HAIGHT MONEY SHOULD NOT BE USED TO PAY DOWN DEBT
HAS GRAVENHURST COUNCIL LOST THESE MARBLES?
I HAVE JUST READ AN EMAIL FROM THE GRAVENHURST RATEPAYERS, AND IF WHAT THEY'VE INCLUDED IN THEIR COUNCIL UPDATES IS CORRECT, THE TOWN MAY SOON ENDORSE A HOUSEKEEPING PLAN TO DROP A MILLION BUCKS. A LESS-THAN-SWELL IDEA OF PAYING DOWN THE DEBT, BY USING THE HAIGHT-ESTATE MILLION DOLLARS, IT WAS GIVEN LAST YEAR. LATELY I HAVE REALLY STARTED TO WONDER WHAT THESE PEOPLE ARE DOING AROUND THE COUNCIL TABLE. I'M SUPPOSING BY NOW, THERE HAVE BEEN MANY IDEAS EXPRESSED, AS TO THE BEST WAY TO USE THE KIND BEQUEATH. PEOPLE OF THE TOWN WERE ASKED, IF MEMORY SERVES, AND I'M PRETTY SURE THERE WERE SOME DECENT IDEAS PRESENTED. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY WERE, BUT A SEGMENT OF THEM ARE UNDOUBTEDLY BETTER COMMUNITY-BOOSTING THAN USING THIS MONEY TO PAY DOWN WHAT COUNCIL INCURRED BY OVER-SPENDING, AND REALLY CRAPPY ESTIMATING ON THE RECREATION CENTRE. REMINDS ME OF THE TIME THEY WANTED TO SELL OFF SOME WETLAND HERE IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD, AT A TIME WHEN THEY WERE PLANNING TO BUY A NEW TOWN HALL COINCIDENTALLY.
SO HOW MUCH IS IT GOING TO COST THE RATEPAYERS, TO FIX THE ROOF ON THE RECREATION CENTRE? BETTER NOT BE A MILLION DOLLARS!
THERE WILL BE A CHANCE FOR PUBLIC INPUT ON THIS INTERESTING RECOMMENDATION BY THE TOWN……AND I HOPE A FEW COUNCILLORS WILL CHANGE THEIR MINDS ABOUT THE USE OF THIS BEQUEATH MONEY, TO COVER THE CARNAGE OF THEIR OVER-SPENDING. FROM WHAT I HEAR, THERE COULD BE QUITE A GOOD TURN-OUT TO EXPRESS A COMMUNITY'S CHAGRIN, ABOUT THE DIRECTION THEIR COUNCIL IS TRAVELLING.
HERE'S AN IDEA. INVEST THE MILLION BUCKS, STRAIGHT-UP, AND FROM THE INTEREST, CREATE SOME BURSARIES FOR STUDENTS IN NEED…….BECAUSE WE'RE A CARING COMMUNITY, THAT WANTS TO SEE OUR YOUTH EXCEL. DON'T WE? I THINK THE HAIGHT FAMILY MIGHT LIKE TO SEE A WISE INVESTMENT IN THE REAL-LIFE FUTURE OF OUR TOWN.
SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT ABOUT THIS…….AND IT'S UP TO THE CITIZENS OF THIS TOWN, TO MAKE SURE COUNCIL LISTENS AND LEARNS ABOUT THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE.
I'M LOSING FAITH IN THIS COUNCIL TO REPRESENT OUR BEST INTERESTS. SORRY, IT'S JUST THE WAY I FEEL.
THE CAT HASN'T COME BACK - BUT WE STILL HAVE LOTS
FESTER II WAS THE BATHROOM GRIFFIN
I'M NOT VERY GOOD WITH PET DEATHS. I MIGHT BE A PRETTY FAIR JOURNEYMAN WORDSMITH, BUT WHEN IT COMES TO FINDING THE WORDS, TO DESCRIBE MY DAYS SPENT WITH AN OLD CAT, IT JUST SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE TO GET "BLACK" ONTO THIS "WHITE SCREEN." I FEEL SILLY GETTING UPSET ABOUT THE LOSS OF A CAT. WHEN YOU'VE GOT SEVEN RESCUED STRAYS, YOU WOULDN'T THINK THAT LOSING ONE, WOULD IMPACT QUITE AS HARD…..AS IF YOU ONLY HAD ONE, AND IT EXPIRED. THE DIFFERENCE FOR US, HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, IS THAT WE HAVE PETS BY CIRCUMSTANCE. I HATE TO SAY THIS, BECAUSE I REALLY DON'T WANT TO ADVERTISE THE CURRIES, AS THE CAT RESCUE LEAGUE, BUT BECAUSE OUR CATS HAVE BEEN STRAYS, RESCUED FROM TERRIBLE CONDITIONS, WE SEEM, AS MORTAL FOLLY, TO BE MORE SYMPATHETIC TO THEIR LOT IN LIFE. WE WON'T ADMIT THAT THESE CATS, HAVE FOUND US, BY SOME SORT OF DIVINE NETWORKING, BUT I CONFESS TO BEING A LITTLE SUSPICIOUS GOD HAS A PLAN FOR HIS CRITTERS. APPARENTLY, IT'S TO CROSS OUR PATHS. TO WATCH THESE TIRED, COLD AND HUNGRY LITTLE SOULS, LAP UP A SAUCER OF MILK, IS HEART WRENCHING. HOW CAN WE NOT OFFER THEM A PLACE TO SLEEP?
FESTER II WAS A SAD CIRCUMSTANCE. SHE ARRIVED AT OUR HOUSE, HERE IN GRAVENHURST, A SHORT TIME AFTER "FESTER I" PASSED AWAY IN MY ARMS, AFTER A LONG AND EVENTFUL LIFE. "FESTER THE FIRST," WAS AN OUTDOOR CAT, AND THERE WAS NOTHING WE COULD DO TO KEEP HER INDOORS. SHE WOULD TEAR THE DOOR APART TO GET OUT. SHE WAS SPAYED, SO WE DIDN'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH "TOMS" IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD, AND WAS THE KIND OF CAT YOU'RE USED TO SEEING, SITTING ON THE VERANDAH RAILING, OR CURLED UP ON A LAWNCHAIR, BASKING IN THE SUN. SHE ARRIVED BACK HOME FOR HER MEALS, AND CAME IN BEFORE WE WENT TO BED, SLEEPING DOWNSTAIRS WHERE IT WAS COOLER. SHE WAS TOTALLY INDEPENDENT, AND ALTHOUGH SHE LIKED THE KINDNESSES BESTOWED, WE KNEW, LIKE THE LITTLEST HOBO, FESTER WAS A FREE SPIRIT…..AND NEEDED TO TRAVEL HERE AND THERE.
I WRITE ABOUT THE PARANORMAL FREQUENTLY, AND THE FUNNY THING IS, I'VE NEVER ONCE WRITTEN ANYTHING ABOUT THE SPIRITS OF THESE CRITTERS. OR THE SPIRITS OF THOSE MORTAL FRIENDS AND RELATIVES, WHO MAY BE SENDING MESSAGES FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE……TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE PETS THEY USED TO ENJOY VISITING WITH AT BIRCH HOLLOW. MY MOTHER MERLE, THOUGHT SHE WOULD LIKE FESTER I, AFTER WE FOUND IT, AS A KITTEN, TRYING TO STAY WARM ON A SEWER GRATE, ONE BITTERLY COLD WINTER NIGHT IN BRACEBRIDGE. IT WAS ONLY A KITTEN, AND WOULD NOT HAVE MADE IT THROUGH THE NIGHT. IN ANOTHER FEW MINUTES IT WOULD HAVE BEEN CRUSHED BY A PASSING CAR. MERLE THOUGHT SHE'D GIVE IT A GO, AND ADOPTED FESTER FROM US. WHICH WAS GOOD, BECAUSE WE ALREADY HAD TWO STRAYS; ANIMAL AND TOMMY, TWO BEAUTIFUL CATS THAT HAD BEEN ROAMING AROUND THE STREETS, HUNGRY AND COLD. TOMMY WAS ACTUALLY LODGING IN MY HOCKEY EQUIPMENT BAG, SUZANNE MADE ME KEEP ON THE VERANDAH. WELL, WE BROUGHT TOMMY IN, AND GOT HIM NEUTERED TO STOP THE FLOW OF UNWANTED KITTENS.
FESTER LASTED TWO DAYS AT MERLES. SHE CALLED TO SAY THE CAT WAS "SATAN'S SPAWN," AND WOULD WE PLEASE COME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, BECAUSE IT HAD HER CORNERED……AND SHE WAS ALREADY SUFFERING SCRATCHES ALL OVER HER BODY FROM THE LITTLE DICKENS. SO WE HAD TWO CATS AND A CRAZY KITTEN. TOMMY ASKED TO GO OUT ONE NIGHT, WHICH WAS NORMAL, EXCEPT FOR THE WAY SHE LOOKED BACK AT ME, HEADING OUT THE DOOR. I KNEW HE WASN'T COMING BACK. ANIMAL WAS A FAT LITTLE BEGGAR, AND HE WAS NO MATCH FOR A CAR. HE GOT OUT OF THE HOUSE ACCIDENTALLY, AND CHASED A CHIPMUNK ACROSS THE ROAD. I WAS IN A FUNK FOR A MONTH ABOUT THE CAT I'D LIVED WITH, AS A BACHELOR, FOR FOUR YEARS. HE ATE BESIDE ME EVERY NIGHT, AS CHARTER MEMBERS OF BRACEBRIDGE'S LONELY MALES' CLUB.
WE KNEW FESTER (NAMED AFTER UNCLE FESTER FROM THE ADDAMS FAMILY) WAS SLOWING DOWN, AND SEEMED LESS ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT GOING ON, AND VISITING THE BOG, ACROSS THE ROAD FROM OUR HOUSE. WE WERE PLANNING A TRIP TO ORILLIA, THAT DAY, AND WHEN WE LEFT SHE WAS CURLED UP ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR, WHICH WAS PECULIAR FOR HER. WE DROVE AS FAR AS THE GRAVENHURST ARCH, ON THE WAY TO THE HIGHWAY, AND I OFFERED AN APOLOGY TO SUZANNE AND THE BOYS. SOMETHING TOLD ME TO GO BACK TO THE HOUSE. WHEN WE GOT BACK, WHICH WAS LESS THAN FIFTEEN MINUTES FROM WHEN WE LEFT, FESTER WAS NEAR DEATH. I DON'T KNOW WHAT MADE ME FEEL THIS WAY, BECAUSE WHEN WE LEFT IT DIDN'T SEEM THERE WAS ANY IMMEDIATE CONCERN. I JUST KNEW I HAD TO TURN THAT CAR AROUND.
The boys were upset, and Suzanne was crying, and the only thing I could think of doing, at that moment, was to pick Fester up, and cradle her to the end I suspected was near. I sat down in an armchair, with her in a big towel, and watched her peacefully pass away. For those final moments, everyone was realistic and understanding that Fester had enjoyed a good and long life. The fact that we had saved her that winter night, and the reality she survived numerous run-ins with neighborhood dogs and cars for well more than a decade, seemed to evoke a gentle calm for the final moments. When she died in my arms, and I was able to say, with confidence, "Fester is gone," we all fell apart, as is our tradition. She was part of our everyday life, which for us, is very home-intensive. We have a very traditional appreciation for home, and home values, and these pets are part of the family unit……and we take this to the exponent of ten. The boys grew up with pets everywhere, and our days aren't complete, unless we have a cat around our necks, in our laps, on the bed while we sleep, on the back of the chair, breathing on us, and even in the bathroom, where our epileptic cat "Buddy" now lives. I held onto Fester for more than an hour after she had passed, as we talked and cried about the goodwill that little stray imbedded in our daily lives. Maybe we were feeling sorry for ourselves, more than just for Fester……as we were the ones left behind to remember her antics and habits; and the way she reminded us of the time of day, and about feeding times, and when it was time for bed. Fester was very habitual but a characteristically loving, and affectionate cat.
Suzanne was asked by a student if she wanted a kitten. Four or five times she refused, because it seemed to her, much too early to bring back another cat to Birch Hollow. We were still mourning Fester I. Finally the girl said that her father was making her take the kitten to the Humane Society Shelter, due to his allergies. The student explained that this kitten had to be put into a small shed, because of the allergies, and it was forced to co-habitate with an older dog, that didn't like the intrusion of a crazy kitten. To stay clear of the dog, the little cat had to live on upper shelves in the shed, fearing it would be eaten by the unhappy canine bedfellow. Reluctantly Suzanne agreed to take the kitten, and one night, she showed up at the van, with the little beast's head poking out of her coat. Robert, who had taken the loss of Fester I very badly, was delighted by the fact, Birch Hollow would have a cat prowling around, once again. He insisted on calling in "Fester II."
If ever a cat was evidence of "Satan's spawn," it was this little bastard. It was, at times, pure evil. I can't even estimate how many thousands of dollars in damage, it did to our large glass and china collection, over its years at Birch Hollow. The problem was its early reactionary dealings, with a nasty dog. Fester got up on our highest shelves, and would burrow into places, where there was always collateral damage to plates, on rails, the tops of china cupboards, where we had glass bowls and ornaments…….and anywhere else elevated, where she could muck about, and cause damage. It got so bad, we were often forced to isolate her in the bathroom, which was much less cluttered with antiques. We would let her out on good behavior, but within only a few hours, we would be picking up shards of glass and old pottery, shattered on the floor, as Fester looked for her safe haven. For the first two years, I had regrets every day, about bringing her home. My solution? To find another cat, to see if Fester might benefit from companionship. So we found someone dumping a tiny gray lump of fur with eyes, and decided to run this experiment. It couldn't get any worse, unless Fester had started to smoke or guzzle my beer. Smoky was a super-sensitive cat, fearing everything from the sound of plastic grocery bags, to the shuffle of slippers anywhere near him. Did I mention, Smoky has a shoe fetish? I'm cool with this, but it is kind of weird. It sleeps with its paws inside the shoes, its chin on the heels. You can actually scare the crap out of him, with an icy glare. So it never really worked. Smoky grew up fast and big, and as he waddles around the house now, at about thirty-five pounds, Fester at the time, I think, may have been nervous of getting eaten during his nightly feeding frenzy. The friendship thing just didn't work, and a lot of territorial spats made it uncomfortable for all of us. Smoky would beat the smaller Fester up, and in her hasty exit strategy, she might jump anywhere, including the dinner table, during a break-neck retreat. So we tried her back in the bathroom. She'd come out for awhile, and then Smoky would chase her back in.
One female guest, who we warned about the bathroom griffin, came out the door in a panic. "I was sitting on the toilet, and I felt this thing around my neck. I didn't think the cat would do something like that," she said, out of breath from the bathroom caper. "It wouldn't let go of my neck," she added. "What kind of cat is that?" We all just shrugged our respective shoulders. "Haven't got a clue…..but she's got lots of personality." "I felt funny exposing myself to a cat," she said, in mild disgust. "A lot of our guests feel that way," I answered. "But don't worry. She's not writing a book or anything about what she's seen in there." Last time we ever saw the girl. When we warn guests that we have a cat in the bathroom, they all react the same way. "I love cats." Every time they came out, "What the hell is wrong with that thing?" For instance…..when Fester wanted your attention, for whatever reason (not enough water in her dish, or food she didn't like), she would do something to attract attention. If for example, one of our family members was having a bath, she would stretch up the wall, from the counter, and knock a painting off its mount. She would knock over the lamp, all the shampoo and conditioner bottles, and she could actually open the lid of the ceramic container, holding the hundred or so Q-Tips. Then she'd pull them out with her paws, meaning we'd have to throw them all away because of contamination. The container, by the way, was hidden behind many other items, but she'd find it, and work to clear a path on the counter. I had to change the kind of pictures we hung on the walls, which all had to be glass free, and I actually had to wire the lamp to the wall, so she couldn't tip it over. It was just another day, using our bathroom, to hear gut wrenching screams from users, trying to stop Fester from knocking the knick knacks off shelves, or the towels off the racks. We got to the point we couldn't even put towels out, because she would get her claws into them, and yank them onto the floor. She couldn't stand to leave even one on the rack, so even if she got two of three onto the floor, it wouldn't stop her pursuit of the other towel. She'd lay on them for a few minutes, and then bugger off, having contaminated the towels for her temporary pleasure.
We all noticed her slowing down, and not being quite as devilish, in the two weeks leading up to her demise. But it wasn't until the night before, that she kept trying to get out of the bathroom, and out the front door. As a kitten, we had many chase adventures, all over neighbor's properties, trying to get her back inside. We had decided Fester II was going to be a house cat, because the neighborhood didn't need a whirling dervish like that….and she would have eaten birds and chipmunks, which we couldn't have lived with around here…….where we cherish all our little critters. Suzanne told me there was something wrong, and when I went in to see her, it was obvious she was confused and interested in getting outside. I suspect she knew the end was nearing. It was quite late, and as she didn't seem to be in any serious discomfort, and was still able to run like a jackalope, we decided to get her through the night, and head to the vet in the morning. We took turns through the night, checking on her condition. It didn't seem any worse or any better, until about 5:30 a.m. when I got up to check, and she had collapsed on the floor, with heavy and slow breathing. I picked her up, and cloaked her in a towel, and brought her to the living room, sitting in the same chair as I had years earlier, when her namesake died that summer afternoon. I didn't know whether I should call Suzanne or not, as this was her special pet…..and everyone knew it as "mom's cat." The boys were on a business trip to Ottawa, so it made it a little less difficult, and emotional at Birch Hollow, but I must admit, I didn't know how to face my wife. I couldn't get up with the at in my arms, so I had to yell for her to wake up. It took about ten times, to rouse her from sleep, and when she finally wound up at my side, I regretfully had to tell say, "your little friend has just now passed away." I felt her body go limp in my arms, and I truly felt that wee spirit rise from her like a perfumed vapor, reaching around my neck one last time. I asked Suzanne if she would like to hold Fester for awhile, and after wiping away the streaming tears, she took her cat and pulled it up close to her shoulders, as if cradling a new born baby……and at that moment, it seemed this final scene had been pre-destined. Normally we would have been up at 6:30 a.m., and on this day, Fester would have been long deceased. After a whole night of darting in and out of the bathroom, this final check, allowed me the last moment of mortal / feline companionship……as if she was saying to me specifically, in her little way, "I know we didn't get along so well, but you know, we still had some laughs, you and I. Look after my mom for me, will you."
Suzanne and I sat for the next hour, sharing our stories about Fester II, and thinking about the dear pets we've said goodbye to, in similar circumstances…..like our dog Alf and Kramer, cats, Animal, Tommy and Fester I. We wondered, out loud, how it is that these pets are able to become so imbedded in our psyches, such that these partings are always so devastating, and painful for weeks after the fact. There is no answer other than it is the way we choose to live. Even now, walking through our house, you can easily pat six formerly stray cats, and this is exactly what we do. So over the many years of cohabitation, it just becomes an inherent part of home life and times.
After she had lost the last traces of warmth, from such a once lively body, we wrapped her up, and placed her in a box she had liked to play in, and thought about a place she could be buried. When Suzanne had left to go to work, I headed to our little woodlot, and found a sunlit spot, beside our red trilliums, next to the place we had buried Fester I, and I carefully slid her down into the freshly opened earth……and found it hard to cover it over, wanting to give it just one more pat on the head for old time's sake. I stood there, looking at our pet cemetery, feeling really bad about burying my wife's pet, and that I had harbored such bad feelings toward Fester, since we brought it home. As if her lingering spirit sensed my chagrin, I felt a brush against my leg, and I knew Fester had just acknowledged……that despite our battles in the past, we were friends at the end……and you know, strangely, it made me feel better to think her feline soul, was going to cross over……maybe to meet up with the other Currie pets, we've also had to say farewell.
I sat down at this keyboard, and for the first hour, all I could think about, was the battles Fester the cat and I used to have every day of every year we had lived together. After awhile, and a mix of tears and laughter, I found a place to start, and now I have also found the right place to end. If you have pets, then you understand this column. If you don't own a pet, then you won't have to experience events like this. On the other hand, of all the pets we've lost, I can honestly say, I wouldn't, in retrospect, have chosen to live without them.
Thank you Fess, for an amazing twelve years. We've given our old orange cat Buddy, a stray cat from Segwun Boulevard, your place in the bathroom, and the basket you loved to claw to pieces. Buddy's had a rough life too, but he's enjoying his new digs……and I dare say, missing the cat he used to sleep with, a long time ago.
Be kind to God's creatures.
Thank you so much for visiting today's blog. Please join me again soon!
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