Posted tagged ‘meowing’

“He yawned like a black bear coming out of hibernation.”

November 18, 2017

The sun has disappeared. Nothing is moving. The day is warm and quiet. Gracie and I went out first thing. She went into the backyard and I got the papers in the front. When we came back inside, Maddie gave me her demanding meow, loud and annoying, so I fed her first. Gracie was next, and I, as usual, was last. It’s two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast later, one with grape jelly my friend made.

I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the return of the gray day, but I have very little energy today. I even sat a while between cups of coffee, most unusual for me. Luckily, I have no plans for the day, no errands and no chores. I do have book two in the series by Elly Griffiths so perhaps the couch will be my spot for the day and turning pages my only activity.

I send cards for every holiday. That started when I was in college. My grandparents were around then, and one of my grandmothers was thrilled to get them. She was the one who wanted to be teacher so she loved that I was. I enjoy choosing the cards and lament my Hallmark store having closed. The closest one is in Orleans which always feels far but is only 12 or so miles away. When I was in Ghana, I made cards for every holiday except Christmas as I could find those. I used to go through magazines and cut out words and letters to make my cards, They looked more like ransom demands than cards. The Christmas cards I sent were wonderful. Some were hand-painted but even the ones commercially made were different. They had African nativity scenes, drummers, palm trees and even a camel or two. Each time I went back to Ghana, I was excited to find cards for Christmas. They went to family and special friends. I always send Edward Gorey cards to every one else for Christmas. I love his whimsey. The Edward Gorey house is in Yarmouth, and I go there to buy my cards. I remember last year I was afraid I had already sent all the available scenes but was glad to find one more. I’m hoping for the same this year.

I’ve started yawning which gives you a sense of today and the weather and today and me.

“I like it where it gets dark at night, and if you want noise, you have to make it yourself.”

August 5, 2016

My usual quiet morning disappeared with the jarring sounds of saws and wood chippers. The house on the corner is minus a tree, but I don’t know which one as the truck obscures my view. It is the house of a new neighbor whom I met only once when I introduced myself. Earlier, she had a backyard fence added for her dogs, and in taking down a tree she is beginning to make the house her own.

Last night was a delight. It was actually cold enough for a blanket. When I woke up, the house was only 67˚. Gracie was again lying right beside me and Fern was at my feet. Fern comes upstairs, jumps on the bed and meows over and over until I wake up and pat her. After I do, she settles in on the bed.

The noise stopped for a while giving me hope that my quiet morning is back. I was wrong. It is even noisier than it was. I wish I were a cat. Both of my cats are sleeping soundly.

Sounds like bells or buzzers I can tune out after a while. Other noises, especially loud noises, seem larger than their reality, and this truck is one of them. It intrudes. It makes me grimace in annoyance. I want it gone. I want my morning back.

Yesterday was one of my most constructive days of late though that’s not really saying much. I did two loads of laundry, swept and wet mopped the kitchen floor, dusted down the stairs covered as they were with dust balls and cat hair and watered the plants. By the afternoon, I was tired and sweaty and on went the air conditioner. I have to make a dump run, but I’m leaning toward Monday. I feel lazy today.

I’m thinking of spending the afternoon on the deck. The breeze is wonderful, and my table is under shade from the trees. Gracie always follows me out and sleeps where the deck right angles. It too is a shady spot.

It’s getting on to lunch time. I’m thinking grill cheese.

“Well, this is not a boat accident! And it wasn’t any propeller; and it wasn’t any coral reef; and it wasn’t Jack the Ripper! It was a shark.”

June 28, 2016

Today is overcast and humid. We never got any rain. I was disappointed. Yesterday I needed the air conditioner. Gracie was panting the whole afternoon, and I started to get sweaty from the humidity. Such a lovely visual! The house cooled down nicely, and I slept well.

Fern is feeling better. She is back to her favorite spots for sleeping and hasn’t hidden in a few days. This morning she woke me up at 6 by meowing in my face. She has taken to doing that the last few days. I pat her and try to go back to sleep. In my world 6 is far too early. Today I made it to 6:45. Fern is back to sleep. Somehow that’s just wrong!

I wear my cozy clothes around the house. Getting dressed is only for errands. My pants are cotton with weird designs which would cause staring in public. I wear teeshirts and go barefoot. The deck is as far as I go outside clad as I am. I always hope no one rings the bell.

With July 4th coming I have to choose my movie. Independence Day, Jaws and 1776 are the choices. I like Jaws the most. It takes place on Cape Cod though Amity Island doesn’t exist. The film was shot on Martha’s Vineyard. I can’t think of a movie with a better opening or better music. The girl in the water, the first victim, swims to ballet music then she is thrashed back and forth. We never see what has hold of her. We just know because we are the shark in that scene. Ask anyone the sound of the shark music, and I suspect most people can tell you by sort of singing it: duunnn dunnn… duuuunnnn duun… duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun …

 

I consider that about the scariest music because we all know what’s coming and it is terrifying.  That shark kept people out of the water the summer it was released. Now we have several Great Whites off the coast of Chatham. They already have a soundtrack.

“It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.”

February 4, 2016

Some mornings I am Cinderella. Blue birds are singing and helping me get dressed. They alight on my shoulder and tweet a lovely song. The world is a happy place. Today is not one of those mornings. The phone woke me up, but I didn’t answer. I knew it was the first robocall. Several more will follow. I went back to sleep. Fern woke me up with her constant meowing. I tried to ignore her, but she was far too loud and grating. The meowing was my fault-the water dish was almost empty. I filled it and went back to bed. Gracie then got restless and went downstairs. I tried to go back to sleep. It didn’t work. I went to brush my teeth and found a cat had been sick on the hall floor. I cleaned it up. Next I went downstairs, ran out into the pouring rain and got my paper. I then noticed the dog had gotten sick on the rug. She always aims for that rug. I cleaned it up. The coffee went on. I started to read the paper and then I realized it was quiet: all the animals were sleeping. That was my morning.

On winter days the choices were limited. After school we’d bike if the weather was winter warm. Snow still on the ground meant sledding but only for a few runs. The dark came early. By twilight we were done. On really cold days we were stuck inside school during the day and in the house the rest of the time. The walk home was our only outside and it was freezing.

Most times I never minded staying inside. I’d cozy up with a book. That was all I needed. Sometimes, though, I’d get bored. There was nothing to do. I couldn’t go outside and risk frostbite. Good TV was an hour or so away. I didn’t want to read anymore. I didn’t want to talk anybody. I didn’t know what I wanted.

I still get bored. Sometimes I just throw up my hands in surrender and go take a nap.  Other times Gracie and I go for a ride. I never stay bored long. There are so many choices now, but I usually seem to choose the standby, reading. The afternoon disappears while I’m caught by a book. I forget about boredom.

“I have cats because they have no artificially imposed, culturally prescribed sense of decorum. They live in the moment. If I had an aneurysm in the brain, and dropped dead, I love knowing that as the paramedics carry me out, my cats are going to be swatting at that little toe tag.”

June 26, 2015

The morning is dark, wet and chilly. It is the sort of weather which dampens energy and enthusiasm. I heard one bird loudly singing and hoping, I think, others would join him in a morning song. None did, and now he is gone and the day is quiet, almost silent. The leaves on the oak tree ruffle a bit but not enough to make any sound. The silence is a bit eerie.

It rained earlier this morning and looks as if it may rain again. The rain must have been more of mist as the deck under the furniture never got wet. It is a good day to stay home.

Fern woke me up this morning. She was meowing over and over. I pretended to be asleep. She jumped on the bed and head butted my arm then licked my hand hoping for a response. I ignored her and she finally fell asleep beside me; however, she is still restless, the only one of my pets not asleep on the couch with me. This is their morning nap time, not to be confused with their afternoon or evening naps, but Fern is now standing in the doorway outside this room and meowing.

We always had pets when I was a kid. We had goldfish which never lasted very long. I always figured they were bored with life in a glass bowl. We had a turtle from Woolworth’s which lived for years. His plastic enclosure had a fake palm tree and a little island. We loved stunning flies to feed him as he preferred them alive. We’d put the fly in the bowl and watch it skimming the water while the turtle was swimming over to dine. We had a parakeet, a green one, and a couple of chameleons, whose color varied based on surroundings. I had two hamsters, both males according to the pet store. They had a litter. Go figure! Duke, our boxer, was around the whole of my childhood. He died when I was in college. Duke is the reason I love boxers. We had cats, Gideon, being the first followed by Luther and Josh. I don’t ever remember a time in my life when I didn’t have a pet to love and be loved in return.