reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: cat


by 1 Comment

gracie-cat. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

gracie – like babycat – followed the sun. gracie – like babycat – sought snuggles…on her terms. gracie – like babycat – adored food time. gracie – like babycat – spent long periods of time curled up or stretched out sleeping. gracie – unlike babycat – is a farmcat.

she lives outside on the iowa farm, a heated waterbowl on the south side of the house. her food is by the front door and is moved inside at night, so other critters aren’t attracted. you can watch her hunting out in the fields and i shudder to think of what her successes have been. she is free to come and go. i nicknamed her “sweetie” last time we stayed on the airbnb farm and it stuck; she came to any singsong call.

we’d find her – in early morningtime – curled up in the pillows on the porch bench swing on the east side of the house, sunrise warming her. out the dining room windows or the old door to the porch we could see her, eyes closed or maybe just waking, yawning her way into the day. the moment she sensed you were watching, she’d jump down and make a beeline to the door as if to remind you of your veryimportantwork of putting out her food dish.

as the family gathered, everyone adored gracie-cat. she was the belle of the ball, wandering from person to person, collecting sweet nothings. a darling of the farm, this cat was a generous hostess.

there wasn’t much about this farmhouse that wasn’t charming. there wasn’t much about this farm that wasn’t charming. the old silos and barns and sheds – a photographer’s dream. simplicity and tradition, passed-down.

we watched the comings and goings of big farm equipment, witnessed the field on the east side cut down, watched multiple pick-up trucks in and out of the long driveway. it’s a working farm and it’s spring, so it’s busy. we cannot understate how much work it all must be and, though we were unable to see activity from where we stood by the stand of trees with the hammock, we knew all the farms in the distance – close-up and far – were ever as busy.

we went outside in the night. looking in the direction of my favorite two trees, a line of lights on the far horizon…likely farm lights down another country road.

we looked up. the big dipper greeted us and other constellations vied for our attention. we felt tiny. the sky stretched further than we could see.

somewhere out there gracie was likely hunting. she didn’t come around as we stood in the grass. cats are independent creatures, after all.

and babycat – in the plane of the universe that beloved cats go – gave her a high five. “do what you want,” he telepathed to her, knowing full well that first thing in the morning – as the sun rose over the fields and tickled the porch swing – she’d be there waiting, just as he always was. different but the same.

just like people.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

click here or QR if you’d like to support our content creation xoxo


by 1 Comment

a hub. [two artists tuesday]

in the late afternoon, the sun streams in the west windows and lights up the sitting room. it is the coziest of cozy rooms with the comfiest old slipcovered couch, smushy fur throw pillows, sherpa blanket. good lamps, happy lights and no television make it the perfect place to share time with a book. we love sitting there.

the sitting room had history as a cozy room. many years ago it was the only room in the house with a tv. when my children were little-little they watched mr. rogers and thomas-the-tank-engine and sesame street in there. my son lined up matchbox cars on the rug and my daughter sang and danced with barney and the gang. the little mermaid and the lion king and sing-along songs were on regular line-up. a small room, it was a hub of activity for small babies and toddlers. we danced for hours to the grapevine song and woke up the household on saturday mornings to brother band’s bagpipes.

the giant tv went to the curb and someone picked it up with a wagon and toted it away. the camelback rolled-arm loveseat, much worse for wear, took its own turn at the curb and the old couch from the living room donned a slipcover and – with great effort by my son and me – made its way into the cattycorner.

then, there was a period of time it was a little bit ignored. more of a pass-through than a room, it begged attention, some of our time.

and now, the rickety old farm table is next to the couch and holds an antique clock that magically stopped at 11:11, some dried flowers and charlie – the heart-shaped philodendron who clearly loves being the star of the room. beautiful paintings and an old screen door. and the sunlight greets us every afternoon and each time we walk from the hall into the bedroom or vice-versa.

it is easy to sink down into the couch and close one’s eyes. we know this from experience. it’s a really good nap couch. i wonder how it would have been for two toddlers on the move. i suspect it would have been a good addition back then. funny how cozy takes over somewhere along the way.

loveseats are good – and quite lovely. but couches – the kind you can sink down into – read a book together on opposite ends leaning back on fuzzy overstuffs, under a blanket – are better. looking back i can see that now. smushy > camelback. this would have been a better couch back then. hindsight. sigh.

lounging on the sofa the other day i closed my eyes, but not in sleep. for a moment, i could hear the tiny voices of my children – decades ago – as they played on the rug and sang along, “it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…”, “under the sea”, “i love you. you love me”, “colors of the wind”. wistful moments. time flies by. our home holds us, ever-watchful.

i looked at the changes of the sitting room. a serene spot in the house, a place to think back and re-relish earlier times. times of barbies and baby dolls, stacks of books, matchbox cars and balls of every sport. growing children, dogs, a cat. it was a hub back then. it’s a different kind of hub now. and i’m eternally grateful for both.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


by Leave a comment

babycat. [two artists tuesday]

his long white whisker was on the black rug in the sunroom. i bent down and picked it up, my heart aching for this sweet adored cat no longer here. i taped it to a piece of colored paper, trying to hold on to babycat physically just a little longer.

b-cat was twelve. according to the almanac that’s about 64. it hadn’t occurred to me or us that he was a senior cat; he was simply our babycat and his presence was more than one-fourth of our home. his absence has made a profound impact; it is very very quiet. it’s not that he was that noisy, although he was a vocal cat. it’s just that he was that present. for each of us.

i was alone last week when it happened. in an unusual turn d was away and i was home. monday was a day of sorting and cleaning and rearranging. babycat spent the day in the same room as me and split his time between snoozing and pets. nothing out of the ordinary, just extraordinarily normal. tuesday morning was unexpected and will break my heart for some time to come. suddenly symptomatic and ultimately laying down behind a chair i never remember him exploring, i knew things were dreadfully wrong. racing babycat in his blanketed dog-crate (since he was too big for cat carriers) to an urgent veterinarian appointment, i spoke to him the entire way while he loudly meowed and i could feel hope leaving my body. there are moments that feel surreal and, like other losses in my life, this was one. over a covid-enforced veterinary facetime app, a very kind and compassionate doctor explained the xray she had immediately taken and the dire implications of all that she could see suddenly impacting our beloved cat. babycat gave us no time to make longer term treatment decisions. he died on that tuesday morning in march, almost twelve years since my life had been graced by him as a kitten. and, in the way that death changes everything, i won’t be the same without him.

i’ve seen bumper stickers with pawprints that read “who rescued who?” each time i nod my head, understanding. babycat came to me at a time of great need. my girl and my boy and i drove to florida to pick up this kitten who had come to stay at my niece’s doorstep, with no evidence of a missing owner. a first-time-cat-family, we drove “cat”, who we were having trouble naming, all the way home, trying to figure out how to feed and water and potty-break a cat on the way, when all our experience was dog-based. somewhere along the way babycat was named “wilson” but he chose to never answer to that and picked “babycat” as his given name. we taught him to sit, to beg, to come when called. he meowed when we said “speak” and was a lot more dog than cat in many ways.

babycat – in the wisdom of the animal kingdom – followed me around in moments of loneliness, insisted on regimented times for meals, showed me that the sun on the rug in the living room was something to soak up, sat with me on the floor. baby-the-c’s constant companionship was my solace in empty-nest-initiation and his lack of stealth was a bit of noise i desperately needed around me. so much to say about that little creature. yes, who rescued who?

his absence now is, if possible, even bigger than his presence. babycat love – ours and his – surrounds me.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


by Leave a comment

welcome…. [flawed cartoon wednesday]

MiceWelcomeMat BIGcopy copy 2

we have had a recurring theme this past fall, winter and spring.  last week, while cleaning the burner plates on our old stove, i found a cache of dog biscuits hidden underneath.  now, you wonder how that happened?  next to our stove, we keep a beautiful pottery tray that judy gave us.  on it we keep dog biscuits (“cookies” we call them.)  since i have talked about mysterious appearances of dog biscuits before, i am sure you are connecting the dots.

oh yes.  somehow those little dickens carried about ten dog biscuits from the tray to under the burner plates.  they had little picnics under there, until they realized the weather under there was pretty arid, even acrid, as the dog biscuits turned darker and darker and were burned on the edges.  ummm….that could have been a disaster!  what on earth is babycat doing all day and night?  clearly he is not paying attention!if you'd like to see FLAWED CARTOON

so, as incorrect as this flawed cartoon may be, it really does make me laugh.  babycat needs to take a lesson…a little more cunning could go a long way.

 

 

FLAWED CARTOON WEDNESDAY – ON OUR SITE

read DAVID’S thoughts on this FLAWED CARTOON WEDNESDAY

hey! who got us a welcome mat? ©️ 2016 david robinson, kerri sherwood