An (almost) perfect morning

Erin spent the night last night, and we made coffee. COFFEE. Something I have so rarely anymore. She tried hard to get Big Mike to warm to her advances (“he’s so beautiful now!” she enthused) though my shy boy mostly hid himself away, not wanting to interact with her boisterous dog.

She had to go to a softball game with her section of the Attorney General’s office, leaving me at leisure to feed and visit with my ferals across the road. Spending half an hour with them feels like a luxury; I am almost always in a hurry. Just standing quietly on the sidewalk and watching them eat is so pleasing. Doing this is one of the only moments in the day when I feel completely, totally tuned in, and in being so, totally happy.

Things are still not back to “normal” (at least the way they were for a couple of years) because of the predator at large. There are zero kitties behind the Post Office now, and there haven’t been since Diego disappeared about six weeks ago and is presumed killed along with the raccoons whose cadavers are still slightly visible in the thickets there. And Gertrude Stein, the long-ago-fixed matriarch of that area, has taken up residence by the Stone Pine lot – a far more dangerous place, with cars and tourists sometimes crowding the area. As always, though, she is undaunted, waiting regally for me on the sidewalk in the morning when I arrive.

The two kitties I’ve been wanting to catch for months now are also back from having scattered in fear: Daisy, the little black female who is losing her fur, and the could-be-lovely Russian Blue longhaired male who looks enough like Diego to make my heart stop. He is different, though – same sweet, empathetic eyes, same beautiful coloring, but long and thin, rather than compact and stout. I haven’t come up with the right name for him yet but I need to.

And I need, desperately, to trap these two and get them medical attention. Both look sick and neither has been altered. But money has been a major issue of late (i.e. I haven’t yet gotten my paycheck yet this month) and even though I have a fabulous donation check for my budding nonprofit sitting here on my desk, I don’t want to deposit it until we have our business ID number, so my friend can get a tax write-off. (The wheels are turning there, but slowly.) And I’m also cooking up some wonderful plans with my new friend Cindy, for some kind of joint effort in the future – but it could be a ways in the future. It makes me crazy to put off helping deserving beasties because funding is an issue, but it’s irresponsible for me NOT to think of it beforehand. I just hope Daisy and the grey boy can hang on and avoid the fangs until I can help them.

Oh! I just thought of a name for him! How about Dorian? As in Dorian GRAY? I like. I’ll keep.

Back at home, Mike continues to learn how to blend. At Sandy’s advice I bought a Feliway pheromone diffuser, in hopes of quelling any more fist fights between the boys. (There was such a bad one the other night – when Mike jumped in between a quarrel between Iggy and his crush Lina – that I had to shriek at all parties and separate them behind closed doors.) But since the pheromones started flooding the area, we have had (knock wood) mostly peace.

And Mike is also learning about creature comforts! For MONTHS (when he was so terribly wounded) I would try to get him to use a comfy bed – but he’d have none of it, preferring instead to lie on top of towels. (I’m not sure why this is – Ginger is the absolute same.) But Mike has now discovered the joy of a “cuddle cup” – though, as the second photo shows, he doesn’t always quite get the hang of it.  😉

It makes me SO happy to see him happy and at peace. Now if only *I* could be as well. But I feel things are coming together semi-magically, so I need to just trust in the universe that I will be in a position soon to not only help myself, but more deserving kitties as well.