I began my day transporting feral cats back to their chosen haunts. When I arrived at Cats Only, Gail was outside and, pleased to see the dogs, hurried over to greet them. "We were just talking about your dogs," she told me. "They are the greatest dogs." I imagine that they do talk about my dogs. I'm sure they have few cats delivered in a car guarded by dogs. Certainly, no one else transports feral cats with dogs. I'll bet Gail would have enjoyed a ride along on today's "adventures at the feeding stations." I sent this description to Beth.
Beth -
You have mentioned having a photographer go with me to take photos of the cats at the feeding stations. Though we wouldn't have gotten the kinds of photos you want, I wish I'd had a photographer today.
On Jackson Street, Captain came running to greet me, as he does, and Princess sauntered in but Midnight, who meets me on the sidewalk with a little dance and rolls, was nowhere to be seen. I paused, looking for her and, at last, saw her rounding the building to the north and across the street. I waited, encouraging her with some good natured scolding expecting that she would come straight to Captain and me near the front of the car but, without changing the speed of her dash, she turned sharply to her left and ran down the sidewalk before she dashed into the street. As she came near the car, she slowed her pace and walked sedately across the back of the car where Mika and Pfeffernuss leaned forward to watch her. She gave them one brief, disdainful look and continued her stroll. She walked onto the parkway and collapsed onto the sidewalk in her accustomed wriggling, flirtatious mass, daring a person (me) to "Just try to rub my belly." We played our game and, then, walked to the feeding station and the feedbag was on. As is his custom, Captain left his food and walked me to the car. I told him goodbye and wished him a good day and, for me, it was on to Green Street.
At Green Street, I called and called, watching carefully to see where my Spice Girl might appear, hoping for a clue to her kittens' location. And, here she came! I opened the foods and began to make a dish for her -- Kitten Chow on one side and canned food on the other. At this moment, Jelly Bean jumped into the back of the car and sniffed at the food. Then, she and Pfeffernuss touched noses before she tucked into the food. Jelly Bean had barely lowered her head to the dish when that little Spicy Butt flung herself into the car and, without a thought for the dogs, began to eat greedily. When I'd finished the dish I'd prepared for her, I closed the containers, said,"Come on," and started toward the abandoned house where I'd seen her appear. Her focus never left me or the dish. As I entered the yard, I had to laugh. Looking back, I found that I was the Pied Piper leading a 7-cat entourage. I put Spicey's dish down in the sheltered corner of the steps and the Spice Girl flung herself on the dish. The entourage of cats just looked at me but, as I had thoughtfully brought a familiar container, they followed me back to the feeding station with its several dishes.
I'd filled the dishes with dry food and was spooning out the canned food when Spice Girl appeared. Such a clever cat! She knows where her food is and, for her, it's a backup plan. With two feeding stations, she will, surely, get enough food to feed kittens now.
____________________________________________________________
Find great prices on all makes and models of defibrillators. Click now!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Private Sky - (our Easter trip)
It was Easter Sunday and we were on our way back to St. Louis after a
weekend of frolicking in the sun and water, eating (once with friend,
Sylvia), visiting with Canadians who took us to a wonderful water show
and playing games after hours. We did not go parasailing. That was one of
the first suggestions Dan made and, before we headed for the beach, he
brought out photos of his recent parasail adventure. "If I take the
pictures along," he said, "this ride is half price." Not our kind of
bargain, I'm afraid. The girls and I had explored a gigantic Good Will
shop on the way to the apartment. We got Florida clothes. Dan doesn’t
like to shop so did the Pfeffernuss thing and guarded the car.
When our plane backed away from the gate at Fort Meyers, I was watching
the smaller ground traffic to make sure we weren't going to run over a
luggage truck and knock off the end of the wing as had happened with
Dan's plane in St. Louis many months ago. We had avoided all the toys
but, then, we stopped.
Across the field, I saw fire trucks speeding down a runway. First, the
big ones. Then, a small truck. And, finally, an ambulance sped down the
field. We waited. While we waited, I looked around the part of the field
I could see from my small window. Across the field, I saw a large, white
building. I strained to read the building designation but failed. After
moments, I knew only that the first word began with a "P" and that the
second word was, undoubtedly, "Sky." No amount of squinting could bring
that sign into focus.
"We have backed away from the gate," the pilot told us. This, I knew.
Only later, did I realize that this is the place many people had found
themselves stranded for hours in recent years. The pilot, of course, knew
this delay might be cause for a buildup to grumbling. Our pilot went on
to tell us that there had been a medical emergency on the field and that
we would be on our way after a short delay. It was, as he had said, a
short delay and, soon, we were in motion again. As we backed beyond
airport paraphernalia and before we turned, I saw a small white plane, a
group of people, civilian and professional, and a stretcher covered with
a white sheet.
This morning, I saw that same large, white building on the television
screen. This time, I could read the legend. Private Sky, it read. "Of
course," I thought. "That's what it said."
I stopped to listen, wondering what was happening at the Fort Meyers
airport. The story was read as if it had just happened but I knew, when I
heard the story, that it had happened yesterday. A pilot was dead and a
passenger with some flight experience had jumped into the seat. The Air
Traffic Controller had called a certified flight instructor for this type of
airplane and connected the passenger/pilot to the instructor. While we
waited, the two professionals had managed to talk the inexperienced pilot
to a safe landing.
The plane had been landed safely. All passengers survived.
And, we were there!
weekend of frolicking in the sun and water, eating (once with friend,
Sylvia), visiting with Canadians who took us to a wonderful water show
and playing games after hours. We did not go parasailing. That was one of
the first suggestions Dan made and, before we headed for the beach, he
brought out photos of his recent parasail adventure. "If I take the
pictures along," he said, "this ride is half price." Not our kind of
bargain, I'm afraid. The girls and I had explored a gigantic Good Will
shop on the way to the apartment. We got Florida clothes. Dan doesn’t
like to shop so did the Pfeffernuss thing and guarded the car.
When our plane backed away from the gate at Fort Meyers, I was watching
the smaller ground traffic to make sure we weren't going to run over a
luggage truck and knock off the end of the wing as had happened with
Dan's plane in St. Louis many months ago. We had avoided all the toys
but, then, we stopped.
Across the field, I saw fire trucks speeding down a runway. First, the
big ones. Then, a small truck. And, finally, an ambulance sped down the
field. We waited. While we waited, I looked around the part of the field
I could see from my small window. Across the field, I saw a large, white
building. I strained to read the building designation but failed. After
moments, I knew only that the first word began with a "P" and that the
second word was, undoubtedly, "Sky." No amount of squinting could bring
that sign into focus.
"We have backed away from the gate," the pilot told us. This, I knew.
Only later, did I realize that this is the place many people had found
themselves stranded for hours in recent years. The pilot, of course, knew
this delay might be cause for a buildup to grumbling. Our pilot went on
to tell us that there had been a medical emergency on the field and that
we would be on our way after a short delay. It was, as he had said, a
short delay and, soon, we were in motion again. As we backed beyond
airport paraphernalia and before we turned, I saw a small white plane, a
group of people, civilian and professional, and a stretcher covered with
a white sheet.
This morning, I saw that same large, white building on the television
screen. This time, I could read the legend. Private Sky, it read. "Of
course," I thought. "That's what it said."
I stopped to listen, wondering what was happening at the Fort Meyers
airport. The story was read as if it had just happened but I knew, when I
heard the story, that it had happened yesterday. A pilot was dead and a
passenger with some flight experience had jumped into the seat. The Air
Traffic Controller had called a certified flight instructor for this type of
airplane and connected the passenger/pilot to the instructor. While we
waited, the two professionals had managed to talk the inexperienced pilot
to a safe landing.
The plane had been landed safely. All passengers survived.
And, we were there!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)