Saturday, June 17, 2017

Day 1 of A Life in Nanaimo (written on Day 2 because of laziness and a bad cold) June 17 2017

First thing I saw when I opened up the curtains at the patio doors - my guardian cats.

I’m not sure how many I have. There’s at least two, possibly three.

Most people fall into two cat categories. One camp loves and adores cats. They give them names like Fou Fou, Pretty Kitty, and Mrs. Twiggybottom. They spend hundreds of dollars on the perfect cat food, diamond tiaras with matching collars, and plush beds with down comforters made from ducks raised in hermetically sealed rooms and fed on organically grown bird seed. They will make the hard and responsible choice of limiting themselves to two, or they will go all out and have a dozen or more earning them the title of “crazy cat lady” even if they are male.  

The other camp sees cats as the devil incarnate. They plot elaborate schemes to divest themselves of the dangerous psychopaths that murder birds and flowers. They enact laws to, if not make cats illegal, at least make them illegal to be seen by the public. They set traps to capture them. They hunt them down with hoses and bb guns which they wish were automatic rifles. They throw old shoes and tin cans at them. They keep records on whiteboards on how many cats they have brought down.

I fall into neither. I like cats, yet, I have made the unpopular choice as a middle aged single woman living alone, to not own any kind of pet. I’ve raised seven kids. I no longer want to be responsible.

I see cats as working animals, heroes really, for they help to control the rodent population. Sure a few birds might be lost in the process, but it’s a small price to pay for the amounts of rodents that can over run a property. I don’t like rodents and really do believe they are the devil incarnate.

I have chosen not to get too close to my guardian cats. I don’t know who they belong to or where they live, but if they are keeping rodents from my property, then they are welcome to drop by.  I don’t want to be friends with them, for they might decide to bring me presents. I do not want presents from cats. You have to smile and pretend you like their presents.

I have chosen not to feed them. If they’re too full they might not go after the rodents.

Instead they keep their distance and I keep mine. They are welcome to wander around my yard, sleep on my back porch, and ensure that no rodent comes near my domain.

However no matter how well they tap dance, make sorrowful eyes, or play the “I’m so cute” game, they will not be coming into my house. They might decide to move in and bring their treasures.

And I really don’t want cat treasures.

I also noticed, while I was gone ending my old life, that the ivy decided to take over the house. It’s scary really. A rocker I had put out on the back porch is being ensnared by the ivy after only five weeks. It has wound its tentacles around it like a horror movie.

I also worry that the ivy is a hide out for rodents. I don’t want them dropping from the pear tree, or surprising me with bazookas from the bushes. They may have a maze of tunnels where they run a smuggling operation. If the guardian cats start disappearing, then I know who to suspect. I’m not brave enough to go after them.   

I might have to go out there with a machete and fight the ivy before it ensnares me and squeezes the life out of me.