As we went out, House Martins were perching on a power cable.
Late in the afternoon, Grant called me outside to see them in flight all around us, tiny specks, gliding and diving.
Heaven knows there were plenty of bugs for them!
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Having not been plagued by flying insects till now, I feel can’t complain.
The buzzing in my ears I could tolerate, if it didn’t lead to large itchy bumps.
There is a spray, but there are other issues with that, so I went un-anointed to check on the squashes.
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If each bud turns into a squash, we will have quite a crop.
This one is called acorn. I prefer it to the more densely textured butternut, but the acorn variety bought from a supermarket are unreliable.
It will be interesting to sample our own home-grown from last year’s seeds.
It is always rewarding to see a plant grow. When I was a kid Mum used to grow onions in a jar for us to watch.
My friend Tim grew an avocado in a pot. I inherited it along with his apartment when he moved.
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Apartment, avocado plant and cat. I lived for a decade in the attic flat here, on the left. Just off the beach, it was cool year round.
It was less than glamorous but it was inexpensive, private and quiet.
It was the only place I’ve ever been able to grow African violets and they were beautiful.
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1986 was one of my life-changing milestones. Mohammed disappeared.
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When Tim sat with him on the balcony, Mohammed jumped up onto the roof and announced he’d stay there unless he was allowed out to patrol neighbourhood gardens.
So I inherited an indoor-outdoor.
The first time he went missing was over Christmas when it was bitterly cold. I suspected he’d gone snooping in a garage and been accidentally shut in over the holidays.
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Mohammed came back muttering and I smothered him in kisses. He happily stayed in after that until Spring arrived. Then he scratched and wailed at the door so I gave in, mentally saying goodbye each time.
When I travelled, Mohammed always wanted to come too. I still have that old suitcase and a little hole in my heart.
When a beloved cat dies, you come to terms with the loss but when they vanish, the pain never really resolves.
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Mohammed’s loss brought into my life one of the cats that did not like me, the gorgeous Mr Kina.
He was Balinese and I should have given him an Indonesian name but I had recently come back from Borneo where I had admired Mt Kinabalu, so.
In retrospect, perhaps that’s what pissed him off. He was a very smart cat.
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How did I know he didn’t like me?
He beat me up. Chewed my fingers, pulled my hair. He was obnoxious.
Unless my gentleman was there.
In which case, he was good as gold.
Adoration would not be too strong a word.
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Clearly what Kina needed was a playmate.
According to well-meaning friends.
2 days before Christmas 1986 my Christmas present was delivered.
Yeti was only 5 weeks old. The people who had her mother wanted to be rid of the kittens before the holiday.
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She was far too young.
My friends, Tim and his co-conspirator, told me they were “going out”.
“You better brace yourself, Kina” I said but when I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened the door, there was no pet carrier.
Maybe I wasn’t so smart.
Then I saw the tiniest paw sticking out of my friend’s parka.
As young as she was, Yeti was totally composed. Never cried, even when we bathed her to get rid of the fleas than were falling off her.
She was pure Himalayan, but the home she came from had let things lapse a bit.
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“Mine!” said Kina.
Deep down he was a nice cat.
Prepared to step up and care for a defenseless kitten.
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It was sweet to behold.
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In the meantime other changes were afoot that had nothing to do with Mohammed’s disappearance although it had led to my transitioning from single-cat person to two-cat person.
If you’ve got two, what’s one more and so forth. It’s a slippery slope.
We were moving and the new place did not allow pets. Technicalities.
Yeti demonstrated how she could be smuggled in…
By the time we made the move, Yeti had grown and Kina, still not pleased about living with me, devised a plan.
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When the real estate lawyer brought the papers over, Kina had speed-read the rules. “No pets, eh?”
He installed himself beside the front door and wailed as only a motivated Balinese can.
Additionally, to wind me up he began tormenting Yeti who took up residence under a radiator.
It was a time of stress.
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There’s always an answer even if it’s not one you really care for.
Kina had been a gift from generous friends but he was unhappy with me. A colleague had recently lost his Siamese cat. He and his family were besotted with cats.
They came to meet Kina
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They had hardly set a foot through the door before Kina launched himself into Bill’s arms:
“Where have you been?” he wailed.
“Save me!”
Kina had managed to arrange his exit as well as a proper family. Single female was never going to work for him.
My heart was heavy but I knew it was the right thing to let Kina go.
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We went to visit Kina a few years later, installed as he was with his harem and human slaves. A very content boy.
He remembered my friend fondly:
“Oh, hello. You’re that nice man who used to come and see me.”
“You wouldn’t take me home with you.”
He often enough tried to hide in my friend’s briefcase. That’s where we had got the idea for smuggling the cats in to my new abode.
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When I tried to say hello, he squished his face and pushed himself off:
“No! Put me down! Put me down!”
Maybe he thought I’d come to take him back.
It was the last time I saw Kina. He had a long and very happy life which makes me glad.
In that place, that tiny empty hole left by a vanished cat, there is also a shade of sadness that Kina did not love me.
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Apologies for the quality of the photographs. They are quite old.
How on earth did squashes bring us here?
That was some swerve, from squashes to squishes!
Thank you, Carolyn, for today’s complex happening, and the revelations that you can grow things beautifully. It looks as the autumn is approaching your place.
Joanna
Interesting history of your cats, and the street you lived on looks like a very nice place to dwell.
Best wishes, Pete.
Long Beach was very convenient to the airport so there were lots of airline personnel there. It had a different “vibe” to other places and I always felt at home there. They were hard hit by a hurricane (Sandy I think) a few years ago although I think the street in that pic came through OK. When I moved I often missed that old apartment but life changes, so you hold on to the good memories.
It’s fun to grow (and eat) your own vegetables … your crop looks great! Yeti really was the most beautiful cat (and I can’t believe that Kina didn’t like you – maybe his other family needed him more than you 😉).