The box may be broken but his love remains.
Category: Pets
A Small Tragedy Unfolds
Sunday was a sad day in a small way when The Boo Box gave way, finally yielding to the force but not the wish of its master. One end is still in good shape and I’ve seen Boo sitting in the remains, I’m not sure if he’s working through the stages of grief or if he likes the new relaxed shape. Perhaps he just invented The Boo Box Recliner.
This picture is from June when the beleaguered box was still holding together.
The Walker
In her elderly years Ellie isn’t able to deal with the heat as well as she used to, so she wants to go on shorter walks in hot weather. After a heat wave had us retreating to the air-conditioned bedroom all week, the weekend dawned with the relief of cooler weather. After we visit the dog park I let Ellie guide me the rest of the way so she’s in control of where and how far we go. She loves our time together so I can generally trust her judgement on when she’s getting too tired and needs to go home – unless she thinks food is waiting at home, then forget it, walks are no longer of interest.
That cool Saturday morning we started off in the dog park then ventured out into the neighborhood like normal, but instead of eventually turning for home she just wanted to keep going and going. We meandered up and down streets but at each intersection she said she wanted to go further. I finally made her head home after an hour and fifteen minutes as she was slowing down and visibly tired, even though she kept asking for one more block, and by the time we reached home it was a new record for her elderly years of 1 hour 20 minutes.
That evening it was warmer but still not hot and she gave me a 45 minute walk. The next morning was also lovely but after going half a block she suggested going back home. I figured she might be a little sore after yesterday’s marathon but asked her to go another two blocks to the park. She agreed and must have limbered up as not only did she not ask to go back but put in another 1 hour 20 minute walk, again with me having to point her back towards home when she was getting too tired.
That evening she again balked after going half a block but started again when I suggested we at least make it to the park, but a few yards later she again asked to go home, so I relented and we headed back home for some head scratches and belly rubs. She had more than earned the time off.
That Monday morning I woke as I often do these days, to Ellie “accidentally” waking me by repeatedly bumping into the mattress with her head. In her younger years she preferred to accidentally wake me by jumping up on the bed and dancing around but that’s a bit much these days, long walks or no. She looks at me with the greatest joy when I climb out of bed so I can’t help but give her a hug, even if I know that part of her excitement is that she is about to get a white dental bone, her favorite treat, while I have breakfast.
This picture is from an unusually hot June when we were at the dog park, I was hoping she’d run towards me but in the heat a saunter was as much as she could muster. I was holding out a treat so I knew she wasn’t faking and I put the camera away and we continued on our walk.
Serenity, Serenity, Poke-Poke-Poke
One of the unique things about Boo compared to our other cats is that, while he does have his favorite places to sleep, sometimes he seems to lay down wherever he was when he decided it was time for a nap, often in his chicken-wing pose. Here he chose some sunbeams on the hardwood, though there’s nothing unique about that, Sam and Templeton in particular also enjoy(ed) sunbeams. He’ll rest like that too, only moving his eyes around to keep an eye on events, and most unusually even if you come over to pet him, he lays there without moving, hoping you’ll share some affection and move on. And it’s not just with people, as you can see from Trixie who used a poke-poke-poke to try to rouse her brother to play.
The Boo Box Begins to Bow
The sides of the Boo Box are starting to bow out and I don’t know how much longer it will last but I’m astonished that it has held together this long. Boo is frequently in it and some of his sleeping positions put a lot of strain on the sides of the box. It makes me laugh to walk past the living room and see his head poking up out of the box in the middle of an otherwise empty room.
A Platform I Can Believe In
At the end of 2015, Sam and Trixie snuggling and sleeping on the top shelf of the cat tree in my office. Sam looks large next to Trixie but he’s a small cat, it’s just that Trixie is tiny.
Snuggleupagus
After adopting Trixie I was curious to see if we would see any signs of tortitude – the supposed tortoiseshell attitude – in our tiny little cat but none has manifested itself. I call her Little Lover as she is very affectionate and loves to snuggle, both with us and with the other cats. She had been with us less than a month when I took this picture of her in my lap last winter.
A Familiar Look
I had to laugh when I saw a young Trixie watching me with her head sticking up out of the cat bed. Scout at times would watch me like this, all the more amusing since she insisted on having her bed right beside me, her face inches away.
4th of July
It’s been a lovely 4th of July weekend. The weather has been perfect, warming to the 70’s during the day and cooling off into the 50’s at night. There haven’t been many neighborhood fireworks so far so we’ve been able to keep the windows open except during the hottest part of the day. To minimize the stress on the pets we’ll keep the windows closed when it gets noisy tonight and retreat to the bedroom where we have an air conditioner.
Despite having the day off for the 4th I got up at the normal time I get up for work, and by mid-day decided to take a little nap on the love seat in my office. Apparently I wasn’t the only one, as my wife came in and took this picture of me with our three cats all sleeping on me. Boo is the black-and-white cat curled up in the crook of my arm, Trixie is the tortoiseshell beside him, and Sam is the orange tabby in my lap, his favorite spot. Trixie’s beloved pink mouse even made it into the bottom of the frame. Our dog Ellie is not in frame but she was in her bed just below us.
Wonderful.
A Pond of Ice and Fire
It never seems to matter, the tears I cry,
there’s a well inside of me that never runs dry.
The Weepies, “How Will He Find Me”
I visited Ridgefield a number of times as my Christmas break was winding down late in December. On the 30th I spent the morning watching a great blue heron by Rest Lake as the sun rose and then another a bit further on in a large meadow, then on another loop of the auto tour a great egret by the Quigley Lakes and ring-necked ducks and hooded mergansers in Bower Slough. After that the light was a bit high and bright for my tastes so I settled in to watch the male bufflehead above diving for food in a partially frozen Bull Lake. He’s elevated more than normal as he’s pushing through the melting ice in preparation for a dive.
Since he’d often swim to the far side of the pond to feed, to pass the time until he swam close again, I started looking back through my hiking journal. Normally it’s just a description of my experiences while out hiking or taking pictures, but sometimes the outside world makes its way into my writing. As I flipped through the pages I came to this section from the start of the year and burst into tears:
My last day of an almost three week vacation. Been great in many ways but worry over Emma’s health has left me a bit worn out. The refuge has been a welcome respite. She’s up to 9.5 pounds now thanks to the baby food, but her appetite waned a bit yesterday and this morning. Don’t know if it’s meaningful or not.
The opening entry in my hiking journal on January 4, 2015
I wasn’t that surprised that thinking about Em would bring me to tears, even though she had died a year earlier. I was over-tired and over-stressed and that often leaves me over-emotional. But I was caught off-guard because the tears just didn’t stop. I was already parked beside the road to watch the bufflehead, and since this pond is on the right side of the road, I had moved over to the passenger’s side. Since passing cars couldn’t see me, I let the tears flow until I cried myself out.
What broke me was seeing myself a year ago, almost afraid to even put into words a rising fear that our last hope of keeping our sweet little Em alive was about to fade, knowing now that the fear was justified and that we were about to run out of options and she’d be dead in three days. Sometimes it seems there’s nothing more cruel than hope: uplifting when given, devastating when taken away.
I realized then and now that is a sign of how blessed my life is that the death of my cat a year prior, no matter how beloved, was the source of my grief. The tears soon passed, the catharthis welcomed, and I laughed to myself and whispered “Emma, you were loved, you are missed.” Feeling better I resumed my tour of the refuge. Late in the day I finally saw a bittern after coming up empty on many visits, and wrote this in my journal:
Almost embarrassing how euphoric I was after finding the bittern, especially after being so upset over Emma earlier … overall a really fun day!
My hiking journal on December 30, 2015
And I wrote that even before the last light of the day, when I watched a heron and egret hunting as the sun set. I had to leave to get off of the refuge before the automatic gate closed, but as I drove past Bull Lake on the way out, I stopped for a few more pictures when I saw the bufflehead still diving for food, this time with the water painted orange by the reflections of the setting sun on the hills above the refuge.
The perfect bookend for the day, a day that started in ice and ended in fire.
