A Night on the Town

Mittens, the little clone of her mom, stepped out last night. Technically, she fell out. She (or her sister or her mom) managed to tear a hole in the screen at the base of one of the dining room windows and she went through. I believe accidentally although I can't be sure. She likes climbing screens and can frequently be found hanging by her claws at human eye level, or higher, in the front foyer. (When I confront her and ask, "What are you doing?" she just looks over her shoulder at me and slowly climbs down backwards.)

The front door and several windows were open because Rainy Season is over, despite hanging on long enough past its scheduled end to completely ruin any chance of seeing the last Super Blood Moon Eclipse, and temperatures at night have dropped to the point where air conditioning is superfluous. It's nice to let real uncanned air in finally.

I didn't realize Mittens was outside until she tried to get back in the front door and her sister, who also didn't know didn't recognize her and started hissing and growling at her through the screen. Mittens was already scared at finding herself out in the world, her sister's reaction didn't help at all, and when I tried to open the front screen door she freaked out and ran (stopping just long enough to try jumping back in the window which didn't work).

After securing Paribanour back inside, I left the front screen door open and placed some food and water in the foyer to entice Mittens back in. I figured it took the better part of three hours before coming out of my closet after her adventure with the paper bag and it might take that long for her to calm down again.

I spent those three hours wandering around in the dark calling, "Here, kitty, kitty," knowing full well the futility. She is completely unequipped to deal with the world. The most she's ever seen out the windows are birds and squirrels. She has no concept of dogs, opossums, hawks, alligators, coyotes or cars. I hoped she would stay on our property and hide in the nearest underbrush and, if that's what she did, she did it well because I couldn't find her.

Jasmine and Paribanour, meanwhile, were acting very tense and alert. They knew something was wrong. In the end, they started staring out the glass doors into the lanai and when I turned on the light there was Mittens . . . who ran again when the lights came on.

So I moved the food and water from the front foyer to the lanai.

Five minutes later Mittens knocked on the front door to come in. (She does that. The other cats, when they're in the foyer, just gaze longingly through the side window hoping to catch a human's attention when they want in. Mittens has learned to knock.)

At first she was a little skittish and the others a bit standoffish. She was still excited and had, I suppose, picked up a bunch of outdoor smells which unnerved the other two. Eventually everyone got over it and I was able to tell my brother a humorous story when he got home.

All the windows will remain closed until repairs are effected.

Over 200 Served, Not Counting the Cops

Last night began with my brother cursing (one of his favorite pastimes) and vowing never to honor this holiday again (totally not to be taken seriously) because the wind kept threatening to blow over the balloons and even the zombies, and the blower motors inflating the balloons were worn out and there were no viable batteries to power the zombies' eyes and moans, pretty much all of which was true but irrelevant since the real problem was that, as usual, he left everything to the last minute, didn't do any pre-installation checking (re: batteries and motors) and, even on the morning of the day, wasted an hour or two (I wasn't home at the time) chopping down a bougainvillea that was encroaching on the lanai--and had been for several years so why it had to come down right then who knows.

There's no point engaging him when he gets like this so I just let him run his course and assumed the wind would die down once the sun set (it did) and the motors would be more effective when the air cooled (they were). The battery problem was solved when he ran off to the store as the first kids were arriving and bought a jumbo pack of AAs. 

Meanwhile the pillaging hordes started to trickle in about 4:30. Our first visitor, a teenage female pirate, was followed by a five-year-old female doctor. I was kind of disappointed that a lot of kids really didn't seem to put much effort into their "costumes" although the first pirate was very good and there were a number of passable ghouls, super heroes (both male and female) and even a couple of classic Ghostbusters. A couple of kids had corrugated cartons on their heads and I assumed they were Box Trolls but, when I said that to one she sounded very disappointed and sighed, "No, I'm a robot," and turned on the flashing rotating lights in her eye and mouth spaces. I think I might have gotten that correct if they'd been on to start with. The most original was a five- or six-year-old orange Crayola crayon. Second place went to a perfect little Beetlejuice being wheeled around in his stroller.

There were three distinct waves of foragers, the first starting just after sunset, the last coming through just as the police arrive around 9:10.

Did I mention that the police shut us down?

One patrol car went by very slowly on the main street early on in the evening but didn't stop. A second one came onto our street and parked just up from the main activity about 8:30 or so but that's way too early to enforce any sort of noise ordinance and we weren't that loud anyway so he left.

We can't be sure a complaint was filed since people were parking in the main road's median strip as well as on the shoulders in order to get into our street and the police may have been responding to the congestion. Comparing the ethnic diversity of our visitors with the homogeneity Neighbor Dan (who, it must be admitted had partaken of a number of shots) was not taking any chances and attempted preemptive revenge on the mean old man down the street who always complains about everything to the point of calling the police and filing reports about car horns, lawn mowing and unregistered vehicles, by taking a visiting German shepherd named Diesel for a walk and encouraging him to poop on said neighbor's lawn. Diesel was uncooperative.

Finally, three patrol cars came back around 9:20 and stayed until everything completely wound down about forty minutes later which it totally would have done anyway since we were running out of candy and the third wave was thinning out. They didn't say anything to anyone as far as I could tell but their presence was a big hint. Plus, the night was crystal clear and the temperature had dropped into the mid-60s which is a little cool for short-sleeves around here. We put the zombies safely away in the garage, my brother deflated the balloons and I went in to make a cup of hot tea.

My brother's mood had been steadily improving throughout the evening (as I knew it would) and now, operating on the theory that any party shut down by the police is by definition a success, he was delighted. By my calculations we served just north of 220 trick-or-treaters. I managed to salvage three 100 Grand bars for myself and my brother gave me two Almond Joys he acquired somewhere.

This morning is bright and sunny but the wind is howling again.

Just As We Suspected

Our smoke detector started going off on short random bursts the night before last. I figured the battery might be low so I retrieved a ladder from the lanai room and attempted to change it.

Attempted, I say, because the ladder was only eight feet tall and the alarm is set a good 14 feet up in the cathedral-ceilinged living room, right next to the air conditioning vent and just outside my brother's bedroom door. I'm not really happy with heights as it is and, standing on the top rung, I could barely reach the plastic disc only to find that it is not battery operated at all but attached firmly to the wall by the electrical wires that power it. I found this out by twisting the disc in a manner that would unscrew a normal battery powered model but succeeded only in wrenching it from the wall to hang dangling.

My brother came home to find the vandalized alarm hanging in a most accusatory manner, the ladder in the living room and cats resting on the lower rungs. I had thought that he, being taller than I, would want to fix the thing since the alarm was still going off on a random, if less frequent, basis but he said he had a larger ladder outside and would take care of it in the morning so I shook the cats off the rungs and dragged it back out onto the lanai.

When I came home last night, he had pulled the thing completely off the wall which means we have no smoke detector now although that doesn't bother me all that much since the only times it has ever gone off, other than this instance, is when my brother burns his supper which we already know because of the smell. (It didn't go off the night Mom draped a nylon top over her quartz heater. I woke to the smell of burning plastic, went into Mom's room, and managed to unplug the heater and pull the melting shirt off it before anything actually caught fire. Mom, who otherwise would have slept through the whole thing, was duly embarrassed and promised never to do anything like that again which, to her credit and despite the increasing dementia, she never did.)

My brother had, by then, moved the bigger, 15 foot tall ladder into his room so he could clean his ceiling fan but, before he could start, the cats found it. Mittens climbed all the way to the very top. And was obviously stuck there. The look on her face said there was no possibility of her
ever climbing down that steep slope (and this is the cat that climbs screen doors all the way to the top and back down again). Paribanour started up after her, very slowly, and only got about two thirds of the way up before she, too, froze. My brother climbed up to retrieve them but they maintained death grips on the rungs. He almost lost his balance pulling Paribanour off. He couldn't climb back down holding the cats and had to toss each one down to me as he pried them loose.

They're now banned from his room until he's done cleaning and the ladder goes back outdoors. Because they will not learn from experience. Mittens was so desperate to take a second crack at the ladder, she spent ten minutes clawing at his door to get back in.

So, yeah, after last night, I don't see a Christmas tree going up any time soon.

In the Fullness of Time

This weekend my brother planted the orange tree I gave him.

For Christmas.

The poor thing has been sitting in its pot either in the lanai or out in the back yard since December 26. Who knows how long it sat in the nursery before that. (Best guess: Not nearly as long.)

At first he wanted to wait for the weather to warm up, which made sense. It would do no good to plant it if there was a chance of a freeze. Then, for a long time after any possibility of a freeze had passed, I don't know what the excuse was except the redneck tendency to never quite finish (or start) any project. At first, he said he didn't know where he wanted to put it. Later it was too hot to work outside (frequently true), then too rainy (sometimes true). Then he needed to buy fertilizer first. That took a month or so to get around to. Then he discovered irrigation pipes tangled in the roots of the (stunted) lemon tree which he originally intended to dig up and replace with the orange.

Yesterday, as I was looking out the sliding door to the lanai, I noticed the orange tree was no longer parked next to the lemon but was back in the far corner of our property past the smaller of our coconut palms. And it was in the ground. And while I was looking my brother took a gallon of water out to it. Knowing his green thumb, it will probably thrive. Of course, the tools he used are still stuck in the ground next to the tree and will be until they are eventually needed somewhere else.

I hadn't said aloud that I would never by him another plant again, but maybe he sensed it anyway.

And maybe I will reconsider.

Premonitions

Hurricane Season officially began today.

We've been pretty cavalier the last few years in our preparations to the point where I'm not sure exactly how old the water jugs in the pantry are although I am of the opinion they're probably past even my relaxed concept of expiration dates. And we've been letting the stockpile of pasta and canned goods slowly decline as well.

Something about this year feels different in an undefined, and probably undefinable, way. It's just a feeling both my brother and I have that we've been lucky the past few years and should not become dependent on that luck.

So . . ..

My brother has put out several large sheets of plywood we can use to board up windows, if necessary. They're stacked up by the corner of the lanai, which is where they'll most be needed but also because city code enforcement objected to keeping them on a side of the house visible from the street. (Priorities, people!)

We'll make sure the propane tank is filled. We'll refill the jugs with fresh water. We'll continue our normal food purchase routine but every time we buy a non-perishable item we'll pick up one extra for the reserve. New batteries are probably a good idea, too, although we have hand-cranked radios and lights.

Of course, the more prepped up we become the less likely we are to get a real storm which is fine because a few extra boxes of pasta and cans of tuna are a whole lot cheaper than a new roof.

Before She Teaches the Kids to Kill

Came home yesterday to find Neighbor Dan and the younger Neighbor Dan Daughter out in the lanai playing with the kittens. I like that it's that kind of neighborhood.

Neighbor Dan has examined the kittens a number of times and concluded we have three girls and a boy. Or maybe four girls. Or maybe not. I say take 'em all to the vet as soon as possible so it won't make any difference.

And take Little Gray Mama, too. She killed a bird a couple of days ago (and has probably killed more but that's the only one I caught her with). I heard several avian complaints from the mango tree and recognized them as anti-cat comments from back when I lived in Connecticut and the neighbor cat would come into my back field whereupon several species of birds including crows, robins, cardinals and a Baltimore oriole would all cooperate, forming a circle around the intruder, just out of reach, moving across the field from bush to branch, always with the cat in the center until she got too frustrated and went home. It wasn't an accident; they did it several times.

Anyway, I went to investigate and found LGM under the mango with a small crow she had just killed and was now trying to eat despite being fed between two and four times a day at our house and who-knows-how-many times again over at Neighbor Dan's where she disappears for hours on end. I took it away from her and gave it a quick burial and she let me know she was not pleased that I would waste a perfectly good bird like that.

Neighbor Dan's Daughters also discovered the partial remains of a couple of lizards in the lanai the day before so the sooner we can get the kids weaned the sooner we can get her fixed as well and maybe then her reign of terror will end.

Meanwhile, Bartleby watches a palmetto bug walk between her paws with total disinterest.

Bartleby, the Maladjusted

I'm not sure if Bartleby is coping well with having other cats around quite yet. She's taken to living out of a suitcase. Literally.

Whenever I slide open the lanai door to feed the little mama, she charges inside as is her wont, and  . . . usually . . . charges right back out again (since that is where I and the food now are) but, now and then, she'll just continue on in to Bartleby's plate and try to eat off of that. It's to the point where I'll move Bartleby's dish  up onto the roll top desk if there's any food in it before I even open the lanai door. Bartleby, needless to say is not pleased by this rudeness but her response is to run and hide.

Specifically, she runs into my brother's room, into his walk-in closet and into a sort of stiff-sided red duffel bag thing she found in there. The past two weeks she has spent almost all her time in the bag, as it were, coming out only to eat and use her litter box. The rest of the time she spends curled up in her suitcase in the dark.  I've only been able to trick her into going outdoors once (same results my brother got) and then she wanted to come right back in again, standing up, pounding on the door and whining until I told her she had to stay out for at least an hour. (It was a short hour. It started to rain after 45 minutes, and I relented.) She'll sit before her water dish, facing the wall, head down and just stare at the wall for uncomfortable lengths of time.

When she does go outside, she'll stop to lick one of the small gray stone urns by the front door or sit in it pretending to be a flower.

Can cats get depressed?

On another note, depressing to the human inhabitants of our house: I spotted another cat skulking about the yard, brownish with subtle tiger striping. Could be the father. Could just be another mooch got the word.

On still another note: The kittens' eyes are open and they're bumbling their way around their box climbing all over each other and up the walls. Neighbor Dan brought over a larger box. He thinks they're three girls and a boy. Neighbor Dan's daughters are counting the days until they can take the kittens home. So am I.

Fickle Felines

So, Neighbor Dan came over yesterday evening and asked if we had seen a little gray cat around recently since it had been coming around to his house and his daughters had been feeding it (in the garage since Mrs. Neighbor Dan is allergic) but it seemed to have disappeared.

I told him, yes, indeed, we were well aware of said cat, that she was apparently a double-dipping mooch for dining at his place since she had been living in and out of our lanai for a month already where she was fed at least twice a day but if he was interested he could come in and see the kittens whereupon he immediately called his daughters to come over. Which they did.

Little Gray Mama was very tolerant of everyone handling and picking up her babies (but, then, she is already quite familiar with everyone present, having already put the touch on both households) and the girls began the process of wearing dad down to allow them to have the kittens as soon as they are available. Neighbor Dan didn't put up much resistance but Mrs. Neighbor Dan will be the wild card in this negotiation and is still, to my knowledge, unaware of the proceedings.

Neighbor Dan also said he knew someone associated in some way with county animal control who might be willing and able to perform the necessary sexing/desexing of all involved (including Bartleby. Guilt-by-association.) for a nominal fee which would be a good thing since six operations is beyond the scope of our budget.

Speaking of Bartleby, she and Little Gray Mama have been around each other a little more recently. I was petting her in the driveway after coming home one day (and trying to park around her because why should she move?) when LGM popped up from around the car and they came nose-to-nose for a moment. And then, yesterday morning, they were both in the back yard at the same time. They seem to be tolerating each other although Bartleby will still go sulk in my brother's room if LGM comes into the house while she's eating.

Progress, I suppose.

De Gustibus Non Est

How is it a cat that doesn't like hot dogs, shows no interest in chicken or sausage and won't drink a saucer of milk loves marinara sauce?

Bartleby found a plate my brother left in an accessible location with remnants of his pasta dinner on it. She licked up most, but not all, of the sauce and then proceeded to sit on the plate after which she became offended when I would not let her park her tomatoey butt in my lap. She spent the rest of the evening pointedly sitting with her back to me.

Meanwhile, we've had to be careful about the amount and timing of the food we put out for the little gray cat. With the recent spell of cold weather (for here, mildly cool by most other definitions) a wandering oppossum has once again discovered the lanai. I still have my official 'possum stick from last winter and have chased it away twice but leaving food out at night is just too much temptation to expect any critter to resist. So the little guy now eats during daylight hours only.

All My* (Furry Little) Children

Bartleby is working through her psychological trauma today.

The little half-Siamese in the sophisticated gray formal attire (I'm going to have to think of a name soon. He's here to stay.) has this thing about food. Specifically, he acts as if he hasn't had any in ages despite being fed two or three times per day. When kibble is brought out to him, he charges his plate and will butt aside the hand carrying the food in his attempt to get at it frequently scattering it across the floor. At least he's not above eating what he scatters, something Bartleby refuses to do although she will deign to consume dropped bits if they're replaced on her dish.

He also has an obsession with getting into the house although every time he dashes in he immediately turns around again and runs out just as fast (mostly because his plate is still out in the lanai and almost the only time we open the door is to bring him food).

Now, since the arrival of the gray until a couple of days ago, Bartleby has been the front door cat and the gray has been the back door cat. Over the weekend the gray (dammit, he needs a name!) started showing up at the front, each time to be reminded to go around back. This morning I was standing on my side of the lanai door with the little gray on the other when Bartleby wandered in from the backyard.

They were less than three feet apart when they noticed each other. They've sort-of noticed each other before, but always with the glass door between them so I don't think they ever really appreciated the reality of the other's existence. They did now. The gray knew exactly what Bartleby wanted and planted himself by the door. Bartleby sat down.

After a couple minutes standoff, the gray wandered back to his table perch where he snoozes the afternoons away. Bartleby began taking tentative steps toward the door and I started to crack it open. Immediately, the gray pounced and raced to the door. He's a speedy little bugger. Bartleby sat.

Again, the gray wandered back to his perch. This time, however, I went and got a handful of food. I slid open the door. Bartleby and the gray raced for the opening. Bartleby arrived first but the gray was so close behind I couldn't slide it shut without squishing him. He was in and literally right on her tail. She started to freak out despite being half-again larger than he but I slid the door open, stepped out into the lanai and began pouring kibble onto the gray's dish. In a flash, he was out knocking my hand away, inhaling the food and I was back in with the door shut.

I filled Bartleby's dish, then, but she ate only a few bites before retiring to the kitchen where she just sat. After a while she came out and sat near her dish very carefully facing away from the lanai, a useless gesture since the gray was already sound asleep on his table. She went to the end of the hall by the laundry room and sat on a box down there for a while. I offered to let her out the front door and she finally took me up on it after I placed a small snack in the foyer and topped up her outside water dish.

It may take a bit but, given time, I think she'll get over not being an only child. I did.

*"My" meaning my brother's since he's the one decided to adopt them both.

Bartleby Victorious

Bartleby's subtle and clever plan of inaction has come to successful fruition and she is proud of herself for it.

Bartleby is now an indoor cat.

Most of the recent monsoons have been accompanied by thunder and lightning and a couple of the cells have passed directly over us with literally house-shaking consequences. Unlike, say, a dog which is not ashamed to admit its fear of natural forces, Bartleby pretended not to be afraid of the storms. It was, of course, sheer coincidence that, during said storms, the only comfortable place to take a nap was wedged tightly in behind the slider-rocker in the lanai. (Any other time she'd be sprawled across the highest point she could find: chair back, table top, etc.)

My brother took pity upon her and got into the habit of bringing her into his room during the worst of it and then kicking her outside again afterward. (Actually, I was the first guilty party, bringing her in during the tornado warning.)

Last week, however, something happened. My brother had set up a fancy enclosed litter box for her in his room along with food and water and during a particularly vicious storm had let her stay with him. This suited her at first, but now she refuses to go into his room so I have brought her food and water into the hall outside his door. Meanwhile, Bartleby has appropriated a small throw rug in the middle of the walkway between the kitchen and living room where she sleeps 18 hours a day forcing us to take giant steps over her.
Pretty much her sole activity consists of sticking her head in the refrigerator and enjoying the cold air whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Actually, now that she is confident she can come inside whenever she wants, she is more willing to go outside. Yesterday, she knocked on the glass door of the lanai to go out and half an hour later came to the front door to be let in again. Despite the heat and humidity she's taken to sleeping under my car again which is pretty much full circle from when we found her.

Except now she's confident she has finally successfully trained us to her bidding.

The Wild Life

The mockingbird couple that built their nest in the backyard have been going berserk all day. Despite having cleverly positioned their home in such a way as to be pretty much blocked from sight by adjacent branches, we can see movement in the nest even when both birds are out.

The baby mockingbirds have hatched!

Apparently, mom and dad are zooming out and about and back and forth all around the home bush frantically trying to find food for the little ones. We can't tell how many there are, yet, but at this rate the parents are going to be exhausted by the end of the week.

On a completely, irrelevant note, I got into a big fight with the stupid opossum last night when it visited the cat again. I let the Bartleby into the house while I yelled at the 'possum and then threatened it with a nice big walking stick. That had no effect so I had to actually use the stick and started poking and prodding the invader. It hissed and growl at me and backed itself into a corner so I bopped it a few times in the direction I wanted it to go. Of all times for Bartleby to become curious about anything. She came back out into the lanai to see what was going on. I had to use one foot to keep her away while prodding the stupid marsupial out the door. At least now, maybe, the 'possum will take the hint.

Dexterity . . . and Discretion

It appears Bartleby the Bad Penny is right-handed. Or right-pawed. She will eat her solid food from the bowl like a normal cat but prefers to scoop her water up with her paw. Apparently, enough liquid stays within the folds of her pads to be worth the effort. On the rare occasion when she does drink directly from the bowl she does so by parking her entire body over the bowl and licking up the far side pushing the water over the edge and onto the floor.

Bartleby also believes herself (mistakenly) to be a psychokinetic kitty. She will stare for long minutes and with ferocious intensity at the edge of the sliding door willing it, in vain, to open. She keeps trying at various distances and angles but with no success, at least so far. Eventually, she gives in and knocks. (She does, however, use her left paw to knock on the door.)


Actually, I am glad her ferociousness is limited to her staring contests with the sliding door. I've mentioned before that we leave the lanai screen door to the outside partially open so she can answer nature's call as she needs. Last night a 'possum noticed the opening and came in to steal her food right out of her dish while she was plonked in her chair directly above. I only noticed the critter as it was leaving. Bartleby, true to her namesake, did nothing. Which is just as well since the 'possum was bigger than she is and probably would have killed her in a fight.

Useless (but sensible) Beast.

Goodbye, Kitty

I was going to propose naming the cat "Bartleby" after an incident last night, notwithstanding the cat being female, and also notwithstanding that naming a cat, in the first instance, is an exercise in egotistic futility.

I have already related how the cat lies around playing dead all day, will not defend her food from thieving birds and ignores lizards scampering around her. She also couldn't be arsed to get up and out of the way of my car whenever I'd leave or come home. I had to physically push her out of the path of the tires. Then came last night.

The crow that has figured out how to get into the lanai returned. Usually, he comes in the morning, but there he was. And there was the cat. The crow freaked out when he saw the beast and panicked, fluttering about in a corner with no exit directly above the cat. The Useless Beast, that lump of calico, managed to raise her head, stare at the bird, look at me, and then telepathically say, "I would prefer not to." And didn't. The crow found the door we leave partially open for the cat's convenience and took off. The cat went back to sleep.

Thus the proposed name. Which is now moot.

The cat went home this morning. She slept most of the morning away in the lanai, but just before noon suddenly got up, went to the partially open door and began yowling. She paced along the screened in wall and yowled. There's been a beautiful young all-gray cat coming around occasionally and I thought maybe he'd returned. Finally, she went out under the mango tree, stalked over to the fence separating us from the folks in back (who I have not mentioned before because we don't really know them except for their slime green pool, passel of obnoxious dogs and, now, a single solitary chicken) where she rolled on her back as if to be petted.

Just as she did this a young couple (not sure of the relationships over there) came from behind one of their bushes. The woman saw the cat and began shouting, "Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!"

The young man said, "What? What is it?"

The young woman said, "That's my cat!"

I thought, Say what?

She hopped the fence. The cat hopped into her arms. She climbed back onto her own property and disappeared.

My brother took the news very well. We were at the bottom of that bag of cat kibble and the little mooch left before we bought a new one.

And the Winner Is . . . the Cat

The cat finally got into the house. Was let into the house, specifically. As an act of ineffectual softheartedness.

We had a storm (or possible two loosely connected storms) this weekend. I could see the front approaching for about two hours Friday night, rolling in from the Gulf, all flashes and backlit clouds. Thunder arrived about ninety minutes later as it neared and finally the skies opened. Surprisingly, although the storm came from the west, the rain came from the east and I closed the windows on that side of the house. The cat spent the night under my car.

Saturday night threatened a repeat so I took some food out to her before the weather arrived. The winds hit close to 50mph and I closed the rest of the windows. I saw at least three lightning strikes in the neighborhood and the thunder indicated there may have been a couple more. The rain came in sheeting gusts. The Weather Channel showed our storm, a classic cyclonic swirl of clouds and lightning, stretching all the way up the Gulf coast.

When my brother came home from work, I mentioned I felt sorry for the cat out there under my car. He looked out the door and said, "No, she's right here." She'd followed him up the walk and parked herself just outside the screen.

At first, when he opened the door, she was reluctant to enter. She came into the entryway slowly and then into the foyer, walking daintily, sniffing around with a look of wonder on her face. She walked right past the bag of cat food and stood staring into the living room. My brother called to her, using several different names all of which she ignored. Finally, with some nudging, he got her into his room but apparently thought better of that and moved her onto the lanai, making a temporary cat box from an old plastic basin and some fine wood chips. I was concerned for the resident lizards.

Of course, as soon as she was safely ensconced, the rain ceased, the winds died and the lightning stopped.

She spent the night curled up on one of the cushioned wicker rockers and managed to let herself out through the lanai's unlatched screen door in the morning.

The lizards hid successfully and are fine.

Location, Location, Location

We broke out the binoculars yesterday.

A pair of mockingbirds have decided the amenities we offer, constantly refilled and refreshed birdbath, occasional seed balls, varied shrubbery and a never-ending supply of fresh organic lawn insects, make for a neighborhood in which they would like to raise their family.

My brother noticed them building their nest in a large bush about forty feet from the back door. He shredded some string and hung the lint on a small succulent just outside the lanai. The male mockingbird took a whole beak full back to line the nest. With the glasses we can see them fluffing and primping the insides.

So, not only will we have mockingbird song right outside all summer long, we'll get to watch them raise their babies, too.

(Also saw a black-and-pale-yellow zebra butterfly outside my window. A couple of sulphurs are already flitting around. Should be a good summer.)

Useless Beast

How hopeless is the cat?

Neighbor Dan's daughters came over because they were worried the cat had died because all it does all day long is lie there under the oak tree, unmoving, surrounded by a family of life-size gray ceramic bunny rabbits (one buck, one doe, three kits) made by Mom.

The blue jays are stealing food from the cat's dish while the cat lies there within ten feet, watching. Yet, when her dish is empty, she'll come to the front door and attempt to climb the screen to let us know she needs a refill.

The good news is, because the cat is useless, none of the other wildlife is afraid to come onto our property. There are now two dozen ibis under the mango tree obliterating the local insect population, half a dozen crows and an equal number of doves of at least two different species hanging around the bird bath, where they have reached a modus vivendi allowing both doves and crows access at the same time although the doves are not happy about it. The blue jays, being busy stealing from the cat, show up only for the occasional drink and the mockingbirds ignore everyone preferring to sing all day and most of the night.

The lizards claim the front walkway and the lanai except when this one crow, who has figured out a way to get into the lanai and is pretty pleased with himself about it, wanders in and inspects the various plants at which time they hide in the couch cushions. Every now and then we'll find a frog attached to a window or screen.

None of this would happen if our cat behaved like a cat and was not what it is, for which I am glad, which is:

Useless beast.

The Living Room Carpet, Red In Tooth and Claw

So, I was watching Rachel Maddow last night when a bug scurried out from next to the lanai door panel and into the middle of the room. Bugs, especially the ones that scurry by night, generally come in two varieties: spiders, which I let live despite being, sometimes, almost two inches in diameter because they tend to set up shop in out-of-the way places and eat flies and mosquitoes and other things I would otherwise have to kill myself; and what the natives, in a remarkable piece of rebranding implemented, successfully, to keep from squicking out the tourists, call a Palmetto bug but which is, in fact, nothing more than a giant, not-afraid-of-the-light (probably because of that very size) cockroach.

This one was not a spider.

Before I could get up from my chair and stomp the "Palmetto Bug," however, something very cool happened. Although we do not generally encourage the lizards in the lanai room or outside the front door to come in, and go to great lengths to remove them unharmed when they do, I may want to rethink that policy since this small lizard suddenly appeared from under the curtain by the lanai door and started stalking the roach. The lizard's reflexes were so fast it looked as if the two critters stopped, started and moved as one, but each little lightning movement brought the them ever so slightly closer together until the lizard pounced, grabbed the bug and lifted it off the floor.

Unfortunately, the roach was significantly larger than the lizard's head and it paused to reassess its options. Also unfortunately, this was when I decided to get a closer look at the circle of life dance being played out on the carpet and spooked the lizard. It dropped the bug, which didn't seem to have any inkling of the danger it had been in and wandered off under a side table. The lizard also scurried away from me and in roughly the same direction. The last I saw them, the lizard was once again in stalking mode. They both disappeared under an arm chair.

Coincidentally, I found a small lizard on the arm of the couch just before turning in for the night. I couldn't tell if it was the same one, but I opened the lanai door and helped it out.

Meanwhile the cat was at the front door begging for food.

Useless beast.

Not the Hunter Type

I was pleasantly surprised to notice a couple of small lizards skittering across the entry foyer this morning. I'd seen a rather large one hanging on the screen of the lanai room yesterday. So they're out of "hibernation" or wherever they go during "winter."

I was worried they might be gone permanently from the front of the house because of the cat. She has appropriated one of the cushioned lawn chairs as her official bed and snoozes at various spots (depending on the position of the sun) along the front walkway. She's not any kind of hunter at all and I didn't think the lizards were in real danger. But I thought they might still steer clear of her.

Apparently, they're not much more concerned with her than the birds are. In the evening I can usually hear a bird in the bougainvillea, no more than three feet over the cat's head, yelling at her, and during the day when all the doors are open she can see straight through the house to the birdbath in back with its various rotating congregations of bathers and drinkers yet she can't be bothered to do anything about it.

She's too busy plotting ways to trick us into letting her inside.

Line For the Bath Forms In the Bamboo

My brother bought one of those concrete lotus birdbaths a few weeks ago. He put it just out beyond the edge of the lanai. It's taken a while for the birds to notice and become comfortable with its presence, but recently they've taken to it with a vengeance. The end of Rainy Season may have something to do with it, too.

A couple of evenings ago I noticed three blue jays sitting together in the bushes up against the lanai. The one closest to the birdbath leapt over to it, took a sip of water, and then began to bathe ferociously, ducking its head under and flapping its wings, water spraying everywhere, until it was soaked through. When it flew off it was noticeably slower and lower due to the additional water weight. The second blue jay moved in and repeated the show. The third one hopped over. Just then a luminous deep warm-copper-colored bird, a thrush of some sort landed on the opposite rim. It had something in its mouth, either a very large berry or a small snail. They stared at each other for a minute and then the blue jay left. The thrush took a long messy splashy bath and a good drink, picked up its prize again and took off.

I went out and refilled the water in the lotus basin. Fifteen minutes later the last blue jay was back and was able to enjoy its bath uninterrupted.

The jays repeated the show again last night. A couple of ring necked doves have discovered the place, too. Mom doesn't always notice when the birds arrive but, if we point them out to her, she gets a kick watching them.