Thanksgiving, Bad Luck and Black Cats

Thanksgiving got off to a rough start this year. I awoke the day before with strep throat. This was a bit of a bummer, as I had to immediately cancel my Thanksgiving plans where I could be calm and relax watching my daughter meticulously modify a slippery, hard to handle turkey into an extraordinary roasted fowl. She doesn’t get those skills from me. In spite of the sickness mishap, I believe I still have much to be thankful for:

1. I am thankful for antibiotics.

2. I am thankful the doctor’s office was open.

3. I am thankful for chicken soup, not for the soul, but the kind in the can.

4. I am thankful for the microwave.

5. I am thankful for the Rock Guy who uses the microwave well.

6. I would be thankful for the monsoon that occurred the day after Thanksgiving, but it is going to make it very hard to get to the grocery store without a boat.

7. I am thankful for lots of infomercials to watch while I’m stranded on the sofa.

8. I am not thankful for 500 football games that have to be aired on TV.

The second thing that marred my would-be Thanksgiving holiday was my cat, Gene, who is a kleptomaniac. No seriously, it is like he has hands and a mission. He takes things. It is some sort of a compulsion, and he just can’t help himself. He took my best eyeshadow brush. After washing my makeup brushes, I set them on a paper towel on the countertop to dry. Then I went to sleep, and then Mr. Klepto makes his nightly rounds, and he just couldn’t resist. The next day, my Bdellium Tools 787 blending eye brush was nowhere to be found! I have searched the house high and low, and it has completely vanished. Little mister is not copping to it. Now I will have to walk around with unblended eyeshadow, but at least I will feel good while I’m doing it. I guess I will just be like Scarlett in Gone with the Wind (which was just on TV, by the way) and think about it tomorrow.   Yeah, yeah, just look at him, he looks so cute and innocent now doesn’t he?

As Doves Fly

I had but one important task to do that summer and that was to take care of Little Dove. My husband had befriended him in early spring and the bird had become a special feathered friend. In fact, he would see us sitting on the porch and land first on the shed, then come down onto the sidewalk where he practically waddled right up to us. Little Dove would turn his head sideways and look at us with that small round eye as if to ask “What about fresh bird seed?” So when the music circuit called and my husband packed his gear and left for summer performances, he said “Don’t forget about Little Dove, remember his feeding times.”

Summer came, I revived my drought weary lawn, planted new things and of course, I remembered the backyard birds, especially Little Dove. He didn’t seek me out like he did the Music Man, but I could tell he liked me as I would catch him giving me that small, slanted dove look.

One Saturday I put water on to boil for iced tea as I was doing yard work. I had put the bird food down and and was watering some plants. I remembered that the water might be boiling so I clicked the shut-off nozzle and ran inside to the kitchen. I had only been inside a couple minutes when I returned and saw an unwelcome sight. There on the sidewalk was several feathers and drops of blood. Blood so dark red that made my heart sink in severed sadness. I turned to look and that’s when I spotted Miss Fuzz sitting on the perimeter of the sunflowers. The cat had severely injured a bird. What bird? It was nowhere to be found. I hoped it wasn’t Little Dove. I prayed it wasn’t. Do I know for sure? No. What I do know is that I never saw him again after that. I looked for him everyday to come waddling up the walkway, but he never comes. So now I watch the doves gather, some of them are staying and some are migrating away. My heart sinks with sadness and the guilt of a trust that has been broken.

Watering the grass

Little Dove came down to eat

The cat sprang swiftly