(C) James Hammond, https://www.flickr.com/photos/jameshammond/
Last night we packed up Desi, his bed, brush, treats, catnip, etc…and moved him to his new temporary home here in Seattle. I spent last night with Des in his new digs and will spend one more night here while he is adapting. Meanwhile, Stewart has been successfully ensuring Gus and HarLee have parental supervision to keep them from making prank calls and TPing the neighbors.
Gus ‘n HarLee
Monday afternoon, Stew and I will cat-herd Gus and Harlee to the car and head south to Oregon, where they will vacation and spa for two years with some lovely ladies. We’ll spend one night with the kids there to help them become accustomed to their new world, before we come back to Seattle for the final push.
By August 1st, this branch of the Carringtons will find themselves depending on the ‘kindness of strangers’……..well….actually the kindness of friends and family. We will essentially be homeless until we arrive in Nepal on September 7th. Wagons Ho!!!!!
The cat stretches, and then curls up like an otter, covering his eyes.
He has been watching us pack, warily, and with great trepidation. He has tired himself out by running to and fro, on things and off, sticking his nose under hands and running amok. His brother has also been watching us, although Gus is a bit more laid back, wide eyes in disbelief… we’re doing this again….not again…
Their sister, however, is the most relaxed… or is providing the best counter to all the commotion and turmoil. She has burrowed under the covers of the bed. If not aware, then at least asleep or ignoring the chaos ensuing around her.
We’ve entered the power phase. Drastic things are happening. DECISIONS are being made. I remember…I purchased that portable brass plumb-bob for my field archaeology class… We used it during the remodel of the Portland cottage… It looks cool…It has a lovely weight… It goes … away! *sobbing* “Not the plumb-bob!” … and so it goes.
We are tired. We are irritable. I say this feels an extension of the reducing of our material life during the farm exodus two years ago, finishing what we started. Vee says this cleansing is something different. Something new. Something with a little more acute pain attached.
100 pounds to each to carry. A small square of space to keep things here for return in two and a half years. The rest of your life … gone.
The soft heat and humid South inundate Mt. Juliet, TN, where Vee’s family lives. Upon arrival, the words coming from my accent-conscientious wife began stretching to meet her mother’s long vowels and soft consonants, stopping just shy of settling into a typical Southern drawl.
Both of our families’ ancestors passed through this region a number of times. Vee’s family stayed mostly on the Southern side of the state while mine slowly migrated across the Northern half before dropping down South to LA. Both of us have very strong Southern roots.
The last time we came through we rented a car, driving through the back-country to looking for relatives’ graves. We found many generations, some lying in small back-wood, back yard family plots and some in large community cemeteries, but all of them surrounded by the gentle rolling Tennessee hills and huge oak trees. It is a beautiful land for graveyards, increasingly so from the gravitas lent by dappled sunlight, humidity, and threats of heavy rains.
This time around, we have stayed close to home, enjoying the company of Vee’s mother Sue, step-father James, brother Michael and his wife, Renee. Next week we will be joined by Vee’s other brothers, completing the pack of siblings, but for now, I’m loving the time we are spending with these great, gentle people.
Although I would have a difficult time living here, I enjoy this state. Tennessee is a thriving land filled with life. Sue and James live in a rural region filled with stray cats, raccoons, coyotes, and tons of other wildlife. They keep a good sized yard, but the surrounding forest lends the idea that any taming is temporary at best. Tall trees loom everywhere with many broken branches, shattered or torn from their trunks from strong winds, and scrub and vines line any area of the yard unchecked for very long.
One of James’ cats enjoying life
James provides food and some shelter for some of the local feral cats and kittens, and in return they provide entertainment. We are often pointing out the window at some antic or cuteness being displayed in large quantity, and it has been fun walking around the darting creatures.
So now I’ve been out a few times, wandering around to inspect James’ garden or the strange limestone bedrock cracking out from the ground. This last time I was out, I picked up a few hitch-hikers. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there. You see, I itch. A lot. I have around 25 welts (now 26) from what we think are chiggers.
Chiggers are relatives of ticks and mites. They are very small and hard to see, but can cause huge damage for their size. It used to be thought that they burrowed into your skin and lived there, but more recent discoveries show that they ‘just’ inject an enzyme into skin for easier munchings, and then drop soon after. The ‘host’ often doesn’t realize they’ve been eaten until a few hours or days after the insect has gone.
Wherever they are, here or there, I’m itchy and cannot sleep.
“How’d you get so many cats? Aren’t you afraid of turning into one of those crazy cat people?”
Desmond as a Kitten
We’ve never actually sought out a feline child. But, if a kitten in need has shown up on our door step and there was ‘room at the inn’, we’ve done what we could to give them a hand.
Our past is filled with animal antidotes … the emaciated campground cat we canceled our vacation for…in order to get to the veterinary urgent care; the two feral cats who welcomed our food and make-shift shelters during their twilight years, but never allowed us to touch them; and the many cats we fostered (often during brutal winter weather) until a permanent home could be found for them. Although no longer with us, I miss every one of those feline friends. But, we’ve never taken in more than we could care for … so, no … not crazy. Well … not crazy in that manner.
HarLee as a Kitten
Our current furry kids all came to us while we were farming in Port Townsend. Desmond and Harlee were siblings we took in as part of a deal with our neighbors. If they would spay and neuter their farm cats, then we would take in their last litter. Gus, on the other hand, was already a young adult when he began appearing around our farmland. We assumed he was a ‘boarder’ at one of the neighbor’s homes. Whenever we saw him from afar, we’d talk to him and he would meow in response, but he kept his distance until one day when he showed up wounded on our door step, all skin and bones and unable to walk on one foot.
We asked around the neighborhood searching for his human family, but no one claimed the little guy, so we took him to the pet doctor for treatment and a ‘microchip check’(none found). In the weeks following, as we nursed him to health, Gus quickly let us know he was a domesticated cat, who expected to be allowed an indoor sleeping room at night. He has been with us since.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be leaving the country, if you have feline responsibilities.”
A Young Gus
Well…ouch…that one hurt. But, we totally get it. And we do see them as our responsibility. They are important to us. We love them. And please trust me when I say we are struggling with the thought of leaving our small companions in the care of others for over two years….especially when we know there is no way to explain to them that we are coming back for them. We are not ‘dumping’ or ‘abandoning’ them. We are trying to find another responsible person to care for them while we are out of the country.
Both Stew and I let intuition guide us. When we do so, things work out right and blocked paths become cleared. I have no explanation for it….but, it happens. The decision to go into Peace Corps came from nowhere and hit both of us at the same time. It was actually a little shocking to bring the subject up and find our partner having the same thoughts. Since that decision, we have been propelled quickly down a path that should have held multiple ‘stoppers’ and taken longer…..but didn’t. It is happening so fast, we can only feel it is the right direction for us to take. We are both extremely anxiety ridden about how we can make sure our babies will remain safe, while we are out of the country. But, I can’t help but believe someone out there is going to shelter our children. I know we have adjusted our lives to make room for furry kids in the past….and will most likely do it in the future. We are certainly nothing special….so, it stands to reason there are others out there willing to help us out for a couple years.
Bela, Desmond, Boo, HarLee, and Finn wondering what’s going on outside the window…
