Annabel Lee

Annabel Lee Gaskin, 13, peacefully passed over to the Heavyside Layer the evening of Tuesday, September 6. Known by loved ones as “Anni,” she was most famous for her astounding vocal abilities. Her favorite yowl-singing venue was the foyer lounge at Chez Deejae. Among her other avocations was marathon lapsitting with her CatMom and their frequent Shoulder-Hug Purr-Happy Walkabouts, where she enjoyed adventurous views from five feet up, a favorite stop along the way being The Blessing Cat mask protecting the home from its wall spot near the front door. Together they brought great blessings upon their small house.

Anni endured the antics of her younger brother Chessie with a generous spirit that found her regularly grooming him and tolerating routine ear nips and high-speed chases throughout the landscape of their home like cheetahs on the Serengeti.  Always up for playful experiences, she never met a soap bubble she didn’t pop, and she never walked by a paper bag without either crawling inside the comforting envelope or prance-dancing on top for the pure joy of the crinkly music.

Grand Dame Annabella was also a fervent art lover. Her favorite artistic hangout was the kitchen tabletop working space at DJ Studios, where she joyfully embraced the paints and papers and brushes and pens with even more appreciation than she expressed for the final artistic results.  Anni also inspired great poetry and contributed to poems about other domestic and wild creatures simply by the keen sensitivity of her larger-than-life animal presence.

Annabel Lee is survived by doting CatMom DJ Gaskin and little brother Cheshire, as well
as countless friends and admirers. Her loving and adventurous spirit is deeply missed by all.

 

Six days to September 11th

Sept. 5, 2011…
What a strange 10 years it’s been. This week TV screens are once again filled with those unreal scenes from the nonstop newscasts, reminding me of a poem I had started that evening. Sure, what poet did NOT start a poem that evening or soon after? But mine was not about the towers or the terrorists. It was a sort of expression of envy for my blissfully ignorant cat, whose perch on the TV cabinet that night gifted her with brilliant colors and movement at which to take playfully predatory swipes. Oh, such sweet unknowing. I began to wish for such innocent ignorance. And thus came “Cat’s Eye View.” I never sent it out for publication, not sure why, but was moved to share it this year as a sort of tribute on this anniversary, my own small recognition of how the unimaginable acts that morning forever changed our lives, in so very many ways we couldn’t even imagine that day. “Cat’s Eye View” can be seen, and heard, at www.djgaskin.com.

Switching gears, switching wildlife… the end of the season of kittens

So… I don’t even want to talk about the feral fiasco, except maybe to confess to the crime of attachment and sentimentality.

I had given them names/non-names, fed them, arranged for winter water and food, complete with doghouse (I have no dog) to brave the coldest months, a shelter that included, of course, a heated pad.

Ok…. I helped this tiny family survive a crazy winter, but for what?… MamaCat got With Child again come early spring, and Thing 2 – soon known as BabyCat since Thing 1 disappeared, she the remaining baby cat – became a feral teenage pregnancy statistic.

MamaCat’s belly shrunk though babies were never seen, then Mama disappeared into feral anonymity.  Baby – now MiniMama? – had 3 kittens under a neighbor’s deck, then kept moving them around the neighborhood – underdeck to underdeck, under a BBQ grill cover, then over to my doghouse, then back to another neighbor’s underdeck… no clue where they ended up. A sad season of kittens.

Baby/MiniMama came around for food occasionally, sometimes with the babies, but became less and less regular. I know there are other neighbors who care for these poor feline souls, and I see fewer and fewer feral cats roaming these couple blocks of our neighborhood, so someone, somehow, or multiple someones, seem to be taking care of these homeless creatures and I’m feeling less guilty about my inability to do much if anything to help.

And, I’m worried about the birds and the chipmunks.  My NWF Backyard Wildlife Habitat has grown more and more unkempt as I’ve tried to accomodate these crazy little packs of cats, even while not sure I was doing the right thing (with which I still struggle). Now, I long to reclaim the entire yard as a bird sanctuary, where the catbirds, the chickadees, the cardinals, the wrens, even the sparrow – and also the little chipmunk family – all feel safe and can take food and water unthreatened. I want to rip out the deck, put in some natural stone pavers, and tame some of the out-of-control plantlife.

So… once this heat wave eases up, I hope to find a good landscaper to help me revamp my little back yard into something that honors the wildlife I so love while giving them, and me, safe sanctuary there.

DJ’s Poetry Podcast Debut

One recent wintry weekend I taught myself the art of podcasting – from recording and editing to splicing in music and posting – and now have my first poetry podcast posted on the main page of my website. If you enjoy hearing poetry as well as reading it, please visit http://www.djgaskin.com/.

Other poems you’d like to hear?

Feral Things Part 5: Winter Warmth

The kittens enjoyed their heated doghouse.

As a light snowfall feathers down over patches of crusted snow and ice from last week, my little feral family remains warm in their backyard doghouse with their Christmas gift of a heated pad. Made for the outdoor pet, the pad is a safe low wattage that reacts to the pressure of the animal, keeping them the perfect toasty warm in their cozy little plastic-doored haven from winter’s wrath. Yes, these are undoubtedly the most pampered non-pets around.

Thing 1 poses for her winter portrait.

Thing 2 is just as photogenic.

 

Meanwhile, something strange is going on here. Various very large punk-cats have been spotted hanging out near MamaCat. Just as I was getting used to the husky gray, another day along came a black & white Tom looking just as tough. Then last night’s bed-check resulted in a near-panther size black cat scampering up & over the fence. None of them seemed to covet the warm quarters that my three enjoy. They just hung close to Mama… some kind of courting maneuvers? Could she be in heat already with two just barely roaming on their own now? Oh my , I so wish I could have gotten help for her by now.  Ok, so the holidays are nearly over – I should be able to find some support soon. Somebody’s got to help me trap & neuter all these kitties soon before our neighborhood’s 20-some colony is suddenly 50 or more.

Thing 1 & Thing 2, part 4: 3 things solved.

Three weather-related concerns for the well-being of my little feral-cat family have been resolved, at least for now. I still have no clue how we’ll manage in 2 feet of snow but 2 inches was manageable….

1__The couple inches of snow last week was just enough to test the feral family’s new doghouse. Its raised base and sloped overhang at the door proved perfect to keep the cats cozy dry, if not totally warm, in at least a minor snowfall.  

2__As for the warmth, I have a heated doghouse pad on order, along with a switch that turns it on only when it gets to 35 then back off again at 45.

3­­__Mealtime in snow proved not a big challenge. Placing the food dish under the patio table keeps the food fairly dry and the cats as well.  Their water dish is frozen, but the kittens are big enough now to line up behind Mama at the bird bath. They stretch up from the bench beside it and, leaning on their fourpaws, drink quite comfortably. And the birdbath heater keeps the water from freezing even at the coldest weather we’ve seen. In the huge snowfall last year, it was the only thing visible in the yard short of the trees.

MamaCat on a snowy cold roof

I am still waiting for expert guidance from the two feral-cat groups I’ve contacted and am disappointed to not hear a thing in so long. I can only imagine they’re all very busy, but I plan to call them next week. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep caring for these poor little creatures as best I can… which, btw, has become more pleasant. Mama rarely hisses now and Thing 2 (the gray one) lets me pet him… and scratch his back… and his ears… until he purrs… and rolls on his back in trusting glee. Seriously! And all this in front of MamaCat.  She seems to want more of me too, in her own distant way. Saturday morning, when she couldn’t get my attention ground-level at the glass doors off the living room, she leaped up from the fence onto the roof and made her way up near the second-floor window off the loft space I use for an office. I heard her meow and found her out there looking into my window.

Thing One and Thing Two, part 3… Roam if you want to!… the ferals’ expanding territory

Thing One and Thing Two, part 3…

Roam if you want to!… the ferals’ expanding territory.

They roam.   It’s in their nature.  It’s also in my nature, much as I try not to, to feel a wee pang over MamaCat’s efforts at weaning not only her little ones but me as well. The message is clear: the kittens are now old enough to jump the fence and discover the world beyond.  And I am old enough to know better than to get attached to stray cats.  Btw, I remain frustrated at being unable to hook up with the proper people who can help me corral these poor cats for neutering. Meanwhile, they roam. Who knows where.  I fear for the kittens’ purity.  Still, I know it’s what they do. 

Kittens' First FenceWalk

It has become so very very cold here and it seems this little feral family has found warmer nighttime quarters (I have a doghouse heating pad on order!).  In my feral-cat research, I learned that cats will overcome their territorial loner tendencies during the cold of winter and come together for sleep and rest time, huddling close wherever they can find the warmest place that will accommodate the size of their local colony.  I envision this huge spotted/tiger/calico pile of cats, shifting positions through the night to share the warmest spots.  Whatever keeps them from freezing to death sounds fine to me.

So, “Roam if you want to!” I say to the dark night when I get home late from work and they’re not there to meet my dinner delivery.  Just come back for breakfast. They usually do.