Just a quick break from Superbowl preparations to let you know my blog has moved!! It is now more fully integrated into my website and moved over to WordPress, two goals I've wanted to achieve for some time now. The new address is
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This work by Lynette Mejía is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
05 February 2010
As of the week after Thanksgiving, we are now the proud humans of another cat. Yes, for those counting, this makes four. Yes, I know I am well on my way to crazy cat lady status. But I swear, four is it. Really.
He's gorgeous, with thick, fluffy orange and white fur and the biggest, darkest green eyes you've ever seen. He's also sweet, and affectionate, and is absolutely fascinated by the giant box in the living room that shows moving pictures. Every night he plops down on the rug in front of it and watches television right along with the humans. Sometimes he falls asleep, though. You can't ever really tell when the impulse to nap will hit.
I had seen him around the neighborhood a couple of times, skittering under cars parked in my neighbor's driveway. One night in mid-October I came home to find him sitting outside my garage, with a look on his face that said, What took you so long? He looked hungry, and scared, so I brought him a bowl of cat food and left it outside. After about ten minutes he realized I wasn't going to throw a rock at him and so, tentatively, he made his way over, eventually purring and allowing me to pet that luxurious, thick fur. After a while I went inside, and he went his own way as well.
A few days later I walked into the kitchen to find this:
Now, I tell you, who can resist that face? I tried, believe me. The LOML said, "You can't be serious. We have three cats already. I know he's pretty and all, but come on, baby. He's a stray. He's probably infested with fleas, and mites, and who knows what." Logically, I knew he was right. So, I put out a bowl of food again, and left him out.
And he returned, of course. That cat chow business is much tastier and easier to catch than birds and mice. He came back, each and every day, to stare in the window just like that. Sometimes he'd come at night too, just sitting there, not meowing, just watching, just waiting.
And of course, bit by bit, day by day, my heart melted. Finally, on Thanksgiving Day, after he'd been sitting there for most of the afternoon, the LOML looked at me and said, "Yeah, ok, I know, he's going to be our new cat. He is pretty cute." I named him Ginger Cat, tentatively, for I loved the warm color of his coat, and we didn't know his sex at the time.
The next day, I bundled him up in the cat carrier and took him to the vet. Turns out he is a boy, neutered, and so possibly belonging to someone at one time. No tags, no microchip, just a ragged ear long-healed, which indicated he'd been on his own a good while. About two years old. In reasonably good health, minus the usual flea and mite issues and a slight ear infection, which was easily cleared up.
The first few days inside he was nervous, as can be expected, hiding from the other cats who COULD NOT BELIEVE I HAD THE NERVE TO BRING ANOTHER CAT IN HERE, hissing at him whenever an opportunity presented itself. Over time, though, as cats do, they got too lazy not to get along, so they began to accept him, and everything chilled out.
We originally named him Morris, because he looked so much like that famous television cat. Somehow, though, it just didn't fit. He didn't have a Morris personality. He wasn't aloof, or grumpy in the least. He was sweet, affectionate, and loved to play. He's a big boy, though, and his coloring and features seemed somehow more leonine than most house cats, so....Leo it became.
These days, Leo has adapted nicely to an indoor life. He spends a lot of his time doing this:
And alot of this:
And some of this:
And nowadays, when I open the door to the backyard, and I look behind me to make sure none of the cats get out, Leo is sitting there, in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring at me with a look that seems to say, Outside? No, thank you, human, I'm fine right here.
And so, four cats.
In related news, here is the downside to becoming so emotionally attached to your pets - when it's time to say goodbye. Neil Gaiman's cat Zoe is dying, and he wrote a beautiful blog post tribute to her here. Having lost two cats a couple of years ago, I can relate. Saying farewell is so hard.
22 January 2010
In case you missed the announcement the first time around, my story "Becoming" is now live at The Absent Willow Review. It's a fantasy piece, about a beautiful fairy named Elinor who is unhappy because she can only see her flaws when she looks in the mirror. If you've ever loved someone enough to try and change everything you are, check it out.
21 January 2010
I'm so happy that I live where I do. Today, it was actually warm enough for me to wear shorts as I did my daily gardening chores. When I trimmed away the freeze damage from my perennials, I noticed little shoots of green beginning to poke up from the soil. The world is waking up again, slowly. In another couple of weeks, the daffodils, pansies, and snapdragons will come into their own. Soon after, the azaleas will bloom and the trees will start to bud out. I can't wait. I come alive again along with the Earth. We'll see a few more weeks of on-and-off cold weather I'm sure, perhaps even a couple more light freezes, but still, it's coming, and it lifts my spirits. I'm not sure I could live in a place where there are snows into April. I'd probably end up pulling a Jack Torrance.
Also, I finally got back to work on the novel today. The plot is coming together so quickly I have a hard time getting it down fast enough. I'm furiously scribbling notes as I write, hoping I don't forget anything. The notes are starting to form a little nest, however. I need to organize them, maybe by chapter, or by character. I think I'll work on that tonight.
In any case, I'm working, the sun is shining, and Persephone is coming home. Can't get much better than that.
Storms predicted to move in later today. Oddly enough, this thought is calming to me. I love nasty weather. A warm cup of cocoa, out on my back porch to watch the lightning flash across the sky - I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon.
I'll be offline for most of the day today, for upgrades in the hardware and software on my desktop. I may pop in via laptop from time to time, but it's doubtful. Most likely I'll be so frustrated that I'll end up screaming and wanting to throw every electronic device I own out the window. On the other hand, maybe it will all proceed as smooth as freshly churned butter and everything will be fine. Yeah, right.
Anyway, enjoy your day, oh interwebs. It's Friday, after all, and a storm's comin'.
15 January 2010
10 January 2010
48 degrees this morning, a virtual heat wave compared to what is forecast for tonight and tomorrow, when temperatures are expected to reach into the teens overnight. Tomorrow we're not predicted to rise above freezing all day, something that hasn't happened since the mid-1990's. I took a short walk in my garden this morning, deadheading a few roses and pulling up some broccoli plants gone to seed. Nothing really to do until the temperature rises again this weekend, however, when I can damage assess and begin cleanup.
It's been odd here the last few days, as the LOML is off to exotic Singapore on business. I'm lonely for him as always when is away, but my sister is visiting, and her presence has taken up at least some of the vacuum of silence that settles in whenever he is gone. We are watching old movies and chittering like two little girls again, and I've enjoyed it immensely.
I'm reading a biography of Truman Capote, something I never thought I'd pick up. Somehow, he fascinates me. I think this has more to do with his personality than his writing, which I find good, but not necessarily awe-inspiring. What I do find interesting, however, is that he was never ashamed of who he was, never tried to hide his uniqueness. He never tried to fit in with the conventions of his time - in fact, just the opposite - and that quality is what drew people to him, I believe. He was brave, outlandish, and completely at ease with himself, in a time when homosexuality was, in many places, still a crime. It wasn't the kind of courage required to protest in the streets or write letters to the editors of newspapers - it was the kind of courage necessary to completely be one's self day in and day out, and damn the consequences, and it worked spectacularly for him. We should all strive to be a little more Truman-esque, I believe, to cultivate our unique qualities and never be ashamed of who or what we are. We might all find ourselves a little more tolerant of others if we did.
Ok, well that's your combination book review/soapbox rant for the day. I'm off to write, gather some more materials for my graduate school application, and (hopefully) find some time to enjoy the rainy, dark weather.
A couple more pictures from the garden walk this morning: