boolie

Emma, Are You Trying To Tell Me Something?

A minute ago Emma brought one of her favorite strings into my office and dropped it near my feet. Now she’s brought another of her favorites in and is standing beside it.

Subtlety, thy name is not Emma.

1 Year, 12 Books

I read twelve books this year, a paltry sum compared to the copious quantities my wife reads, but pretty typical for me.

The twelve, in no particular order except the order in which I read them, are as follows:

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Payment in Blood by Elizabeth George
One Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen
Hear The Wind Sing by Haruki Murakami
Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie
Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Wolf Willow by Wallace Stegner
Twilight by Stephenie Meyer
The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

Some fun facts about the list that are sure to amuse:

Of our three cats, two were named after books on this list, and all three were named after books by authors on this list.
A full two-thirds of the books were authored by women. What can I say, I like the ladies!
Most of these were first time reads for me with the exception of the Solzhenitsyn, Lee, and Tolkien tomes.
The only book I didn’t enjoy was Wuthering Heights. I’m glad I read it but it won’t appear on any of my future book lists. I wasn’t particularly crazy about Mansfield Park either, it was no Pride & Prejudice, but it had its moments.
All of these were books of fiction except for Wolf Willow, which had both fictional and non-fictional sections so I’m not sure how to classify it. In times like these I always ask myself, WWDDD? (What Would Dewey Decimal Do?)
Louisa May did her best to get me to cry on the train but she did not succeed. Sure, I had a little something in my eye a day or two, but I was not crying! I later forgave her when I realized the events of the book were based on her life and that she wasn’t just playing with my heartstrings.
Solzhenitsyn died after I finished reading Ivan Denisovich, but there was a six month gap between the two events so I don’t feel as though I particularly cursed him. Also because he was almost 90 years old.
Of the twelve books, only one involved vampires although the jury is still out on Boo Radley.
With Mansfield Park I have now read all of Jane Austen’s books at least once unless you count her unfinished work Who Weeps for the Wookiee?

Three Years

Happy New Year everyone! The blog turns 3 years old today, my one and only New Year’s resolution is to stop using my blog to fill everyone in on the daily minutiae of the lives of my cats.

So anyway, I welcomed 2009 by playing a game of String with Scout, Emma, and Sam. I was pleasantly surprised to see Scout playing, she’s been more playful lately so perhaps her young friends are wearing off on her. After the fireworks started Scout and Emma retreated under the couch to hide from the noisy celebrations.

Sam’s appetite was unaffected.

No Más, No Más

We went to the Humane Society again this afternoon when a promising dog popped up on the list of cat-friendly dogs. We met her, a friendly golden retriever who had lived with cats before and was just perfect for us except … she has some mobility issues which we thought would be too much for our three-level house. We talked to the medical staff and they agreed, so we left empty-handed once more.

Oh that hurts, she was a lovely dog. At least the shelter is closed tomorrow so we won’t have to fall for another dog that we can’t bring home. Her name was Sam like our youngest cat, so we would have had to rename her. Whew, dodged that bullet!

We did make the mistake of going by the pod that holds the dog we missed out on this morning, goodness but she seems like a sweetheart. We consoled ourselves with the knowledge that she probably chews on knitting and eats cats for breakfast 😉

Subject Is Dogless. Repeat, Dogless.

This is Papa Bear. Put out an APB for a male suspect, driving a … car of some sort, heading in the direction of, uh, you know, that place that sells chili. Suspect is hatless. Repeat, hatless.
The ever observant Police Chief Wiggum on the Simpsons

We’ve been to the Humane Society for the past several days but not come home with a dog. We put a secondary hold on one that we loved but the family with the primary hold adopted her last night, so no luck there. There was another that came available this morning that looked promising but she already has a hold as well.

Our biggest issue is that we need a dog that is cat tolerant and that reduces our options significantly, you either need to start with a puppy that will naturally learn to submit to its furry masters or an adult dog with a gentle personality that at the very least won’t chase them. We’re not looking for a puppy and at the moment that reduces the available options at the shelter to zero.

With the upcoming holiday for the New Year that makes it unlikely we’ll adopt a dog over the break, we’ll also look at rescue organizations but that is a longer process (for good reason).

Scout and Sam are going to vet in an hour for their yearly checkup (shh, don’t tell them, there are shots involved) and Emma goes this weekend. It should be easy to take Scout and Sam together given that they’ve become such snuggle bunnies …

Leaning

This is our Christmas tree shortly after we first put it up (thankfully before the ornaments went on), you can see a decided tilt to the tree. The eagle-eyed observer may even be able to tell which layer Sam and Emma decided to sleep in.

Outside Looking In

As the snow falls, Sam watches me shovel the sidewalk from the comfort of his window seat. He didn’t offer to help.

Roosevelt

The race of elk we have in the Pacific Northwest, Roosevelt elk, were named in honor of Theodore Roosevelt. I came across this bull, part of a larger herd, on a rainy morning near the Hoh Rain Forest in Olympic National Park.

While President Cleveland protected some of the forests of the Olympic Peninsula in 1897 by declaring an Olympic Forest Reserve, the protection did not extend to the elk who lived there and in a few years less than 2,000 survived. President Roosevelt (Theodore, not Franklin) established the Mount Olympus National Monument in 1909 to protect the elk but future politicians cut back the acreage to half of its original size. President Roosevelt (Franklin, not Theodore) granted National Park status in 1938 after visiting the area, the status it has retained to the current day, protecting not only the elk that bear the Roosevelt name but also the many plants and animals that are unique to the Olympic Peninsula.

You can find more info about the history of the park in a PDF on the official park site.

Wet Greens

With melting snow and approaching rain, I shoveled out a channel along the side of our street in Portland so all of that water would have some place to go. I know from past experience with fallen leaves that if the area beside our driveway isn’t completely clear we end up with a little lake where the driveway meets the road. The Hoh River in Olympic National Park is also fed by melting snow, but this snow is from glaciers high in the Olympic range that grind rocks into silt that color the runoff a milky blue. I suspect this little stream running through the Hall of Mosses Trail is spring fed, as unlike the Hoh its clear waters showed the brilliant green plants that were swaying in the gentle current.

Important Medical Update

I’ve been remiss in providing daily updates on the toe that I injured when I accidentally kicked little Sam (it was an accident Sammy, an accident!).

The top of the toe progressed from black to deep purple to maroon to red and is now mostly back to its normal color. There’s still a little redness and tenderness to pressure from the top but it’s healed rather nicely. This little incident didn’t affect my ability to walk (or, unfortunately, to shovel snow). This picture of Sam is from warmer days this summer, he’s standing in front of the patch of daisies that he loves to play in. He’s not been too impressed by the snow, and by not too impressed I mean not at all.