He's a feral cat, scraggly, scruffy, scrappy, bushy black with emerald green eyes. Black Kitty has been coming around for the past couple years. Sometimes, he disappears for weeks or even months at a time, and just when we're sure he's gone for good, he shows up again, battered and hungry. Our house is a good place to hang if you're a cat; it's safe, with comfy places to get out of the elements, people who talk softly and feed you when you meow at them. Recently, he returned after a three week absence, a scabby patch of missing fur on his head and an injured front right paw. I've gotten close enough to touch him once, this morning, for the first time. Until today, he's always darted away at the slightest move in his direction. He's not aggressive and the other kitties don't seem to mind him. Even Doc has gotten used to him and has stopped barking to chase him away. So we feed him when we see him. The last few nights, he's curled up to sleep on the back lanai. He needs a safe place to recover from his rough and tumble exploits. The poor fellow, or maybe he's a she, is just trying to survive, one day at a time, just like the rest of us.
Two other visitors have become regulars in the yard. A pair of roosters has taken to crowing under our bedroom window early and prancing around the vegetable garden, cavorting under the kukui nut tree every morning. I see roosters and hens together all over the neighborhood. Our own Charlie ran off with a brown floozy over a year ago, and just last week I saw him at the neighbor's with two, count 'em, two hottie hens. But I never see rooster in pairs. Well, almost never. These two are always together. I see them at Leonard and Mari's place across the street, or strolling along the road's edge, not exactly wing in wing, but never far apart. I think I saw them high-fiving the other day after news that the domestic partnership bill would likely pass soon, now that Hawaii has a new governor.
On Tuesday, Ron and I drove the Hamakua Coast to North Hawaii Hospital, where I was scheduled for minor surgery. That was also the third day of my acute laryngitis. They were reluctant to perform the procedure when they realized I couldn't talk and my throat was swollen. Then, like a dope, I admitted I'd had a little coffee that morning, and the jig was up. No surgery for me. "You should have lied," Ron said. Yeah, like I'm really good at that. So instead of anesthesia and snipping and scraping and whatever other horror they had in store for me, we went to Costco and had fish tacos and margaritas at Big Island Brewhaus in Waimea. Much better.
I have no good excuses for slacking off on my blog entries, other than to say that I've been too busy writing to write. How lame an excuse is that?
A hui hou. Malama pono. Aloha!
Two other visitors have become regulars in the yard. A pair of roosters has taken to crowing under our bedroom window early and prancing around the vegetable garden, cavorting under the kukui nut tree every morning. I see roosters and hens together all over the neighborhood. Our own Charlie ran off with a brown floozy over a year ago, and just last week I saw him at the neighbor's with two, count 'em, two hottie hens. But I never see rooster in pairs. Well, almost never. These two are always together. I see them at Leonard and Mari's place across the street, or strolling along the road's edge, not exactly wing in wing, but never far apart. I think I saw them high-fiving the other day after news that the domestic partnership bill would likely pass soon, now that Hawaii has a new governor.
On Tuesday, Ron and I drove the Hamakua Coast to North Hawaii Hospital, where I was scheduled for minor surgery. That was also the third day of my acute laryngitis. They were reluctant to perform the procedure when they realized I couldn't talk and my throat was swollen. Then, like a dope, I admitted I'd had a little coffee that morning, and the jig was up. No surgery for me. "You should have lied," Ron said. Yeah, like I'm really good at that. So instead of anesthesia and snipping and scraping and whatever other horror they had in store for me, we went to Costco and had fish tacos and margaritas at Big Island Brewhaus in Waimea. Much better.
I have no good excuses for slacking off on my blog entries, other than to say that I've been too busy writing to write. How lame an excuse is that?
A hui hou. Malama pono. Aloha!
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xoxo Anne