Ultraviolet the Cat sits with me during almost all computer work now. She comes cooing and trilling, “urururururp,” “ooo ooo ooo eep” even before I’m fully seated. “Come on up, Sweetheart.” She jumps up, stands for a moment, moves around. She looks at me while her floofy tail sweeps over the keyboard. Well it needed dusting anyway. Her tail sweeps across my face. Still cool. When it moves towards my tea, not so cool. She settles, and purrs.
March photo of violet and sweetgum seedpod. The pods fall over the winter but come April there were still a lot left up in the trees.
I took some photos in town of ducks visiting from the nearby lake. I’m told they’re Muscovy Ducks. One huge drake walked right up to me expecting me to toss him food like everyone else in the neighborhood does. I was sans duck fare but I think they found some bugs.
“Those look right tasty, can I have some?” says Ultraviolet.
“Um, no . . .”
“Are they all for Shelley?”
“No, cats only get duck from cans.” (Much as it pains me, cats must be fed meat, because they are obligate carnivores.)
“Well that’s confusing. I’ll go catch ’em myself, next time we’re in town.”
“They’re bigger than you.”
We take UV with us to town on days the weather personnel says the sky might smash us. That’s where we rode out the 2011 EF4. You have to stay alert to conditions outside and track information sources every second. On April 22, fifteen minutes after arrival, we were in the polygon for a tornado warning. Ultraviolet was still in her carrier. We hurried to get Shelley into a carrier. Shelley commenced to hollering. All three phones let out grating blasts and their screens filled with TAKE COVER NOW. The tornado siren went off. We were about to get everyone into the safe room when the TV weather person said it was over. Conditions in unstable air change fast, for better or worse. The town siren stopped but the Shelley siren didn’t. We released both cats into their respective rooms and they were both happy again. Thankfully we had no further alerts that day but I still felt chilled. A little too much déjà vu; a warning soon after arrival at the same house just like before, same month, different year. April 27, 2018 was the 7th anniversary of the 2011 tornado.
“Shelley put up an awful racket! While I had to wait next to her, I could just smell her! What’s she doing in my post anyway?”
“Let’s look at some creeks, ‘K?”:
“Drinking creeks! To wash down fresh duck!”
“Um, no . . .”
Heavy rains in May meant the creek was roarin’ by in great waves. Like a choppy ocean in a trough. I went closer with hesitation. Even UV agrees the pictures show the water is too muddy and fast for her to attempt the slurp she craves.
A few days later, Tropical Storm Alberto rained on us some more. Waves were even more gigantic so I stayed farther away.
“But that flood water’s all gone now, amirite?” chirps Ultraviolet. We’ll talk about walking down there later. Where were y’all last night? I missed sitting with you.”
“We went ‘next door’ to hear live music.”
“I heard that low thumping rhythm sound from out in the woods!”
(UV has a prominent forehead in front but it then flattens into an almost but not quite pantherine curve.)
“Wonderful counterpoint bass beat to the booming katydids, don’tcha think, UV? They played lots of Van Morrison, Ray Charles’ “‘What’d I Say’, ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’ by . . .”
. . . “‘Crossroads'” by . . .
“written by Robert Johnson!”
“And you know all this how?”
“Human kittens. They had parties when I lived in town. Oh you look sad!”
“Human kittens and their families are being so mistreated now. It’s horrific.”
“I saw it on your screen. I knew it made you awful blue. Like in some of the songs.”
“It’s serious heartbreak.”
“I will purr for you always.”
(Still not feeling so hot. Still hoping to get around more and explore everyone’s websites, and comment more. Thunderstorms drive me off the computer every day. Yikes! But I’ll have more time later in the year I hope. We hope for better, always.)