Thursday, January 19, 2017

A Fruitful Year in Retrospect


This is Malka, senior cat, putting paws to keyboard. Yes, the Collective has taken an irresponsibly long time to add a post, but we have had an eventful year (oops, several years, but I am reporting on 2016). Several of us required special vet visits because of certain internal problems that can develop as we age. In the case of one of us, the problem might be identified rather as over indulgence in pleasures of the palate. No name is being mentioned although I could point a paw toward a stomach.

Last winter our garden finally received enough of a drenching to satisfy thirsty trees and plants. Backyard Pelagiamiru, our outside Collective members ignored the damp to keep up their duties of catching trespassers and thieves. Possums and hummingbirds have been granted special shopping passes, albeit with reluctance. They are reputed not to pay their food bills. The ABCD Collective has been very generous to the neighborhood hungry, but if we are to survive, our labors must produce an income. Which reminds me that I proposed restoring the sign that stated no admittance to our house without at least one appropriate treat per Collective member. Note, human animals consider it impolite not to bring the host or hostess a gift when making a visit. There are seven of us, excluding humans. Please, no toys. We are no longer kittens, puppies, or bald birdie babies, and our tummies have grown up, too. I’m not sure if the macaws agree, but as they napping, I’ve chosen not to get their opinion.

It was a lovely, sunny summer. Too hot for us to hustle about governing our household property. Naturally things scuttled about, got muddled or dirty, when the flick of a tail should have swept detritus away to reestablish order. Esmeralda is the spriest of us, yet she settled for chasing us about with her fierce eyes and a show of unclipped claw. Escaping a swipe was the most exercise Whiskers, Yotur and I could manage.

Grapes and apples ripened first. A glorious crop of all the varieties we grow, except for Cox Orange Pippin apples. Perhaps San Jose’s warm climate inhibits them. Figs were a complete disappointment, nothing but dried drops, despite repeated threats that unproductive trees could be subject to removal, final destination not described. Birdo was pleased with the pomegranate crop count. Not a single pom disappeared before harvest. The pruned persimmon tree has outdone itself. Enough fruit for a bountiful share to go to Collective friends with some tip-top persimmons left for the tweeties. Personally, I’m not a fruit fancier. Catnip, now that’s worth the effort to cultivate.

Enough news for you? Then I’ll close with our holiday festivities. A satisfying solstice banquet was provided. We, miri, prefer to hold our own lunar party for Mother Uma, but dogs and birds love Lord Sun, so, coats groomed, feathers fluffed and straightened, we creatures obligingly raised our voices in semi-harmonious tribute to the author of our fate. After which hymn or because of which, begging bowls were topped with favorite tidbits and Willis Avenue settled down to enjoy the peace we all deserve. In the darkening evening of the year we respectfully remembered our mentor, Grandpa, sire of the front yard Tatamiru family, who returned to his ancestors on a night this past mid-summer.

New Year's Carol
(use any appropriate tune or melodic collection of sounds)
"Meow, meow, woof, woof, and squawk
Sing we among the catnip leaves.
Our wassail bowls brim with broth
And heartily we feed on fish
(or beefy bits, pecans and fruit).
To all our furred and feathered friends
We carol out good wishes for
More food filled days and comfy beds (or perches)
In this New Year we celebrate."

I forgot to record that Moritz of the Max and Moritz act, has reappeared without his partner brother. He didn’t rate a rousing welcome, gave no account of missing Max, but space for an extra bowl was assigned him in the back patio. Like a typical traveling showman, he arrives, brags of important engagements, and disappears again to a whisker waving of relief.

Tail up, whiskers alert, claws polished, I am prepared to swagger forward into the future.  

Submitted by Malka Ilka