CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST -

SNUG AS A BUG IN A - BUNGALOW - WITH A BUNCH OF CATS - AND THAT'S A LOT OF WORK - BUT THEY'RE FAMILY -IT'S CHRISTMAS

First of all, please don't drop kittens off at our house. We have reached our limit. I mean that. So please, just contact the Humane Society, and they'll be rescued and put up for adoption. Don't take this request as a sign we don't love cats. We have enough to be on that slippery slope, when being cat fanciers turns into cat hoarders. So how did we get these cats of ours. Well, by rescuing the stray kittens dumped in our neighborhood, by folks I never, ever want to meet. Our biggest cat find, was when a skinny little wretch, we called Beasly, began occupancy of our garden shed. We knew it was there, and because it was in serious peril, we did offer it food and water. It had obviously been abused and wouldn't come near us for about two months. I think we got close enough to pat its head a couple of times, but if we made any sudden move at all, Beasly was long gone.

One night we came home, long after sunset, and before I got into the back door……I heard it. No, I heard them!!!! One of those was the cry of a cat we now call Chutney, because Suzanne was making her famous tomato preserves that autumn when we afforded her the name. Darn thing is, we had no idea that Beasly was pregnant. Not a clue, because it was so thin, and stayed around our feet for only seconds at a time. On that particular night, we had to employ old stage lighting, Andrew owned, set up on stands, so we could see into the abyss of lawn-care items and a few old mowers…..and the boys' bikes from many years. The poor little beast had made a nest beneath an askew lawnmower, in some rags she must have dragged from another spot in the shed.

After a little growling, the strangest thing occurred. As if to let us know, the kittens needed help, she licked Suzanne's hand, and allowed her to pick up the wee beasties…..three of them. In her hand, and I mean one palm, were the future Chutney, Zappa (Robert's cat), and Angus. Chutney was the runt of the runts…..and we couldn't figure out how Beasly had been able to hide pregnancy. Suzanne spent that first night sleeping on the deck, to let Beasly and the kittens get on with business…..but seeing as we have lots of hawks in our neighborhood, because of The Bog, we never left them alone even on the verandah. There was no way, even though trust had improved, of getting Beasly to come into the house. So there were a few nights out on the verandah couch, with one hand dangling in the basket with the wee souls. Our other three cats, well, they weren't impressed, let me tell you. The scent of four cats was making them pretty anxious. Had our affections for them been diminished with these new additions? I don't think so, but I appreciate their concern. We weren't confident any of the three would survive, especially Chutney. Suzanne went through the whole process of building up their weight, and even began giving them solid food on the tip of her finger…..and all went well. We saved four out of four, when, at best, we expected two to die.

Someone dumped an orange kitten at the top of our road about six years ago. Suzanne and I both heard it crying but every time we went to check it out, the kitten took off under the fern canopy. There had been two hawks and an owl in the vicinity all that week, and we knew the cat had to be rescued. Finally Andrew, I believe, was able to attract it with some food, and we at least guaranteed its safety by bringing it back to Birch Hollow. We placed an ad in the paper and put posters up around our neighborhoods…..but we knew from the moment of rescue, this cat had been unceremoniously dumped. It was missing part of its tail. We called him Buddy, a beautiful big orange cat, that is amazingly affectionate…..but loves the outdoors. As we don't let our cats out to run wild, we have put Buddy in an outdoor cage during the gentler seasons of the year. Buddy is not a mixer as such, and the distance from the others works better for the household. The other cats are Smoky…..a giant beast, and Fester, the cat that lives happily in our bathroom. Here's why!

Fester was a cat "on the way out" you might say, and a student pleaded with Suzanne, a teacher, to give the cat a home……as her father was demanding it be surrendered either to the Humane Society, or to another homestead, due to pressing allergy issues in the family. As we had only just recently lost our other old cat, Fester the Ist, we had room at Birch Hollow to extend some kindness. The problem with Fester, is that it was kept, as a kitten, in a garage with a dog that didn't like cats. So Fester is an elevation-seeker, and it was causing a lot of damage in the house, because it was getting up to the top of all our shelving units and cupboards, and knocking things off, that were blocking her chosen "sleeping places." If something was in her way, like a very old vase or oil lamp, she'd wiggle her arse until the article toppled over the side. One morning, after cleaning up the carnage, I put Fester the 2nd, into our large bathroom, and she immediately went to a top shelf in an open cupboard. That was quite a few years ago now, and she's been happy ever since. She's not a mixer, although Smoky and Chutney visit daily, to eat out of her food dish. Smoky, named after our love for Algonquin's Smoke lake, is the size of a basketball but in a football shape, and when she decides to jump up on your lap, let me tell you…..it's a rocky couple of seconds if you're having a coffee. You can hear him running and generally there are about three to four seconds to protect your body from impact. Nice cat but too much to cuddle easily. We've tried to put him on a diet, but the annoyance of his frequent lap-jumps always leads to…."For God's sake Smoky….alright, alright, we'll get your dinner."

Beasly sleeps now on the corner of the old Hoosier in the kitchen, and her babies will often curl around her, like the good old days, and the purring is a calming sound around this homestead, let me tell you.

We have a marvelous CD by legendary American story-teller, Garrison Keillor, of well known music, classical and country, recorded with a novel and compelling "cat" theme…..that he performs with a well known opera singer……and it is perfect for a family like ours. The music tells it all. Cat lovers, are actually their pets……not the other way around. We are slaves to these beasts, and I'm not telling any stories here. In the morning, when Suzanne opens the bedroom door, there are these numerous furry faces staring in……with the look on their respective faces, saying….without having to meow a word….."Lady, lady, we're starving here…..what's going on….you're late." At noon, if I try to sneak into the kitchen to make some lunch, I'll all of a sudden feel their icy stares, and notice them circling for the kill. I've wondered this aloud to Suzanne, that should I have a heart attack and crumple to the floor, would they eat me. On Garrison's CD it's assumed, you see, that they might. So to buy myself a little time, I open another can, and top up their dry food, and sneak off with my sandwich before they desire that as well. The same at dinner time and before we go to bed. Although we never over-feed, the little beggars do have to be satisfied….or else they will dig at the carpet outside our bedroom doors, until we relent, and fill the dishes. We chase them the first thirty times, and then simply surrender.

We have rescued all these cats and we're glad we did. We had the option of surrendering those kittens to the Humane Society, but that same week, we found out the shelter was over-loaded with cats to adopt. We thought that if we could hold off, build-up their strength, they would be better physically, to adopt later on. You know the rest of the story. We kept them long enough to greatly improve their health…..and their kinship to all our family. I had no heart to separate poor Beasly from her kittens. She'd had a terrible early life, and we hopefully had made a difference, by offering food and shelter. I'm glad we started to feed Beasly when she first arrived at Birch Hollow, because if not, she would have had those kittens somewhere else, and with the predators around The Bog, they wouldn't have survived. They all have strong personalities, and they are all peculiar in their habits…..but tell you what, their affection toward us, is undeniable, rich and wonderful.

As I write my blog journal this morning, I have Chutney purring on my lap, and Angus at my feet. Smoky did a walk past a while ago, and they will become more frequent the closer it gets to noon. I would be foolish to deny, that these critters are of little influence to my creative junkets…..because for these past ten years, we've always had multiple cats, who like my lap…..or my archives window-sill, and no matter what I'm working on, there is a cat close by….to pat, to talk with, and to casually watch playing with a toy. As critical as I can get, with local politics, and ugly about our tax increases, there's no doubt these friendly felines mellow the beast within. Some of my adversaries benefit, without knowing it, just because I have a cat calming my editorial aggression.

From the middle of November, when I began writing this special "Christmas in Gravenhurst" journal, I have never sat down here once, even for a few moments, that a cat hasn't decided to join me for a creative jag. Half the time, I don't notice it until the first kneading claw that penetrates the upper leg, or my foot. While it's always uncomfortable, and they don't like me to move too much, while they're napping, I'm so intense when I write, truthfully, being uncomfortable is part of the process. If I get too comfortable I might actually lose some of my jagged edge, and how would the community benefit from that softening of aggression. But for all the work these cats represent, every day, they return the kindnesses in so many ways. Take for instance the time Suzanne's aunt passed away, and we were out at a hockey game. When I arrived home, she had two cats up around her neck. "Just after I got the call, I sat down here to think, and all of a sudden, they were on me within seconds. It's like they knew something bad had happened." The same thing happened recently when my father passed away. At the same time Ed died, according to when we got the phone call from the hospital, we both remarked at the lap-full of cats…….."Is this a sign of things to come." Several minutes later, we got the call. Ed was gone. As we are ghost sympathizers (you can check my Muskoka ghost blog), in this family, it didn't freak us out. First of all, Ed was very ill, and I had only just left the hospital, and we have that providential attitude, that spirits are full of energy. If you are a believer in the afterlife, you will give some credence to the idea of a spirit leaving the body, and re-tracing steps from its mortal existence. Ed loved cats and knew where to find us. In life and after-life. Nothing scary about it. I'm glad he dropped by. Animals are particularly sensitive to this, and when they jumped up on our laps, at this time, almost in unison, well, we just said hello to Ed, patted the cats, and got ready for the phone call. It was a calming way to get the news.

We love these cats, and the toil for their care is well worth it……for what they bestow upon us as a family.