And Now Simon

Simon

2000-2011

Presumably a fast-growing cancer; it probably started around the time of the blue jay dive-bombing five weeks ago.  We had since then been regular visitors at the animal hospital. His blood work showed very elevated calcium.  His prognosis was poor.

My favorite colors: gray, black,  gold, and white.  

He was the brother of Howard, and they died within 6 days of each other.  They were two distinct personalities, more like black and white than black and gray as they were.  Howard was
 outgoing yet a homebody; Simon was more shy, yet decidedly adventurous.  He was the one who usually volunteered to accompany the dogs and me on a promenade.  He even dared to cross dangerous streets to stay with us, while being very careful, though, to look both ways.

 He was a friend to Nicholas (died 2000).

He was a friend to Alice.

Simon in happier days with his catnip mouse. He was buried with it in his paws.

Unlike her name, Dr. Savage was warm and compassionate.  Simon's little heart lingered on after the first syringe.  Dr. Savage gave him a second and then he was gone.  I held his lifeless body tight.

Together to the end

It was back to the boxes of Emily's doll clothes in search of another little pillow and some sheets and blankets.  Now next to Howard he rests in peace.  Little did I know when I bought these Mexican river rocks for putting in a fireplace interior that I would use them for initializing graves.

In the stillness of the garden graves, a robin appeared.  He danced on the newly dug soil, his beak filled with wriggling worms.  And so life goes on.  The mourning dove coos and the great horned owl in the pine tree hoots.

In cat heaven...


Is there such a thing anywhere as an ordinary housecat?

A Life Interrupted

Howard

2000 - 2011

Howard was in the front yard irises when he was attacked on a recent hot and humid June morn.  I heard a cry and I looked out the window to see his body locked in the jaws of a large dog.  Horror, terror, and profound sorrow ensued.  It was unexpected and unprovoked.

He came to our home with his brother eleven years ago. They were adopted from the local animal shelter when I got it into my head that having a couple of kittens was a good idea.  Of course, I chose two of my favorite colors: black and gray.  Emily and her best friend, Caroline, were given the responsibility of names.  They decided the black one would be Howard, and the gray one, Simon. 

Raining kittens reign topsy-turvy.

They could have been named Yin and Yang!

Howard with young Chewbacca and old Nick (1987-2000) 

Howard was affable and friendly to all.  To his credit, his hunting was usually no more than bringing home a cicada, which I then captured and released back into the outdoors. He was ever curious, and always causing some sort of mischief or "trouble".  He loved climbing ladders and jumping into bags and boxes.  He loved to take naps and drink from faucets.

He was best friends with Little Earl, a talented boy who could stand upright on his hind feet.  Little Earl, too,  died far too young, at the age of four.

Puss in a pot impersonating a plant

Howard had a huge personality and provided endless entertainment effortlessly.

Here Howard is watching "Charlotte's Web".  He was fascinated by the spider and pawed at the screen. I'm sure he would have loved Wilbur given the opportunity. 

A recent neighborhood yard sale had Howard proving he was at the top of his game.  He always had a great sense of showmanship. 

Alice and Howard

Of late, Howard was best friends with Alice since she joined the household.  Even for his eleven years, he didn't mind tousling with an energetic 35 lb. year-old dog.  Howard's ploy was to lay on his back while batting away at Alice.  When I asked his veterinarian, Dr. Love,  if she thought Howard was overweight, she said he was only "big-boned".  She went on to proclaim that he had the longest whiskers that she had ever seen.  I was as proud as a parent with this assessment!

Chewy and Howard

I will miss the menagerie walks around the neighborhood; two dogs followed by two cats. No more romping across lawns in big, bounding leaps, no more sashaying in his languid walk.  No more yowls if he was left too far behind. 

At 9:00 a.m., on June 9th, 2011, Howard was alive.  Fortunately, he did not suffer for long.  Four hours later, he was not where he should be.  I made a bed of soft muslin and put his head on a small felt cushion, top-stitched with appliqued stars.  In his paws I put one of his toys: a small fluffy ball. 

An ordinary housecat he was not, and his  life was interrupted prematurely.

Cheep Cheep Cheep!

http://www.fcps.edu/islandcreekes/ecology/Birds/Blue%20Jay/h4770so.wav

It was with great joy that I observed in April two blue jays building a nest right outside my bedroom window.   Oh, to be a bird and make a nest, to sing and fly all the day long!  At least that is the fun part of being a bird.  They gathered twigs, grass, some mud and rootlets and constructed it into a cozy little cup.  Might I point out that on the average, the male does more gathering, and the female does more building.  My happy couple, mated for life,  worked together in harmony, intent on doing what needed to be done:  prepare to raise a family.

I'm not sure that this was the best choice  for the nest, in terms of real estate.  Remember the realtor's adage of Location-Location-Location?  We had a late April snowfall of 5".  It was a heavy, slushy snow that  had trees and bushes bent over by the weight.  The little nest was now on the ground.  I went out to try to shake the snow off.  I was happy that my efforts were successful.  However, I didn't anticipate being covered myself.  It was rather comical. 

View of nest obscured by the screen window

It was difficult to see the nest even from my seemingly ideal vantage point.  A few leaves of the holly tree prevented my prying eyes from enjoying a complete view of the future nursery.  When at first I jumped on the window sill in excitement to see the eggs that had been laid, they were very startled and flew away.  After that error, I put up a 6 foot ladder in the bedroom to see better.   Otherwise, I perched on the bed several feet away and used a pair of powerful binoculars.

I do believe the four eggs hatched around Easter.  It was then a flurry of activity for the parents: feedings  were required every 10-15 minutes from sun up to sun down for up to three weeks!  I watched with fascination while stuffing my own face with jelly beans absconded from the Easter basket I had sent to my daughter, Emily, in New Orleans.  One day I had the binoculars focused on the nest and heard the close-by call of  the "Caw Caw!"  I was so startled that I nearly fell off my ladder when the seeming enormity of the parents filled the lens view. To see the gaping maws of the chicks was astonishing. The babies grew rapidly and soon it was a packed house.  

                  

                             

I was concerned because at this time, I was leaving for New Orleans to see my daughter graduate from Tulane.  I was worried about the nestlings leaving the nest and me not being around to protect them from the horrible cat Simon.

Simon 

The house-animal sitter informed me that one baby was out of the nest . I returned the following day, and was able to see that they had all left but one.  I also observed that Simon had a puncture wound on his ear. And can you imagine a cat's ear swollen?  It was a clear sign to me that he had gotten too interested in the fledglings: he was soundly reprimanded by an angry parent's beak in a serious dive-bomb. Unfortunately, it got infected and he had to be taken to the vet for antibiotics and steroids.  I had little sympathy for him though; only for myself that it cost $100. It was imperative that he and Howard be kept in the house for the duration of getting the babies off the ground. They were not at all pleased with the litter box and a locked cat door. Simon growled at the box and his  yowlings were annoying, but the birds deserved every chance they had.

The suspense and drama was electrifying:  the last baby perched at the side of the nest, ready to jump ship.  Everything seemed too premature, but the parents knew best; the squallings might attract predators, or maybe the nest was full of parasites.  Not wanting to be left alone, the baby  jumped overboard to the ground.  Hopping was the mode of travel; and even then there was a tumble every few steps. Amazingly, the fledglings were corralled with commando-like precision into the next door neighbor's catless back yard.

It was a nerve-wracking first day; yes, for the parents, of course, but for me, too!  I had so much invested in this little family.  It was as if my own little story had been condensed into the month and a half or so of this blue jay story.

The babies made various stages of progress.  This little one made progress to the top of the fence by mid-morning.  

Funny, I felt such an affinity for this family, having watched the whole incredible story from the start. And yes, there was the obvious metaphor for my own child, Emily, leaving the nest and being on her own. From dorm incubator to apartment rookery, she has taken all the standard baby steps toward independence.

As my car wouldn't start and I was waiting for lost luggage, my return from New Orleans had me housebound for two days and unable to go to my office.  It was perfect timing to watch the drama unfold and prevent a "cat-tastrophe".  Another fledgling made it to a low branch of a bush.  One of the parents was always in attendance, watching intently to assist them to safety and protect them from danger, while the other searched for food.  It was a symphony of cooperation, love,  and sacrifice.

I was brought to tears when I discovered this little one dead on its face.  I think the baby's leg got tangled in the foliage and he struggled too long for his endurance to last.  I can not imagine his parents' distress;  I was a mess of emotion.  

Two days later, high in the trees now, where they all belong!  I hear their squalling and squawking, still being fed by their parents. I read that the parental care will last up to three more months while they continue their education in learning survival skills. This seemed to be a good measuring stick for how long to help Emily, which had had me in a quandary. Her New Orleans apartment lease expires in three months. Like the fledglings, she'll need to learn how to fend for herself, avoid predators, and improve her communication skills. Not to be shown up by my blue jay family, I decided that what was good for them was good for Emily.   

Now can I get on with my life and not have to worry and obsess about my feathery family? Tonight my neighbor informed me that the little ones had been taking drinks from their pond. I caught a glimpse of one taking off into the  treetops after a sip.  I was so happy to know they are on their way to independence!  Now to get my own little baby aloft into the wild blue yonder!

Cheap Cheap Cheap!

Pecking for crumbs in this crummy economy,  we as designers are reduced to begging for one-size-fits-all, if we're lucky, of taupey linen-look swatches.   Yes, I am like a magpie,  flitting hither and yon, scouring the landscape for bits of flotsam and jetsam with which to feather my clients' nests.  That it has come to thumbing the various high style catalogues available to everyone and anyone has me stupefied.  I marvel at design that was formerly available only to a select few, now being offered at bargain basement prices.  As an elitist snob since birth, this is a new twist for me to adapt to.  But adapt I will, to survive, because at heart, democracy and equality has always been my clarion call.  

The deafening chorus of clients cry "Cheap, cheap, cheap!"  And they want it "Now, now, now!"  China, India, and Viet Nam are ever ready to heed the call.  Where did it all begin?  About 30 years ago, I wager. 

I could look to the democratizing of interior design with such pioneers as Philippe Starck.  And then Michael Graves started designing for Target, too,  and who else did  I see there recently but Marcel Wanders! Martha Stewart embraced K-Mart of all places. That doyenne of taste-making jump-started the do-it-yourself business that has culminated in such phenoms as HGTV.  These names of sophisticated, functional design are now on the tips of tongues of millions.  How could I complain about everyone finally singing in tune?  How could I complain about a chicken in every pot?

First IKEA store in Sweden, opened 1958

IKEA, has been at the forefront since 1943.  Today it is the largest furniture retailer!  This is a brand that oozes high design with unbelievably low price points.  The multitudes can have an extremely stylish interior for next to nothing. 

  

It's a brave new world.  And one of disturbing extremes when the great divide between the rich and the poor becomes greater and greater and the middle class erodes on both sides.  The bible of interior design I would say is Architectural Digest.  Though started in 1920, it was a stodgy quarterly publication that didn't garner much general interest until Paige Rense took over as editor in 1971.  I remember being completely converted to the field of interior design as a career choice when I first got hold of an issue, and no, it wasn't in a black plastic cover!  It is amazing that peons are permitted to enter into palatial homes where cost is not an issue.  Art and antiques alone shoot into the stratosphere.  These are interiors, furnishings,  and designers that the catalogues try to copy on the cheap.

Which came first:  the chicken or the egg?  And this barn sells a lot more than pottery!  Though started in 1950, it wasn't until GAP purchased it in 1986 that a lifestyle brand was created and a whole new game plan for interior design.  

 

And then there is RH. When the "new look" of the catalogue came out a few months ago, I was shocked.  The Dutch have invaded and conquered!

Restoration Hardware in St. Louis during remodeling

I felt taupe-i-fied when I walked into the new St. Louis store. Gone were the little gimcracks and knickknacks.  It looked very much like it was trying to be a designer showroom, but open to the masses. I was wanting to purchase some gray towels, but was thrown off by the taupe ricocheting around.  Taking them to a window for the natural light allowed me to see the real color.

Bottom line, all this stuff in the catalogues looks great in their fantasy stage-sets, but how do you put it together in your own home?  How do you coordinate a design concept appropriate to your home's architecture, evaluate scale, do a floor and lighting plan, harmonize textures and colors, put in the right art and accessories, and personalize it as well? How do you make it look like you didn't just order the Sears #5 Living Room?

At the end of the day, I say, you still need a good designer to put it all together.

Pink Lemonade on the Rocks

Winter in St. Louis never seemed to end; the crocuses, daffodils, and flowering trees were given a cold reception with late and persistent snowfalls.  Very pretty, I must say, and unbelievably the blooms seemed not to suffer. 

Spring snow

When is one truly grateful for a snowfall? When it helps to diagnose a beloved pet's medical condition of which you had no idea!

Pink Lemonade

Oh, this could be the composition of an abstract painting, but it's not. Thank heavens for the snow, I observed there to be pink snow cone rather than the desirable yellow variety. I took Chewy to the vet right away. Cystotomy surgery was immediately called for. He had stones in his bladder.

This stone was almost the size of a nickel  It is composed of calcium oxalate monohydrate 90% and calcium oxalate dihydrate 10%.  I think it is ferocious and interesting at the same time!  One can imagine that it might have caused Chewy some discomfort.

Vile vial

I asked the vet to save me the little culprits.  There were about 10 of these small, gravel sized pieces.

Poodle Puppy

Here is the happy boy after his operation, looking part poodle with his shaved forearm to better accommodate the IV.  He really does seem happier, and is playful with Alice as he never was since she joined the household  a year ago.  He hadn't appeared to be in pain, but if not for the tell-tale snow, a crisis of blockage was averted.  Must have felt like this...

Rene Magritte

Le monde invisible (The Invisible World)

Oil on canvas, 77 x 51 5/8 inches

1954

Aahh...a beautiful painting about a handsome rock...or is it about something else?  Illusion or allusion?

"Bareback Mountain"

The OTHER problem with Chewy was a wretched hangover of steroids to treat his skin allergy issues. His appearance was downright embarrassing.  Chewbacca's new name became Bareback Mountain; seeming to be half orangutan and half dog.  I was ready to consult with Dr. Dogskin, the dermatologist, but his regular vet, Dr. Loehnig advised, "Let's treat one problem at a time."  So we fixed the inside and then worked on the outside.  Fortunately now the patch is all grown in with a new crop of silky fur. 

Speaking of stones, here is a home that likes to rock and roll!  The entire yard is filled with indiscriminate rubble.  There are Zen gardens and then there aren't...but I do believe the homeowner is proud of her creation.  I usually reserve making judgments about what some may call ugly, gross, or disgusting. In nature, I am  in awe of the endless variations in form, color and design. I would argue that ugliness is impossible; interesting, perhaps.  In art, too,  it is important to keep an open mind.  It's not always just a pretty picture that is determined a masterpiece!