Skip to main content

Kitten sittin'

I've been doing a fair amount of babysitting lately. Last weekend, I checked in on my neighbor's dog, taking her for short walks and feeding her in the evenings, sharing her care with another neighbor. Now, I've taken on a new responsibility. This one's a bit daunting. It's a very tiny kitten.
Another neighbor is a middle school teacher. One of her students found the abandoned kitten and brought the little guy to school in hopes that teacher could help. Sarah's students know that she lives in the country. They assume she knows something about animals. Actually, her husband Eddie does know. He's been hand feeding the little fur-ball for several days now and the kitty's doing alright. He's still a little skinny but is trying to stand up and has a good grip when you put him on your shoulder. They have a big wedding to go to this weekend, however, and have had reservations for months to attend with their entire family. So we volunteered to take care of the tiny feline. Ron has already started calling him Snowflake because he (at least we think he's a he) is all white. We'll be feeding him about every three hours or so through the day. Eddie says he can now make it through the night without a meal, but I may get up to give him one anyway. The dogs are very intrigued by this newcomer, especially Doc. He would never hurt the kitty. He just wants to give him a good sniff. But the little tike is way too small to be ready for the enormous nose of the Doctor Dog. He might just get sucked in!
The vog has been brutal off and on over the past several days. That, combined with nighttime thunder storms have me feeling a bit wheezy and not just a little sleep deprived. The sleep deprivation come from Hopps. She HATES thunder storms. She gets so scared she shakes violently with fear and jumps up in the bed and can't settle down. Poor baby. Crawford and Doc aren't too keen on all that flashing and rumbling either. So last night, I finally just went out to sleep out on the couch. Hopps and Crawford came with me. That end of the house seems quieter. So the girls sacked out on the floor next to me. Doc crawled into bed with Ron. At least it's a comfy couch. The cats seem un-phased by the thunder, although I know they dislike earthquakes. Hey, so do I. That's a whole different kind of rumbling. Anyway, now you know why I'm sleep deprived.
Business is hoppin' at the winery. Business is picking up as the holidays approach. We had a big debate today about whether to start playing Christmas music. A couple of us (including me) said, "Why not? We love Christmas music." Others were adamant: "Absolutely not before Thanksgiving," they said. We did sneak a little into he disc player and got a little stink eye from the customers. They seemed to think it was a little early, too. Shoots. I guess we'll have to wait a few more weeks.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fruity booty

It was a long drive from Glenwood to the northern tip of the island -- three hours -- so for sustenance, we stopped at Baker Tom's for malasadas on the way. My pal Kathy and I were headed to Kapa'au for a hike, one we'd read about in the local newspaper. The couple who run Baker Tom's (not sure if the husband is actually Tom or not) are delightful, with enduring stamina. They're as old as radio, yet they're always on duty, ready to serve behind the counter, as they have for many years, frying, baking, brewing and smiling, there in Papaikou , gateway to the Hamakua Coast. The malasadas are enormous, cheap and delicious, the coffee OK, the tourists all happy to have discovered this place, buzzing with sugar and caffeine. They make a killer pumpkin cheesecake at Baker Tom's, too. It's always a pleasant stop. Ahapua'a . It's a Hawaiian land division, usually a strip or wedge, stretching from mountain to sea. Hawaiians lived in villages wit
3 comments
Read more

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud
4 comments
Read more

On Tennis and Writing and Being Too Nice

I've recently been recruited to play tennis for a local 4.0 ladies tennis league team, referred to as either "Team Debbie" for the nice woman who manages us, or "Have Fun," which is our pre-match chant. We're still looking for a proper name. But we do have fun, despite getting creamed most outings. Last Saturday, we played in the Edith Kanakaole Tennis Stadium in Hilo. Good thing, too, since outside it was pouring, complete with thunder and lightning. It's a substantial structure, covered, yet open all around, most famous for hosting the annual Merrie Monarch Hula Festival in April. It was about 85 degrees outside and 100 percent humidity, air so thick it took three sucks of my albuterol inhaler just to breath. Several of us arrived early to warm up, but after twenty minutes' steady rallying with my teammate, Keiko, the human backboard, I was drenched. I played doubles with a nice, extremely fit and excellent ground-stroker named Cynthia from Pahoa.
4 comments
Read more