Mountains and Islands

There's never been a cat so indulged or more loved. She was our Lucy, our favorite (but don't tell the others) and we've been spoiling her for years. Yesterday, we made the wrenching decision to let her go. The inoperable tumor on her nose had grown furious and was making her miserable despite extra doses of pain medication. Today, our hearts are broken for the loss of our beautiful, bossy girl. We buried her at the base of the koa tree that angles out from the roof of the house. We might have trimmed it years ago for the leaves it sheds into the gutter. But she climbed it every day to bask in the sun on the roof, or to curl up under the eves when it rained. She climbed it before losing her sight, and after, too. It's Lucy's tree, as it is her house. We're just fortunate she liked us enough to let us live here with her. We stay on as caretakers in her absence. Lucy is with Grandpa now, and her doggy-sister Crawford. I'm sure there's also a 24-hour all...

My friend Kathy and I were lamenting the other day how expensive it is to exist these days, let alone stay healthy, especially as a middle-aged human, with or without medical insurance. She has been nursing an injured, worn-out shoulder, diligent with ice, stretching and rotator cuff exercises, but  knows it will need surgery to fix properly, something she can't afford. She was with me when I broke my tooth. "Shit. There's another two grand, just like that! What's next?" I said. "I know what you mean. It's like you're afraid to move because something might break and you can't afford to fix it," she said. I laughed, but truer words were never spoken. I recently had minor surgery, a nether-regionectomy and gynecological spelunking as I like to call it. The medical staff at North Hawaii Community Hospital liked my description of the procedure and seemed amenable to changing its official name to exactly that, an NRGS for short. Prior to the ...

The coffee trees, dolloped with white flower clusters that look like snow from a distance, are showing promise for a fruitful winter. We've learned this week that a voracious beetle called the coffee berry borer has invaded our islands, one that drills into the cherry to feed, then further into the seed, or bean as it's known, to lay its slimy little eggs. These are not the same beetles previously featured in this blog. Rather, they are tiny, the size of a sesame seed, and much more destructive. These bitty beasts are a scourge, accounting for crop losses of 20 percent worldwide, and should never have become a problem in isolated Hawaii but for the state's stupid policy of allowing imported, green coffee beans. They're almost impossible to eradicate, since the larvae develop inside the bean. Who knows how many of these we've all brewed up in our Mr. Coffees over the years. Hawaii allows other plant importation too, and with lax inspection, we've acquired ...

Ron and I took a quick trip to town for out third fleecing of the week by Hilo grocers.  We were out of TP and diesel for the convertible (aka the tractor) and needed tofu for the stir fry he wants to make tonight, so we loaded the trash and the reusable shopping bags into the car and headed for town.  Stopping at the Glenwood transfer station to unload the trunk of rubbish (no trash service here, folks) we proceeded on to an otherwise uneventful if hot, muggy and wallet-emptying sojourn.  Our highlight came in the form of a woman, older than Delaware, walking at the speed of frozen syrup, out of the store and along the sidewalk as we walked in.  She was wearing an orange and yellow flowered smock, black and white checkered capris and a floppy hat that seemed to weigh her head down on one side, cocking it to the left.  She passed us and was just far enough to be out of earshot when Ron said,  "Now that's an outfit." He leaned toward me as he said it, talking out of the s...

They love each other like typical siblings.  One minute they're all cuddly, like this.  The next, their initiating body slams and chomping on each others' jugulars.  I had a bit of a start the other day.  It happened in the laundry room.  I say this like it's some far-away wing of my vast mansion.  It's a small offshoot from the kitchen.  Stooped over the edge of my top loader, I gripped and tugged at wet sheets that were wrung tight and smashed against the sidewalls inside the washer's basin, listening to Jack Johnson in the background, wondering, "Where'd all the good people go?" just like Jack, relishing the mindlessness of my chore.  Once the wad was free, I hurled it into the open dryer, slammed the door, set the timer and pushed the button.  At first tumble, I heard a loud thud and wondered if the dryer, like all my other appliances, was about to expire.  A few more bumps had me worried.  You can see where this is going, right?  I opened the door...

It was a rough weekend.  My beloved Lucy developed acute blindness.  The vet was a bit perplexed Friday.  He prescribed an anti-inflammatory and antibiotics with the hope that her condition is caused either by an infection or pressure on her optic nerve.  We have an appointment Thursday with the clinic's new resident cat specialist to follow up.  Poor baby.  I must say though, it's amazing how well she gets around.  She has long been an outdoor cat, very independent, so keeping her cooped up inside in near impossible.  She came with the house, after all and lived outside her entire life before we came along.  She doesn't stray too far away and knows the turf better than we do, at ground level, so after one excruciating night trying to keep her in, we let her go.  She was gone for a few hours, then came home.  Lucy can still jump up onto the countertop where she eats, though she does give it a little extra umph and flies a little higher than needed.  It seems to be her way o...

I took the munchkins, aka kittens to their first veterinary appointment today.  There, I learned that we have two boys and a girl. My assumption that the little shy one was female turned out to be bunk.  She is a he.  So I can't call her Pippi as in Pippi Longstocking , so I'll call him Pip as in Pip Sqeak .  Pip Squeak Todd- Niederpruem .  What do you think of that?   They are also younger than I guessed, six-eight weeks according to the vet.  They got poked, prodded and fondled today, most of which they tolerated well (though that fecal test makes me squirm just to watch).  Anyway, they are healthy, with the small one on the skinny side but otherwise OK.  To give you an idea of their sizes, the biggest weighed in at 1.6 lbs.  Next, #2, tipped the scales at 1.3 lbs.  The bitty Pipster barely registered at half a pound! None of them would have made it at the local humane society.  Any cats admitted there under two pounds are immediately axed.  Did I mention that before?  Now...

I called Advocats , as promised, where a representative referred me to a woman in Mountain View, who in turn referred me to another woman in Volcano. This woman's name, if you can believe it, is Cat Killum . No lie. Anyway, Cat is a very compassionate person who cares for the critters. She runs a cat shelter at her house. This woman know all about the cat family at the transfer station. She was elated with my call, because she's never gotten a message regarding the cats in which the caller actually offered to help her. She told me she is already feeding the cats. There are, in fact 12 living there that she knows of at this particular dump, along with two very shy dogs. She does not feed them near the dumpsters where people can see her, the food or the animals. She asked me not to feed them there, either. She had very good reasons. Cat explained that if people see food, they know that some one's feeding the animals and view it as a good place to dump their own u...

Today was positively spectacular.  It was just how paradise is suppose to be.  I got up early to shop the Volcano Village farmers' market. If you don't get there by 7:30 or 8:00, a lot of the most ono grinds are sold out.  On my way, I stopped to drop off some trash and recycling at the transfer station.  That's how we do it here.  No garbage service.  Just chuck your smelly bags into the trunk of your car and off to the dump.  It's not bad really.  Regardless of which way you're headed, there's a transfer station on your way.  When I arrived at the Volcano station, I backed up to the dumpster as usual.  When I got out to open the back of the truck, I noticed a mommy kitty and two babies curled up on a rock nearby.  "Ah," I heard myself say out loud .  No matter.  They were the only ones who could hear me.  Mommy looked asleep, but I think she was watching me through squinted eyes, the way cats do.  I lifted two bags out of the truck and flung them in...