So in June we closed on our house here in Tennessee and moved in. Then I promptly broke my foot, rather Molly did. Then as I was recovering Mom didn’t want to be topped so she broke her leg. Now, that brings us to September. I’m finally getting out and getting shots of our new community to do a post.
That’s our post office for our little unincorporated community. It doesn’t have drive thorugh drop-off boxes if you want something fancy like that you’ll have to drive to Loretto, TN to the south or Lawrenceburg, TN to the north. We don’t have a grocery store. The only gas station is a mile off on Rabbit Trail Road. Our population is a whopping 5,068. Below are the highlights of town (honestly almost all of town.)
As you know our last kitty died while we were on our cruise in February. I do not do well without a kitty. Plans were to get a kitten when the spring kitten season came. Then the move developed and we decided it wasn’t fair to get a kitten and put them right into a big move like that. So revised plans were to get one once we got into our house in Tennessee.
Then we came to be shown around the property and how to tend the sprinkler system, hot tub, security system, and what not by the previous owners. The wife commented that where they were going they couldn’t take their cat. He was just over a year old and she was going to place an ad in the paper to give him away. Well, you know what I said. “We’ll take him!” So Jack the cat conveyed with the house to us.
He was a garage kitty when we got him but he’s now a house cat. He is silly kittenish and flops rather than lies down. For this Mike calls him FIFA Jack because he’s as good at falling to fake a foul as any pro He’s playful and loving. We were told he didn’t like being held but he climbs into my lap and cries to be picked up.
At first he was scared of Molly, she’s a big dog compared to the little Shiz-tu he knew. However they made friends and now I live with two romping children. They tag one another then play chase around the kitchen, living room, bedroom, bath loop. He likes to get behind a door and jump out at Molly who doggie laughs then chases him to nose tag him and it starts again.
He’s very into jingle ball and was disappointed to see that it wasn’t an Olympic sport. He’s now made it a mission between eating, napping, and playing to see that feline jingle ball is taken seriously as a 3am sport to be played on hardwood floors near sleeping humans.
Jack is a very welcome addition to our family. I’ll tell you more as we get to know one another and he matures.
This was inspired by the question “Where is home?” in An Old Friend From Far Away by Natalie Goldburg. Actually the question I get asked a lot but never quite know how to answer is “Where are you from?” Now I know people who knew me in school would shout Tennessee but honestly I’ve lived out of Tennessee longer than I lived in it. Honestly if you count the years in one place Kenosha, Wisconsin is where I’ve lived the longest in my life.
Sorry I missed posting yesterday but I was recovering. Monday had a follow up with the surgeon, things are going well but healing more slowly than he expected. Eh, I felt fine until he poked me – then I was sore. The next day I worked a double shift – 10 hours on my feet. So yesterday was spent recovering. Now I’m good to go! So excuse the missed day I have a doctor’s note.
I promised way back when I introduced my furry entourage that I’d fill in each’s individual story. Today let me tell you about Miss Mo our senior entourage member.
Actually Mo is short for Mohican as she’s the sole survivor of her litter. The Last Mohican if you will. It all started when I was taking our dear Popcorn (a Siamese kitty we had for 17 years) to the vet for a pain shot. She was dying of intestinal cancer the best we could do was manage her pain and watch for signs that it was the end. As I’m pulling into the vet’s parking lot I dodge the mashed box in the road. Just as I turn I see a cute tabby kitten face peep out of the open edge of the box. OMG there’s a baby kitten in there! I stopped and grabbed the box.
Teenage Miss Mo with her distinctive tail
I struggled into the vet’s with the nasty disintegrating box that had more than one kitten in it, some not moving and a yowling Popcorn in her carrier. Popcorn was never one not to vocalize her opinions, especially when she wasn’t treated as the Queen she was. I explained to the receptionist what the box was she looked in and quickly disappeared with it to the back. Popcorn and I took our seats in the waiting room.
There had been five kittens in the box when it was taped shut and dumped in the road in front of the vet’s office. Two survived the hit by a car who probably never knew there was life in that box. The vet made me a deal – he’d treat the survivors if I’d give them a home or find them a home among those I trusted. He knew I took good care of my pets and if I couldn’t provide a home I’d not let them go to one that wasn’t up to my standards. I agreed.
Only the female tabby whose face I saw in the opening made it. She had a broken pelvis. She lost her plume of a tail. She had a respiratory infection that was so bad her sinus infection abscessed out her jaw. Such a horrid 6 weeks of life she’d had. When she was ready she came home but had to be restricted to a small space while her pelvis healed. A good friend loaned her extra large dog carrier for the purpose. There Miss Mo got an efficiency apartment. Tiny litter pan in the back, bed in the front, food bowls opposite the bed. She did well but wasn’t fully weaned so I had to feed her with a nursing bottle twice a day as she adapted to cat food.
To our joy and Popcorn’s chagrin Mo became a healthy romping kitten. Oh when we were around PC would act all Archie Bunker grump to the kitten but there were moments when she didn’t know I was looking I’d see her groom the kitten as they curled up together in a chair. PC slept at my feet and Mo slept by my shoulder on nights Mike was away. As PC became more ill I was grateful for the new joyous life to lift her spirits and ours. I can’t say it eased the pain when the cancer won, but it was better to come home to house that still had a kitty presence. One that I knew PC loved despite not ever admitting it openly to me.
Miss Mo and Mr Boots Red wait for their nightly pills
Mo is still skittish of strangers but trusts me implicitly. I have to say I treasure that trust and like to think I redeemed humanity a bit in one kitty’s eyes. Her rough start has haunted her all her life but it’s not slowed her down. She’s knock-kneed in her back legs making her running look more like hopping and her walk look so prissy. Her tail is a powder puff instead of a full plume. She eats from the side of her mouth that didn’t abscess at such an early age because the jaw is stronger there. Arthritis set in early due to all the bone damage, which meant regular meds to manage it. She now has kidney problems because they were always less than optimum from the damage but now that’s complicated by renal insufficiency from old age. Another daily pill is required to manage that. Still none of this stopped her from feeling safe in her home and enjoying being a kitten and later a cat.
We got Mo when Aaron was in first grade. When it was time to take her in to be spay I explained to Aaron that Mo was having surgery to be “fixed.” When we picked her up at the vet I was paying (he only billed me cost for his Miracle Kitty) and Aaron was on the floor peering into the carrier. From the floor came shout, “Hey MOM! They didn’t fix her – her tail is still too SHORT!” The whole office laughed!
Mo is now comfortable enough to boot the dog from her bed. Home is the SAFE place.
Now Miss Mo is in her senior years being the rich old age of 12 despite all her set backs. She’s a wisp of a kitty struggling to keep weight on, but still on good days she romps with Mr. Puss Blue. She still rather do the steps herself thank-you and the litter box belongs in the laundry room no second one on this level is acceptable. She has a ramp to her bed and steps to her perch. She’ll jump into chairs on good days and yowl for help to get there on bad ones. Real bad ones she sleeps on her blanket where two radiators meet in living room. In the winter she burrows into blankets to sleep, keeping old damaged bones warm. So check the folds of that Afghan before sitting on it. She still plays with her pompom toys and grooms them – we call them her babies. She’s as vocal as Popcorn was once she mastered the ability to make a noise after recovering from the abscess years ago. Today she likes her cuddles first thing in the morning. She sits patiently and takes her pills in the evening to snap up the treat chaser. She’s even taught Mr. Boots Red (who now has to take a pill nightly) just how this med thing is done.
Here’s to many more years with our precious wisp of a survivor. Until next time!
Great Smoky Mtn Heritage Center Townsend TN by me, more photos here
WOW! The holiday whirlwind has hit. Ours this year comes with some unique extras! I’ve got surgical restrictions through December – no heavy lifting. So picking Mr. Red the chubby kitty is OUT, never mind lugging packages. Oh and I hope to be starting a part-time job. More on that when I know it.
Aaron has finals to get through then packing up and moving out of his house. He’s off to boot camp and other schools as of January 2nd. Needless to say he’s a bit stressed! Uh yeah, we’re selling his car too so no insurance while he’s gone for 5 months. Then when he gets back we’ll help him get another one.
Mike has school on-line and preparing for going there in person in January. I’m going too but for me it’ll be a week of writing on the beach away from the Wisconsin winter!
Did I mention in the middle of this we’re going to do Christmas and New Years? uh- yeah. Busy busy BUT that’s what life is for – to DO THINGS. So I’m livin’ baby I’m livin’!
Be back soon with MORE stuff! Until next time, don’t eat too many holiday cookies.
I’m not a gardener, never have been, never will be. It’s just not in me. I find it miserable work. Though I enjoy the fruits of the labor be they flowers, vegetables, or fruit. If I had to do it I would. Mike on the other hand finds it relaxing. He likes to garden and looks forward to it. It’s beyond me just like my comic book hobby is beyond him. He appreciates it makes me happy. I appreciate produce and flowers.
Join me as I checked in on Mike’s garden. It’s coming along fine. The kritters enjoyed watching me take photos of the garden. Except Rappy, she slept in the sun. Can’t say I blame her.
How in the heck Mike gets in there to bring in the harvests he does is beyond me. I think of gardens as being measured in portions of an acre with nice wide rows not a jungle where if you step wrong you crush your next harvest. It’s his garden done his way. Left to me, I’d be living in a condo but it makes him happy. So there for the dense garden makes me happy.
Mike says he can always tell when I’m coming into a room because I’m preceded by my furry entourage. Currently there are four members, and yes at home you generally find them with me. Part of that is I work from home and they are social creatures, so we hang together. Part of it I like to think is because I’m the Queen, the leader of the pack, the big honcho of the house, you get the idea. To show no particular favoritism we’ll go in order of age with oldest first.
Miss Mo
Meet Miss Mo. Her name is Mohican because she’s the sole survivor of her litter. I’ll tell her full biography in her own post. However when Aaron was little he dubbed her Kitty Mo. Over the years it has become Miss Mo about the time the furry boys got their Mr. designation. Her position in my entourage is princess. She’s the most verbal of the entourage so she does announcements such as “The stinky dog is getting up and stirring up her doggie smell.” Now that she’s older there’s many “pick me up and put me_____ .” She’s arthritic now being old and can’t jump up on seats or beds as easily as before. So once we settle into a room like my office she might shout to be put on the chair next to me. Generally she brings up the end being knocked kneed and all.
The next two are brothers, litter mates even. So again in no particular order we’ll start with Mr. Boots Red aka Mr. I-eat-it.
Mr. Boots Red
He and his brother were fostered by us and came named Puss & Boots. However when I got collars by chance he got the red one since the brothers look very much alike (more so when they were young) Mike took to calling them by their collar color. Along the years they got full names with Mr. on them.
His job is being the troublemaker. If there’s a crash in the room he’ll be the one casually strolling out tail up trying to look nonchalant. “What crash? You heard a crash?” He’ll dart around the entourage very unregal like – much to the disgust of his very proper brother and Miss Mo. Also if there’s anything new he’ll eat it. You have to put ear buds in drawers because he’ll eat the cords and gnaw the buds. He’s the only cat I’ve ever known that will eat fruit. Thus his nickname is I-eat-it because that’s what he says when he encounters something “I eat it!” then he inspects it. He’s the least verbal of the felines but will speak if he feels he needs my immediate attention.
Mr. Puss Blue
Meet Mr. Red’s brother Mr. Blue our gentleman feline. He’s the alpha among the animals of the house but defers to me or Mike in a very courtly manner when we’re present. He’s very nice and polite. He’s always tried to divide his time evenly among those humans in a room. He’d visit each person to sit with them. When I’m writing like now chances are he’ll be lounging on the back of my chair with his front paw on my shoulder. When he enters a room he always greets me with a short chirped “Meow-meow.” I do the same in return and it’s become a way I can call just him.
Arapaho’s Ace
Finally one you saw yesterday Arapaho’s Ace aka Rappy. She’s a retired racing greyhound. She’s a very timid girl but over the years of retired life she’s come out of her shell. Still she’s the gawky large member of the entourage that always waits for the others to get settled in the room then she settles. She’s bossed about by the felines, yes a dog who made her living chasing small furry things on sticks cowers now follows the small furry ones in our house. Honestly she’s not the smartest animal I’ve ever known. Actually she’s one the slowest and simplest animals I ever met second only to Chatterbox (a cat I’ll tell her tale another day).
So that’s my in house entourage. From the gentleman feline to the demur simple greyhound. I love them all each has a special place in my heart.
As always thanks for reading. I’d love to hear from you feel free to comment or contact me. Also likes and star ratings make me smile. Until next time!
Mary Louise Eklund 