El Suicidio de la Paloma Blanca

My brother went out this morning to buy new tires for his truck and discovered a beautiful snow-white dove huddled up against the front door. It's left wing was injured and it was unable to fly. It walked far enough away to feel comfortable as he passed by and then went into the lawn to eat bugs.

I called around to a number of rescue shelters for birds and was finally told (by an otherwise pleasant woman who nevertheless asked if it was a dove or a pigeon and when I said "dove," snarkily asked if I knew the difference which, turns out, didn't make any difference, although I do (know)) that, after consultation with the vet, the bird was considered "exotic" not native (whether dove or pigeon) and would therefor, if we brought it in, be euthanized.

Since this was not the point of the exercise, I asked for alternatives and was told we could always take it to a vet. There were two problems with this. One, we would then be liable for the bill (for what was probably someone else's pet) and, Two, we would then have a pet of our own since Florida law forbids exotic animals from being released into the wild. See, Pythons. Two was the deal breaker.

By this time, the bird had wandered away from the front door so I went looking for it and found it huddled up against the north side of the house mostly protected from the light drizzle. I said, "Well, it looks like there's not much we can do for you." It looked me right in the eye. I think it understood.

I went back inside and the dove went back out into the lawn to eat some more. A few minutes later I looked out the front window and there was a flattened white lump in the middle of the road.

Quick, clean, no mess to speak of, and no doubt better than being attacked and eaten by a cat or hawk. and much better than being euthanized by a rescue shelter.

The "Princeton"

Went to the barber for my semi-annual. He laughed when I told him I'd misplaced my ears and could he help me find them. He did. It's going to be a very long time before they're hidden again.

When I told him how short I wanted my hair, he said, "You want a 'Princeton'?" Well, I don't know. Describe it for me. He did. The results were a lot more severe than the description would lead one to believe.

It may not have been his fault. We were all distracted by the shop's owner, a full-bore Kool-Aid-chugging Tea Partier, who was ranting to his customer about not being willing to pay taxes even for police or fire services. If his house caught fire he'd let it burn down before paying for the fire department. Let it burn and rebuild. That's why he had insurance.

(It apparently hadn't occurred to him that his insurance company requires affirmative action on his part to limit his/their losses. They wouldn't pay a dime if they suspected he just stood around watching. In their eyes, that's only one step away from arson itself.)

Turns out both his customer and my barber were retired firemen.

My barber assures me that my part will reappear in a week or two and I should need the comb again in about a month, maybe a little more.

Still no idea why they call it a "Princeton."

Under Alien Skies

As we ease out of Rainy Season we've been getting evening clouds, beautiful billowing cumulus towers that sometimes bring lightning, sometimes rain, but mostly just block the sunset.

Last night the clouds in the west covered the horizon from end to end. However, there was a break in the overcast directly overhead. The lowering sun cast long wavelength light on to the sides of the thunderhead above which reflected some of it straight down to us.

The result was a red light that came in under a dark sky painting the grass brunt orange and the houses deep coral. The trees, everything that poked above the horizon, were silhouetted and other shadows went stark black. I can imagine a half-terraformed Mars, still mostly desert with it's matching sky, looking much like this.

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.

The Wheel Turns

Rainy Season is almost over. It hasn't rained significantly here in four or five days and the humidity is dropping to bearable levels. The temperature is also falling slightly. The sun is setting quite a bit further south than before necessitating a change in which curtains I draw to keep it from blinding us during dinner. All of which can mean only one thing:

Catalog Season is here!

They trickle in all year, of course, one or two per quarter. But the pace is quickening now. From two or three a month to two or three a week now, soon to be a daily deluge. From Hammacher Schlemmer, Signals (the NPR catalog), and National Geographic, at the high end through Stauer, Herrington and Vermont Country Store down to Blair House and a slew of T-shirt and "collectibles" catalogs (some of which have some pretty cool stuff in a totally ironic hipster kind of way) they're already taking up half the mailbox almost every day. Clothes, puzzles, jewelry, books, swords, replica firearms, scientific experiments for adults and children, Irish food, electronic gadgets for home and office, Victoriana, health and beauty aids, coins, watches, furniture (indoor and out, modern and antique, replica and original), gargoyles and statuary, Hallowe'en, Thanksgiving and Christmas tchotchkes . . . it's all here in full color lovingly described.

And if Catalog Season is here, can the Season of Excess be far behind?

Philosphical Musings On Reptilian Motivation

This morning I noticed a little lizard--one of the horde--following a small spider across the lanai floor. The lizard would close in behind the spider and the spider would scoot away and off to the side. The lizard turned and caught up. The spider scurried and sidestepped.

This went on for over a minute. Around and around. The lizard could have pounced on the spider easily (I've seen them leap). The spider knew the lizard was there. When the lizard stopped going after it, the spider simply walked away in a straight line.

Was the lizard just investigating the spider? Do lizards have such a thing as curiosity? Was it playing?

I have no idea.

The Curative Properties of Barbecued Ribs

Monday being Labor Day, we had a "picnic" of sorts. We ate it inside, at the dining room table, but we had corn on the cob, barbecued ribs, beans, etc. The ribs took about five hours to cook and were falling-off-the-bone tender. Mom had a great time. She remarked on the food throughout the entire meal and it was fun to see a 91 year old woman wrist deep in barbecue sauce. We were done about 4:30.

Whereupon Mom went to bed.

Actually it was about 5 when she turned in, without announcing the decision to us. She simply went to her room and didn't come back out. For twelve hours.

Now 5 o'clock is about four or five hours earlier than usual and when she does go to bed at nine or ten she's usually up again an hour or two later saying "Good morning!" and toddling all over the house until we chase her back only to repeat the drill every hour until 3 a.m. She'll then wake up anywhere between 7 a.m. and noon. So twelve hours straight was something to remark upon.

Part of the reason, I think, is that we had a doctor's appointment Tuesday. Mom always gets a little nervous about missing appointments and being presentable and so forth and is frequently less random the day before. Tuesday morning she was up early, dressed to go out, bright, alert, sense of humor working. It was a fun day in spite of the thundering cloudbursts and the doctor freezing two patches (one on her forehead) and biopsying two others (on her nose and neck).

Tuesday's dinner was pasta with sweet sausage and onions in a marinara sauce. Tuesday night was the typical yoyoing between bed and the living room all night long.

Last night I served the leftovers from the picnic. In spite of falling asleep in the middle of dinner with a rib bone clenched in her fist, Mom enjoyed it immensely, and said so. When she couldn't stay awake on the couch and I suggested she retire for the night, we had an extended conversation regarding how to stay in bed and what she should do if she felt like getting up. She agreed to give it her best shot and, in spite of turning in at 8:30, didn't come out once until 3 a.m. (When we chased her back in again.) She was up early this morning, fixed her own breakfast, was sitting up straight and communicating in full sentences.

I reckon thar's somethin' in them ribs a'right.

And . . . We're Back! (Temporarily)

Just like that Mom's awareness has snapped back into something much closer to normal. I'm beginning to think the insomnia is a major factor in her recent fogginess. I present negative evidence:

The last couple of nights she has been staying up later than usual which means going to bed really tired, which means really falling asleep and staying there. She's only gotten up once or twice to go to the bathroom and has gone back to bed instead of staying up. As a result, she's been rising much earlier (between 7 and 8 a.m.). She's napping somewhat less and is much more alert when awake. She's been reading her book again (although not in any consistent order). Her sense of humor is back. (When I gave her her morning eye drops accurately she said, "Right on the nose!" I said, "No. Right in the eye! I'm trying to avoid your nose!" She laughed.)

Unfortunately, I don't believe this will last.

We see the doctor later this month. I'll ask if there is anything we can do for her sleep issues but this is apparently one of the symptoms of Alzheimer's so I'm not very optimistic.

The Accelerating Slide

Mom's deterioration has become much more noticeable lately. I can't tell if it's a function of the insomnia or if the insomnia is a result of the deterioration.

She's become physically weaker over the last two weeks. Yesterday she spent the entire day on the couch napping and couldn't stand in the evening without help. Once she was up and had a grip on the walker she was all right although very slow, as if she had to consciously command her feet to move. Last night, about 2:30 a.m., I noticed, from under my door, her light was on and her door open. At first I thought she'd gone to the bathroom so gave her time to return. After a while though, with her light still on, I thought I'd better check.

She was fully dressed, standing by the side of her bed, but bent over at the waist with her head down in her pillow. She was also slightly twisted around although that was not easy to spot what with her scoliosis. She had tried to get up, fallen over, and was too weak to push herself upright again. Or even to move at all.

I tried to straighten her out, with no success. I did manage to get her glasses off which were twisted up under her head and mashed between her face and the pillow. I was finally able to lift her legs back onto the bed, with much protesting and some pain on her part, but she was now face down and still unable to move. I tried to turn her but couldn't manage both ends at once which meant either twisting her head around and leaving her feet, or turning her legs and leaving her breathing pillow, both of which would have been extremely painful.

So I woke my brother--scared him awake knocking on his door in the pitch dark--and together we turned her. She just smiled and said, "Thanks." We left her dressed (since half the time she sleeps that way anyway) but warned her she was too weak to try getting up again. As far as I can tell, she stayed in bed the rest of the night.

She was up at eight this morning moving slowly, but moving.