Suzy Says

Looking back on the year with 2020 vision…or 2020 hindsight.

I made a decision to keep this space free of politics and other unpleasantness. As usual, with any decision I have ever made, I am not sure I made the right one. I work at a medical clinic and could have written about what it was/is like to work in a medical clinic during a pandemic, but I don’t want to write about work and I am too frivolous for such serious topics. Also, I like keeping everything ugly at bay. This is my safe (and sparkly) space, for better or for worse, for shallower or shallower.

Despite enjoying escapist fare such as children’s books (the wonderful E.L. Konigsberg and E. Nesbit) and Agatha Christies, as well as re-reading classics like The Catcher in the Rye and the works of the divine Jane when there was no library access, the total of books read by the local library chairperson was a paltry 86, not much of an improvement over the embarrassing 82 recorded in 2019. I greatly enjoyed Elton John’s memoir, Peter Swanson’s Eight Perfect Murders, Ruth Ware’s One by One, Connie Schultz’s The Daughters of Erietown, and Alex North’s The Whisper Man. As usual, Stephen King with If It Bleeds and Michael Connelly with Fair Warning and The Law of Innocence did not disappoint.

In addition to comfort viewing (The Rockford Files and Columbo), there were some amazing TV shows brightening my screen on these dark days: City on a Hill, Succession, Escape at Dannemora, Russian Doll, Unbelievable, Perry Mason (the new one; not the classic, which is also wonderful, but very different), The Morning Show, Dead to Me, Dash & Lily, Ozark, Bad Blood, Little Fires Everywhere, Better Call Saul, Emily in Paris, and Get Shorty. If you haven’t seen any of these, check them out. You’ll thank me later.

Other than that, here’s all the news I saw fit to print:

January: A quiet beginning to the new year, with no hangover and no particular plans. My beautiful commute. It still amazes me and reveals new joys. A seemingly endless supply of meetings.

February: The gift of a new cell phone from my sister, who was tired of not being able to text me at home. It took three visits to the Verizon Store to sort of get my data transferred. The nightmare of the kitties. A long story which was entirely my fault, and you know how much I love that. The kitchen sink was full of sewage again, and the power was out. Good times. Sunny days outside and pretty inside. A lovely day. And a lovely dinner.

March: An update on my bosses, the cats. Ignoring the ignominious time change with a look around the family garden. Close encounters with wildlife. In my case, the hare (thankfully) won the race. Remembering my beloved father on his birthday. A night in town. Of tires and take-out. Michelin-starred, no less. the take-out, not the tires (though they could have been Michelins). I was shocked and saddened to hear of my former brother-in-law Mike’s death, but thankful it was a peaceful one at home. Rest in peace, dear Mike. You were a wonderful man and will always be loved and remembered with joy.

April: Michelin starred take-out 2.0. Is it conceited that I prefer my own cooking? Maybe the starriness doesn’t translate well to the take-out genre. Mom? Is that you? The tale of the grandfather clock, more than 250 years and counting (the hours and minutes). Beauty is all around me. My blog turned 19! The differences between my weekday and weekend routines. Adventures in cooking.

May: Welcoming spring. I really enjoyed spring this year. It was so beautiful. The beauty of the season was darkened by the sudden and shocking death of a dear and long-time friend. Randy, I will never forget you or your smile that lit up a room. Some reflections on Mother’s Day from someone who will never be one and who had a complicated relationship with her own. There may be a connection here. Celebrating Dodge’s fourth (or so) birthday. He is such a beautiful, affectionate little guy. Never a dull moment for Megan, at work in the ER. The month ended with the end of the Beautiful Harriet, Megan and Rob’s much-loved 19 year old cat, just two days after Megan’s birthday. Harriet (then called Olivia) made her first appearance on my blog in December, 2001. She was part of our family for a long time and will always be missed.

June: Things were flourishing in the family garden. Of haircuts and hardware stores. A happy birthday for me…and for my beloved Clyde, who turned 10. A nice addition to the bedroom. Remembering the unforgettable Ginger, our childhood dog.

July: Celebrating the Fourth of July and both sides of my heritage. Also Megan and Rob’s 29th anniversary. Here’s to the next 29! Things were shady over at the family estate. Adjusting to a Kindle. I’m still a paper book girl at heart. Rob’s beautiful garden art. A delightful breakfast at the delightful Queenie’s. Some kitty adventures.

August: Things were rocking and rolling in the family garden. I think I did a better job of using produce this year. An unexpected operation for Stella. I’m glad to report she is fine. A lot of sadness in a short period of time in our little town. Time to start cooking with all that produce. The Evil Eighteenth rolled around for the nineteenth time. I was angry this year. I will never get over losing Dad like that. A heatwave, and remembering past summers. Trying to cool down with some icy adult beverages beside the ocean. Hello, darkness, my old enemy.

September: Rearranging the kitchen after my microwave gave up the ghost, as my appliances tend to do. Audrey being Audrey. Rob: always there to make my life better. Happy birthday to my amazing brother, Jonathan. The horror of wildfires. Getting my MacBook fixed, with all the fun that entails. And getting Wednesday repaired. Attacking the Closet of Doom, with Rob’s help.

October: Rob was working hard on the Closet of Doom. It’s still a work in progress. Summer seemed to be endless. A delightful visit with a friend. I hope we can do that again soon. Yet another crown for our princess. My ex John adopted a pregnant stray cat. Meet Willow, Peach, and Daisy (I named Daisy)! Doing some project cooking.

November: A road trip to beautiful Anderson Valley. Problems with the heater. Megan started an exciting new side gig at prestigious Stanford University! An update on Willow and her kittens. Getting my third crown was about as fun as you’d expect. I hope it’s the last one, but fear it won’t be. What would I be like if I had a different name? Trying to find the right blanket was harder than you’d expect.

December: The Christmas tree went up a little early this year. And the kitchen sink needed a minor procedure. Some lights in the darkness. Best friends. Memories of Christmas past. A quiet Christmas.

Thank you for coming along with me on this journey for another year, or staying with me for another year. Here’s to a brighter New Year for all of us!

Mirror Image

When I first brought Dodge home, he took one look at Clyde and it was love at first sight.

Clyde isn’t much of a fighter, but he hissed at the interloper, defending his territory as most cats will do. Dodge took it in stride, and you could practically see the thought balloon over his head as he decided he would win Clyde over.

It took surprisingly little time for Clyde to decide that maybe this young whippersnapper from the mean streets of Fort Bragg might be, just might be, OK. Once Dodge had an opening, it wasn’t long before Clyde was completely won over by his hero-worshipping young friend, and they became inseparable companions, playing together, getting into trouble together, basking in the sun, and giving each other baths.

Clyde is 10 years old to Dodge’s relatively youthful 4. And while you may not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, it seems you can teach an old cat new tricks. Clyde has started to copy a few of Dodge’s mannerisms, even though he is the senior member of the household and you would think his adoring acolyte would copy him. But no, Clyde has picked up on some of the new kid’s quirks, and fortunately, they are endearing.

Quirk One is rubbing up against my legs when I am in the bathroom. It’s nice to feel the soft fur. Clyde never did that before, and now he does it more than Dodge does. Quirk Two is pushing his head against me when I am petting him. It is so endearing. And speaking of endearing, Dodge still does his characteristic move of jumping while rubbing against me. I love that so much.

Audrey, of course, disdains them both, and often gives them Grinchy death glares. To be fair, Dodge has an unfortunate habit of chasing Audrey whenever the mood strikes him. I know we all need a hobby, but I wish he’d pick something a little less destructive to household peace, like learning to play the bagpipes. Also, Audrey took a dim view of humanity and her fellow felines long before Dodge came along.

Given that she is approaching her 14th year of her less than benevolent reign, I have started her on a glucosamine and chondroitin supplement for arthritic cats, and I do think it has made her less grumpy. Or at least changed the quality of her grumpitude somewhat. I tried CBD on her with no effect, but this does seem to be helping a bit. She seems a little more certain when jumping, too. If Audrey is happier, we all are.

A YEAR AGO: The many pleasures of Candlelit Shopping night in the Village.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A very enjoyable mini break in town.

TEN YEARS AGO: A really good mail day.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: An unexpected encounter with Santa.

Willow and her Babies

The kittens have been growing and changing, and it’s been really fun to watch the evolution along with John. I know he always envied me for having seen Buddy born and then grow up, so now it’s finally his chance to have that life-changing experience.

He’s been sending me photos and videos nearly every day since they were born in late September, and they have cheered me through some dark and stressful days and nights, I can tell you that. Another good reason for being on good terms with your ex-husband.

Here are a few recent milestones.

Peach started eating solid food before Daisy, though they were both still nursing at that time.

One of the charming stories John told me was how Peach was determined to use her mother Willow’s grown up litterbox rather than the baby litterbox. She could get into it, but had a hard time getting out of it. So Willow would go and lie next to the litterbox so Peach could climb onto her and then to the ground. John said this happened many times and it must have been something to see. Willow is a really good mother. I suspect that this is not her first rodeo, though I’m thankful it’s her last.

Here they are enjoying a heated bed which used to belong to a wonderful, very old cat named Abraham. Like me with Henry Etta, John rescued Abraham from the streets at an advanced age and was able to give him a peaceful and loving last couple of years. None of John’s other cats liked the bed, but the kittens give it two paws up:

Apparently Willow does not like to be caught playing with the kittens, as if it’s beneath her or something. So John was pretty excited to catch this video of them all playing together one morning.

Here’s Peach trying to escape the kitten room:

I wonder how long it will be before they blend into the family. At this point, I think they are already home.

A YEAR AGO: Hula classes!

FIVE YEARS AGO: The joys of Benedict Cumberbatch in “Hamlet”, followed by an excellent dinner.

TEN YEARS AGO: Buying sneakers can be harder than you’d think.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: I still think pretty much anything can be or is an Olympic sport. Also that the Olympics are on constantly, instead of every four years.

Willow and her babies

Dear Reader,

I realize that I have been holding out on you. I have access to nearly unparalleled kitten cuteness, but yet have not shared it. I hope you can forgive this shocking oversight.

You may remember that when John and I were married, we disagreed slightly on the correct amount of cats for our household. My number was around the 2 range, and his was more like 8 is almost enough. We compromised at 4. Now that we have our own households, we have stayed true to our individual beliefs. I have three*, and he has…well, I’m not exactly sure, but I think it’s around the 6-8 mark. He takes excellent care of them and they are well and happy.

He also looks after the neighborhood strays, trapping them to get them spayed and neutered and finding homes (other than his) where possible, in addition to supplying food, water, and home-made shelters for the strays who live in a colony near the Home Depot in his city.

He recently came across a pregnant young cat, and earned her trust enough to catch her and take her home. She was examined by John’s vet, who opined that the babies would come along soon. John was always a bit envious that I was there when Buddy was born, saw his first breath (and his last – the whole wonderful journey), so he was pretty excited about seeing the kittens arrive, which two did in due course.

He was concerned about the mom cat, who he had named Willow, and correctly so, since Willow had two babies still inside her which hadn’t made it and had to be surgically removed. They spayed Willow while they were at it, and that tough little lady nursed her two beautiful little kittens despite her surgical scars, as you can see here. She is a good mother, and the vet estimates her to be about two years old, so this is likely not her first litter, though thankfully it is her last.

John decided to keep Willow, though he claims he is going to get the babies adopted when they are old enough. I named the dark, stripy one Daisy, and she seems to be the bolder of the two, and he named Peach, who is lighter in color and more playful. I pointed out that the names have a botanical theme, and that the kittens’ names are old-fashioned slang for cute and/or awesome.

So without further ado, here are some kitten movies and pictures to make your day.

John says Willow turns into “super protective demon Mom” when he changes the towels in the nest and is a formidable opponent:

Here’s Peach, playing for the first time.

And here’s Daisy sleeping while Peach plays. Daisy sleeping is quite possibly the cutest thing on earth.

*Can you blame me? You’ve seen how irresistible Dodge is!

A YEAR AGO: Marking a decade in Hooterville.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A BBQ with an old friend and up close and personal with my old friend the Moon.

TEN YEARS AGO: A less than stellar day.

The monthly Board meetings at work always mean around a twelve hour day for our heroine, so it was both disappointing and ironic in equal measure that this month’s arrived the day after Labor Day. I have started doing them from home, which is a process improvement for me. I leave work around 3:15 pm and get the long drive out of the way in daylight, instead of hitting the long and winding road in the 7:00 pm darkness. And when the meeting is over, I’m already home.

As I drove down the Ridge that afternoon, I could see where the fog at the coast met the smoke from the Oak Fire in Willits, about 30 miles to the east:

My house is nearly 6 miles east of the highway, so I was basically driving toward the fire and smoke, even though the fire was unlikely to reach us through the intervening mountainous terrain. By the time I was set up for the meeting, the light outside was an eerie dark orange. Here’s how it looked from my back door:

Clyde did not like it. During the meeting, he kept going from door to door, looking to see if it looked any less disturbing. It kept getting darker, even though sunset was still hours away. Clyde did not approve of this. He is a sensitive boy, and seemed as perturbed as he did during the moving process last year. He enjoyed the chaos as much as I did, and we were both stressed out by it.

I could hardly wait for it to get dark so I could stop looking at the creepy orange light and get some semblance of normalcy. As the days wore on, the fire was thankfully contained, but the air remained smoky and terrible-smelling. You could see the ash and particulates in the air. We are used to such clean air here, and it was a dramatic and distressing change. The skies stayed orange or brown, dark in the daytime, to the point that I had to have both lights on in my office. I longed to see the sky after a week of not seeing it.

Still, we were the lucky ones, not being evacuated or under immediate threat. This time. I can’t help wondering if it’s like falling off the dock was when my siblings lived on boats at Pier 39, or hitting a deer when you live in the depths of the country: There’s them that has, and them that will. I wonder when it will be our turn to flee for our lives and hope our house isn’t burning to the ground behind us.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The absurdity of “insurance”.

TEN YEARS AGO: Pantry invaders!

So, I decided that Audrey’s outdoor privileges were revoked after the skirmish with Kiki, Danielle’s cat. Audrey and I did not see eye to eye on this. She expressed her displeasure with her unjustified imprisonment by clawing madly at the glass on various doors (thankfully, not on the wood of the doors) while squeaking with rage. A frantic Audrey is hard to ignore – well, Audrey in any mood is hard to ignore – but I steeled myself to it and thought that I had won the battle, if not the war.

Silly me. I should have known better. Audrey skulked stealthily under the couch unbeknownst to the Help, and scooted out the door as soon as she saw an opportunity.

Of course the opportunity was right before I was ready to go to bed and the sun was almost there.

My inner worrier kicked in automatically, like those enviable people who have generators that come on as soon as the power goes out. I reminded myself that Audrey is the undisputed winner of Survivor: Hooterville, but I didn’t love knowing that she was out there with the monsters and possibly a revenge-seeking Kiki.

Eventually I went to bed and read In Five Years while wondering what the hell was going on out there. I went to sleep with Clyde cuddled up next to me – he has been cuddlier than ever lately, for some reason – and hoping for the best.

I checked a couple of times during the night, and eventually found her sitting on the front porch, peeking in the door (which is basically a giant piece of glass). I opened the door and she walked in daintily, as if nothing had happened, and went upstairs to have a snack before vanishing somewhere in the house. She is very good at being unseen in the house, so perhaps these skills also stand her in good stead in the wild.

I still had a couple of hours to sleep before I had to get up in the dark and go to work. The dark circles under my eyes went with the general darkness motif of that morning.

As I drank my much-needed coffee out of my starry mug that morning, I noticed that Kiki was peeking through the glass door, to Dodge’s displeasure. He was wagging his tail and making quiet little bird sounds as he stared at her with his big blue eyes. I was glad that she wasn’t there a few hours earlier. I shooed her away, even though she is adorable and clearly needs petting and affection. But I can’t risk her hanging around my house in case of more Houdini-like escapades.

In happier animal news, Stella went to the vet to get her stitches out, and was pronounced cancer free. There is only a 2% chance that the cancer will recur, so that is something to celebrate!

A YEAR AGO: Helping to set up the annual library book sale.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Thinking about cars, past and present. I still miss my Mustang.

TEN YEARS AGO: A trip to town.

Harriet’s Tree

Soon after the loss of the Beautiful Harriet, my friend and coworker Michelle (who loves Megan and shares an office with her at work) and I bought a memorial tree in her honor. We had it shipped from nearby Humboldt County, and it arrived safe and sound, with lots of roots. It is a Moon Mountain Dogwood tree, just like the one on the Ridge I think of as the Dr. Seuss tree. Our family friend Blue Jay identified the tree for me so Michelle and I could buy it for Megan.

Harriet’s tree is about three feet tall, maybe a little more. I’m not sure how long it will take before it starts to make the flowers, but I’m looking forward to them. For those who haven’t seen this kind of tree, it looks like this:

The flowers last a long time and have that Dr. Seuss look. The whole tree looks like something out of one of his books, and I love that.

Rob made a really beautiful container for the tree. If you’re wondering why they didn’t just plant it in the ground, the ground is hard and the soil is poor here, so good soil has to be imported, whether it’s a big project, like the one acre family garden and orchard, or a more modest one, like Harriet’s tree.

The tree container is made from reused ceramic tiles. Rob found them and carefully beveled the edges so they would fit together. He also made the metal frame, soldering it together, and then planted flowers around the tree. It’s going to look amazing when it’s all grown in and the tree is flowering. It’s planted where it can be seen from the living room, too, so it can be enjoyed inside and out.

I think The Beautiful Harriet would approve. I wish she were here to see it.

A YEAR AGO: At the movies.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A visit from Erica. I miss her so much!

TEN YEARS AGO: A whole new window!

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Farewell to my mother, after a long and courageous battle against breast cancer. She was a fighter and never gave up. Rest easy, Mom.

Just look at me!

Mostly, you know, Dodge is like a little angel. He is super affectionate, jumping against my legs asking to be petted – I am so glad he kept that endearing quirk – or pushing his head against me, purring loudly. If you have hands, you should be using them to pet him, is his general view.

He loves to play with Clyde, and Clyde is always glad to cuddle with Dodge or play with him. They enjoy lounging in the sunshine together.

And of course, he is incredibly beautiful. The Medical Director at work often stops by my office to ask how Dodge is.

Pretty much everyone loves Dodge except Audrey, and she has good reason to hate this handsome young interloper.

Dodge has an unfortunate penchant for chasing Audrey. The kindest interpretation of this is that he wants her to play with him, but I suspect he is just messing with her. Maybe because she’s old and more fragile than he is, or maybe he wants to stake a claim on his territory. Who knows?

Whatever his motivation, I am continually shooing him away from her. And for Audrey’s part, she growls whenever she sees him. If she is sitting next to me on the bed and he is at the foot of it, she keeps up a low-grade growl, letting everyone know of her displeasure with his existence.

Not that it deters Dodge any.

So lately I have let her outside on the rare occasions I am home, to give her a break from her hated roommate. Mostly, she sits on the porch and enjoys being in a Dodge-free zone. But on Sunday, I heard the unmistakable noise of an impending cat fight. Audrey and my landlord’s cat Kiki were squaring off on the driveway.

The last thing I need is for one of my cats to injure Danielle’s cat, especially after all the drama we went through, so I scooped Audrey up and brought her inside, where the growling did not abate. I was lucky I could catch her and hold her. Although she is feather light, she is strong and determined.

So, I’m thinking no more outside for Audrey, though it will undoubtedly be a battle of wills. I almost never win those when it comes to Audrey.

A YEAR AGO: Getting to know my new neighborhood.

FIVE YEARS AGO: How to manage working six days a week. I did that for a long time.

TEN YEARS AGO: Watching lots of girl movies while my sister recovered from knee surgery.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Remembering Nana on her birthday.

I have a new addition to the bedroom:

I love the color of the cushion – it’s more of a sage in real life than it appears in these photos – and the clean lines of the wrought iron legs and sides. It’s handy to sit on while putting on or taking off shoes, and I think it makes the room look more finished. Audrey noticed that it’s the same color of her eyes and is quite becoming to her:

My good friend A decided that it needed a sheep fur throw, which was sent to me all the way from Poland. It certainly has an air of 70s glam, like Burt Reynolds should be lying on it. Or Dodge should be sitting next to it:

The Medical Director at the clinic where I work is quite the Dodge fan. Sometimes he stops by my office to ask how Dodge is and to see the latest pictures of him being handsome. This morning, I discovered that Dodge has a new hobby: licking the water off the curtain after I shower. I have also seen him covering up after Clyde leaves the litter box, clearly thinking that Clyde did not do a sufficiently through job of hiding all traces. It’s especially comic, since Dodge is standing entirely outside of the litter box at the time. He is such a character.

Here he is with Clyde, loitering with intent and thinking up some trouble to get into:

They always find it, too.

TEN YEARS AGO: The water trenching project was not without complications.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: I should have known better than to go in the house. Now I do.

Then

Now

My little Clyde turned ten on June 8. According to a cat age calculator, that makes us about the same age in human years, with Clyde at 56 and me at 58. No matter how old he gets – and I am expecting a minimum of another ten years – he will always be my baby boy.

A lot has happened since I first met Clyde and his inimitable brother Roscoe a decade ago. Even at the age of six weeks, their personalities were clear. Roscoe was dignified, sitting quietly at my feet, and Clyde climbed into my arms, purring and asking me to take them both home. How could I say no?

My time with Roscoe was short, but he left indelible paw prints on my heart and five years after losing him, I still think of him every day. I believe Clyde saw what happened to his brother. For days afterwards, he looked out the window towards the woods, and was very quiet and shaken up, way more than he was when he defeated the Slobber Monster. He stopped wanting to go outside after Roscoe vanished, and again, this is not how he reacted to near death himself at the fangs of the Slobber Monster. Just like it’s worse to see a loved one suffer than to suffer yourself, perhaps it’s worse to see your beloved brother killed than to nearly be killed yourself.

Clyde is a sensitive boy at the best of times, and I think we were both strongly affected by Roscoe’s loss. When we moved last year, Clyde and I both hated the chaos, both at the old house and the new one. On Moving Day itself, he was so unnerved by the whole thing that when I left him out of his carrier, he tried to climb back in.

Fortunately, the Moving Mess has long been vanquished, and Clyde is used to his new home. He has a close and loving relationship with Dodge, the stray Siamese I adopted a couple of years ago, after he followed a colleague home from the car dealership in the Big Town. Dodge took one look at Clyde and fell in love with him, just like I did. And it didn’t take long for them to get close and stay that way:

They cuddle and play together, and give each other baths. It’s a joy to watch them.

Happy birthday, little guy! Here’s to the next ten years! I love you, sweet boy.

A YEAR AGO: The boys did the heavy lifting in getting me set up in my new, beautiful house. Still can’t believe I actually live there!

FIVE YEARS AGO: A fabulous Junapalooza.

TEN YEARS AGO: A battle of wills with Audrey.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Fearing Mom’s impending death. We lost her a couple of months later.

The Beautiful Harriet, May 7, 2020

We lost The Beautiful Harriet just two days after Megan’s birthday.

Megan was working, and Rob saw Harriet make a strange movement and then seem to be partly paralyzed. Her pupils were fixed and dilated. He knew there was no hope of recovery, so he held her lovingly until she breathed her last, knowing that she was safe and loved.

Rob wisely waited until Megan got home from her long night shift, meeting her at the car and telling her the news as they walked back to their place together. Although Harriet was 19, her death was unexpected. I was shocked and saddened to hear the news. She hadn’t been sick or in decline, she was just old, about 92 in human years.

I went to the family estate after work that day. We all met at the chinquapin tree where Harriet’s sister Ramona and little Henry Etta are, along with Jed the Wonder Dog. Harriet is in good company in this pretty place:

She was still beautiful and her magic pelt was still magic, even in death. We petted her amazingly soft fur and told her we loved her. Rob had already prepared her resting place, quite deep but narrow enough that she would be safe and snug. Megan and I carefully rewrapped Harriet in a soft lavender towel, and then Megan lovingly settled Harriet in, tucking the towel in around our beloved girl.

We all took turns gently sifting the rich red earth over her, saying farewell and again telling her we loved her. Here is Rob finishing filling in the resting spot:

We covered it with leaves and it looks tranquil and serene:

Harriet had a long and happy life. She and Ramona lived with Megan and Rob from the time they were kittens, and were always loved and cared for. I am glad she had a peaceful end, at home, being held by someone who had loved her all her life, and that we were able to lay her to rest with our own hands with love.
Sleep easy, beautiful Harriet. You are loved and missed and will always be in our hearts.

A YEAR AGO: The great move to my current beautiful abode.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A fantastic birthday party for Megan, including the best practical joke ever.

TEN YEARS AGO: There’s nothing more fun than some quality girl time.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Some quality time with the wonderful, beautiful Rita.

Sunday afternoon with Dodge

Since I don’t know Dodge’s actual birthday, I gave him my American grandfather’s birthday, May 11. Hoho, as we called him for his frequent and distinctive laugh, loved cats, and I have many pictures of him with long-ago cats, especially Smoky, the grey cat he and Nana had when Mom was young. They loved that cat so much that they still had his bed up in their attic when I myself was young, more than 30 years later.

Hoho was always a bit of a rascal too, so I think he would have enjoyed knowing Dodge, the former street cat.

This summer marks two years since Dodge followed my co-worker Susan home from the car dealership and made his way into my heart and home. He was two or three then, so that means he’s four or five now.

He certainly looks healthier and happier now than he did when he first appeared. Then he was painfully thin in both body and fur:

Now he is, as Megan puts it, 100% plush. His fur is so soft and thick!

He is also such a happy boy. I have never had a less neurotic cat, despite his unfortunate start in life. He is not very interested in food, despite being starved. Maybe just knowing there’s always food now is enough for him. He is friendly to anyone and everyone, and still has his endearing habit of jumping up while simultaneously rubbing against you. He has an incredibly loud purr, and is very attached to Clyde.

Clyde loves him right back. When Dodge has escaped from the house, Clyde looked for him anxiously and when he came back in, sniffed him all over carefully to make sure his little brother was safe and sound. They often curl up together:

and play together. I think Clyde is very happy to have Dodge in his life after losing his unforgettable brother Roscoe, and I feel the same way. As soon as Dodge took one look at Clyde, he was determined they’d be friends, and he was right.

As for Audrey….well, she takes a dim view of the interloper. To be fair, she is also not a big Clyde fan, despite his always elegant attire and incredible cuddliness and cuteness. I really think she only tolerates me for the food, treats, and litterbox services I provide. Audrey is nondenominational in her overall grumpitude.

A YEAR AGO: Nothing like a flood in the bathroom to make you feel like it’s time to move!

FIVE YEARS AGO: Attempting to come to terms with the grind.

TEN YEARS AGO: An evening with Audrey.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO A bemused witness to a somewhat surreal fashion show for dogs. Yes, dogs. Yes, with tiaras.

During the week, I get up in the early morning darkness. Most days, I wake up before the alarm goes off, and I am almost invariably disappointed that it’s already time to get up. Sometimes I lie there for a few minutes, wondering why it’s always time to get up, but mostly I just get up, turn off the alarm, put away my sleep mask and earplugs, and get on with it.

The first order of business is always cat care, and I have the invaluable Clyde to remind me of this very important fact. Even though my record of giving the cats food and water twice a day is unblemished, Clyde, like his Staff, tends to fear the worst and feels that it doesn’t hurt for me to get a reminder. Unfortunately, he can’t seem to understand that his getting under my feet and yowling makes it take longer to achieve the desired result. All this before coffee, my friends.

I’m usually out of the house within an hour of getting up, and that includes the application of faux adult armor, including make-up and hair styling.

On the weekends, it’s a different story, though.

I wake up when it’s light out. Cat care still comes first, but then I make coffee, bring it back upstairs, and get back into bed. On Saturdays, I read Savage Love and on Sundays I read PostSecret before attending to my fan mail. These are long-standing traditions.

It’s nice to sit in bed and enjoy the serene views from the windows and the sounds of silence:

I can (and do) spend hours in bed, reading book reviews and recipes, writing, and hanging out with the cats, who are clearly glad that I’m home for a change just encourage this kind of slothitude. People who think cats are aloof and distant have never met my cats.

Audrey generally curls up right next me, somewhat surprising for a cat of her general grumpitude. She even purrs, though she also growls when Dodge is anywhere near. Despite that, there is sometimes a temporary truce, though only when the bed is messy:

Usually, the boys are curled up together, with Audrey growling softly beside me just to remind them that she can barely tolerate their existence.

Eventually, I get up and do some cooking for the week – I like to make things I can heat up after work – but I really enjoy my weekend ritual.

A YEAR AGO: An amazing outing with the girls, learning about female lighthouse keepers – at a lighthouse.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A delightful celebration of Jessica’s birthday, with zebras, giraffes, surfers, and patisserie. What more could a girl want?

TEN YEARS AGO: I can’t believe it’s been ten years since we rescued Star! I’m pretty sure she knew that day that she was home. She was a mama’s girl from Day One! Some things never change.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: An emotional recipe. And a charmimg memory.

We’re perfectly good!

My unauthorized kitties have been driving me a little bit crazy lately. Well, even the authorized one, to be honest.

Audrey, the authorized cat and official cat of the household, hates Dodge, the interloper. I don’t think a day goes by that she isn’t growling and hissing at him, which he tends to ignore. Maybe that just fans the flames of her discontent. I would love to have a day free of cat spats.

Not much bothers Dodge. He likes to sleep touching me, he likes to be petted, and he still does his charming trick of jumping up to push against my legs (or anyone’s, really). His purr is so loud I’m surprised that my unseen neighbor Alex hasn’t complained about it. Surprisingly for a cat who was starved and partly furless from exposure, he is unconcerned about food. Maybe knowing he can always get it has made him not worry about this.

Clyde, on the other hand…

Clyde has always been a food enthusiast, but some reason lately he is obsessed. He starts nagging me to get up and feed him around 3 am, which is not my favorite time to be woken up. He walks around on me making his distinctive Clydesounds™ and is relentless. When I feed the cats, he is always underfoot and I am convinced I am going to trip over him and break my neck. I wonder how long it will be before he starts to eat me if I do.

In an effort to stay alive and less annoyed, I have started giving Clyde and Audrey CBD oil. Dodge is already mellow and does not require further mellowing. I was hoping the CBD would help Audrey’s ability to jump on the bed. She has been sort of climbing up by the comforter (and me) instead. But it hasn’t had the miraculous effect it had on Megan’s nearly 19 year old cat Harriet, at least, not yet.

Of course, Clyde’s food obsession does not extend to canned food, which he disdains. I give Audrey her CBD oil in canned food, and she eats it, but Clyde won’t eat wet food, so I tried putting it on his kibble. He was not happy. So I am now putting three drops on his kibble and mixing it up, and will work my way up to 9 drops. You would think a native Mendocino boy would be happy to ingest hemp, but nothing is simple when it comes to cats.

A YEAR AGO: Taking a little break in town in the midst of an atmospheric river.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Thankful for my friends when I couldn’t get home from work.

TEN YEARS AGO: An enjoyable noir evening. I note that I mention Jessie Royce Landis in the post, and she was also in the episode of Columbo I watched last night.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: I finally got to see the beautiful mermaids at Weeki Wachee Springs. Ever since I was a kid, I thought the mermaids and the Rockettes were magical. I still do.

So…I have a confession to make.

When I applied for this house, I was a little inexact about the exact cat population at Chez Suzy. I felt – correctly, as it turned out – that if I admitted to having three cats, I would be immediately disqualified as a potential tenant. Three cats seemed perilously close to Crazy Cat Lady territory, not a neighborhood considered desirable by most (or any) landlords. So I only admitted to the existence of Audrey, in the belief that she was the most likely to be seen by the landlord.

In my defense, it is almost impossible to find a place that allows any form of pet, and I had been looking for almost a year before I found this place, which also is lovelier than my wildest dreams. I assumed I would just move into another eccentric hippie house. Imagine my surprise when I saw this place, not to mention my desperate wish to live here.

Needless to say, after I moved in, I was constantly worried that my landlord would find out the cats were a trio, rather than a solo act, and of course, it happened. She came in one day when I wasn’t home to check on the septic system. She didn’t call or text or otherwise let me know ahead of time, and I was at work, as she could clearly see, since my car was gone. She knew quite well I wasn’t home.

Of course, she discovered the unauthorized cats and freaked out, which in turn freaked me out, fearing that I would end up either homeless or catless. I discovered this in a series of agitated texts while I was in a library board meeting. I called her after the meeting and she basically said I had to rehome two of the cats.

I called the free legal service provided by my work, and was amazed to discover that I didn’t have a leg (or a paw) to stand on. All you hear is how tenants have all the rights and it’s so hard to get rid of them and everything is in their favor, but the polar opposite is true. I thought my landlord had committed a crime by deliberately entering my rented premises when I wasn’t there and without my permission. Apparently this is only a problem if it’s “a pattern”. The real problem is that I broke my lease by having two unauthorized cats. Oh, and because I’ve lived there less than a year, my landlord only has to give me 30 days’ notice to move out, and take my legal and illegal felines with me.

I sent my landlord an email, apologizing sincerely and basically begging to keep my beloved cats. She was willing to listen, and there was a back and forth between us. She said she would need another $500 pet deposit, which I was glad to agree to (though I had no idea how I would come up with the money), and she wanted to check the premises monthly, which I also agreed to.

The inspection finally happened this past Sunday. I think it was good that we talked face to face. I again apologized and she said her issue was really with trust, not with the cats, and I totally understand that. She told me some personal things, which I took to be working towards rebuilding our trust, and went through the house. She remarked on how nice it looked, which made me feel good, and though she pointed out some scratches on a couple of the redwood beams, I truly believe they are old and not caused by my cats. I said I wished we had done this before I moved in, and she agreed. She took photos of everything.

Audrey is 13, Clyde is 10, and Dodge is 3. As they pass away, I’m not planning to replace them, and will end up with just one cat, and I let her know that.

We chatted a bit when she left, and as she walked toward her house she said, “I’ll get you the paperwork,” which I hope means that everything is all right. I will always be honest with her going forward, and I hope that we can mend our relationship and be good neighbors for years to come.

A YEAR AGO: It was snowing! And I was under the weather.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A gigantic, scary, power-removing storm. I’d rather have snow, thank you.

TEN YEARS AGO: An illustrious former neighbor.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Getting lost is one of my special talents. They are all pretty much useless.

I am pleased to report that 2019 was a vast improvement over the extremely unpleasant 2018. Less crappy! It’s our goal!

The main improvement in my life is that I moved to an incredibly beautiful house, still in Hooterville, but a world away from the drama, weirdness, and strife of the old place.

Books read: A paltry 83, embarrassing compared to last year’s 102, and even more embarrassing considering that I became our local library’s Board President this year. Not exactly setting a shining literary example there.

Rainfall has been on the paltry side too, at a mere 12.5 inches so far this underachieving season. The hills are barely green and it’s nearly January. I hope we aren’t facing another drought.

I lost track of the power outages this year. Given that Their Satanic Majesties (also known as PG&E) feel they can cut us off for days at a time with utter impunity, I think we can expect the beatings to continue.

Here’s what happened to our heroine this year:

January: The delights of the ballet followed by take out Thai food and a Hitchcock movie with the family. The girls were being good and the boys were being bad. The beginning of a three day power outage. Way to start the year! It’s on! It’s off! It’s winter on the coast! Ending the month as it began, with a wonderful evening at the ballet.

February: Thinking about the past. There was snow! Beautiful snow! I love snow! I did not love having the Bug from Hell, however. The dangers of housework.

March: A little vacation in town, in the midst of an atmospheric river. A delightful trip to the past. The combined horrors of dental bills (which I did have to pay, of course), the time change, and yet more dental work. Hoping that the madness of the time change will eventually go away, though the horrors of bills and dental work are eternal. We celebrated Dad’s birthday in style, with home-made cider, good food, a great Hitchcock movie, and lots of love. Brightening my hair and my outlook. Dinner with Erica and Jessica. There are no words for how much I miss them.

April: An unexpected (and unnerving) funeral. Boys will be boys. Especially Dodge and Clyde. So nice to see how much they love each other. Getting crowned. And not in a good way. An unpleasant surprise. My blog turned 18 and Jessica turned 16. Guess which one is more mature? A fantastic trip to the South Coast with Megan and Lu, including a fascinating lecture on female lighthouse keepers.

May: I found a new house to rent! It is beautiful and I still can hardly believe I actually live there. A wonderful barbecue at Rio’s place, with lots of friends and family. The best kind! Wildlife, inside and out. Water, water everywhere. I picked a good time to move. Taking a trip down Memory Lane while going through the seemingly endless supply of boxes. Neither here nor there. Moving Day! And Megan’s birthday!

June: I got internet for my birthday. Just what I wanted! Unpacking. With a vengeance. And without caffeine. My brothers valiantly unpacked the ancient grandfather clock. It’s official! I’m home! Getting to know the new and fancy appliances in my new house. And I have a house key for the first time in 10 years! The cats adjusted to their new home. And speaking of cats: Dodge dislodged the window screen in the bedroom. Fortunately there was no permanent harm done to cat or screen.

July: Natural wonders, from earthquakes to foxes. A delightful evening with the Flynn Creek Circus. Is there any other kind? Jarrett and Kalli are engaged! Wedding will be in the spring of 2021 on the family estate. Hooray! A look around my beautiful new home. It’s like a dream that I actually live here. My commute isn’t bad, either.

August: A fun Sunday without ever leaving Hooterville. Alert the media! I actually went to the movies! It was really fun, too. Hello darkness, my old enemy. And farewell to another lovely library board member, at the ripe old age of 94. Her ashes joined her husband’s at Wage’s Creek and they are together at last. A fairly successful attempt at making Montreal style bagels. A completely perfect day to kick off an extra long weekend.

September: Helping to set up a very successful book sale for the library. A delicious trip to the South Coast. Yet another new appliance in my new house!

October: Bears, bears, everywhere! I somehow became the library Board President. There are far too many speeches and events involved. More bears. And gas. It turns out you can have too much. Only I could turn buying a couch cushion into an epic adventure. The tenth anniversary of my move to Hooterville. A lot has happened over the decade. Moving here was one of the few good decisions I have made as an adult.

November: The horror of a five day power out(r)age brought to us by the corruption, greed, and neglect of PG&E. They should be ashamed of themselves, but they aren’t. You think a long, unnecessary power outage is bad, until you wake up to discover a sink full of raw sewage. The fun and companionship of hula class. And the joy and beauty of the local symphony. There’s nothing more fun than girl night!

December: A stormy, but happy, Thanksgiving. The only thing more fun than the Festival of Lights is seeing it with your friends and their family. The happy tradition of Candlelight Shopping in the Village. And a happy holiday season.

Thanks for coming along with me for the ride. Here’s to the New Year!

Today marks a decade since I moved to Hooterville! Can you believe it? So much has happened since the day my brothers drove the truck full of my things and stuff up the highway and the curving roads while I followed with a howling and indignant Audrey. It was a long drive.

It was a big adjustment, going from city life to country life, and it was hard at first. But now I wouldn’t move back to San Francisco, even if I were the zillionaire such a move would require. I love living in the woods, with the loudest sound the wind in the trees and bird songs. And the San Francisco I knew and loved is gone.

A lot has changed in the past ten years. I lost no fewer than three beloved cats: the exquisite June (Audrey’s sister); ancient, scrappy little Henry Etta, who I brought with me from Oakhampton; and the irreplaceable Roscoe (Clyde’s brother). It’s no coincidence that my current feline line up of Audrey, Clyde, and Dodge are not allowed outside. That’s where the monsters are, and I am avoiding them like the plague they are.

During the time I have been here, my sister lost her beloved Schatzi, our last link to our mother, and her sweet cat Ramona. She still has Ramona’s sister, the beautiful Harriet, going strong at 18 years old. Along the way, we trekked to Colusa to rescue her dog Star, whom Megan ending up adopting, who was later joined by the inimitable Stella. Star is always so happy to see me that I am secretly convinced that she remembers I was there with Megan on the day she was saved and her perfect life began.

My sister moved away from the property we both lived on to the one where our brother lives. Things were never quite the same. My former landlord moved away without letting me know, and I moved a few months later. I love my new, beautiful, and let’s face it, improved house, but I will always have a soft spot in my heart for my quirky old place, despite all its eccentricities, even though I am much happier at the new place. It still seems like a dream after five months of living there.

My brother adopted his adorable and fierce mini cat, Scout, and fell in love with his lovely girlfriend Rio. He is happier with her than I have ever seen him. And she makes up for our lack of reproducing by having four adult kids and three small grandchildren.

Wells were dug at the family estate, and an epic garden and orchard, now an acre in size, were built and fenced (and then electrified to bear proof it) on the inhospitable pygmy soil. It is now a thing of beauty and a wonder to behold.

Erica and Jessica moved away following a family tragedy, and I miss them every day. The good news is that they are in the process of moving a little closer, to Portland, so I’m hoping to see them at least once a year. I miss them.

I finally got divorced after a long separation. I believe that now John and I have been apart longer than we were married. But he still means a great deal to me and I will always love him. We are in touch nearly every day. I am trying to support him as best I can through cancer treatments for one of his beloved cats. And if he called me at 2 am and needed bail, help burying a body, or a ride somewhere I’d grab my keys and be out the door. I don’t consider our relationship to be a failure.

I got a new (to me) car, which carries me to the Big Town nearly every day. I estimate I drive 250 miles a week, just to work and back. I also have a less new job, of nearly five years’ standing, which I acquired when the business my partner and I built and poured all our time, dedication, and money into disappeared, taking my livelihood and career with it. It was hard to recover from that devastation, and in some ways I am still working on it, but I am grateful I found this job when I needed it. Before the job, I had the jobette, which is sadly long gone now, but the friendships I made there remain.

I wonder what the next ten years will bring? Whatever it is, it will be unexpected. Some of it will be great, some of it will be horrible, and through it all, I will have my family and my friends.

A YEAR AGO: A sleepover with Jessica.

FIVE YEARS AGO: My fifth anniversary in beautiful Hooterville.

TEN YEARS AGO: I think you know.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Getting a call from the dry cleaner. Now I live where there is no dry cleaner.

Sometimes when I actually get around to cooking on the weekends, I begin to feel that I may have been overly ambitious in formulating my culinary plans.

Sitting in bed with a cup of coffee and the kitties in various relaxing attitudes, getting up, getting dressed, and starting to cook doesn’t seem all that appealing. Cats are very demotivating.

Most of the time, they just stay in bed while I start cooking and tidying up. Cats quite rightly despise housework and avoid at all costs, wisely leaving it the help.

This weekend, I had the delusion that I could make my own Montreal bagels, despite not having a wood-fired oven and being about 3,000 miles away from Montreal. As I started to assemble the ingredients – one of the drawbacks of my house is that the food is stored in a separate area from the kitchenette – it occurred to me that I could use up some leftover mint and some cucumber by making spa water:

I often have mint left over, and this turned out to be a delicious and refreshing way to use the leftovers.

With spa water at hand and kitties snoring upstairs, I started the bagel construction process. It is lengthy and, to be honest with you, something of a hassle. I used this recipe from the New York Times, and the irony was not lost on me, since Montreal bagels are a very different style from the bready New York ones. They are mostly hole, resembling a bracelet, and are chewy and slightly sweet from being boiled in honey water, just one part of the lengthy process.

My oven is an overachiever – faithful readers may recall how I inadvertently quick roasted a turkey one Thanksgiving – so I overcooked the bagels a bit. Still, not bad for a first attempt:

The oven was quite busy that day, cooking apple crumble to use up the four or five aging apples in the fruit bowl and my Dad’s honey-mustard chicken. Maybe my underachieving is really overachieving!

A YEAR AGO: Dodge joined the family! I am pleased to report that he is now 100% plush and 100% happy.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Hanging out on the couch.

TEN YEARS AGO: Hating the heat. I always have, and I always will.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A little on the sleepy side.

Well, that didn’t take long!

I heard a thump one morning while I was applying my faux adult armor and looked in the bedroom, where the sound seemed to originate. I saw the window screen was torn. Looking out the window, I also saw Dodge standing on the driveway. I closed the window and tried to get Dodge to come back in the house. One thing I have learned about him is you can’t pick him up outside. He will claw you to death and he is one strong boy! It must be all part of his street survival multi pack of skills. So you have to wait until he’s ready to come back in, even if it’s 2 am.

I happened to be lucky that day and got him to come back inside before I left for work, but I was worried about the torn screen. I felt like I had just moved into the house and I had already trashed it. Also my landlord drives past my house any time she goes anywhere or goes home, so I was afraid she’d notice.

I managed to get it taped up until Rob could come by and take a look at the situation. He showed me that it hadn’t actually torn – it was pulled out of the frame and the string that holds it in (you can tell I have a 100% perfect grasp of the inner workings of window screens) was also intact. So he managed to make it look as good as new, which was a huge relief, and also put the errant screen back in its place without a giant ladder, making my house look like nothing had happened when in fact plenty had.

I made another unwelcome discovery while getting ready for work this morning. The cats had in fact snapped off a part of one of the bathroom window blinds and bent another one. Goodbye, $1,000 security deposit! I thought as I applied plum colored mascara. I’m wondering if I can super glue them together or maybe Rob can come up with something. I guess my worst case scenario is replacing the blinds when I move out. They will (I hope) be a lot cheaper than $1,000. In the meantime, I have rolled up the blinds to hide the damaged part.

Those kitties! What will I do with them?

A YEAR AGO: Heatwaves, bunnies, and birds!

FIVE YEARS AGO: A reading at the bookstore.

TEN YEARS AGO: A rude awakening.

A Rare Show of Togetherness

The cats seem as happy in their new home as the Staff is. They staked out their territory early. Audrey is Queen of the Couch, rarely, if ever, venturing upstairs, which is Boys Town. While she lounges on the couch, the boys lounge (and generally cuddle) on the bed. Much like human boys, they are happy with an unmade bed, but their Staff prefers the bed to be made and things to be tidy.

I placed two food dishes and a water dish in the spacious bathroom, along with the litterbox, which I cleverly concealed in the shelving unit there. I was surprised one day to note that both Dodge and Clyde were in the box at the same time, which seemed a little excessive in the way of togetherness.

Audrey’s dish and water are downstairs in her kingdom. It was soon brought to my attention that she did not care to go upstairs to use the facilities, so she now has her own inside the downstairs closet. I don’t love leaving the closet door ajar at all times, but it beats the alternative. Like I always say, compromise means nobody’s happy, though in this case, I’m pretty sure Audrey is.

The front door of the house is mostly glass, as is the sliding door in the kitchen and the door to the back porch, so I expected the cats to use those to look outside. Unfortunately for me, they prefer to sit in the windows, most of which have blinds which they walk through and disarrange. Fortunately, all of the windows also have screens.

However…I did not admit to the actual cat population when interviewing for the house. I only told my landlord about Audrey, who I expected to be the most visible and who might go outside eventually. Even to the owner of three cats, three cats sounds perilously close to crazy cat lady territory, and I didn’t want to jeopardize getting the house by admitting to it. So now I’m worried that she will notice them sitting in the windows and I’m not sure how to respond to that if it happens. I realize I should have told the truth in the first place and I brought it all on myself, but still.

The situation is further complicated by the fact that the landlord’s cat has been stopping by to visit (and, on occasion, leaving dead birds on the front porch). She is a beautiful cat, slim and white, with grey patches and extra toes, making her slim legs look even thinner with the big, bunchy paws.

She is friendly and likes to be petted. However, Clyde and Audrey do not appreciate her visits. They both hiss and growl at her. I am always a bit shocked when Clyde does it, since he is usually such a cuddlebug. Dodge is completely uninterested in the visitor. Maybe he developed this laissez faire attitude while living on the mean streets of Fort Bragg during his formative years.

Maybe I’m worrying about nothing, though worrying is what I do. I’m (in)famous for it. Even seven year olds can tell!

A YEAR AGO: Some minor mysteries on the Ridge.

FIVE YEARS AGO: An eventful memorial service.

TEN YEARS AGO: Those naughty kitties!