Lovers of dogs and cats
reading the following will
understand at once. Another
reaction will come from
those who just don’t understand
pets: ``Well, you fools!
It serves you right!’’
I’m bunking down these
days in my study to give
Anne respite from my Parkinson’s
restlessness. It’s a
great arrangement, with
her right across the hall in
a welcoming queen-sized
bed and with a new TV.
And I have a comfortable
single bed in what I now
think of as my ``man cave.’’
My bed, desk, books, lounger,
laptop — what more
could I ask? And most
nights I have the company
of Simon the cat. It’s like
camping out for us guys!
Simon spends many
nights at the bottom of the
bed, right between my ankles.
But cat lovers will understand
he also likes to
settle on some high eminence
in the room. His favorite
spot in the man cave
is atop the Xerox copier. It’s
suitably high and placed
just next to the west window.
Hunkered there, Simon
has a view across the
west field and right down
Allison Road, almost to the
bridge.
I’ve put a thick throw of
rough-woven wool on the
machine’s top and know
he’s grateful for it in his
catlike way. Which is to
say, he recognizes its value
and is glad that I know
what is due to him. I find
that an endearing quality
in cats. Others may call me
wacko.
One recent night, Simon
was enthroned on the Xerox
and I was deeply asleep,
settled down for a long winter’s
nap. Sometime in the
small hours, I half awoke to
a low electrical growl and
then a couple of clicks, but
then sank right back into
sleep. A minute later, or
maybe an hour, I came
awake again to ``thunk,
thunk, whirrr,’’ and again,
``thunk, thunk, whirr.’’
The Xerox was running.
Simon was over there, making
copies.
I jumped up and cut him
off after three sheets. On
his part, he rolled over and
stretched, then meowed inquiringly.
I guess that,
shifting earlier in his sleep,
he had pushed the machine’s
``On’’ button. Then,
later, he’d hit ``Print.’’ Repeatedly.
OK, no fault, no penalty.
Except to my sleep. For it
took awhile for me to settle
down again. After all, what
to my wondering eyes had
appeared? A gray-andwhite
cat, printing copies
in the night. If I had any
dreams after that, I’ll bet
they were interesting ones.
Sheep at electronic pianos,
maybe, and hens lined up
like Rockettes, kicking up
drumsticks high in front of
them.
The only disadvantage
of my man cave is that it’s
right above the kitchen,
and that’s where Blue the
dog sleeps. And does so
soundly, unless internal
distress makes him think,
``I gotta go—right now!’’
When that happens, he begins
moaning, at first softly
to himself.
If conditions worsen, he
shifts to a low register and
begins sounding like Long
John Silver. ``Arrrr,’’ he
says, and then, ``Arrrr!’’ But
there’s also a whiny, background
wheeze — as if the
crusty old pirate were choking
on a fish bone.
All this I can hear
through the floor and am
intended to. And when I get
up, pulling my feet from
under a disturbed Simon, I
sometimes open the bedroom
door to find Blue
standing right there, dancing
from foot to foot, all
wriggles and smiles and
wagging tail.
He knows he has violated
a major house rule:
``THOU SHALT NOT, OH
DOG, PAD FROM KICHEN
INTO DINING ROOM,
MUCH LESS UP THE
STAIRS, LEST THY TAIL
BE SHOVED UP THY
BUTT AND SNATCHED
OUT THROUGH THY
JAWS, TURNING THEE
INSIDE OUT!’’ But all his
dancing and smiling is to
convince me that desperation
has trumped ordinary
rules. I, of course, buy it.
Downstairs we go. I add
to my bathrobe my outdoor
coat and my red Elmer
Fudd cap, and we head out
into the Arctic darkness. I
have him on a leash and am
almost jerked after him as
he streaks for a favorite unloading
depot. I stand shivering,
admiring Orion overhead
lying at rest on his
back, as I’d sooner be. But
then Blue gallops back in a
kind of victory run, and
back we go into the house’s
warmth.
There’s a reason I have
Blue on a leash during such
night treks. There’ve been
several of them lately, all
following of a single cause.
Somewhere down in our
woods is a something in a
horrible state of decay. Blue
is ecstatic over it, and keeps
running off to fetch home
more pieces. So we keep
him under protective arrest.
It’s protective for us,
for what he hauls home is
beyond description.
Somehow he got away
from Anne a few nights ago
and galloped off into the
woods. My Anne, single minded
in her devotion, ran
off after him. And, as darkness
deepened, her wobbly
husband trundled after
both of them. I caught up
with Anne at the far end of
the property, halfway down
a steep, snow-covered
slope.
``Get back to the house!’’
she yelled, ``You’ll fall
down!’’ This from a dear
woman of a certain age, in
the blackness and halfway
down a snowy slope, with
every chance of snagging
her foot in brambles and
tumbling all the way down
and into Oaks Creeks.
Then I heard a distant
woof. ``He’s back up by the
house!’’ I shouted and headed
that way. Sure enough,
there stood Blue, just outside
the sheep gate. Whatever
he had dragged back
from the woods, he had already
hidden for future reference.
Everybody got back inside
safely, but on toward
morning I heard the choking
pirate below me again.
And so I unsettled Simon,
opened the bedroom door,
and found that dancing,
apologetic dog.
Why put up with such
things? For petless people,
I have no answer. For others,
none is needed.
Read about Jim Atwell’s
book at JimAtwell.com
Columns
Jim Atwell: In the winter darkness. . .
- Columns
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From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
My handwriting’s always been an embarrassment. Way back in elementary school, while most of the others were developing a clear, sometimes graceful hand (especially the girls), my penmanship showed no improvement.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: This and that ...
We have found the weather so far this year to be on the unusual side. And while we have no problem with the fact that we have received very little snow, we are of the opinion that what we have had instead is not particularly to our liking either. In fact, we are very hesitant to venture out much as we live in fear that the rain will turn to mixed precipitation which will freeze into a sheet of ice. And we are definitely opposed to encountering a sheet of ice underfoot. In fact, we are so hesitant that we now have taken to canceling our participation in events based on what just might be a dubious forecast.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Feinstein’s latest is sheer enjoyment
Most people who follow sports have probably heard of John Feinstein. As a nationally known author, sportswriter, pundit and broadcaster, he has brought a unique angle to sports journalism. His groundbreaking book on Bobby Knight’s 1986-87 Indiana University basketball team, “A Season on the Brink,” still resonates today as an all-time classic.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: No Trekkie should miss Shatner’s books
It would be hard to find a television phenomenon as popular as “Star Trek.” Even though it was only on television for three seasons and 79 episodes (1966-69) it attracted viewers and devotees that still follow it passionately 45 years later. The fanatical supportspawned several movies and television spinoffs. Star Trek conventions continue to this day. There has never been anything like it.
Continued ... -
Up on Hawthorn Hill: Making sense of things
A book I have been reading investigates the various ways over time that we have made sense of the world. It carries the reader through to the present via several seminal classical texts and ultimately aims to suggest a strategy for “ finding meaning in a secular age.”
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: ‘Property must be secured or liberty cannot exist.’ − John Adams
Last week we were asked if we would be interested in previewing a documentary, “The Empire State Divide,”produced by the Foundation for Land & Liberty. And we were more than happy to do so as we understood the documentary dealt with the problems that continue to face family farms.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Now wait a minute!
On the ninth day of Christmas, driving down Cooperstown’s Eagle Street, I saw something astounding! No, not “nineladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans” etc. I saw one jogger jogging. And puffing on a cigarette.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Goals of the past and goals of the future
We have long subscribed to the concept that we are always more successful if we, number one, set a goal and then, number two, meet it. And this was our thinking when we decided before Christmas to watch at least part of every college football bowl game. It was perhaps an odd, if not completely nonsensical, goal.
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In These Otsego Hills: Not to our liking ...
It is with sadness that we note the recent death of Steve Nagel. The son-inlaw of our late husband’s cousins, Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek, Steve was married to the Ecklers’ oldest daughter, Gail. We had the pleasure of spending Christmas Eve with the Nagels and the Ecklers in Fly Creek, greatly enjoying the delicious food and delightful conversation.
Continued ... -
Up on Hawthorn Hill: Of birds and faith
I watch birds quite a bit. Every five days or so I send in a report to Cornell as partof its annual Project Feeder Watch program. The data, collected from volunteers from all over the country, enables scientists to track population trends. I would spend quite a bit of time checking out the visitors to our feeders anyway. Participating in the feeder program makes a personal pleasure that much more meaningful. It is rare that aesthetical and scientific endeavors work in tandem.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Biography captures the real Stephen Colbert
It would be hard to find a comedian as unique as Stephen Colbert. As the host of “The Colbert Report” on Comedy Central he hasmanaged to leave his mark on the nation’s consciousness in both a serious and humorous sort of way. His unusual wit has allowed him to become American icon. It would be difficult to find another entertainer quite like him.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Christmas and varied blessings
I’m still astounded! The last farmers’ market before Christmas, I was sitting up front, directly under the ceiling heater, shmoozing with the hoi-polloi. (That’s an awkward linguistic mix,but let’s let it go.) As I sipped my hot coffee, a gloved hand came to rest on my shoulder and a warm voice said, “Merry Christmas, Jim.” I looked to my left—it was Santa Claus!
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Always a learning experience ...
We must admit that we thoroughly enjoyed our 2011 Christmas celebration. We partook of Christmas Eve dinner at the home of Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek and Christmas Day dinner at the home of Sandy and Al Bullard of Milford. We had our usual Christmas Day brunch at home on Pioneer Street, although we must admit it was a tad bit later than usual as, what we enjoyed most about Christmas, namely our granddaughter Abby, took a great deal of time opening her Christmas presents.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Coming up ... 2012
Difficult as it seems, 2011 is fast coming to an end. And it is always our hope that as a year draws to a close, the issues which have been in the forefront during the year will be resolved. Unfortunately, we suspect that will not be the case this year. Instead, we are fairly certain that many of the issues that plagued this year, will continue to plague next year. Thus we will find ourselves still musing about the same issues we have spent time with already. And while we have not come toany conclusions about many of the issues, we do think they would all likely benefit from both sides thinking critically about perspective, risk assessment and possible solutions.
Continued ... -
Up on Hawthorn Hill: Circularity
When she was a puppy my dog Gabby would run in what I described then as “circles of joy.” She celebrated her15th birthday a few weeks ago and despite the inevitable frailties that old age imposes upon all of us, she is doing pretty well.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Grisham doesn’t disappoint
John Grisham is one of this country’s most popular authors. Every time he publishes a book it’s an instant best-seller. He appeared on the scene about 20 years ago with his tense legal thrillers, “A Time to Kill” and “The Firm,”and hasn’t stopped producing top-notch novels since.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Still singing, beyond our hearing
This column from Christmas 2001 still speaks deeply to me, and perhaps will to you, too. Take it, please, as my Christmas gift.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: The 2011 Cooperstown Carol
Since 1984, with the exception of one year, 1999, we have looked forward at the end of the year to going through all the issues of the paper in order to glean those news items which have been worthy of note throughout the year and which should make their way into our annual Cooperstown Carol.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Dear Santa ...
Although we tend to think Christmas is for children and thus rarely think about what we might like to have, this year we have decided to let Santa know what might be left under the tree with our name on it. Of course, we fully understand if our list is a bit long, a bit expensive and a bitlate. However, we have just finished reading our November issue of Health and so have just realized what we need that we do not currently have.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Irony abounds
These are querulous times. Dissent and disagreement, as uncomfortable as they sometimes are, are essential components of a viable democracy. Democracies are always messy because everyone has a right to speak his mind and because whenever a majority is able to gain the numerical upper hand it pretty much runs the show. Several political philosophers have written quite persuasively of what they characterize as the “tyranny of the majority.” Get enough people on your side and you have the opportunity to get your way so long as you are able to maintain power. I suspect that most thoughtful people would agree that wisdom is hard to come by.
Continued ...
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From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
