Andy hinted he wanted me to bring out the Ziploc bag of toys.

He got right into it but couldn’t make up his mind.

I thought it might be easier to choose if I dumped them out and arranged them a bit for my kitty. He came right over and began the selection.

Woohoo! He got it down to two: both had or were red ribbon.

Silly kitty! He just likes to lick ribbon, which must have something on it that appeals to cats. Starch?

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A mutual friend of Ralph, our late mutual friend who lived in Paris, returned all the letters I wrote to him over several decades. Happily, in the pile, I found this composite of photos I took while hand-feeing pine siskins in bitter, sub-zero February weather.

I thought I’d never have copies of these photos again since the negatives are missing after a move. It was the 800th birthday of St. Francis of Assisi, who was born in 1182 (or 1181 – not known definitively). I felt that made the activity in the photo a perfect tribute to the man.

A friend of Ralph’s saw it, wanted to meet me, and invited me to join her and several mutual friends in Nantucket. Unfortunately, there was a chance my factory would close then (which didn’t happen), making an expensive trip back East not too wise. I declined the invitation, one of the few things I regret. Some doggerel that requires you to imagine a missing word:

A man not from Nantucket

Kept all his money in a bucket

So when invited to come

Thought he’d fall on his bum

When his bank said tell them to [fill in a word] it

That one’s for Ralph in Heaven. He hated it when I laughed every time he said the name “Nantucket”! Can’t help it. I’ve heard too many limericks about the Nantucket man. It has the same comedic power for me as farts have for pre-adolescent boys!  

Sorry!

After ignoring Andy for several minutes while I piddled around on the laptop, I finally asked him if he wanted to play. “Is this the one you want, Andy?” I asked pleasantly.

Oops! Andy’s mad at me!

I suppose ignoring him in bed when he tried to get me up earlier than I was ready to rise set the kitty mood for the day. Then, horrors, I didn’t play the “mousies in the cabinets” game with him while I tried to make my breakfast! We’ll see how the day goes after all this Kitty Abuse.

Andy is enjoying his recliner when…

…he sees his photo on Doug’s coffee mug.

That’s Dougy on the other side. 

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Old photos evoke memories, some good, others sad, sometimes just a mystery. Who is that? Why are they on horses? Is that when we took the fated trip to California? Or maybe it’s Idaho. How can one confuse the two? From the sad birthday celebration faces, that must have been during WWII….

Then, my Seattle sister sends this face from the past! Yes, that had to have been shortly after I got out of the US Army. After three years of short haircuts, I let the hair go. I have straight hair – or “had hair then” – that got like this when I worked as a vulcanizer operator on the night shift at the hose plant. It was hot, nasty work. When I had a chance to move into a quality control job, it was a no brainer!

I’m reasonably sure I got the time the photo was taken right because I’m not the svelte fellow who came out of the US Army in the photo but the chubby one who, by then, was eating homecooked meals and sharing a beer or two after work with friends. It took a few months to get into that state!

Andy woke up.

Something caught his eye.

“Can I help you, my kitty?” I asked. “I don’t know, Doug. Can you?” came Andy’s reply.

“No one likes a smarty cat, Andrew! ‘May‘ I help you?” Oh dear! My grammar police tendencies have worn off on Andy.

Andy wants to choose a toy from this Ziploc bag of favorites.

After all that fuss, Andy made his decision.

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I am kind of proud Andy has become a grammarian, especially since he is illiterate, well, a cat!

Even in his dream world…

…Andy is ready to chase mousies!

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My doctor’s appointment yesterday was after dialysis. It came down to “go home for a short time to change my oxygen canister and feed the kitty” or “stay at the hospital, sign in after dialysis but wait a bit more than an hour (instead of 30 minutes) for my 11 AM appointment”.

There are small O2 canisters that are managed easily but last three-ish hours depending on usage level, and large ones on carts that last five-ish hours, again depending on usage level. I had a small one that I’d partially used but felt would last me till 11:30 or so. Well…my oxygen canister ran out, leaving me without oxygen for an hour and a quarter.

I monitored my blood O2 level with my Pulse Oximeter, noting my heartbeat became more erratic as my oxygen level dropped to 87%. I was concerned, of course, and mentioned it to a nurse for another doctor who came out. She (fortunately) got me a large oxygen canister. My blood O2 quickly rose to a happy 99% saturation! Better, my heartbeat evened out. Whew! I’d would be oxygenated sufficiently to drive home after all!

I was exhausted – dialysis leaves you very tired – so I put my head down to rest as best I could in a refrigerated waiting room. (Why are hospitals always so cold? To slow patient bleed out?)

I eventually got in to talk with the doctor’s nurse for the preliminaries… four hours after I started my wait and three after the appointment time. I finally left the hospital at 1:20 PM. Remember, the appointment time was for 11 AM!

Turned out, however, the doctor flies to Alliance, his plane had mechanical issues, so he had to drive the four hours to town. He had a good reason for being behind. Someone could told me that, eh?! I understood that delay but learned about it from the doctor’s nurse at the end of a long, long day.

“Oh boy!”

Nom! Nom! Nom!

Nom! Nom! Nom!

Nom! Nom! Nom!

We all know how much Andy love, love, loves his Greenies!

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It feels like July is trying to break through when one day this week the high is predicted to be 69º F/ 20,6º C then a few days later it may be 89º F/ 31.7º C. I’m no heat lover, but this year I can survive, thanks to the replacement last year of the two worn-out air conditioners with new ones. At this altitude – 3990 feet/ 1216 meters above sea level – the nights mostly are cool so an open window above the bed can be quite pleasant for man and beast! I keep that in mind in case I decide fresh air trumps cool air-conditioned air.

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The yellow rose has faded largely for this year. That reminds me of a time when I was a high school student, 1966. I was in an advanced English class that got to study the literature and essays of the 19th Century Transcendentalism movement.

Our teacher wanted to give us a practical demonstration of the concept of evanescence, so she brought in a bud vase featuring one rose bud that had one job: during the course of the section of the lesson on evanescence, bloom, then drop its petals. How better to understand Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay on the subject? Unfortunately, her bud failed to bloom, let alone finish the lesson by dropping its petals!

I believe our teacher took that as a failure to teach a lesson, yet half a century-plus later, I understand “evanescence“. Good job, Mrs. Petersen!

(P.S. Mrs. Petersen mentioned her annual listen to J.S. Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion” was how she got into the spirit of Easter. I tried it and understand. For anyone getting goosey because a teacher mentioned a religious work in a public school, Mrs. Petersen also was a member of my church. She mentioned this there. She was a very good and decent person on top of a great teacher, one of many I’ve been blessed with in my life.)

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Then there was the teacher who caused my class to rupture itself trying not to laugh when he transposed the first letters of the Mark Twain classic, “Huckleberry Finn“…. 

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My mother, who graduated high school in 1932, remembered a typo that caused a hoity-toity girl editor of the school newspaper (“The Spud – Keeps Its Eyes Open for News” [sic!]) extreme embarrassment. In honor of pioneers who’d settled the Nebraska Panhandle 50 years or so earlier, she wrote in an editorial that included this description of the spirit of those pioneers: “shiftless pioneers”.

Well, that’s what she wrote, but what appeared in “The Spud“, which apparently had its eyes closed to typos: “shitless pioneers”!

When I was on “The Spud” staff in 1965-1966, I went to the morgue (Newspaperese “for place where old issues are stored…”) and found the issue with this typo. My mother was proud of me! LOL! We had another guffaw over it.

As they say on newspapers:

(30)

Andy selected the ribbon to play with.

Presentation is important!

Andy’s excited now!

Nom! Nom! Nom!

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Today is Flag Day in the USA. It celebrates the day in 1777 the Second Continental Congress passed a resolution adopting the design of the flag:

Flag Day (United States) – Wikipedia

Andy expects a snack after he has supper. Dessert, I guess.

“Look on the lapboard, Andy. You didn’t finish what I put out last time.”

Andy double-checked that and noted I wasn’t just woofing – there were some Greenies there. He licked his lips and dug in!

So much for that!

What!? What!? What!?

Andy picked up on some activity in the other room. He ran off to verify if it was kitty business, perhaps even very important kitty business!

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Thanks to my new trash disposal method, this week’s trash, not months’ worth of trash, is all I need to take out this week! It is a happy time when not only is that one or two small bags, but one is filled with broken down boxes, which pack light.

Packing light, incidentally, it my new strategy. More bags, lighter weight because I don’t fill them to the top like I did in those bags I only recently moved from the apartment to the dumpster. Some were very heavy and I barely got them into the dumpster. 

As soon as I run out of those large bags, I’ll transition to smaller bags.

I declared miller season over yesterday, then Andrew spotted one in the lampshade!

He didn’t catch it the first time.

But he persevered and caught it several times later. He pattycaked it with his paw, let it fly off as best it could, caught it again and again, repeating his little miller game. Eventually, barely able to take to the air, the miller dropped to the floor and hid in the clutter!

Andy’s cup ran over! Next it was a fly on the CD cabinet! He had his chance at it…

…then I said to hell with it. That bug bugged me earlier and it is MINE!!

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Andy’s not in the room…but his prey is back on the lampshade! Battered in battle with a cat, this miller must follow the imperative of its kind: go to the light! 

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Andy’s “horns” are up in the last photo. He’s so cute when his kitty’s on! RAWR! I had to let him see and sniff the extinct fly, as you might expect, because he’s a cat and his job is to be curious.

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Eighty-six years ago on June 12th, my parents got married. Bill and Esther, their best friends, stood with them. Mom and Dad stood with Bill and Esther when they got married, too. Both their marriages lasted till death of the husband.

Watching Doug…

Hears a sound that might be interesting…

Yeah, cat bath time!

Miller season is over but Andy still hopes to see one more on the ceiling.

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Lots of rain predicted for the coming week. That’s what I like about June!