Now that the pup pursuit is over, Gracie and Brownie are living the good life with Toni.
Brownie and Gracie recuperating at Toni’s
Toni with Brownie
So this is a good time to tell you the stupid things I did while trying to trap Gracie. Toni and Loretta were unavailable that particular night so I decided to go out alone. That was my first stupid move.
I may as well confess there are many things that baffle me. You’d think at this stage of the game I’d have it all figured out, right? But actually, it’s the opposite; age has not lessened my bafflement.
For instance, I was cruising down the freeway recently, in the slow lane for once in my life, when I heard honking in the lane to my left. Since there wasn’t traffic and we were all going the speed limit, I wondered why this person was laying on the horn. Not just a toot toot but a continual blast that lasted seconds.
I was in my SUV with our Marin Friends of Ferals placard on the door, our MFFCATS license plate and a window banner that says marinferals.org. So naturally I figured it was a fan of ours honking approval of what we do.
As the young man sailed past in his sports car, he lifted his arm, pointed his hand toward me, then flipped me the bird. I was shocked. I’ve never been flipped off before — a pretty good track record for an almost 67-year-old, don’t you think? Anyway, I chalked it up to him being a cat hater. But still, it was baffling.
I’m sitting here writing next to my best friend of late. My best friend being a box of Kleenex. My third box, to be exact. Nearly 195 supposedly ultra soft facial tissues have been my constant companion since I contracted Covid 2 1/2 weeks ago.
I guess I’m officially an old lady now since a sure sign is when one stuffs a Kleenex up a sleeve or keeps it within reach in the car. I always wondered why that was. Do old ladies get runny noses more often than young ones? Perhaps. But in my defense, I plan to go back to being Kleenex-free once this awful illness decides to leave my body.
I’m on the comeback trail from Covid so expect a new posting next week. In the meantime, here’s one from 2020….
A couple Sunday’s ago you met my latest addition to my furry family. At that writing, this cross-eyed feline was called Trinity, the name Marin Humane gave her because she came from northern California. Since that day, her name has changed no less than 4 times. Hey, it’s not so easy naming someone you’re still getting to know.
For instance, when I decided to keep this semi-feral, I made a list of possible names with help from my friend Loretta. After all, she was spot-on naming Dash…entirely apropos for that madman. So for a couple days Trinity was Willow. But as I got to know her better, she wasn’t exactly graceful or willowy. This girl has a touch of crazy.
Then I called Trinity Sadie, although she didn’t look like a Sadie (whatever that looks like). That name soon became Chloe. But no matter how often I said it, it made absolutely no impression on her. In fact, I believe she ignored me even more than usual. Besides, Chloe is one of the top 10 names for female cats and she doesn’t strike me as a particularly trendy feline. So I went down my list of 12 names and said each one to her while looking for some sort of approval, maybe a look my way, a blink. Anything. But I got nothin’.
Since I’m dealing with Covid and have been prone for days, here’s a posting from August 2019.
Hold on a second while I scream at a fly dive-bombing me in my bedroom.
If you don’t get out of here this second and leave me alone, I’m gonna send you sailing into that wall and I’m afraid you won’t be getting back up!
Okay, I’m back. Forgive me for that little tirade, will you? It’s not like me to want to hurt anything, even a fly. It’s just doing what flies do — being annoying. They can’t seem to help it. But did that stop me from screaming at it? Obviously not. And I’ll tell you why.
A couple weeks ago I posted, Help, I’m Crumbling, about my achy breaky back. The MRI disclosed a herniated disc and 2 collapsing vertebrae. As an added bonus, I’m now blessed with sciatica and a dollop of arthritis in my spine. In other words, I’m a mess. So the next step is an epidural injection of cortisone.