Just about three weeks ago our kitty, Hendrix, couldn’t overcome the series of opportunistic infections caused by his feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV). After 6 months of pushing the furry little patient through the treatment wringer, I know he quickly found Prince’s afterworld – you know the one, a world of never ending happiness, where you can always see the sun, day or night? Whatever afterlife Hendrix has found, I’m confident that he’s already attended his first Meetup for enlightened cats, along with Murphy, Maddie, Rumi, and all of the other felines that have passed through my life, and that they are discussing their liberation from my attachment to them.
During this same three week period, Atlanta’s crazy weather (I had nothing to do with it) sucked the life out of two juniper bonsai trees and another tree that I was hoping to turn into a bonsai – a mugo pine, or as I prefer to say out loud with a
Latin Latino accent: “pinus mugo”.
With all of this death and sadness, it was a relief to have one of those Saturdays with no accomplishments expected. Our only plan was to celebrate the birth of Dr. R. while eating an early French food dinner (while speaking in Russian accents) including a John Cusack in Better off Dead menu of frawnch fries, frawnch dressing, frawnch bread, and to drink: Ta-da! Peru!
So Gheebean, the cat formerly known as Butterbean, and I spent the day yesterday on the back porch watching life. (FYI: I decided on this name change during yoga on Friday when my teacher, Stephanie, told me that my Prasarita Padottanasana C was “like ghee”. I have not yet discussed this with Doc. B but kitty is answering to it when I have treats in my hand).
To ensure that Gheebean and I weren’t only watching fly-bye’s of pollen spores and the Atlanta Police Department criminal tracking Helicopters, I first mounted (should I have chosen a different word?) the new bluebird house that I purchased from our friend KO (who also makes cool things like jewelry and clocks). Then I cleaned the bird bath, topped off the water fountain as though it were a vodka tonic with lime, and refilled the bird feeders. Who needs Walter Reeves to tell you how to attract birds; my suet cake brings all the birds to the yard. Oh come on, sing it with me, you know you want to. And besides, Pharrell Williams would be happy. (Note to Mom: please don’t Google Kelis’ “my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard” co-written by Pharrell).
Before I could get comfortably settled into the porch love seat and finish clipping my nails, Gheebean and I were swarmed by birds. A towhee in the birdbath, red winged blackbirds on the feeder, a red headed woodpecker on the fence post, robins and cardinals on the Persimmon tree and a flock of cedar waxwings (no, not seagulls) in the water fountain. Minutes later a chickadee kept checking out the bluebird house. Within the hour, at least one bluebird decided to put the semi-private quarters on its top three list for House Hunters (or should it be House Hunters International?). It’s raining today so I can’t tell who, if anyone, prevailed in the battle for the bird bungalow. But I guess its first come, first served since I’m not asking for a pet deposit or references.
By the way, if you clip your nails on the back porch and your neighbor, Wilson, is in her back yard to hear it, does it become like clipping your nails in your work cubicle? Personal hygiene care at work drives my crazy – especially when it’s toenail clippings flying over the cube. Seriously, I’ve witnessed this.
I suppose in the end, if you pay a friend to build it, they will come. It may not be the guests you want but as Rumi said back in the 1200’s, “This being human is a guesthouse, every morning a new arrival…be grateful for whatever comes…” (after references to Prince, Saturday Night Live’s Mike Myers, Better off Dead, Pharrell and Kelis, I needed to heavy it up a bit).
p.s. Happy Birthday HQ – better half (nah, it’s a toss-up) of KO!