Gypsy Dancer

My sister has a cat named Gypsy. She is a young girl-cat.

Gypsy needed a temporary home so as not to be underfoot as her owner heals from knee surgery. We didn't hesitate to help. Thus began a short adventure in cat sitting.

In the end, we only had Gypsy a few days. Upon arrival she seemed to  adjust quickly; but, I think the noises and number of people overwhelmed her (there are three of us, we are home a lot). The laundry machines are on frequently and the water goes and goes (with dishes, shower, cooking, cleaning, etc.) and there's also the noise of the fan, the tv, the turtle tank, and our neighbourhood in general.

I'm sure all the new unidentified smells were stressful in a kitty cat way. Most especially the wafting scent of local boy-kitties... an odor beyond human perception, thankfully, but torturous to poor young Gypsy. Poor, poor Gypsy.

Poor, poor Gypsy.

We were witness to the Gypsy dance of carnal anguish: chin up, belly to the floor, hind paws shuffling. Screeeeaaaam!

Balancing emotions at such a time is strange. Pity? Horror? Amusement? Embarassment? Helplessness? Disgust?

She'd be fine one moment then suddenly she is overcome with the bestial need to...reverse-squat; overrun by some ruthless unpredictable internal schedule; or, perhaps the random wafts of neighborhood breeze - bringing the musky promise of howling hissing tooth & claw battle.

What else wafts around my neighborhood? How far do odors go that leave my house? How much do our four legged neighbors know about humans in this way?

The poor cat's stay with us was stressful to her, she squirted a roommate's shirt and made a litter box of one bed. Maybe she could have eventually become happy to visit, but after catching my sister up on the goings on, Gypsy made the trip back home, taking with her the Jeckle/Hyde performance of fluffy kitty/fuzzy banshee.

I've never before had such a strange house guest; I've never had cause to wonder about neighborhood wafting either (waft, wood smoke, waft, bbq, waft laundry softener, waft, turkey dinner, waft, pollen, achoo! Waft, waft, how far does it all go?).

Woodpecker knocking on my roof

Deep sleep is so rare. I was enjoying rest last night until, first thing in the morning, a woodpecker woke me by banging on my roof. Groggy and uncoordinated, I got up and raided my recycle bin for ammunition, waddled out onto the balcony and chucked a tin can in the general direction of the banging noise. The can was satisfyingly loud and the ricochet landed it somewhere in the front yard. The woodpecker was huge, it swooped into the nearest clump of trees - a blur of grey with a glimpse of wings, almost too quick to focus on.

I had a glass of water and headed back to bed, but I couldn't sleep again till I was finished being resentful of being woken by holes being drilled into my house.

The can will remain hidden in my unkempt scraggly yard until next spring thaw reveals it, to be picked up if I happen to have a good day that I am willing to spend on such a chore.

Spending a good day is a greater challenge than achieving restful sleep. Anticipating a good day, is near impossible. I wonder if today would have been a good day -after deep restful sleep- had the woodpecker not disturbed me.