02 January 2008

Cat on the Rocks


Enough of East Europe and ancient monstrous acts! I have a large stack of material documenting the horrors of the Japanese brutality at Nanking in 1936, and the six-week long massacre continued into their bold new year of 1937. I put it aside. It is not as if the anniversary will not arrive once more as we hurtle around the sun.

Pakistan is in turmoil now. Churches and people are burning in Kenya now. The office will be filled with disoriented and grumpy people this morning. Iowa will caucus tomorrow in this endless Presidential campaign.

It all cries that here is a new year at our feet, or maybe it is poised to bring us to our knees. Outside the wind is buffeting the pink flanks of the building, bringing snow showers and shouting for attention in this moment in this time: “Deal with the New Year!” it keens insistently, “Don the crisp shirt and bold tie! Pull on the sweater and heavy coat!”

I took down the lights and the miniature tree while I waited for the bowl game to begin. I toyed with the idea of traveling to Kaliningrad to see if I could find a trace of old Prussia in person, but realized that if the Nazis are long gone, the FSB, successors to the KGB, are very much still there. Kaliningrad has been designated a “special military district” for all its time as a province of Russia, and there is likely to be nothing but trouble, old and new, for people like me poking around in the rubble.

Ukraine might be more welcoming. It would be interesting to visit Kiev and see for myself what the Orange Revolution has brought. But my Ukrainian friend Taag, is here now, and there is a better argument for seeing him against the green grass of Virginia.

The animals have to be taken care of. They have their individual requirements, depending on the species. If they live a bit lower on Maslow's hierarchy of needs, it is not that far away from where we humans sit.

Clean stall and feed for the horses. A quality walk for the dogs is what they need, and a chance to sniff new things. The cats? God knows what they want. The Tiger who leapt from her cage in the San Diego Zoo and mauled some tourists, killing one in the process,   may provide insight. Perhaps it was on a grander scale than the average tabby.

But if they could, I think they all would.

I was talking to a friend whose family has a parent in transition. There is a home that will have to be shut down and cleaned out. It is far enough away that it will be difficult to coordinate the siblings and share the effort equitably; that is an unfortunate reality of modern life.

I clucked in sympathy. My own brother and sister have set up shop in Arizona and Alaska, respectively, and our ability to get together for any event is problematic. In the case of my friend, the issue at hand is not so much the real property, or the accumulation of things that fills it.

It is the matter of the cat that lives there. The cat has issues. Logical options are precluded by the presence of large dogs. A suitable home must be found, or the alternative will be the Shelter, and shortly the Long Sleep.

“It doesn't seem fair,” I said. “The cat did not do anything wrong. There ought to be another option.”

“It is a neutered male,” said my friend.

“Not uncommon here in Washington,” I responded, squirming a bit.

“He likes crushed ice, too, and disappears sometimes for days.”

“Again, not uncommon. I bet he has a predilection for getting up on the coffee table around the cocktail hour, too. And when he shows up again after a long nap he is grumpy and out of sorts.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Some cats come at the sound of the electric can-opener. I bet this one comes at the sound of the ice-maker.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“If he needs a home,” I said, “I think I know a place where he would fit right in.”

Copyright 2008 Vic Socotra
www.vicsococtra.com

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