I had not expected. As I cleaned each room in anticipation of a new resident, I noticed that cat hair was not coming back – seemingly an obvious outcome, right?

However, it was an unknown pleasure as I sat down to write each morning … there was never cat hair on the couch. Never. Hmmm …. I could get used to this, I thought, knowing even as it crossed my mind, that I never would.

When I was 20, a junior in college, I took a drive upstate with a friend to visit her former art teacher. The place was a sprawling shambles with cats everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There may have been 30, 40 or more – different ages, appearances, states of health, and none neutered. In the house were two mothers nursing litters, and though I hadn’t planned on it, I took one of those kittens home — an adorable grey polydactl who I named Pharaoh. It soon became apparent that she had distemper. Thanks to the kindness of a local vet, she pulled through, likely the only one of that litter to survive. Pharaoh lived to a healthy 18-1/2 years old, my first pet as an adult.

Since that time, my house has never been without a cat and/or dog except for a week or so after Claude passed away. And even then, there were my next door buddies, Pumpkin and Cloudy, always visiting. Here we are now, at the next stage, looking for the cat who’ll restore that wonderful animal energy to a house where a purr has been sorely missing.

Little Bright Spots

/ still a dreamer / 10 Comments

This past June was the hottest on record in the United States. July saw the issuance of multiple tornado warnings in my state, one specifically for my town and the surrounding areas. Never in my life here in Jersey, have I ever had to seriously sequester myself and animals in either the basement or lowest interior space in the house (my chosen option), in response to serious tornado warnings. And they did hit, too, just, fortunately for me, not here.

But let’s look on the bright side, because there always is one.

One of two dwarf red maples on the property, this one is more a deep bronze than a shade of red. Unless, of course, you’re a little newbie sprout. This close-up doesn’t tell you how tiny the new leaves are in comparison to the whole, which is huge. But it might tell you why it brings a smile every time I look at it.

One morning, I looked out my kitchen window and saw something indiscernible in between two of the ornamental grasses out back. It looked like a face. Oh …. it WAS a face. The face of a very young (and adorable) deer holding very still but just about ready to chow down on a hosta. I went down the porch stairs to gently shoo her away. Maybe only 4-5 months old, she easily cleared the nearly 4′ garden gate. As I returned, I saw she had been on my porch, and had eaten the front half of the impatiens above and a few other potted plants. It’s discouraging, but that little wide-eyed face holding soooo still, trying to be invisible …

For some reason, this pretty pair was spared, and is now starting to bloom.

There are snowball hydrangeas all over this property. They bloom snow white, and are now in their green phase, to turn a stunning rust as the summer wears on, and it becomes cooler.

Hello, little fella. This very young praying mantis greeted me one morning on a kitchen window screen. Soon after, he disappeared. But he hadn’t gone very far, I later discovered. It was turning out to be a very hot afternoon, but I managed to find myself a little time to sit on the back porch and read while there was still some shade nearest the house. And there he was. Not far from me on the decking, in the very hot, bright sun.

I thought to make his way a little easier by moving him into the shade. I offered him a large hydrangea leaf to climb on, as I didn’t want to handle and frighten him. He very calmly walked right over the leaf, and into the shadow of the railing. “Thanks, ma’am, but I’ve got this,” I imagined he said as he found his own shade. And then over the next half hour or so, he slowly made his way across the length of the porch and disappeared.

All I could think of was that that must be what `biological imperative’ means. He knew where he was going and what he had to do, because at the other end of the porch is where I often see adult green praying mantises, like the one next to Pumpkin in a photo from a few years ago.

I know for myself, and most everyone I know, that the last year and change has had a lingering impact in one way or another. And yet, we find, there are still always bright spots. Hope you keep finding yours.

Pumpkin – My Little Orange Man

/ still a dreamer / 12 Comments

Pumpkin
2005 – February 26, 2020
Rest in Peace

How do we ever say goodbye to a friend?

I first met Pumpkin when I moved here, about 13-1/2 years ago. He was at least one year old, handsome, leonine. His orange coat, whether thick and luxurious in winter or in a lighter summer length, was always immaculately groomed. He was out most days, and in the next door family’s garage at night. He took no sass from anyone – cat, dog, or human, and ran the neighborhood. I called him The Mayor.

Two fearless creatures – Pumpkin and a young praying mantis.

Whatever had happened to Pumpkin prior to my arrival resulted in his being somewhat aggressive when handled, except for being petted around the head. He showed he cared in other ways, but the expression of affection was strictly on his terms.

With his beautiful coat in its long-haired glory.

Because I worked from home, he and I became better and better buddies, especially after his sidekick, Cloudy, died two years earlier. And in the last 4-5 months, even more so.

He had always come with me to get the mail; slept under or on my car for shade or warmth, depending on the season, at my various doors following the warmth of the sun; and kept me company when I was outdoors. But now he stayed close whenever he was allowed outside. His health began to decline, his quality of life to diminish. Once defensive about being touched, Pumpkin now began to relish the attention.

Pumpkin trusting, relaxed, and sound asleep just outside my office door.

Last Wednesday, my neighbor told me she’d made an appointment to have him put to sleep. This just crushed me, but I was grateful to not only be able to go along, but to hold him in my arms in his last moments on earth. After all these years – and for just this one time – I gave Pumpkin a kiss on the forehead.

Sweet dreams, little one. You were loved.

 

The Mayor

/ still a dreamer / 6 Comments

Pumpkin can be one tough customer. Cats tend to have a lot more rules than dogs to begin with, but Pumpkin has serious rules, especially regarding where you can touch him. And sometimes even when.

He belongs to the people next door, and is an indoor/outdoor cat. At night, he’s in their garage with his bed, food, water, litter. Days, he’s out. Let me state first that he has me totally wrapped around his paw. And that’s OK by me. I put food out on my back porch during the day and when he’s let out of the garage, he gets breakfast, and later in the day, a snack or lunch.  He can be very affectionate at times. He likes attention … until he doesn’t. And I have become finely attuned to that subtlety.

When he was younger and feeling his best, he ruled the neighborhood. Roamed about making sure any other cats knew who was king. I call him “The Mayor.” But he’s now 12 or 13, and stiff in the joints from age and a run-in a couple years ago with some kind of moving vehicle. He recovered with a limp and just kept on going because he’s that kind of cat. Now, however, we have some new cats in the neighborhood – they’re younger, bigger, and pushy. I have some concerns about Punkie because he still thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips, and I’m not so sure that’s true.

On occasion, I hear that loud rowwwwwr sound we know cats make when one is challenging another. Because I work from home, I can usually hop outside and chase the intruder away, if Pumpkin hasn’t already. The other night was one of those times.

It was nearly 7 pm, dark, very cold, with winds about 25 mph. The people next door hadn’t gotten home yet to put him in, but I expected they would be soon. I was reading when I heard that keening sound. I jumped up, put on the back porch light, and headed down my driveway to the street. There they were, three of them, like points on a triangle – Pumpkin, Yellow from across the street, and the tuxedo newcomer who’s been pushing up on Pumpkin lately.

“What’s going on here?” I yelled in my most taking-no-nonsense voice.

They turned and briefly looked at me, but not moving an inch or taking their eyes off one another for more than two seconds.

“You!” I shouted to the tuxedo. “Get going!” He knows I mean business, and ran down the street.

“You, too, Yellow!”

Yellow just stared at me.

I took a few steps into the road and yelled again, “I mean it!” And he ran back to his house.

I turned and started towards my back porch. “C’mon, Pumpkin, let’s get you fed and safe and inside for the night.”

Still puffed to twice his size in fight-ready mode, tail held high, he looked at me as we walked. “I sure showed them,” he said with a satisfied sort of look on his face.

“Yeah, tough guy, you sure did.”