Howard's Whisker

A few years ago, when my cat Howard’s vet proclaimed that Howard’s whiskers were the longest that she had ever seen, I felt as proud as a parent. For me, this was just one more example of how extraordinary and exceptional a cat that he was.

From that day forward, if I found a whisker that Howard had shed, I taped it to a door as a testament to his talent.  It was a wonderful curiosity that always made me smile.  

Howard came into our lives eleven years ago. While looking to adopt another dog, I got it into my head that it might be nice to have a couple of kittens, too. In order to coordinate with my interior design color scheme,  I wanted a gray cat and a black cat to complement  the two gold colored dogs. 

                          

Emily and her best friend Carolyn were given the honor of name selection.  They decided that the black one would be named Howard, and the gray one would be Simon.  

My mother called Howard “Dennis the Menace”.  He was always getting into mischief of one sort or another.

The years flew by and Emily went off to college at Tulane University in New Orleans.  That was an interesting choice, because her father and I had met when I had an apartment on Tulane Avenue.

Emily missed the animals and telephone conversations with her were frequently about Howard’s latest antics.  When she was home, Howard could always be found in her bed, day or night, and frequently both.

During her junior year at Tulane, Emily chose to study abroad for a semester at University College London.

This was another interesting choice because our home was on Westminster Place in St. Louis.  Who could have foreseen that she would live in the environs of Westminster Abbey one day?  

Emily had been in her London dorm room  for only a few days when she found what was clearly one of Howard’s whiskers.  It was smack-dab in the middle of her bed, on a new white sheet.  Her immediate response was to laugh, and then she taped it to the wall. 

When she told me this story, I marveled at the miracle. She hadn't packed sheets because English bed sizes were different.  Perhaps Howard had slept in her suitcase the night before she left, just as he had slept in her guitar case on occasion. How had the whisker made the transatlantic journey and not been lost? 

Here’s my theory: Howard had never traveled anywhere but to the vet’s office and occasional walks around the neighborhood. Of course, he couldn't accompany Emily on her voyage to London. As the armchair traveler that he probably was in his never-ending naps, he sent one of his whiskers instead.  Cats are known to have a particular sensitivity to the earth’s magnetic field and so are masters of direction. Was Howard trying to help Emily navigate the globe?

Whiskers also help cats determine if their body will fit into tight spaces. It’s as if Howard sent Emily the whisker to help her squeeze into a coach fare seat, 

the small confines of a college dorm room,

 a tight subway,

or crowded street. 

Though Emily had Howard’s whisker, and not Howard himself, I may be stretching things to suggest that she enjoyed the benefits of having an actual cat. But could the whisker represent an old friend and provide companionship? And as cats are known to do, could the whisker help to dispel feelings of loneliness that Emily might experience in her new situation, far from home? 

Emily’s semester abroad was coming to a close.  Her father visited in March, and I visited her in May, when she was done with her coursework and preparing to leave for two weeks in South Africa. 

Just as her father had brought her ski equipment to ski in the Alps, I brought her hiking boots to climb mountains and a wetsuit to surf off the tip of the continent.

Howard’s whisker was not done yet with its duties. It needed to help Emily to navigate to another hemisphere, and then home again.  It did.

Another inscrutable connection occurred a few days after Emily had returned home.  She took a bowl from the kitchen cabinet and exclaimed that it had the logo of University College London! It was a mismatched and random bowl that we’d had for years. Nobody knew where it came from. Most of the time it had been used to feed Howard his dinner  – until I decided he needed an official cat bowl. Then the bowl made its way back into the cabinet.  

Had the bowl predicted Emily’s study-abroad experience years in advance?  How had it traveled from a University College London dining hall to our St. Louis kitchen cabinet? How had Howard’s whisker traveled to a University College London dormitory? The whisker and the UCL bowl!  Are these curious coincidences or magical mysteries only Howard the cat can explain? Perhaps we’ll never know because Howard is always asleep!  But then again, that cannot be – because Howard is Howard and he’s only being himself – always making mischief!

What a Ball!

What a treat to hear Michael White's Original Liberty Jazz Band instead of the old Pomp and Circumstance at Tulane University's 2011 graduation ceremonies!  And then as an added bonus, Stevie Wonder treated all to an impromptu performance of  "You Are the Sunshine of My Life",  after receiving an honorary degree.

New Orleans is a tough city to top in terms of where to go to college. It's been a fabulous four years for Emily, and visiting was always an adventure into culture, cuisine, and camaraderie.

Emily graduated with honors. 

Funny, this is how some students moved out.  They threw everything out the window!  Though I appreciate the wackiness of student slovenliness, I don't recommend this solution.

Trying out the merchandise at Tara Shaw

I'm queen for a day, having written the last tuition check without going into debt!  I never get a vacation without writing it off as a business expense, though.  Happily, I have a New Orleans client to ensure my future visits to a city I love. 

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!

Notes from New Orleans

To spend All Hallow's Eve in New Orleans seemed the perfect time to mix business with pleasure.  With Halloween falling on Sunday, a three-day weekend of costuming and partying was ensured.  People come in from hundreds of miles around to partake in the costume parade, having worked weeks and months on their outfits.  Frenchman Street is the place to see and be seen.  I was there on the Friday before Halloween and caught an unexpected parade where John Goodman was on a float throwing out beads to the masses.

A carefully coiffed Queen Elizabeth

Antiques de Provence

Business is always a pleasure for me.  I scoured the antique shops in the French Quarter and on Magazine Street for treasures.

Jonathan Ferrara Gallery

Then I scoured the art galleries on Julia Street and Magazine Street to balance out the antiquing.

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S n J Bar

My daughter introduced me to this seedy bar where there were 3 dogs running around inside and furniture totally trashed out.  If you were in the nude, you could have free drinks, but there weren't any takers when we visited.  I like this kind of craziness that can happen only in New Orleans.  This place could have been a stage set, except that it was real!  I know it looks scary and dangerous, but it really wasn't.  Just around the corner was Tulane University and the mansions of St. Charles Street.

This house was right next door to the S n J; it was a preserved relic of the dismal days of Katrina.

Meanwhile, I wanted to keep up my piano practicing. Every day after I dropped my daughter off at Tulane, I was happy to use the practice rooms in the music school.  Each room had a Steinway and an artist bench, which suited me just fine!  The Beethoven No. 17, The Tempest,  is coming along, thank you very much!



Blind Boy and the Milk Sheiks

The street entertainment is of the highest caliber in New Orleans. These musicians included strumming a washboard and bowing a saw in their act.

On my last day in New Orleans, I spent the day at Audubon Park.  I did some drawings of the magnificent live oak trees.  This one was named the Tree of Life, and had the same ethereal qualities of the sacred tree in Avatar.  I spent quite a while sitting and listening to the birds in the aviary.  It was an incredibly soothing and therapeutic experience, and if I lived in NO, I'd be there once a week!