The past few mornings, those mornings which haven’t been overcast, I’ve awakened before dawn to see the moon glowing down at me through the skylight.
This must be a seasonal thing, like the one day a year when the setting sun comes into ancient tomb, or The Well of Souls (for Raiders of the Lost Ark fans), or straight down the Infinite Corridor (for MIT grads).
Also the past few weeks, each morning around dawn, flocks of birds seem to gather in a holding pattern over my apartment building, calling to each other and swooping around the Strip. Sometimes they sound like geese, the kind of migrating flocks everyone in this part of the country is used to hearing. Other times they are other kinds of birds, generally largish birds with coarse calls. Max heads to the window and stares up at them, now and then squeaking out his best imitation of their cries as if to tell them to come down and hang out for a while.
Each day, each week brings a new perspective on the new to me place I’m living. The trick seems to be taking the time to stop and look around, and appreciate the slight changes, not to get caught up in the hustle of keeping up with the dailiness of life.
Cats sleep all day and then have lots of energy to hunt at night. If you don’t give them some way to burn off that energy, and to obey their instinct to hunt, they take it out on you while you’re trying to sleep.
So every evening, I spend some time playing with my cats.
My cat Max has a bit of a situation.
I’d been sick off and on for a couple of weeks. By the end of last week my last bits of resistance failed, so finally I couldn’t ignore it any longer: I had to rest up and try to recover. I did a lot of sleeping, and when I was awake I stayed in bed.
My cats thought this was marvelous. How lovely to have a new nap companion! And one who, thanks to a low-running fever, was always toasty warm to snuggle up to. Continue reading
“Children playing with cat,” 1957, Concord, New Hampshire, USA — Ladies Home Journal Magazine — Image by © Genevieve Naylor/CORBIS
From a set on If Charlie Parker… called Shutterbug Friday #11, Genevieve Naylor (Act Two: Wee Folk in the Eisenhower Era). Genevieve Naylor was a fashion photographer and photojournalist whose work appeared in all the best magazines in the 1940s, 50s, and 60s.
Today, I brought the cats to the new apartment for the first time. Continue reading
On Friday we moved furniture from my house to the new loft. It turned out that I own almost enough furniture to furnish both a small house and an apartment — if you needed an example of overconsumption in the modern age, I think that’s a fine one to use.
My cats will be spending time in Pittsburgh with me, so I took their lovely cat tree down to the loft. The cat tree is a nice piece of furniture: It’s made of hardwood, finished with an espresso stain, with segments of carpet on the surfaces for the cats to sit on and scratch.
Here are Max and Sammie on the tree, before we moved it.
The cats are up here in Butler with me this weekend, and they have mostly adjusted to having their world turned topsy-turvy, all the places that they normally sit having been moved or removed.
But Max is little lost without his tree. He keeps looking to where it should be, as though it might reappear any moment.
Think how excited he will be to reunite with the tree in the new place!