tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34420389531600125802024-03-28T14:41:10.655-07:00Hot Blogging with ChuckWelcome to my Blog!!!
Chuck was born feral and homeless, but lucky for him, this belly boy, this rascal cat was rescued and traveled the world with me for years. Yeah, he was snarky and he was mostly on the lookout for good food and beautiful girl cats, but I loved him all the same. Now we pass the torch to Theo, an equally rascally feline explorer who will carry on Chuck's legacy. Join me as I continue to visit exotic locales with Theo and do the things that no one dares.
Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.comBlogger198125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-35302315442472423192024-03-26T06:24:00.000-07:002024-03-26T06:24:35.311-07:00Mico and The Drain Stoppers<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e've never lived with a cat like Mico. He's cute as a button, faster than a speeding bullet as he careens around corners, and as wily as a fox. He looks like an angel when he's sleeping. When he's awake, this perky one year old rapscallion is always hatching a plot--to secure more snacks or more toys.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Well, the truth is everything Mico sees or smells is a toy. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> After Theo solves the <i>missing mouthguard</i> case, Dan and I put ourselves on high alert. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "We can't leave anything out."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Absolutely nothing."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Agreed."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We think we're smart. We have the immediate situation under control. But then the unthinkable happens. Two drain stoppers in two different sinks upstairs disappear. Drain stoppers? To explain how mysterious this is (by this time we have a sinking feeling in the pit of our stomach--no pun intended--that Mico, that dextrous nymph is somehow involved) you must realize that Mico must have taken his two front paws, brought them together and lifted the stopper out of the hole that it sits while balancing himself in the sink. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We canvas the entire house. All the usual haunts--under beds and behind dressers. We check, of course, the stairs where Theo found the mouthguard.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> No drain stoppers. Nothing is ever easy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Every time I use the upstairs bathrooms, I feel sick inside. It's an eyesore. The sink drain sits there, totally exposed. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAvxcDRteGfPonr8RhD4Golt4Vof_o_1-lhfx0l0UgxOQhvteuHE21RXTO2741ivjX9xbZmpIaFmMd2FGSl_Ii3Ur8dOA_3_4PqOp4ACa-F1EO0hXyEyGoh0plrL6pXKialysBAHpGeeNbQt01s4Cx5WHAZy64YpAomkZY_BlID4KuN9GpXXobTVj-d2N/s4032/IMG_1055.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAvxcDRteGfPonr8RhD4Golt4Vof_o_1-lhfx0l0UgxOQhvteuHE21RXTO2741ivjX9xbZmpIaFmMd2FGSl_Ii3Ur8dOA_3_4PqOp4ACa-F1EO0hXyEyGoh0plrL6pXKialysBAHpGeeNbQt01s4Cx5WHAZy64YpAomkZY_BlID4KuN9GpXXobTVj-d2N/s320/IMG_1055.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Finally, in desperation, we discuss <i>in whispers</i> how to solve the problem. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "What can we offer Theo to get him to help?" Dan asks.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Maybe we can sit him down and just ask him."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan laughs. But it works. Theo, within a matter of seconds, finds the missing drain stopper for the hall bathroom. I feel so grateful I let him eat a Tuna and Scallop Churo all by himself. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Practically on hands and knees, we beseech Theo to find the other drain stopper. The one for the master bathroom. Theo shrugs. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Days go by. No drain stopper. We imagine that Theo is engaged in intense negotiations with Mico, trying to discover where he's hidden it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Three mornings later I'm in the kitchen putting out three bowls of food, but only Theo is pacing back and forth, slipping between my legs, impatient for his food. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Where are Sienna and Mico? We check all the rooms, under all the beds, in the closets . . . and finally turn to Theo, who by this time has eaten his breakfast.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVi297XXvuBJWwTOfCngorD8jDEgc-croxysaMJSIadhieM2v2lFB15YnDgE0gVUn2sizU4Yeajmth452jL8TXvs5WM6cGcYS_8gvJQT2gfYAW_F6cC3S_YWIMFgu9kdmi3WUh578LfICVPDChOGShnput_FBHBU4PntqNpNV5vRUPNNtY6ipeH6-5_jNQ/s4032/IMG_1042.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVi297XXvuBJWwTOfCngorD8jDEgc-croxysaMJSIadhieM2v2lFB15YnDgE0gVUn2sizU4Yeajmth452jL8TXvs5WM6cGcYS_8gvJQT2gfYAW_F6cC3S_YWIMFgu9kdmi3WUh578LfICVPDChOGShnput_FBHBU4PntqNpNV5vRUPNNtY6ipeH6-5_jNQ/s320/IMG_1042.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "We give up. Where are they?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> His eyes get bigger than usual.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "With the drain stopper," I guess, half kidding.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo leads us up the stairs, down the hallway and stops at the hall bathroom. He nods. "I had to do it, see?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We look in. The room is totally empty. Except . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "You don't think . . ." We whisk the shower curtain aside. Two guilty kittens stare back at us. Sienna and Mico. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdU8Sas2hnw4qtTwS184tpZkBKyCxr6ji8W_K5rJUrliA0LxvuOclNSElzmuuEiBbDF6QqeluDoeDGlAPbaR6rsK8BeA_hJjLylI5aojbBn0amlp9YoCuYCu9TYm32sthxG5vzC_fUj6G9ZlejmqqZ42FWrEhfwbyIjvDz3bcKDFpUZfif-W9OdO7eDWsk/s4032/IMG_1061.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdU8Sas2hnw4qtTwS184tpZkBKyCxr6ji8W_K5rJUrliA0LxvuOclNSElzmuuEiBbDF6QqeluDoeDGlAPbaR6rsK8BeA_hJjLylI5aojbBn0amlp9YoCuYCu9TYm32sthxG5vzC_fUj6G9ZlejmqqZ42FWrEhfwbyIjvDz3bcKDFpUZfif-W9OdO7eDWsk/w300-h400/IMG_1061.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> And behind Mico--the drain stopper.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYQ5fkXVThoMF2z6luD3rU2J176hkRPmRfFXT8J3MdnuSQxHuRg_wqhDTGvqeOHmvH0I5NLNkz2s27gSbnHcGoFO-IPr9yRBvS9HooYr55wNm-IK9Mq2RtCEFL0PqAC4puAnSThuxyVW1BQ3oDHWvgNsJCgFyqTlzouzGJumu-AbfCysfOeV4oRmnZMkE/s4032/IMG_1056.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYQ5fkXVThoMF2z6luD3rU2J176hkRPmRfFXT8J3MdnuSQxHuRg_wqhDTGvqeOHmvH0I5NLNkz2s27gSbnHcGoFO-IPr9yRBvS9HooYr55wNm-IK9Mq2RtCEFL0PqAC4puAnSThuxyVW1BQ3oDHWvgNsJCgFyqTlzouzGJumu-AbfCysfOeV4oRmnZMkE/s320/IMG_1056.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo explains, "I told them it was today. See? When I was going to turn them in."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I grab the drain stopper. Sienna is watching me. Mico is pouting in the bathtub, refusing to come out.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQTvYbg3ylQGv4UxqOgjFFT2qn2SzaF9wQfFAPMyk4EmX0Qe7zvO0ayhtbP3NqPDQ8__-hGkauvhZE_P6PkngfoNhcYHo3qGQM3IYe24IdZKdROYPSXmxc_MARaiuzDJxT1dWE1JRmqgIgtzTxAjctLA7LMBpLqozOOXILCp0_v8EMoGHjulITEx1N0qr/s4032/IMG_1065.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRQTvYbg3ylQGv4UxqOgjFFT2qn2SzaF9wQfFAPMyk4EmX0Qe7zvO0ayhtbP3NqPDQ8__-hGkauvhZE_P6PkngfoNhcYHo3qGQM3IYe24IdZKdROYPSXmxc_MARaiuzDJxT1dWE1JRmqgIgtzTxAjctLA7LMBpLqozOOXILCp0_v8EMoGHjulITEx1N0qr/s320/IMG_1065.jpeg" width="240" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiL0vh5RInhfw73UH8YQODL5TWDSoFTrZqAf85hgmTiSDUvYdRqlcTbvGJAblEo5tQlI5P-VJbkRMEjnBFPsTU-j_PT_myRmpjIc_tX8yqa9tO_hnACrK-0nJUIy1SlTFfi8X71fwLt3U4e0KBOqltYQ68-Y9Q3m0jVY68bP4caMEXvychbjKFTQwv3Cix/s4032/IMG_1066.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiL0vh5RInhfw73UH8YQODL5TWDSoFTrZqAf85hgmTiSDUvYdRqlcTbvGJAblEo5tQlI5P-VJbkRMEjnBFPsTU-j_PT_myRmpjIc_tX8yqa9tO_hnACrK-0nJUIy1SlTFfi8X71fwLt3U4e0KBOqltYQ68-Y9Q3m0jVY68bP4caMEXvychbjKFTQwv3Cix/s320/IMG_1066.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Then it hits me--I've got the stopper, but I can't put it back in the drain where it belongs--Mico will take it again. So, in the drawer it goes. And the sink drain sits there, STILL totally exposed. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But we relent. Days later we reinsert the drain stopper with a new plan. Push the button to make sure it is lying flat in the sink. Then pour water over it so Mico will have to wet his paws to even get near it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Self satisfied that we've solved the problem, we relax. But . . . one day someone forgets to push down the stopper and put the water on top of it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Yeah, Mico strikes again. This time Theo says, "Mom . . ." So now we have one drain stopper in the drawer and one drain stopper who knows where . . . </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> If Mico wasn't so cute . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-47728368864773235902024-03-19T05:06:00.000-07:002024-03-19T05:06:26.173-07:00The Case of the Missing Mouthguard<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e rely on Theo to keep order at home. He is the oldest of our three cats. In the beginning, Theo was not overly fond of Mico and Sienna. They arrived with some strong feral tendencies. Theo saw them as intruders on his space, his home.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEged2o8J_9-EQHWmalcmrwOtMYaGjcXEGxXw_vZOrJ3647eLY57vKSKvSrvu9FtBpJes4k4Lel7CTJIHTjm3TaCp3w6mRSKHbJGVrNkWbKcP9EAZJ7GWwJuc_R2sLf-pJ425FNhPenxtD54QiudBAJpXXTvf6XElp5xid1GHaySnGFcqM7H4N6F3cwH6zPU/s4032/IMG_1029.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEged2o8J_9-EQHWmalcmrwOtMYaGjcXEGxXw_vZOrJ3647eLY57vKSKvSrvu9FtBpJes4k4Lel7CTJIHTjm3TaCp3w6mRSKHbJGVrNkWbKcP9EAZJ7GWwJuc_R2sLf-pJ425FNhPenxtD54QiudBAJpXXTvf6XElp5xid1GHaySnGFcqM7H4N6F3cwH6zPU/s320/IMG_1029.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo was tutored by Chuck, the original rascal cat. But he had to establish his own identity. The title "gangster cat" is no accident. He proved he was more than capable of dealing with the two wild ones.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91KZTG3PrunPNBpRjf9ao8AM9y50u_WmVwJDpPD33W57S-wn7t-wSrtBsiMgQY_GJpuFcrZL8ovcvzVc3Kd5KrOT2WkdP_BLgo8H48BILga5R8KRSkNtSStT3c9Zc2N83RdouWuJEYcMgOWlVzfrzD7PalFqMjpubGHH31XDoXNHcVGNTi9N9NrxH-xcZ/s4032/IMG_1020.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91KZTG3PrunPNBpRjf9ao8AM9y50u_WmVwJDpPD33W57S-wn7t-wSrtBsiMgQY_GJpuFcrZL8ovcvzVc3Kd5KrOT2WkdP_BLgo8H48BILga5R8KRSkNtSStT3c9Zc2N83RdouWuJEYcMgOWlVzfrzD7PalFqMjpubGHH31XDoXNHcVGNTi9N9NrxH-xcZ/s320/IMG_1020.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKpzTBEscpQuZFRJs2OJ4s_um-0fIgV46G0V8l_t_Ly58IPa4TtLEKLLCfJDcI4UeNjUylXVd0mmEARjLNMTFaGoJx6hu16yhVtlYOQukyPi-NCqNCghGm3PsMGFTpFNvEObKZ00Y0IkuAL19U9ICfxxFIEhx72wKPyics5QH5UcSF1JxCXCA7WM52huE/s4032/IMG_1036.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKpzTBEscpQuZFRJs2OJ4s_um-0fIgV46G0V8l_t_Ly58IPa4TtLEKLLCfJDcI4UeNjUylXVd0mmEARjLNMTFaGoJx6hu16yhVtlYOQukyPi-NCqNCghGm3PsMGFTpFNvEObKZ00Y0IkuAL19U9ICfxxFIEhx72wKPyics5QH5UcSF1JxCXCA7WM52huE/s320/IMG_1036.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GQfxud1Kl2ErdRcIXjTHKiuPF8vb5UcmMpYjrqbADE3GKuvYaszMy9yVifBb6rxT-h_ir5Njq-0j3d-GRdHXSjQpqp1SG0Ce0ZyoQNyiLKNebb89nXhNxl3CTg0PixJ9tgoSI4A-v1KHmKqtudcP-4SAbWAP21MJXRy8GIIMmKNSDDD9B5zsOFQtlRHx/s4032/IMG_1033.JPEG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GQfxud1Kl2ErdRcIXjTHKiuPF8vb5UcmMpYjrqbADE3GKuvYaszMy9yVifBb6rxT-h_ir5Njq-0j3d-GRdHXSjQpqp1SG0Ce0ZyoQNyiLKNebb89nXhNxl3CTg0PixJ9tgoSI4A-v1KHmKqtudcP-4SAbWAP21MJXRy8GIIMmKNSDDD9B5zsOFQtlRHx/s320/IMG_1033.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11v0w0BdbDRk9Qhs9N-bLzrvOYcewjNk2anGecb0I1pa1q87NeYua7dFtixsnP_xFW96XD_iAwLXNbJzhANlvKCmJo0xRIh4yjYZ70bSp3YnhF148Nu2lsxY8tEXx-AHgoENO58fvt83PQNjnKOAcfYW-a5u2DeOhs59b4PwrIQIzBmXu6NdE7ghiaUlg/s4032/IMG_1040.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11v0w0BdbDRk9Qhs9N-bLzrvOYcewjNk2anGecb0I1pa1q87NeYua7dFtixsnP_xFW96XD_iAwLXNbJzhANlvKCmJo0xRIh4yjYZ70bSp3YnhF148Nu2lsxY8tEXx-AHgoENO58fvt83PQNjnKOAcfYW-a5u2DeOhs59b4PwrIQIzBmXu6NdE7ghiaUlg/s320/IMG_1040.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> Case in point--it is early, very early in the morning. Dan wakes up. It is still dark in our bedroom. Without thinking too much about it (and this is where he makes his BIG MISTAKE), he removes his professionally designed mouthguard and attempts to put it on the nightstand.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOH1RNhDHYkJYFmJHtFHzBrkFKtN_32UI43rLHknLAn9N0KPGkf3LLGlDLNSHAu_tn58b_08-IGHa9IbbXAXQUlpcvurbhh2wbvh9-p47Zs1UOpl03_8IqPxp34ZBkZCSk-4MTYBAfWOm8l6pUgeFRcf38Xj8PnjOcS6Q30pRy0mGBs91n65_zMPnFkNX/s4032/IMG_1058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOH1RNhDHYkJYFmJHtFHzBrkFKtN_32UI43rLHknLAn9N0KPGkf3LLGlDLNSHAu_tn58b_08-IGHa9IbbXAXQUlpcvurbhh2wbvh9-p47Zs1UOpl03_8IqPxp34ZBkZCSk-4MTYBAfWOm8l6pUgeFRcf38Xj8PnjOcS6Q30pRy0mGBs91n65_zMPnFkNX/s320/IMG_1058.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He misses. The mouthguard falls to the floor. We hear it clatter on the hard wooden surface. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Darn it." He reaches down to retrieve it. He feels around where he knows it fell. Gone. Vanished.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Later we calculate that, perhaps, two seconds elapsed before he reached down for the mouthguard. Two seconds.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We look everywhere. Lights are turned on. We're on our hands and knees looking under the bed, under the dresser, under the blankets even, doubting now whether we heard a clatter at all.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> An ugly thought pops into our collective consciousness. Michelangelo. Mico took it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But how is that possible?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Slowly, we piece together what must have happened--Mico was under the bed (sleeping in the cat bed). He must have heard the clatter, immediately thought "I'm getting a new toy" and absconded with the mouthguard. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Eww. In his mouth. Geez.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Now, the search expands--a full house search is initiated. First stop includes a thorough search of the guest room across the hall--under the bed--but no mouthguard.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Time elapses. "We'll never find it," Dan mutters, clearly discouraged.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We ask Sienna, Mico's sister, but she offers up no new information. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwxRKUQXf0Ed6kcTNHHiK2QFO0sAabpbdtFajz6bM9jL5B43qp6zhFMHAKLbjdrY-IKiIf-_QujABG11kfFabaEfsqNYIacT_4ZMbrAfYvrFh-aovmb-94qbxaiPirLlx4LnoDXJYxXSd7rZ3-yXJbSjVID0cFW3NlDz_XTkA5l3x4beHsARrmo_t87bHU/s4032/IMG_1023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwxRKUQXf0Ed6kcTNHHiK2QFO0sAabpbdtFajz6bM9jL5B43qp6zhFMHAKLbjdrY-IKiIf-_QujABG11kfFabaEfsqNYIacT_4ZMbrAfYvrFh-aovmb-94qbxaiPirLlx4LnoDXJYxXSd7rZ3-yXJbSjVID0cFW3NlDz_XTkA5l3x4beHsARrmo_t87bHU/s320/IMG_1023.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But, who wanders in--looking for breakfast. No, not Mico. Theo.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Hey, buddy. We need your help."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> A deal is offered--Theo will look for and hopefully find the mouthguard. We'll go downstairs immediately and make him a delicious breakfast.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo hesitates.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "And," I quickly add, "I'll give you a snack right this minute."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo agrees. (I would have eventually offered the entire bag of Science Diet dried cat food if I had to.) </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We start to tell Theo where we've already looked, but he's not interested. He eats his snack in one gulp and walks out into the hallway where he proceeds to groom. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Look." I point at Theo with an accusatory finger. "The gangster cat is taking his own sweet time finding your mouthguard."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "I think we've been scammed," Dan says. "He has no intention . . ."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But we're wrong. Theo goes to the landing, looks down at the stairs that connect to the first floor, and starts going down. I'm about to call his name, when he stops, leans over and starts coming back up the stairs, carrying the gooey clear-colored mouthguard in his mouth. He drops it unceremoniously on the floor in front of us and saunters off. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2r2-moFuRvxxpxPWGf9Rp-klKFDEFAeskOHOJHtk3AKGqxKVz8KejACVzHncrodyhUcgI8KVtOrEfSg2uJXXDfAIIZ_ZC27X3N8m_TWbubl5szy5IUKV7oSoYQRvE-9Z8Ya0f82pBR_iNfZKEkS0nYV2-rVNjWuCOr4AyOrNaduwUOBsFuwCLRBoQ_0re/s4032/IMG_1059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2r2-moFuRvxxpxPWGf9Rp-klKFDEFAeskOHOJHtk3AKGqxKVz8KejACVzHncrodyhUcgI8KVtOrEfSg2uJXXDfAIIZ_ZC27X3N8m_TWbubl5szy5IUKV7oSoYQRvE-9Z8Ya0f82pBR_iNfZKEkS0nYV2-rVNjWuCOr4AyOrNaduwUOBsFuwCLRBoQ_0re/s320/IMG_1059.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We have two reactions. One--we're darned glad to have the mouthguard back. Two--we think Theo <i>knew</i> where that darned mouthguard <i>was</i> all the time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But a deal is a deal. A magnificent breakfast is served. After all, he solved The Case of the Missing Mouthguard. And, of course, Mico is nowhere to be found.</span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-79045820903544333792024-03-12T04:51:00.000-07:002024-03-12T04:51:29.416-07:00The Allure of Fish<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> I'</span><span style="font-size: large;">ve had enough of Admiral Horatio Nelson, naval man extraordinaire. But Dan has promised Theo we will see more. Leaving Shirley Heights, we journey down to where the harbor sits, to the town that was built to provide for the needs of the military that were stationed there. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcEk6UtD6kpdRKQXMejkUWwXE1mFJ7H6kLAWCCN7VASfeMN4b3t4blCACY9Wb7AyNXcoLuCK2pYO31Xmj2zcE5PpJhU1any4i4O1zt3KSoXWRs0yN3GkazhDB27DlcemRRydvx56Noog3jVaThqrfIJgME_q0VjWy_VS25Ih8uC_B0OY4G9A_c8_87_KQ/s4032/IMG_0858.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcEk6UtD6kpdRKQXMejkUWwXE1mFJ7H6kLAWCCN7VASfeMN4b3t4blCACY9Wb7AyNXcoLuCK2pYO31Xmj2zcE5PpJhU1any4i4O1zt3KSoXWRs0yN3GkazhDB27DlcemRRydvx56Noog3jVaThqrfIJgME_q0VjWy_VS25Ih8uC_B0OY4G9A_c8_87_KQ/s320/IMG_0858.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_cXWX396-sX6VEuxnkCf3cpsxe3b_jXzxvw7JKe8SddUOsGU-4X6bY4irrGqNGWYdVfmmGpe5aa-zgMW4uQQPPBRbmBni1UMrZTpz-RbohJ75U4gS9DDRmOknRgbys7LrwNArK16_kE7ktZa8gzPykjFE7Jl9ozpNjtr_NWeyoqBMU8vGCH2zG7BMmSs/s4032/IMG_0865.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_cXWX396-sX6VEuxnkCf3cpsxe3b_jXzxvw7JKe8SddUOsGU-4X6bY4irrGqNGWYdVfmmGpe5aa-zgMW4uQQPPBRbmBni1UMrZTpz-RbohJ75U4gS9DDRmOknRgbys7LrwNArK16_kE7ktZa8gzPykjFE7Jl9ozpNjtr_NWeyoqBMU8vGCH2zG7BMmSs/s320/IMG_0865.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAf9qS-neKs-PDTcZ7WTFl2Q3c0IIjxW8YvlgIzSg0C8CYvlWlZEQtzcB4n-7Hbo8Ul6-mcQsf8KTJRROnG1n00GSu7gdP1aZRVuYtid3LQNK0qHPUjPVFKAP6SIxgJWncj_cVTKNzrL8abUkB4UkXJkqFKcm5IIPUW5_EL1O_pFxCXaaJ9zH_y8QfjAov/s4032/IMG_0866.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAf9qS-neKs-PDTcZ7WTFl2Q3c0IIjxW8YvlgIzSg0C8CYvlWlZEQtzcB4n-7Hbo8Ul6-mcQsf8KTJRROnG1n00GSu7gdP1aZRVuYtid3LQNK0qHPUjPVFKAP6SIxgJWncj_cVTKNzrL8abUkB4UkXJkqFKcm5IIPUW5_EL1O_pFxCXaaJ9zH_y8QfjAov/s320/IMG_0866.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Today, the town's been revitalized to serve a more modern purpose--stores for shopping and restaurants for eating. But, if you can ignore the hustling and bustling tourists, you can glimpse a world that existed 200 years ago. And, maybe, see some fish.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHhT7LD2uyGtGY7iVmlQYNI57KONyvhczB1fFEeeOeG40OyE5ZG3vV3Vqzx5GrvBm4stHIyOBIPQIteQg8QM-vZ-HydeP1OxD3vex0yo8xqkyz5v2TvQthK8I263_cY4Pvs2yigCIqkzysp7Klm9Hp3quBfUTRF8YWIKqSXXK8cIlbHkE8jqkQ7LtTZsD/s4032/IMG_0872.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHhT7LD2uyGtGY7iVmlQYNI57KONyvhczB1fFEeeOeG40OyE5ZG3vV3Vqzx5GrvBm4stHIyOBIPQIteQg8QM-vZ-HydeP1OxD3vex0yo8xqkyz5v2TvQthK8I263_cY4Pvs2yigCIqkzysp7Klm9Hp3quBfUTRF8YWIKqSXXK8cIlbHkE8jqkQ7LtTZsD/w400-h300/IMG_0872.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Imagine," Dan says to Theo, "that you were a cat 200 years ago. No cat food from cans. No such thing as Fancy Feast or Science Diet."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo frowns. He doesn't like imagining that scenario. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "But there would have been a lot of fish," I reassure him. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo loves fish--any kind of fish (tuna, scallops, shrimp, white fish), and so he becomes an enthusiastic participant. The tour begins with a stop at a small two story building with light blue shutters. It is on the way to the water, where the fish and boats are. I'm excited. I like boats. Theo, of course, likes fish.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "This store sells fish," I announce. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo thinks I mean real fish, the kind you can eat. So he is raring to go inside and feast. Unfortunately for him, the fish inside this store are beautifully carved <i>wooden</i> fish, like the ones attached to the front of the building.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrF-z-JmJQw8-NCQVgG_9Zr1QId5n6QlQrUYdzlFfuu1WWXP3g9rWDW2DgxzyCTUBcMTnqXpbdoB-q0c0yovX3MTL9nRl2Mkiiw7c5SUl1_USbZgHG9U4lFLtBI51GnYVCtOAHI4y7wEXQMA9zCtghp92-XP6kbQKx-J2Pfv8-LGwW4Z93Hsw6KuQLM_4q/s640/IMG_0970.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrF-z-JmJQw8-NCQVgG_9Zr1QId5n6QlQrUYdzlFfuu1WWXP3g9rWDW2DgxzyCTUBcMTnqXpbdoB-q0c0yovX3MTL9nRl2Mkiiw7c5SUl1_USbZgHG9U4lFLtBI51GnYVCtOAHI4y7wEXQMA9zCtghp92-XP6kbQKx-J2Pfv8-LGwW4Z93Hsw6KuQLM_4q/s320/IMG_0970.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Strike One--but still undeterred, Theo marches on. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We pass a brick building, which in years past housed the master shipwright, the guy who made all the repairs to the ships in the harbor. He was a highly skilled laborer. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZunEjPZnZA9W64O8cooHZdpb6U0A72PIY56Iumh6bLlgltzzOxmDFWCGYrmeRKK-7v9WzVbIi_2VJmD792p4t2RaTzWlTUVg_uRmJFN9H0HxiUQfQEvy4ILCN_Q2lfAd7WmCUXnjRSbUNCWGVvE_Ni1-VCTsvMEEjnq3t04aN9WLM6-a-Is56Dez7r4W/s4032/IMG_0971.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZunEjPZnZA9W64O8cooHZdpb6U0A72PIY56Iumh6bLlgltzzOxmDFWCGYrmeRKK-7v9WzVbIi_2VJmD792p4t2RaTzWlTUVg_uRmJFN9H0HxiUQfQEvy4ILCN_Q2lfAd7WmCUXnjRSbUNCWGVvE_Ni1-VCTsvMEEjnq3t04aN9WLM6-a-Is56Dez7r4W/s320/IMG_0971.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo asks, "Are there any fish inside?" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Strike Two--and Theo cat walks a little slower.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We pass the Joiner's Loft and Boathouse--which both housed the joiners and gave them a place to work. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfUi03xUIbxR-nP1e0jR8ON55MorJxynKuYqcLC5uS_HtAeu3CAWXeudXc7BHA8dTwhAt502aBrS9S25XK0__w5OC3W8Bzw2YGhapeDa1Vu1JtZnLboTr9zlu8bCX62ffEWq1kp5_3b6_9xkaU_XTHXVo87TOYC6Nz8gCy693rUQXpK81BszGH7CR1nDb/s4032/IMG_0973.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMfUi03xUIbxR-nP1e0jR8ON55MorJxynKuYqcLC5uS_HtAeu3CAWXeudXc7BHA8dTwhAt502aBrS9S25XK0__w5OC3W8Bzw2YGhapeDa1Vu1JtZnLboTr9zlu8bCX62ffEWq1kp5_3b6_9xkaU_XTHXVo87TOYC6Nz8gCy693rUQXpK81BszGH7CR1nDb/s320/IMG_0973.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GgEZlCd_WO2Ww-5dEk-0HYAYaP-w59ZraEpRehvoDQc8MNt-mpvD0ZsbwE9T-IbZVDfpfUgzKzTRx1CvSLaUDmWmHQSMBsen6hOKUmYzeQUAYiOEiu60NSsJwqPmXu2bquQHfj7exySqqCgIojA-02KNLAbgYvE74ZQHRNvlUhE5Spf94Rp4UkoUrtho/s4032/IMG_0972.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GgEZlCd_WO2Ww-5dEk-0HYAYaP-w59ZraEpRehvoDQc8MNt-mpvD0ZsbwE9T-IbZVDfpfUgzKzTRx1CvSLaUDmWmHQSMBsen6hOKUmYzeQUAYiOEiu60NSsJwqPmXu2bquQHfj7exySqqCgIojA-02KNLAbgYvE74ZQHRNvlUhE5Spf94Rp4UkoUrtho/s320/IMG_0972.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Dan explains, "A joiner is like a carpenter, <i>but</i> a carpenter builds things out of wood and a joiner's main job is to connect wooden pieces without using fasteners, nails, screws or glue. They seamlessly join pieces together using the groove cuts they make. Nowadays," he adds, "a joiner is like a framer."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo listens, squinches up his face, and says only one word, "Fish." Sadly I shake my head. "Not yet. But soon."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We then move to a beautiful white clapboard house with light blue shutters. Two stories. This is where the naval captain lived with his clerk. It was one of the last homes to be built here in town.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPUE6FPGCdnh7E_E9vW9NDUfChfLlXOvZN9L6Wb8hwr6AV6aFjDzX6gdUiJEE03QSQNjvUDd2vygWQxCxqC2ke9ornjibhrC2cdu7tkSrBcq42_YoiJxo5g3UGK9S0txonia09Y4iCApbM7PAN0Ou32GueslaIeWNnX3MptZZ722LrsPSY6BC10sGZy58/s4032/IMG_0974.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrPUE6FPGCdnh7E_E9vW9NDUfChfLlXOvZN9L6Wb8hwr6AV6aFjDzX6gdUiJEE03QSQNjvUDd2vygWQxCxqC2ke9ornjibhrC2cdu7tkSrBcq42_YoiJxo5g3UGK9S0txonia09Y4iCApbM7PAN0Ou32GueslaIeWNnX3MptZZ722LrsPSY6BC10sGZy58/s320/IMG_0974.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxGJ1O6pHavmJGlVoLJkR4bQmhDRbUDYhtpf6tjX_fjOk4gFXmpXyH_EobijoO8Hv_ZTckw9tY82Kf_w6a8SjVYMy7QyaNnUlVNmvDdGORP8lomh0LAHEwJfyIeWY_8elYDKSrgwNFbFT7KRklrTQzZqP48SQpJPk2b6gt_vAbwtoJsIABvJ2qVqaDMHc/s4032/IMG_0975.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxGJ1O6pHavmJGlVoLJkR4bQmhDRbUDYhtpf6tjX_fjOk4gFXmpXyH_EobijoO8Hv_ZTckw9tY82Kf_w6a8SjVYMy7QyaNnUlVNmvDdGORP8lomh0LAHEwJfyIeWY_8elYDKSrgwNFbFT7KRklrTQzZqP48SQpJPk2b6gt_vAbwtoJsIABvJ2qVqaDMHc/s320/IMG_0975.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">We come to the Copper and Lumber Store, a massive warehouse building with three foot thick walls, which stored copper sheets used to cover vessel hulls. An inner courtyard is open and provides ventilation to the wood stored. The seamen who worked there slept in the upper story in hammocks. Before Theo has a chance to ask, I tell him, "No fish."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoBT1ZEQ80hyZA4H2nayMxZY_sfqqW3dAQNODLvkXrT-KVSHWKszOvd8lKjIeQSFw3GfZjvBhnsYL1n4VjI5y8JOgiunQkwPJpSN-EpwD0J20dC3EWMxPcnrz_GizCl2NtsQj6yAJO90t_aYKlB_NOTrA-1iF5llcm___l8en_3R7eypwUqIqxkbY-sFL/s4032/IMG_0977.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoBT1ZEQ80hyZA4H2nayMxZY_sfqqW3dAQNODLvkXrT-KVSHWKszOvd8lKjIeQSFw3GfZjvBhnsYL1n4VjI5y8JOgiunQkwPJpSN-EpwD0J20dC3EWMxPcnrz_GizCl2NtsQj6yAJO90t_aYKlB_NOTrA-1iF5llcm___l8en_3R7eypwUqIqxkbY-sFL/s320/IMG_0977.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEy5PmhU6geo12vnKYr7Wr6DtweFuUadAgZxYInPmTemG8UF7hBeoeCSmvzYpSrCka8j3Xf7zoYhlFUVuiz2s3GjYFyxSZBmndImk6f39ga30cYvAumGrqLsfjf_VW9eXAIr4DFeHKZbcG_S3yHgEia-hSuv4ZavmRDFWClbZxLk6IXPiw0_XwTnIEtJQV/s4032/IMG_0976.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEy5PmhU6geo12vnKYr7Wr6DtweFuUadAgZxYInPmTemG8UF7hBeoeCSmvzYpSrCka8j3Xf7zoYhlFUVuiz2s3GjYFyxSZBmndImk6f39ga30cYvAumGrqLsfjf_VW9eXAIr4DFeHKZbcG_S3yHgEia-hSuv4ZavmRDFWClbZxLk6IXPiw0_XwTnIEtJQV/s320/IMG_0976.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAV9hOE0FoItv9zbGiDJoRQ9F7Y09dBcJre13PRH49KmtQoGeY1ll_mrYhDOUyj8wp6SxiaKDxCajbmwN4P7qmOwST6-9MwZN95cgTpb9zJ1rBtpSlMin3paDIeuPKWulYnqk479sQd8LwG4GsymWi2lfWWPR6XFsclPlhRAPO1QKvcakMUvs_m3qGuNb/s4032/IMG_0978.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAV9hOE0FoItv9zbGiDJoRQ9F7Y09dBcJre13PRH49KmtQoGeY1ll_mrYhDOUyj8wp6SxiaKDxCajbmwN4P7qmOwST6-9MwZN95cgTpb9zJ1rBtpSlMin3paDIeuPKWulYnqk479sQd8LwG4GsymWi2lfWWPR6XFsclPlhRAPO1QKvcakMUvs_m3qGuNb/s320/IMG_0978.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> The problem is you can smell the salt water and fish. Even I can smell it. Theo is sniffing the air, gazing in the direction of the harbor. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I whisper to Dan, "Keep an eye on him. He smells the fish. I think he's going to make a run for it."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Finally, we are standing in front of the Officer's Quarters, where Royal Naval Officers who were waiting for repairs to their ships were housed. Interestingly, on the ground floor, there were twelve large cisterns holding a total of 240,000 gallons of water, which was collected from the roof. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo doesn't care. If the cisterns held fish, that might be a different story. But water? He can hardly keep his attention on the building in front of him. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yrMLeukW1uSLwwducwj4QoVzSHG6lxvpNAFcU_dPBZYESH2j3AiNAvr833OoFb-I2H-MdWLopv9XAkSg6trPDlKyVC7ehIYK6S9X701xcA08OYnvlPOF6FJbrAAfYp0ntAfkwLylmRkojO8Pt7LdLc407YDoP19NY-jzfxWZQusMfgIJG_T53ZaxN5t0/s4032/IMG_0979.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yrMLeukW1uSLwwducwj4QoVzSHG6lxvpNAFcU_dPBZYESH2j3AiNAvr833OoFb-I2H-MdWLopv9XAkSg6trPDlKyVC7ehIYK6S9X701xcA08OYnvlPOF6FJbrAAfYp0ntAfkwLylmRkojO8Pt7LdLc407YDoP19NY-jzfxWZQusMfgIJG_T53ZaxN5t0/s320/IMG_0979.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2K9wKq7nMQB71rml4sSqIUZ_91U3JHHCkncFrZclquguZbb7fV_U2O0-GIqswdMf9793Vr0HT9WVClEWoMLFrX47D5ICwVDzoPosZ4kNshiOvFPjLvxJOHuz5cRoFvqPjvlc3REW0g1GaxvmLA76fa7p1jtp0-aZ6arry6fr1amMz_DsYe9GirGy2GSsQ/s4032/IMG_0980.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2K9wKq7nMQB71rml4sSqIUZ_91U3JHHCkncFrZclquguZbb7fV_U2O0-GIqswdMf9793Vr0HT9WVClEWoMLFrX47D5ICwVDzoPosZ4kNshiOvFPjLvxJOHuz5cRoFvqPjvlc3REW0g1GaxvmLA76fa7p1jtp0-aZ6arry6fr1amMz_DsYe9GirGy2GSsQ/s320/IMG_0980.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We try to distract him by pointing out the cannon that is sitting a few feet in front of us. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9ZibVNVI4dObQISYvSHwrdIgFAn-JojBIntlElA1FXxNAogokd9JpetgopBqrntYkeicmZkWfGyGAYsJSEbjuE34eaQVVOEP4FVksBQABm0mt8cWVmXhl3-SncEZlTmjDVjGI4vEt8nKGgJ1gQS7vsMHYUdVnOSlsbuxGA7WApExEDZmS6u7A_bAusnx/s4032/IMG_0880.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9ZibVNVI4dObQISYvSHwrdIgFAn-JojBIntlElA1FXxNAogokd9JpetgopBqrntYkeicmZkWfGyGAYsJSEbjuE34eaQVVOEP4FVksBQABm0mt8cWVmXhl3-SncEZlTmjDVjGI4vEt8nKGgJ1gQS7vsMHYUdVnOSlsbuxGA7WApExEDZmS6u7A_bAusnx/s320/IMG_0880.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We turn to head back, but Theo refuses to move. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "What do you think--I can conjure up fish with a magic spell?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> When Theo wants something, he can let loose the most plaintive, sorrowful cry. It breaks your heart and compels you to do the impossible. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "All right. We'll see what we can do."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He doesn't move.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "We'll go down to the harbor right now," Dan says.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo's ears perk up, and then he follows his nose. We have to half run to keep up with him. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "We're in big trouble," Dan says. "He's going to be expecting fish."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Let's just say I'm smarter than the average bear. I smile.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We reach the harbor area and Theo has stopped. We catch up to him.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWO01AJyBw0PV-asV1sLJfzNYQJRabl8BKaUM4iQGU3IxOSb_TUP1HInKsSYrweEdqrI4nu07j6uqJofF2y-2DCfif0Kk4rC_H1tRNIlXi6hC3p1XuzVxtPkPMNB8yaaJ2u36SgCdpIU5YV86KbuJ0-3wRvia5zwHHTIGu5_8g6lZep6RgnwHtIk59SuV/s4032/IMG_0889.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWO01AJyBw0PV-asV1sLJfzNYQJRabl8BKaUM4iQGU3IxOSb_TUP1HInKsSYrweEdqrI4nu07j6uqJofF2y-2DCfif0Kk4rC_H1tRNIlXi6hC3p1XuzVxtPkPMNB8yaaJ2u36SgCdpIU5YV86KbuJ0-3wRvia5zwHHTIGu5_8g6lZep6RgnwHtIk59SuV/s320/IMG_0889.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> For once I'm prepared. I pull out a can of tuna with one of those pull off tops. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Wow. I'm impressed," Dan says. "You outdid yourself this time."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Yeah, I figured tuna might come in handy. Or we'd be stuck down at the pier fishing."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Anything for the gangster cat!</span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-59528467233570696342024-03-05T05:11:00.000-08:002024-03-05T05:11:30.509-08:00Theo Gets Blown Away<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e are on our way to see an historical landmark. Mostly for Theo, who for some unexplained reason, has taken a liking to Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, the greatest officer in the history of Britain's Royal Navy. He was a HERO during the same time as when Napoleon rampaged around Europe, and Nelson was sent to Antigua for three years to enforce British laws.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">"This harbor is famous," Dan says, "I don't blame Theo for wanting to see it."</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDWbc5jUWLR2O7rw6kSY952UTuehELENTZj-atRQCCl0hEjNnsu-3RLuQq5whZBSt_QrwFhg4MudJzyXkqxrfCCNXEuyKOABdzPNMgDHpSVK-GHlmawHZYAIwOIBWdMzvhaqqxcQ1WN5jTXMWxVtHQX5o5RZfU9FhVlMoJyv_8b7PMR2iZ7VEyJ21LMndP/s4032/IMG_0957.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDWbc5jUWLR2O7rw6kSY952UTuehELENTZj-atRQCCl0hEjNnsu-3RLuQq5whZBSt_QrwFhg4MudJzyXkqxrfCCNXEuyKOABdzPNMgDHpSVK-GHlmawHZYAIwOIBWdMzvhaqqxcQ1WN5jTXMWxVtHQX5o5RZfU9FhVlMoJyv_8b7PMR2iZ7VEyJ21LMndP/s320/IMG_0957.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrYtH58_xnRUdoN0DzJGC1N9A2jEgAqEY9PrTrEPPstwdIYjZA9IjJ3CSJJNF43KvTF4zRt8HTsRwRoRgnXgwshv-gfwmxFyOEtalX38bGbC7cbFkBaSljFJejW9Zoq9SQHHh-xbofEfGoJlSeBfwdpQUJvTclJ3JTqmkmD3oLv-76pQFg3DieCchyphenhyphenE6X/s4032/IMG_0958.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrYtH58_xnRUdoN0DzJGC1N9A2jEgAqEY9PrTrEPPstwdIYjZA9IjJ3CSJJNF43KvTF4zRt8HTsRwRoRgnXgwshv-gfwmxFyOEtalX38bGbC7cbFkBaSljFJejW9Zoq9SQHHh-xbofEfGoJlSeBfwdpQUJvTclJ3JTqmkmD3oLv-76pQFg3DieCchyphenhyphenE6X/s320/IMG_0958.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj64_bYjAvq1U2SEbyyLC-NnfcRsLpfjA4jwtIhCmwgKjUQRzwdF9UB2g9LPmULUD0sRKn7Arc_VEDvu4hHWRXFo9HRFQa29quFJnoNR1ggKVrljzhMLOHqdzJ6Zj2rOFP7kftsfx9BQeHFgCec4PCh_HK3UGAmE4y3MJwkDUMgTklG1hBLvWyEg5YSLW_/s4032/IMG_0963.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj64_bYjAvq1U2SEbyyLC-NnfcRsLpfjA4jwtIhCmwgKjUQRzwdF9UB2g9LPmULUD0sRKn7Arc_VEDvu4hHWRXFo9HRFQa29quFJnoNR1ggKVrljzhMLOHqdzJ6Zj2rOFP7kftsfx9BQeHFgCec4PCh_HK3UGAmE4y3MJwkDUMgTklG1hBLvWyEg5YSLW_/s320/IMG_0963.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I have my doubts, but I don't say anything.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "There's a lot to see," Dan adds. "A great view. Old military buildings. Officer's quarters . . ."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvPyWtTSU1apFQfvC3QYKhOE5tmQ5bPFUDmjVed3Ce19RsfKI8E-EkfbxCHb2cKhICDVZ9AiJdEaBLwnwSJoKguHqktu-ObeWPdF6O6n_5Kjl_GjBVp7X2Xrj4s9Dy6of8tdbrlk_ArVTwxloTGZ6nOAQOKVHJS4b5NlWvn3YmwiGIOJg1zGJfwsTfVsJ/s4032/IMG_0964.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvPyWtTSU1apFQfvC3QYKhOE5tmQ5bPFUDmjVed3Ce19RsfKI8E-EkfbxCHb2cKhICDVZ9AiJdEaBLwnwSJoKguHqktu-ObeWPdF6O6n_5Kjl_GjBVp7X2Xrj4s9Dy6of8tdbrlk_ArVTwxloTGZ6nOAQOKVHJS4b5NlWvn3YmwiGIOJg1zGJfwsTfVsJ/w150-h200/IMG_0964.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFpyPBwewaV2bcar_rz-ly_gbyG5zFdZI4H7GVEi2_G1D4v3RQmiwRuxlJ2UCwqaMlb-53aIDPRvrYzFt5vBgQAAoNL33cWJXeIwBtj5zytdhyphenhyphenuYK8XBqxnVryhrbdbc_SaBTH63myaPa_VYBP_0YdFzjpFj5z-dRazOSRaMBkUJR4585sSRmffB8hLEK/s4032/IMG_0965.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFpyPBwewaV2bcar_rz-ly_gbyG5zFdZI4H7GVEi2_G1D4v3RQmiwRuxlJ2UCwqaMlb-53aIDPRvrYzFt5vBgQAAoNL33cWJXeIwBtj5zytdhyphenhyphenuYK8XBqxnVryhrbdbc_SaBTH63myaPa_VYBP_0YdFzjpFj5z-dRazOSRaMBkUJR4585sSRmffB8hLEK/w150-h200/IMG_0965.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzn_Se-071YDTjD6x2EM01CmQCePp9fC9PRFT3jLsnb69gzX9HN5i8txm_cbRuRoNWxXj1ToienAfQ9kN_zgYFyprcQJZ_Yp8RPoRqCurUCRoCB--HUt-tKJQArezCvUjOxiwuwtTASFdjBSvGdr8SNFZ7D_mLkx-QH3RN5UrhTpJb-dEzdkMv8PTAC7cF" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzn_Se-071YDTjD6x2EM01CmQCePp9fC9PRFT3jLsnb69gzX9HN5i8txm_cbRuRoNWxXj1ToienAfQ9kN_zgYFyprcQJZ_Yp8RPoRqCurUCRoCB--HUt-tKJQArezCvUjOxiwuwtTASFdjBSvGdr8SNFZ7D_mLkx-QH3RN5UrhTpJb-dEzdkMv8PTAC7cF=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidtqtTJnu93ipjOrjuQsO3ZyeI6TjEV6VIYqDHcl5dNFMohZEfkvKq0BO4hMInK33t1H1fWg9RtIOrSc5zqKCYlu-iwIbMPTQQ14PD9vpbYbPwf2wO9Ixt0FtPe-fHOc5e4NArMa_ahUKYfDvkIf-RX5mSsjLlY5M-T2c4mp03KPCrmujtZehm01z2ZHeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidtqtTJnu93ipjOrjuQsO3ZyeI6TjEV6VIYqDHcl5dNFMohZEfkvKq0BO4hMInK33t1H1fWg9RtIOrSc5zqKCYlu-iwIbMPTQQ14PD9vpbYbPwf2wO9Ixt0FtPe-fHOc5e4NArMa_ahUKYfDvkIf-RX5mSsjLlY5M-T2c4mp03KPCrmujtZehm01z2ZHeg=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCowGeR0hYXLZ4agSt64CybMTy-lc7A8aSWBt0LmnOnNbUJYdIcRBmw64pGr63jmD1luZ7YNZ_X7j63AFJz_Eein_cCD1HxZA8O6xWHn0YDdjMQyZrA3UAVnB6c8fiGG4kcEHiskt64kKb-hQ81dhy0hsl-V4FpaNDkzN-3QmO8cSSQ8ShW7ZsZB-_muFy" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCowGeR0hYXLZ4agSt64CybMTy-lc7A8aSWBt0LmnOnNbUJYdIcRBmw64pGr63jmD1luZ7YNZ_X7j63AFJz_Eein_cCD1HxZA8O6xWHn0YDdjMQyZrA3UAVnB6c8fiGG4kcEHiskt64kKb-hQ81dhy0hsl-V4FpaNDkzN-3QmO8cSSQ8ShW7ZsZB-_muFy=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I like great views, but these ruins are still under reconstruction. It's hard for me to imagine the way they used to be. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Unfortunately, Dan fails to mention the most important point. It's windy up there on the Heights. Not just a little windy. It feels like you're standing in the middle of a maelstrom. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZa6UbVRD9buFD_u_-JjgoidxdNayG5pIbqASDT9gnwEtu1eq73OsiWYDfl6Fi61KURp-12aR7_wTMZnzrGD7Of7-VRLusT7N22-UTcFLEuqfPvxmvShO6WntXSQ9Mg3hPW99UOuvwbwKF_BALlcPuEgPBT-zXpR8GUm4aeK0xooFGo06vS7Q6i0LTvXk/s4032/IMG_0834.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinZa6UbVRD9buFD_u_-JjgoidxdNayG5pIbqASDT9gnwEtu1eq73OsiWYDfl6Fi61KURp-12aR7_wTMZnzrGD7Of7-VRLusT7N22-UTcFLEuqfPvxmvShO6WntXSQ9Mg3hPW99UOuvwbwKF_BALlcPuEgPBT-zXpR8GUm4aeK0xooFGo06vS7Q6i0LTvXk/s320/IMG_0834.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> After we pose, I begin to be afraid my camera will get blown out of my hand. Or if I get to close to the edge, I'll get blown down, down, down to the cliff and then topple over. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Then, I begin to fear for Theo.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He is a gangster cat, no doubt about it, and he's not easily shaken. But his curiosity has drawn him forward. He is standing there, and even though all four paws on the ground, his body is being rocked from right to left. Luckily the wind is blowing towards us, so we're not in danger of being swept off the edge and then downward to our death. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Don't go any closer," I warn Theo. "It's too dangerous." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He doesn't hear me. Or he can't hear me because my voice is being pushed back into my throat. My eyes are watering. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo moves forward, getting way too close to the edge. He is too busy sniffing. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Dan is standing next to him, in full blown lecture mode:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Admiral Nelson's commission means he's in charge of this very English Harbor, in St. Paul Parish, a harbor which served as a safe way to wait out hurricanes, ideal because it has deep waters close to shore. Nelson is also there to maintain (repair, replenish) Royal Navy warships that captured valuable sugar islands in the Eastern Caribbean. The British do this in order to cut off enemy trade and increase their wealth."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsi95oRZAKe3pMdb237WyHE8rcaxNYmKsxlcTs1xHQq6jcIlOJ5dJyR-8HBWcATPRjcVCKySDJrrg9uwC89le1a0L0HbLnNrs9-L74qF0exuh6DXC7Yw69DFUdGc-5J60zo2t7ChQbhZvkGfkj1bICsSX3W3bIZK09EBrxU88GB0jjXT34tWjpkskOp1fg/s4032/IMG_0966.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsi95oRZAKe3pMdb237WyHE8rcaxNYmKsxlcTs1xHQq6jcIlOJ5dJyR-8HBWcATPRjcVCKySDJrrg9uwC89le1a0L0HbLnNrs9-L74qF0exuh6DXC7Yw69DFUdGc-5J60zo2t7ChQbhZvkGfkj1bICsSX3W3bIZK09EBrxU88GB0jjXT34tWjpkskOp1fg/w400-h300/IMG_0966.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQs4irjL0Vi5HDPyaNmz6CBR6X3jN8DPKFPP56-EtcFFnkZtenxc7XtDxk8XfYVHfCZMINbGPKaANjjFnOd5zJt0aWR-c_9TOY07f329lfTiZ-9KXy7dzi3Dz8e8QKAGjWi0bwAqG9GPDVypmPkjflNVGAhXf4sQb8IlS-7wj7nvcc-K7hdf9cUoQtaXkI/s4032/IMG_0968.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQs4irjL0Vi5HDPyaNmz6CBR6X3jN8DPKFPP56-EtcFFnkZtenxc7XtDxk8XfYVHfCZMINbGPKaANjjFnOd5zJt0aWR-c_9TOY07f329lfTiZ-9KXy7dzi3Dz8e8QKAGjWi0bwAqG9GPDVypmPkjflNVGAhXf4sQb8IlS-7wj7nvcc-K7hdf9cUoQtaXkI/s320/IMG_0968.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">All of this happened decades ago, but Theo doesn't have a good sense of time. He's listening intently as he's being buffeted about on the highest point--Shirley Heights, a military post built by the British. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> It's clear where the wind is coming from, but I begin to panic. What if the wind switches direction? Even for a second. Theo will have no chance at all. He will be blown off the cliff. He only weighs 10 pounds. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Admiral Nelson is a true war hero. He has a series of remarkable victories. He is a great strategist. Finally, he's killed at the Battle of Trafalgar. Before that, he looses an arm in battle. It's shattered with grapeshot. It has to be amputated."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfiCeRrMchuRVwpIeA8iqsRtjOREn9GGA69dgb0QJdRFQSrBi9J-gWM99z-PZJwEdYHy_xFIzN-jDy6HCuSiyCCGEbqjJziNi3ZL-2plmNODS36JpzXJIRfp6J1dYAd3KnaeOR0oTiPAezTzdCQTiEDjZRkRx-3O8yCgg-AAKN5qLNpGoUqQ_1TrCXnBzz/s240/IMG_1053.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="204" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfiCeRrMchuRVwpIeA8iqsRtjOREn9GGA69dgb0QJdRFQSrBi9J-gWM99z-PZJwEdYHy_xFIzN-jDy6HCuSiyCCGEbqjJziNi3ZL-2plmNODS36JpzXJIRfp6J1dYAd3KnaeOR0oTiPAezTzdCQTiEDjZRkRx-3O8yCgg-AAKN5qLNpGoUqQ_1TrCXnBzz/s1600/IMG_1053.JPG" width="204" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Too much information, I think, but Theo is lapping up every morsel.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Suddenly, the wind pauses. Oh, no. This is it. The wind is about to shift. Theo, who is perched there as still as a statue (even though his fur is standing on edge) is jostled off balance. I'm about to leap forward and save Theo from impending doom. I see him being blown away, disappearing off the cliff.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But I'm too late.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan leans over and scoops him in his arms, then turns to me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">"Are you okay?" he asks. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I compose my face. "Very interesting about Admiral Nelson."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Great view," Dan says as he and Theo, together safely look at it just one more time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He's right. It is a great view. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1lqJ7arQv1If1hVzRUGAXhkdenqjeX8qhzECX7DM-4GpbxNtVi4xQRV5wks5bFBSnvjJ_6OMa2Mlp76lv8SdT8kCkQcr68HULhFMWEI7SoOtwxsTtNgJzZYaaWqF8j3f_yG4q5apKLkLKLgfUwo5e-_LpGVoHg54Z026zof0NISIOdrAF1zytN3zRvTu/s4032/IMG_0969.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1lqJ7arQv1If1hVzRUGAXhkdenqjeX8qhzECX7DM-4GpbxNtVi4xQRV5wks5bFBSnvjJ_6OMa2Mlp76lv8SdT8kCkQcr68HULhFMWEI7SoOtwxsTtNgJzZYaaWqF8j3f_yG4q5apKLkLKLgfUwo5e-_LpGVoHg54Z026zof0NISIOdrAF1zytN3zRvTu/w300-h400/IMG_0969.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br />Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-39336380117724446432024-02-27T04:38:00.000-08:002024-02-27T04:38:58.500-08:00Theo's Hideout<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> A</span><span style="font-size: large;">ntigua may have a rich history but it's not a fairytale history where life was beautiful all the time. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> As we stand out our balcony gazing at a rapturous view . . .</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwxSNd1UtYehyj1NQLteajwSqOdCCS81lqnUMXL6BkTXCAemrXgknhPJnVOXN9hMhn5WvT60owPGGp3fhHBZg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> . . . an object from the past looms to the right of our villa. It is an ancient stone building that dates back to when Antigua was home to huge plantations that processed sugar and whiskey. With the forced labor from the enslaved Antiguans on the island.</span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"> These ancient leftover structures dot the island--remnants of the past--reminders that when Antigua was a British colony, native Antiguans toiled on sugar plantations.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We decide to visit on of those plantations--long since inoperative-- and now a memorial to the world that was. Betty's Hope documents a plantation that existed for over 200 years. Owned by the Codrington family, it was one of the richest plantations on the island, producing sugar and whiskey. The family rarely lived on the plantation. They hired an overseer to handle the business.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EZY-SIiktAhHcWNu9SFKqsWcDtFxUqg_xwcFIZSH3Zwt2jaWs9pvv61-D5V9Wz0d5zTayRkhW7LPSvAUO9b3A69oTwrmri2xAH3pp7yd0vqv2v0rZJ3X-hO8lTV5aVE4RJ7haMAgsCfRAsupxidp7g99ZzRiD_q28hAf1BNDWEERIXU5NSd-f4y7dnPw/s4032/IMG_0938.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3EZY-SIiktAhHcWNu9SFKqsWcDtFxUqg_xwcFIZSH3Zwt2jaWs9pvv61-D5V9Wz0d5zTayRkhW7LPSvAUO9b3A69oTwrmri2xAH3pp7yd0vqv2v0rZJ3X-hO8lTV5aVE4RJ7haMAgsCfRAsupxidp7g99ZzRiD_q28hAf1BNDWEERIXU5NSd-f4y7dnPw/s320/IMG_0938.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> The land is now barren. Two windmills still stand to greet us as we enter this place. In those days, wind power was key.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinR2H_Mk85ujrL3cdbCf_iE_jKHO9KfyQW_GRG1HJPHDZgirD6cvb22XtGw0npT8J-0as89v3Vl6rtv9yvTMgM8zHs46BIGRzaTXYNX4E0Fd16O2B5fNSM_IZu_3LXf8Ah8XqaOHW2iKjXWuTxBy9FvJCxGY8qZVe4dJG_lj9tvkDSRQx0UztVowLK0wg4/s3242/IMG_0940.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3242" data-original-width="2125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinR2H_Mk85ujrL3cdbCf_iE_jKHO9KfyQW_GRG1HJPHDZgirD6cvb22XtGw0npT8J-0as89v3Vl6rtv9yvTMgM8zHs46BIGRzaTXYNX4E0Fd16O2B5fNSM_IZu_3LXf8Ah8XqaOHW2iKjXWuTxBy9FvJCxGY8qZVe4dJG_lj9tvkDSRQx0UztVowLK0wg4/s320/IMG_0940.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Inside the Visitor's Center, there's a model of what the plantation used to look like in the 1800's and placards documenting the history.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYCj1mQQACNB3sJOBL_mU1t81QGuEvLh_kUd8JXaedySKfNRwRU4Sp9goF3m6aQ1D5tqkudPMuG-XnsM2oNDAOI6GMFQMcoFqiu2JaZPVNvFqxYOPzEC2knjfloSuj3E4VaJvjOXoA3NDvzwhzdVdotE2Rnl4UQLN1YJtOKZ-zJ0sXBkIm5y165JtSKvA/s4032/IMG_0942.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYCj1mQQACNB3sJOBL_mU1t81QGuEvLh_kUd8JXaedySKfNRwRU4Sp9goF3m6aQ1D5tqkudPMuG-XnsM2oNDAOI6GMFQMcoFqiu2JaZPVNvFqxYOPzEC2knjfloSuj3E4VaJvjOXoA3NDvzwhzdVdotE2Rnl4UQLN1YJtOKZ-zJ0sXBkIm5y165JtSKvA/w400-h300/IMG_0942.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> How much do we tell Theo, who is happily roaming the grounds, sniffing everything in his past? The story of what happened here is a near tragedy. Is he ready to hear how cruel mankind can be to his fellow man? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I keep a careful eye on Theo, but I'm not too concerned. There's little danger here. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> On the grounds themselves, what remains of the great house (pictured on the placard below) stands on a hill. A fire destroyed most of it in the 1930's. The building stones were recycled to build an Anglican rectory. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_ZBGH3Ygx9LPDhzrDCFJ-0nFBB2xhjSnBa2nxov-HnBjV8HFfzL2Lh45QjFGN7FYFsLt672WI7tsq0mHfMBKfdTQQMCZXCG3wMrsbPi_NXXvQo9tSxHsbdxVvmocQQQuGbgIUQiSh0LCMSrfZn9pZv7rRijI3oJaCSnG0Gi6W0QPhzBchEHYyhH4XvhF/s4032/IMG_0944.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_ZBGH3Ygx9LPDhzrDCFJ-0nFBB2xhjSnBa2nxov-HnBjV8HFfzL2Lh45QjFGN7FYFsLt672WI7tsq0mHfMBKfdTQQMCZXCG3wMrsbPi_NXXvQo9tSxHsbdxVvmocQQQuGbgIUQiSh0LCMSrfZn9pZv7rRijI3oJaCSnG0Gi6W0QPhzBchEHYyhH4XvhF/s320/IMG_0944.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cnCkX_DAL1Z1XDgXW53mWxh3NwO4EAT6D43Jf2F8Y-vgMGtsa7FURMRifUV4pgkSPn4g7boZB2e7YBM2ySY37yt2qTw2ST2dtR7PcpvEyzSQPkfIduooHOUQrgts1_NvgMOfc6bqe96gYUubY4IqVWdjpOrERuWW3xWL1tmQ69PaAqdXiQXcs85G8YO8/s4032/IMG_0946.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cnCkX_DAL1Z1XDgXW53mWxh3NwO4EAT6D43Jf2F8Y-vgMGtsa7FURMRifUV4pgkSPn4g7boZB2e7YBM2ySY37yt2qTw2ST2dtR7PcpvEyzSQPkfIduooHOUQrgts1_NvgMOfc6bqe96gYUubY4IqVWdjpOrERuWW3xWL1tmQ69PaAqdXiQXcs85G8YO8/s320/IMG_0946.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Domestic and skilled workers hired to work on the plantation lived in smaller houses, made of stone.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PW50ShcTZAwBr2lgKbUptHowbi4EHqm9-ExvdVRMay3TG2imUyzEyA0Z77OCt0d6Mfmyfu3_F-XOmTrtDXSDAuEe2zJ2JbMOfURQkkjUpdmR2KMRIN3_6LMaADaY7bRhNMNNMVL_8R2zNaxfJz9MV6e00q1gChKGTAv1Lhfx7lVwo7IWJr6GLddiN1vo/s4032/IMG_0947.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PW50ShcTZAwBr2lgKbUptHowbi4EHqm9-ExvdVRMay3TG2imUyzEyA0Z77OCt0d6Mfmyfu3_F-XOmTrtDXSDAuEe2zJ2JbMOfURQkkjUpdmR2KMRIN3_6LMaADaY7bRhNMNNMVL_8R2zNaxfJz9MV6e00q1gChKGTAv1Lhfx7lVwo7IWJr6GLddiN1vo/s320/IMG_0947.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Enslaved people were not so lucky. They lived in tiny huts made of perishable materials--mainly Wattle and Daub, which in layman's terms mean mud, manure, sticks and dried grass. There were hundreds of these huts at one time. Windows with no glass. A dried grass roof that has since deteriorated. We see one in the distance. Preserved so that we can see the bare bones of how most of the people who worked this plantation lived.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-yhKBUe0Fz4M68m0PV8vsU1V3eZ66n_zMjVKlmXY4Y3RACP8aNssAxxGFpFeM4ayTFsF2TMckxY8jGwD2ro6g4pxV6bqBlVkO40PlR7aRXbW_bfQGNjwpkbhwdeLyr1e-_rv7alcnqsCSsnY041bqdhejGNJYAHQG7CVMF7qXg9G9VGWqarCFCe246zp/s4032/IMG_0943.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-yhKBUe0Fz4M68m0PV8vsU1V3eZ66n_zMjVKlmXY4Y3RACP8aNssAxxGFpFeM4ayTFsF2TMckxY8jGwD2ro6g4pxV6bqBlVkO40PlR7aRXbW_bfQGNjwpkbhwdeLyr1e-_rv7alcnqsCSsnY041bqdhejGNJYAHQG7CVMF7qXg9G9VGWqarCFCe246zp/s320/IMG_0943.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> The enslaved people who lived in these huts labored in the fields and the boiling house (where they made the sugar or whiskey). I try to imagine what their life must have been like. Cramped living quarters. Too hot in the summer. No privacy. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I want to see this hut more closely. I can't quite believe that a family could live in a hut like this. As I move towards it, Dan stops me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "By the way, where's Theo?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I don't panic. On this plantation, dotted with ruins of a life that used to be, I should be able to spot this gangster cat in no time--sniffing the great house or the windmills or any of the other leftovers from over 200 years ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We retrace our steps, examining everywhere we've already been--the great house, the worker's house. Dan runs back into the Visitor's Center. No Theo.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">We're in Antigua. The day is getting warmer. I think like a cat. "Where would he go? We know he loves the heat."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We gaze around. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "You don't think . . ." The Wattle and Daub house. Theo <i>has</i> to be there. I'm spurred on by the realization that this house had to be so hot most of the year. Theo would love it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We take off briskly toward the Wattle and Daub hut, full of anticipation. As I'm racing towards it, I expect to see him. I know he's there. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I peek in. No Theo. What? Then I have a vision, an inspiration.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> There, behind the hut in the tall weeds, curled up and practically fast asleep, Theo is napping. Totally oblivious to the tragic history that surrounds him. He looks so content, I hate to disturb him.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tNZnNK48M-JHKKCEbN6Q2xgSYU619x2qX4sbNxH2FPAMuDDg-8IWFhWiWi3Fi9fl1EaUqMBLJdkAnp2XdSNhSLVOUmgvu6D4fouEUNJzAq1-l2_jZk2KyWMR8dBpfHKSdyaKSj2tertxwQI3fbwoDguOpVwjcoPFhm-7zSurq_q35s25c2uaJvX3XpNf/s2048/Untitled%20design.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tNZnNK48M-JHKKCEbN6Q2xgSYU619x2qX4sbNxH2FPAMuDDg-8IWFhWiWi3Fi9fl1EaUqMBLJdkAnp2XdSNhSLVOUmgvu6D4fouEUNJzAq1-l2_jZk2KyWMR8dBpfHKSdyaKSj2tertxwQI3fbwoDguOpVwjcoPFhm-7zSurq_q35s25c2uaJvX3XpNf/s320/Untitled%20design.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">But I do. "Theo, we were worried. You disappeared. For a nap."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> Theo rubs his eyes, clearly not happy he's been woken up by two overly protective parents. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> "I did what I have to do. See?"</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> I whisper to Dan, " He sounds just like a gangster." </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> Then aloud, I say, "I'm glad this place is here--to remind people where we are and where we've been."</span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> We meander back to our hired car, feeling blessed and so lucky.</span></p><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div><br />Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-33669345586489244012024-02-20T04:51:00.000-08:002024-02-20T04:51:09.881-08:00Theo and the Devil's Bridge<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> C</span><span style="font-size: large;">all us crazy. Knowing what we <i>now</i> know, we would never take Theo with us. But . . . we figure Devil's Bridge in Antigua can't be that dangerous. After all, it's one of the recommended tourist attractions. If you hire a guide (like we do) for a tour of the island, you will almost certainly end up there. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> It's famous. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> All we know as we drive across the island is that Devil's Bridge is a natural formation. A sight to see. Our guide, an island native, assures us it is a sight not to be missed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> "Theo, do you want to come with us?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo, with a wide eyed look on his face, shrugs. He doesn't seem all that interested, but he hops into the car, nevertheless.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> As we get closer and closer, we're treated to beautiful scenery. The water seems calm and peaceful. So far, so good. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy13V7gWtqfOWv6jvA3JCaWDjU6O5Dzqo2IBCM2hd78X_YF32gkTtEwnhRSb_EYdRY8ZNn-DjRzx4QyPO6k-T35ppAfqAihVvK_PDCx37BjvNfZm2rvEmpTIOAWN_8iLQvQL3BGB_LGg-GAwJXTz0lg11z3ETXADdbG58LQ6mVCmEuNRcHv5jnb1cQigtZ/s4032/IMG_0949.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy13V7gWtqfOWv6jvA3JCaWDjU6O5Dzqo2IBCM2hd78X_YF32gkTtEwnhRSb_EYdRY8ZNn-DjRzx4QyPO6k-T35ppAfqAihVvK_PDCx37BjvNfZm2rvEmpTIOAWN_8iLQvQL3BGB_LGg-GAwJXTz0lg11z3ETXADdbG58LQ6mVCmEuNRcHv5jnb1cQigtZ/s320/IMG_0949.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQG_QvVxmAQnZQOYu62Tc6GMY3AiDCt9XHlPNN8i6KkA5lqiDMESQqG6jAp_JGnz5GEeYD5rmhC2tn_fG7PRIegP7xM33EC5jW3XLbSpc3rxpRrqoxqc8aQE0vAkdKG7LUyFJztwmIq6CgR_d-UtKhwHAwzgKzKwy4DvYw7u5I3ezfxE7Au4dQLpGCaoba/s4032/IMG_0950.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQG_QvVxmAQnZQOYu62Tc6GMY3AiDCt9XHlPNN8i6KkA5lqiDMESQqG6jAp_JGnz5GEeYD5rmhC2tn_fG7PRIegP7xM33EC5jW3XLbSpc3rxpRrqoxqc8aQE0vAkdKG7LUyFJztwmIq6CgR_d-UtKhwHAwzgKzKwy4DvYw7u5I3ezfxE7Au4dQLpGCaoba/s320/IMG_0950.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Then we learn some interesting facts--that we shouldn't get too close because there is no </span><i><span>jumping off</span></i><span> the bridge located precariously near treacherous waves that beat against the rocks. There is no </span><span><i>falling off</i> </span><span>the bridge. There is no </span><span><i>slipping off</i> </span><span>the bridge. Because rescue is impossible.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We learn that two Canadians disappeared--like totally gone and never seen again--at Devil's Bridge. We learn that people go there specifically if they don't want to come back. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuMlwuzKDoFPGVsjSDZo17SC5uebfzMKCLi-jpwgJfg6dFd7Ug3D1LLxkjAznvOnxSp4C-pEhtLUZ_SfbDhnvOWjxBiX-GUwhfRE35-wV7oTBOcrPkZAXXMF1aULXyCDgIdHJ6ByE2RAXs1WW0BwXhOqEyaqt8kltP1SlWWfZtZy3K089Yjd7NIp2yGWwf/s4032/IMG_0951.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuMlwuzKDoFPGVsjSDZo17SC5uebfzMKCLi-jpwgJfg6dFd7Ug3D1LLxkjAznvOnxSp4C-pEhtLUZ_SfbDhnvOWjxBiX-GUwhfRE35-wV7oTBOcrPkZAXXMF1aULXyCDgIdHJ6ByE2RAXs1WW0BwXhOqEyaqt8kltP1SlWWfZtZy3K089Yjd7NIp2yGWwf/s320/IMG_0951.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We park some distance away and walk. We smell the sea. The sun is out. We feel the wind against our faces. But the water is no longer calm. It's angry. Aggressive even.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFqaAHomN2rqtrZVfD6n_M5wU0qGIM118UTygeZ2gkQPL8eaD22QrlrpI2rK__-BYfb7s9luURk5Fmi1ALrWIjgl2KI5cDrPyH-1wNDfVsKUrGjR2k_R-2OYSGwpgaVmhqgxs1ghGfPWg9T0SKxOpW3AHVJjBOjoZYjC9bxxN1dCNvXBwXMB2tMdNHVYI/s4032/IMG_0952.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFqaAHomN2rqtrZVfD6n_M5wU0qGIM118UTygeZ2gkQPL8eaD22QrlrpI2rK__-BYfb7s9luURk5Fmi1ALrWIjgl2KI5cDrPyH-1wNDfVsKUrGjR2k_R-2OYSGwpgaVmhqgxs1ghGfPWg9T0SKxOpW3AHVJjBOjoZYjC9bxxN1dCNvXBwXMB2tMdNHVYI/w300-h400/IMG_0952.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-size: xx-large;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Keep an eye on Theo," I whisper to Dan.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Maybe we should have left him in the car."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> That suggestion begins to haunt me. It is slowly dawning on me that this place is dangerous in a weird sort of way. Don't get me wrong. We're not the only people here. Other tourists are milling around looking. Some have even left the less dangerous rock perch (which we're standing on) and have ventured further out--closer to the bridge of death (as I now imagine it.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> There are no other animals in sight. No cats. No dogs. Even the birds seem to be giving this place a wide berth. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But everyone is standing around, talking, taking photos, even videos of this remarkable sight. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dximreItIFw0_yIR7P8-h88qccqBS4YEhCWxNcjTGy_IyKvGZDmmkJ04OLxvvggvS6AfVOD2ptXC8oXbWrKYA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo hasn't left our side. But he is looking. The crashing waves can't be some kind of siren's call, can they? Remember, Theo is an odd cat. He doesn't dislike water. But, so far, he's being a good kid. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9IF5frweHm78lcWyemJmknvVA8AR161NYodK0Kibk1jIQwnYLyWJU3KFaFPeWMyRLwi5fKfrdodWOmyklmn7CIu-zZLvWm_OnFb_RoKXp6JzLqco993EAupL3-zPL90w78X9tpmcQPQyxt5e_aQSsv5ldKocHhG251d2G4bbPcQMCVFq_ZWiwGoMa_26/s640/IMG_0953.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9IF5frweHm78lcWyemJmknvVA8AR161NYodK0Kibk1jIQwnYLyWJU3KFaFPeWMyRLwi5fKfrdodWOmyklmn7CIu-zZLvWm_OnFb_RoKXp6JzLqco993EAupL3-zPL90w78X9tpmcQPQyxt5e_aQSsv5ldKocHhG251d2G4bbPcQMCVFq_ZWiwGoMa_26/s320/IMG_0953.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_HI2ZJYdZGIhel8rg48klTuFDJR8s362Mjy8iAJkmFqY1YX1FpUVeu89u2QzSyUbRg8H55bbGXiq7aX8hn1-wpatEgNgY4cgG6zJxp9LNTcFmU5RFz3OsgLJlCNKCFe__1R61QMfqqR_huExItt2_mu39H3czKgXJGgFmD1WebGp3QHT5uu1t5AC5vBV/s640/IMG_0954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_HI2ZJYdZGIhel8rg48klTuFDJR8s362Mjy8iAJkmFqY1YX1FpUVeu89u2QzSyUbRg8H55bbGXiq7aX8hn1-wpatEgNgY4cgG6zJxp9LNTcFmU5RFz3OsgLJlCNKCFe__1R61QMfqqR_huExItt2_mu39H3czKgXJGgFmD1WebGp3QHT5uu1t5AC5vBV/w300-h400/IMG_0954.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan decides that he can't get a good enough photo of the bridge. It is a bit mesmerizing when you stand there and watch the waves coming in and out. He ventures closer to the bridge. I keep my distance. The wet rocks are slippery. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I wish he wouldn't go out there. Bad thoughts spiral through me head. What if Dan slips and falls? No rescue. "Be careful," I shout, but he doesn't hear me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Then I see it. Theo, who one minute is casually observing this treacherous bridge, decides--without saying a word or giving me any kind of warning--to follow Dan. He is literally teetering from one rock to the other as he makes his way closer to the crashing waves. Rocks that resemble volcanic rocks, an uneven surface replete with pits and holes.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Theo." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He doesn't hear me either. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> This is not good. I see now that this is what people call a window of opportunity. Act now before it's too late. I follow, slip sliding over rocks that feels like glass. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan stops to take his video. Theo is moving closer to the end of the rock, the cliff. Sniffing. I cup my hands and shout as loud as I can. "Theo. Get Theo."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But I am shouting into the wind, and my voice sounds like a whisper. Ten feet way, I estimate, and it hits me I might not get there in time. What if Theo runs away from me? What if he misjudges where the rocks end and infinity begins? What if he slips . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan finishes his video and turns around. He sees Theo. A look of surprise flashes across his face. He takes a few steps and scoops Theo into his arms. He looks up.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Hey, what are you doing out here? It's kind of slippery."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I have no words to express how I feel. I push the panic down deeper. And smile. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "He's quite a little adventurer, isn't he?" Dan marvels.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "A real gangster," I reply as I take Theo from Dan. His fur feels like a wet ermine coat. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Come on, you," I coo, so happy to have him safe and sound. At least for one more day.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-89403064690709862702024-02-13T06:12:00.000-08:002024-02-13T07:01:47.994-08:00Theo and Palm Tree Mania<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">D</span><span style="font-size: large;">on't ask me to explain, but in Antigua I discover that Theo has a fascination with palm trees. <i>I</i> like to look at them, watch them sway gently in the breeze, and sometimes imagine I live in a place full time surrounded by these wonderful trees. <i>Theo</i> likes to climb them.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Of course, he denies that, but its clear that Theo's interest in the trees has more to do than with looking or sniffing. I decide early on to nip this in the bud.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Climbing palm trees is illegal," I tell him. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He looks at me skeptically. And, of course, it's a hard case to make. How else--if not by climbing the tree--would you be able to get the coconuts and dates? He doesn't ask that question, but I see the squint in his eye and almost hear his thoughts as we're strolling along near the villa. We are exactly passing what I now unofficially call "palm tree alley." A row of palm trees greet us as we step out of our villa every morning.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I shoot Theo the "evil eye"--stay away from those palms. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwuhnxN2niu7JkSk3wyU7ynFBGBsZqseIqDttHBrk4Gw0r3D-9q8Xhk6uZBO7bP_Wkr6iBFA2_HtOw6gHO1UQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo pretends he's not even interested. He's sniffing the air and enjoying the abundant sunshine. But I'm eternally suspicious.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan says, "Now look over there. This is an example of a coconut palm. In Antigua, since 2012, thousands of coconut palms have been destroyed by a lethal yellowing. But the island took action and began a restoration project--replanting 1,000 new trees."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo casually glances over at the coconut palm.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzg0bzVgy9uKH1JmbEuXWQ3jLl67ssVMsq1ZQmVFk4qPklwHArnbQt4aWy8Wmu_Qvi1urARnHjXu-ym-ras95dj61LmcqPf2o0npIzYYg-D7Rv7R4Jb_xZbtH3RnKZlWH-Mf8bIiOiHbQltkfLfj4itPUo4tOfhlFfhVdLHa2Hw_uh0OsV9ZmblUoXVSD_/s4032/IMG_0986.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzg0bzVgy9uKH1JmbEuXWQ3jLl67ssVMsq1ZQmVFk4qPklwHArnbQt4aWy8Wmu_Qvi1urARnHjXu-ym-ras95dj61LmcqPf2o0npIzYYg-D7Rv7R4Jb_xZbtH3RnKZlWH-Mf8bIiOiHbQltkfLfj4itPUo4tOfhlFfhVdLHa2Hw_uh0OsV9ZmblUoXVSD_/s320/IMG_0986.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "And over here," Dan continues, " is the date palm tree. They're very common in northern Antigua (where we are). The date palm was introduced in the 18th century. The Antiguans call this palm tree Nega Oil."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo casually glances over at the date palm.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7BSav6lDOJ6wSMXR454eoRaSBXuaZada3Nvu0fYbsPMN1YIjVsFskqJP8KRmOOpYPM_rILH0fuHoTPXiCN6xF-PL-JjlDvLGIteBzFsgb7-RrntDpk2VHV5okaEDjfnOKAE023DcJuMgIQKWAYMDpwJQveKroGf4MBgEQSCcygV-IFnBbc6m6EesG8uG/s4032/IMG_0981.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7BSav6lDOJ6wSMXR454eoRaSBXuaZada3Nvu0fYbsPMN1YIjVsFskqJP8KRmOOpYPM_rILH0fuHoTPXiCN6xF-PL-JjlDvLGIteBzFsgb7-RrntDpk2VHV5okaEDjfnOKAE023DcJuMgIQKWAYMDpwJQveKroGf4MBgEQSCcygV-IFnBbc6m6EesG8uG/s320/IMG_0981.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> So far, so good. We're on our way to the game room to play ping pong, and my plan is to keep Theo moving along. For a moment, I almost think I'm wrong about him. Maybe he does get the message. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "See, look here Theo." Dan points to the luscious dates that are hanging from the date palm. I have to admit I've never seen a date palm in person before, so I step closer to take a good look. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdM22ECvHa6VnoEsJwh-JWPhwvbrucVQCX7Wz3uebJE7nCsmBCKJX70gC8CekFQEk3HTJxAMIq5GQ_TOXjUFZ46qXnxJOyFSJeBsYiqq9hEKtHS1y8PPGVdF1IsI9oinvZQ2gbdHELNXNg5M6i4scCotX0NUFwgghMwgk7JH-lkF6UwNAVYP92aaRB_4o/s4032/IMG_0982.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdM22ECvHa6VnoEsJwh-JWPhwvbrucVQCX7Wz3uebJE7nCsmBCKJX70gC8CekFQEk3HTJxAMIq5GQ_TOXjUFZ46qXnxJOyFSJeBsYiqq9hEKtHS1y8PPGVdF1IsI9oinvZQ2gbdHELNXNg5M6i4scCotX0NUFwgghMwgk7JH-lkF6UwNAVYP92aaRB_4o/s320/IMG_0982.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Later, I realize that Dan's pointing and my stepping closer sends the wrong message. Theo, who seemingly is uninterested, meanders towards the date palm. He begins to sniff the bottom of the tree. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I have a flashback. Two years ago when we were in North Carolina, visiting a conservatory with a palm tree, Chuck got too close to the palm and before I knew what was happening, he was climbing upward. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I gulp. Chuck was twelve years old by then. Theo is three years old. Chuck had a bucket list. Theo doesn't even know what a bucket list is. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>But</i> isn't Theo spending too much time sniffing the bottom of this palm tree? He turns around briefly but avoids eye contact with me. Then, in a burst of energy, he shoots up like an arrow headed towards its intended target. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Theo."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Look at that kid climb," Dan says in admiration. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "I knew he was going to do something dangerous."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Oh, he'll be okay. Take a photo. No one will believe this.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Hell, I don't even believe it."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> My hand is shaking as I retrieve my iPhone, find the camera icon, try to focus on his fast moving body and click. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo, in a flash of sanity, shimmies back down. Exactly the same way Chuck did. His little back legs are spread apart with his back claws firmly entrenched in the tree. He holds on for dear life then jumps down when he's about a foot off the ground.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Theo, you're in big trouble."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "I did what I had to do. See?" he says defiantly.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> What is this about cats? They are so independent. You'd never catch a dog climbing a palm tree!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Let me see the photo," Dan says.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But there is nothing to see. A big blur. That's all I was able to get. Later, of course, Theo half denies having ever climbed that palm tree. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "I wanted to climb it," he admits, ". . . but--"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "But I said it was illegal."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Yeah."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Palm tree mania. I have it, and Theo does, too. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Was it the dates?" I prod. "Is that why you went up there?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo says nothing--a shrug--but if I'm honest, and if I were a cat, I would have done the same thing.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-49384707339233265192024-02-06T06:05:00.000-08:002024-02-06T06:05:56.010-08:00Theo's Revenge<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">M</span><span style="font-size: large;">aybe we can just stay in Antigua forever.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan is discovering (and I already discovered) that Antigua is a magical place. The temps are in the low eighties at this time of year in January, but a cool ocean breeze makes it possible to enjoy the sunshine without breaking a sweat.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We leave Theo at our villa with his chow and snacks, go to dinner in a lovely out door restaurant, and now--just the two of us--get to enjoy Antigua at night. Technically, we are in the parish of St. John's, in the northwest portion of Antigua. It is the capital of Antigua, founded in 1692, and has a population of close to 60,000. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We can't resist taking a photo of our villa and of the pool that sits in front of where we're staying. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kvWYk_qzdgL_a2t-Y8__PdtJhPM4FI_4iAAS65gzwkRj-f4v-bEldyUwRk0Hu9P0oV8KaSrIXBqtb5eAVAS8G-W-L4HxDcrxR5zt8qfxo6RbFzk-nB4awzt7v0n1FECAhkxjFEUAKh5KTqwJtRwNmOW5jBviPhwnJ4Jh3XhZRk9UA4YCJzyIZtUdc-Qe/s4032/IMG_0917.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9kvWYk_qzdgL_a2t-Y8__PdtJhPM4FI_4iAAS65gzwkRj-f4v-bEldyUwRk0Hu9P0oV8KaSrIXBqtb5eAVAS8G-W-L4HxDcrxR5zt8qfxo6RbFzk-nB4awzt7v0n1FECAhkxjFEUAKh5KTqwJtRwNmOW5jBviPhwnJ4Jh3XhZRk9UA4YCJzyIZtUdc-Qe/s320/IMG_0917.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmznKuD4SVM1XHztf8FOPbF54kF749517KW00Tfd1w9w4xeCrYh-K38fZSTuNlW8nDssm4PD-MAi9FMrtI19hjuGcbtkRd2up_FUO1qiAxWMA2jUeQ8JBhQ4mDXMHzwi9jlrAxoHiQ-KUgY21sHbHFXPRWTtrjMkT3Aj1auezUVkwrQBkpku1VSP7IZ0sZ/s640/IMG_0928.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmznKuD4SVM1XHztf8FOPbF54kF749517KW00Tfd1w9w4xeCrYh-K38fZSTuNlW8nDssm4PD-MAi9FMrtI19hjuGcbtkRd2up_FUO1qiAxWMA2jUeQ8JBhQ4mDXMHzwi9jlrAxoHiQ-KUgY21sHbHFXPRWTtrjMkT3Aj1auezUVkwrQBkpku1VSP7IZ0sZ/s320/IMG_0928.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> As we walk back from dinner, we feel like we've left Kansas (so to speak) like in the Wizard of Oz and are following the yellow brick road (in our case it's a pale white) towards a place filled with palm trees and Caribbean magic.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0_D40fEe0jnccE59P4dgXX-powtzi0buFuH1LGNJWlwias7AZIxwokfUM71eztVUR3CX7s7JoUXHaxpdgtg2XEeO5I_CnBCRbkzrJPdQFQXNjqsZp08AAgHcaN7tugAcea2vEa9M-G9zOTaUtcQ64UoZiq7GDYD0qa1SbQx3E1sfmimVnfLC8c9Gfw-D/s4032/IMG_0918.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0_D40fEe0jnccE59P4dgXX-powtzi0buFuH1LGNJWlwias7AZIxwokfUM71eztVUR3CX7s7JoUXHaxpdgtg2XEeO5I_CnBCRbkzrJPdQFQXNjqsZp08AAgHcaN7tugAcea2vEa9M-G9zOTaUtcQ64UoZiq7GDYD0qa1SbQx3E1sfmimVnfLC8c9Gfw-D/s320/IMG_0918.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1F_yL6lu2sOldI_-YIZXUED5hdV34NgMU-bPueQGxIRZiMw28nfwWz1x60E3Bx6ClVY9eWQDZ7hyphenhyphenskL9Y06VDiAwB-3MV2bbSqazVGtvFMWdaPCeb5vgsr1SOjySaeshjxw-3-lzYHY7GMYYegHe4LeLkBC6zJ0wm9em2pBdngS4XfOsSTI5bT2BICD2U/s4032/IMG_0919.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1F_yL6lu2sOldI_-YIZXUED5hdV34NgMU-bPueQGxIRZiMw28nfwWz1x60E3Bx6ClVY9eWQDZ7hyphenhyphenskL9Y06VDiAwB-3MV2bbSqazVGtvFMWdaPCeb5vgsr1SOjySaeshjxw-3-lzYHY7GMYYegHe4LeLkBC6zJ0wm9em2pBdngS4XfOsSTI5bT2BICD2U/s320/IMG_0919.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40qSb4_9hzMgJlQ4L7bOIJ-tcUEiykRJEFWSOi_qKm0rFSam7SplROaEHco757Xfe10Ea2i_t9TkPebNXTgXj6spbugV1x-TYjEf_8TG30SVN-DFzzSj1QdKII8bJfIqIXCLX_mpiBUAPYyW3guiWg7wKWlJAImWzginkJV3By9TFMPkn-0l2T-Xdmqyh/s4032/IMG_0920-2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40qSb4_9hzMgJlQ4L7bOIJ-tcUEiykRJEFWSOi_qKm0rFSam7SplROaEHco757Xfe10Ea2i_t9TkPebNXTgXj6spbugV1x-TYjEf_8TG30SVN-DFzzSj1QdKII8bJfIqIXCLX_mpiBUAPYyW3guiWg7wKWlJAImWzginkJV3By9TFMPkn-0l2T-Xdmqyh/s320/IMG_0920-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> The dream is short lived. The next morning we go to breakfast. I'd like to say that Theo's almost encounter with the bird--who we now realize was a pigeon--is forgotten. But I can tell that Theo has forgotten nothing. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He is gazing around--not at the beautiful scenery--but rather he is acting more like a spy in enemy territory. Expecting at any second to be ambushed. On high alert. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I try to calm him down. "We're going to breakfast. There's nothing to worry about."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He looks at me as if I am delusional. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I order the Eggs Benedict but Dan orders the Antiguan breakfast--an interesting mixture of foods which includes salted cod. Fish. Theo begs for a piece, and it is in that moment of feeding Theo that the nightmare begins to unfold. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ZTapQ_-fAIWp7ujVI6afbL92YTDTvj53LdDVIB94NNwmyTZ38umqOvxpYuxqfRRkJ49cD_mp3x6QrSwfT5ehdOsBzUfaTIxHpPdRbB8Y9l3U08nUHed3APdl3FeALl6SF4Xzt-v2U3Cw8Tex77zjIVdInyUs8U4xGhurcFoBFcOP429XKiUKznWiXcTJ/s4032/IMG_0999.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ZTapQ_-fAIWp7ujVI6afbL92YTDTvj53LdDVIB94NNwmyTZ38umqOvxpYuxqfRRkJ49cD_mp3x6QrSwfT5ehdOsBzUfaTIxHpPdRbB8Y9l3U08nUHed3APdl3FeALl6SF4Xzt-v2U3Cw8Tex77zjIVdInyUs8U4xGhurcFoBFcOP429XKiUKznWiXcTJ/s320/IMG_0999.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Suddenly a bird swoops into view--an unwanted visitor--and this time it is the Carib Grackle. And why am I surprised? His reputation has preceded him. So, this is the bold bird who will fly into a restaurant and steal the food right off your plate. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2z2SQFQPg_8pn8EGM8mG_t1ot3_r6rJ57YtvFMQL542B7G8ebYO9UUsjpZcaV0FxyFTp-yTxKqe_Nm1lImEiENdQ2vHsV1r2FLI8L9w25XhYOK6omEuK1x5PnaqMSTCjvtWBCCZabF6n5O3D3Adf0-UO7H_19JRPDGYfvclGoArCDKGl5H0kfBO6kGQw/s4032/IMG_0916.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2z2SQFQPg_8pn8EGM8mG_t1ot3_r6rJ57YtvFMQL542B7G8ebYO9UUsjpZcaV0FxyFTp-yTxKqe_Nm1lImEiENdQ2vHsV1r2FLI8L9w25XhYOK6omEuK1x5PnaqMSTCjvtWBCCZabF6n5O3D3Adf0-UO7H_19JRPDGYfvclGoArCDKGl5H0kfBO6kGQw/s320/IMG_0916.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> Carib Grackle hasn't seen us yet, but Theo has seen him. He immediately freezes. His normally sweet eyes turn into laser beams as he spots his new arch enemy.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> And then it happens. <br /></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><div><span style="font-size: large;"> The Grackle flies to a table close to ours and pretending not to notice Theo, begins his reconnaissance--searching for anything edible that he can scoop up and take back to his nest. He is a forager, a scavenger, eager to collect any food left over from the family who's just vacated the table. He spies the bread basket. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Qixw3V_oIgd4bxX8KQdAda13AeNvsRMmL-F_tA81oQ25GdxXlXAHRlEqbWzEpe9LXIt4PYcHFy6mQjgPuKDDBcFiTVMXNsgDwVDR5ItAJzxd6bNE1rtcjPdAFOn5BDTbur6F7SkBaJIMFvojVlDSlf2z3rstPbStLpns4-Dkv8RC_iEBpDNz3n3spIkS/s4032/IMG_0924.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Qixw3V_oIgd4bxX8KQdAda13AeNvsRMmL-F_tA81oQ25GdxXlXAHRlEqbWzEpe9LXIt4PYcHFy6mQjgPuKDDBcFiTVMXNsgDwVDR5ItAJzxd6bNE1rtcjPdAFOn5BDTbur6F7SkBaJIMFvojVlDSlf2z3rstPbStLpns4-Dkv8RC_iEBpDNz3n3spIkS/s320/IMG_0924.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UEdmzh7WKTWxWIeiU8yxLTopqtEp30hWOIpBdrsFkBxQP4vHRsmPU-zlYzIUaV_z115HfhiQ9rnCja3HiOWDxoDjc3upa9Gyzd9l0CwRBeDSPGxDDKnF2IOwZ8pDm2E5R2ja5QLDWhUF7sDQK2wGKqQgmPURWrZhaoYG8npCug1aeaz6VLGIkOA3dFit/s1447/IMG_0925.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1447" data-original-width="1101" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UEdmzh7WKTWxWIeiU8yxLTopqtEp30hWOIpBdrsFkBxQP4vHRsmPU-zlYzIUaV_z115HfhiQ9rnCja3HiOWDxoDjc3upa9Gyzd9l0CwRBeDSPGxDDKnF2IOwZ8pDm2E5R2ja5QLDWhUF7sDQK2wGKqQgmPURWrZhaoYG8npCug1aeaz6VLGIkOA3dFit/s320/IMG_0925.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRtUuPI5rNVNEydqmBrGu-cj3IWUMi0k78GGuB22Qd0vtG-WCxvAeM_t7jJ87BcmPFz0eOhP-3gaClhd-D_ixdbpJ4RJfQusUyN_5pwxFZ4tb6VoBOzem740X2vwXW9W6U72njOP7ucK9-bqMNw3WZgwqgt7ODBUJiFutfkM0Yrk9EIXG6sMn7RPq7Wg3/s1771/IMG_0926.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1771" data-original-width="1519" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRtUuPI5rNVNEydqmBrGu-cj3IWUMi0k78GGuB22Qd0vtG-WCxvAeM_t7jJ87BcmPFz0eOhP-3gaClhd-D_ixdbpJ4RJfQusUyN_5pwxFZ4tb6VoBOzem740X2vwXW9W6U72njOP7ucK9-bqMNw3WZgwqgt7ODBUJiFutfkM0Yrk9EIXG6sMn7RPq7Wg3/s320/IMG_0926.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><br /></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <span style="font-size: large;">I'm thinking at this moment that this is a good development. Grackle eats the bread. Theo eats the fish. I glance down and Theo, super suspicious, has one paw protectively over the fish as if he is anticipating the Grackle's next move. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Would he dare? Steal the fish from a cat? And not just some ordinary cat. Theo has a reputation. He's a gangster cat, and he's not likely to take an enemy invading his territory lightly.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> I lean down and pet Theo for reassurance. He's sitting at my feet, partially under the table. But he isn't eating. He's watching. He's waiting. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> "Eat the fish, Theo," I say, but Theo waits. Obviously, he knows the bird kingdom better than I do, and sure enough before I can say another word, the Grackle flies to the railing. He pretends to be grooming. He pretends to be totally unconcerned about Theo and his fish. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">This bird was smart, I realize later.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwlHXZRvg3o7M5dlYkdgebap7ZSzHDEeuD00l4aneHfVQksrErdckzxsXnFI2GvbvWSOoK1eT9c0vR-UcezDQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> My guard goes down. Dan is eating his breakfast, and I sit back, about to finish mine. Too much worry about nothing. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> A flash. A scuffle. Theo reacts better than I would expect. Carib Grackle swoops down low, as if he thinks he can swipe up the fish in his claws as he's flying by. Theo, one step ahead, sits on top of the fish. He then raises his right paw like a fist to fend off the invader.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> The fight over the salt cod is over in a mini-second. The Carib Grackle flies off to another table. Theo relaxes and begins to eat. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan says, "What just happened?"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> "I'm not sure," I say, "but I think it's over, and Theo won."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> "For now."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> We glance down at Theo. "Well?"</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> Cats can't smile. But if they could, I bet you he would have a big fat smile on his fishy face.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-42848582879081156902024-01-30T05:32:00.000-08:002024-02-06T06:00:17.026-08:00Antiguan Adventure #1:Theo and the Grackle <p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span><span style="font-size: large;">his is my third time visiting Antigua, a small Caribbean island, and Dan's first. I love the warm climate, blue skies, beautiful vistas, palm trees, infinity pool and beaches. Dan does too, but his obsession is to play tennis. Theo, the gangster cat, . . . well, I promise him sunny days on the veranda and lots of snacks. And, of course, an adventure.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We arrive. The scenery is stunning. The ocean is so close you can smell it. The houses are pink, yellow, green and all shades bright and cheery. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan, as usual, shares some history of this delicious island with Theo. "Antigua was originally a British colony. The island was dotted with sugar plantations. The British also made rum. The native Antiguans who lived here, mostly slaves, had a terrible standard of living."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We're not sure if Theo is listening. He's gazing out the window of the taxi, seemingly lost in thought. Is he more impressed by the beautiful scenery and less by the history of Antigua? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemUpSk6fmHpko0GYff3Zq5h1NyYfhEOxSoL7tNDiFBL4KXCh50iP0lVv6L4HSKEwyXMo3QFgBVMUcGRSOBiHtOwGNAZUZw-EYqCuDwjTA9W2bE9E8UiOmojNsdyS72236CgZRClvVMLD1T5OCyyHJVAeGOahVvy4yzkYRC_LLhHd2O-HDZqsUkdxWiEq8/s2832/IMG_0907.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2237" data-original-width="2832" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemUpSk6fmHpko0GYff3Zq5h1NyYfhEOxSoL7tNDiFBL4KXCh50iP0lVv6L4HSKEwyXMo3QFgBVMUcGRSOBiHtOwGNAZUZw-EYqCuDwjTA9W2bE9E8UiOmojNsdyS72236CgZRClvVMLD1T5OCyyHJVAeGOahVvy4yzkYRC_LLhHd2O-HDZqsUkdxWiEq8/w400-h316/IMG_0907.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzNqkbYR42bxrLB_bHWkSq0kodE6726VcXOq1R81AFqupqr5BEjFWk7F_6xfx9Owi25u5elP7OchpIq5kHmz70ozoVdw3Cz1Hv5iIeOv6404Wk_cqO6qg6IVJRIE02qtFES0FIoNkC6TVaOhl7fVra4mKxnM6YMOqSVBQbYs7qi7oOj9brxgioWtyIxFG/s3339/IMG_0910.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2582" data-original-width="3339" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzNqkbYR42bxrLB_bHWkSq0kodE6726VcXOq1R81AFqupqr5BEjFWk7F_6xfx9Owi25u5elP7OchpIq5kHmz70ozoVdw3Cz1Hv5iIeOv6404Wk_cqO6qg6IVJRIE02qtFES0FIoNkC6TVaOhl7fVra4mKxnM6YMOqSVBQbYs7qi7oOj9brxgioWtyIxFG/s320/IMG_0910.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy6Dyc4xo_-kigfSwP0sDrJmJPP1qgpOFsYc7lItZHPs5v5yDKKHhXSLldGH7pBfuzTL2b9pB_fbX3BOTaaMEpcOSLSAsdb4c8Avj8Eb0_Tw0p1baX4Yg0Iem6v8BAoT4uOg-SLi3EJGdXR4drJ766UvsEO2HY19VKaKh858wei6UadlOJe5h_uKD_sW3/s3692/IMG_0909.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1552" data-original-width="3692" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy6Dyc4xo_-kigfSwP0sDrJmJPP1qgpOFsYc7lItZHPs5v5yDKKHhXSLldGH7pBfuzTL2b9pB_fbX3BOTaaMEpcOSLSAsdb4c8Avj8Eb0_Tw0p1baX4Yg0Iem6v8BAoT4uOg-SLi3EJGdXR4drJ766UvsEO2HY19VKaKh858wei6UadlOJe5h_uKD_sW3/s320/IMG_0909.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWg8BG6PxICCzHSan1K7Wlgssnslpz8pd8uZ0uP4iH-WNPp7QoGZSMxhLsQX5Xi0yEs73rA_0TmV_j9Xd3_j_YhIPM9WBP3iRWPzRWg7w0NKODpq9KwyBksh89tc4uq1ZNeKewda6ovF4bKXaQZO9svdZpQfcjQjsjGsmYXCAa-_INEMEXYydkuYs3t437/s4032/IMG_0912.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWg8BG6PxICCzHSan1K7Wlgssnslpz8pd8uZ0uP4iH-WNPp7QoGZSMxhLsQX5Xi0yEs73rA_0TmV_j9Xd3_j_YhIPM9WBP3iRWPzRWg7w0NKODpq9KwyBksh89tc4uq1ZNeKewda6ovF4bKXaQZO9svdZpQfcjQjsjGsmYXCAa-_INEMEXYydkuYs3t437/s320/IMG_0912.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRgGRVCqMUav-vgy2q9VzaK_BHPQJmtTxQGTKWU0LSF8-v8ncdmV33jUKpYneTgJd9k2lJ7PtwLVlO45qVY-rPlQqMKenzXI8OMwQmkJTDuZPTlp5kLBtVS5dZvwWjKIrd4YhUBJ3NFhUCZf3qbdoFyXbHPCSoqqkagTg6FAXf3C-aohC53FJDvjYVvI1/s4032/IMG_0921.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLRgGRVCqMUav-vgy2q9VzaK_BHPQJmtTxQGTKWU0LSF8-v8ncdmV33jUKpYneTgJd9k2lJ7PtwLVlO45qVY-rPlQqMKenzXI8OMwQmkJTDuZPTlp5kLBtVS5dZvwWjKIrd4YhUBJ3NFhUCZf3qbdoFyXbHPCSoqqkagTg6FAXf3C-aohC53FJDvjYVvI1/s320/IMG_0921.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Antigua gained its independence in 1981."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Still, no response from Theo.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "There are 365 beaches. Mostly all public beaches. And the island is only 108 square miles." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "That's a lot of beaches," I add. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Still, Theo hasn't said a meow. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We arrive at our villa and immediately change into our bathing suits. From our veranda, the lovely pool awaits. The sun is shining. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Come on, Theo." I figure what harm can he get into hanging out by the pool? Sure enough, he spots a lounge chair and hops up. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Time for a nap," I suggest.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I often wonder what the world looks like from a cat's point of view. As Dan and I admire the scenery and the architecture of the houses AND long to jump into the water, what is Theo thinking? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I glance over and he's closing his eyes, about to drift off. Purrfect. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Well, best laid plans. You know what they say. In our defense we are lulled by the Caribbean breezes and, perhaps, dulled by the two glasses of Rum punch that we find in our suite. The water is so refreshing after the usual nonsense plane ride that we lose ourselves in the moment. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> A bird lands on the tile surrounding the pool. From a distance it looks brown with some purple plumage. Could it be the Carib Grackle? I've heard things about this bird. Highly aggressive. Smart. They're excellent at foraging for insects on the ground and not above flying into restaurants and stealing food right off the tables. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0dDAtCSxtXclafhQV9osBvCGxfDI8KXtYlrOtFf1M7Jjfa7rrV3D0VzNq86l28bF5wQ7b0aBe3VyIpD84Z1ZDMm5NCSBjAMreXtg0WUqUWcjuPkqe_qSeQzwBmgUqp9wxJPUIY0gxuutmgqpFE1Zuh96GNpF4jE7UDHyGx9gD7Fc52_2JUouHvD8QlDCM/s4032/IMG_0987.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0dDAtCSxtXclafhQV9osBvCGxfDI8KXtYlrOtFf1M7Jjfa7rrV3D0VzNq86l28bF5wQ7b0aBe3VyIpD84Z1ZDMm5NCSBjAMreXtg0WUqUWcjuPkqe_qSeQzwBmgUqp9wxJPUIY0gxuutmgqpFE1Zuh96GNpF4jE7UDHyGx9gD7Fc52_2JUouHvD8QlDCM/s320/IMG_0987.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I grab my iPhone and figure, if this bird is up to no good, I'm going to catch him in the act. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwMYo_y_g3GJQeN9AbJ6vc-75npmLoSGPUo2Zexjvr_0zMgumq45t2AxDZVrgLL92_ZMPm3sVPak3pn4Q7V7A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> The problem is I'm so intent on capturing the video, I miss the possibilities. Theo. He sees the bird, too. His mouth opens, and I hear Theo making those sounds that cats make when they're envisioning a full course meal--ch, ch, ch. Suddenly he's sitting upright. His tail has fattened, and it's waving like mad. He's crouching. NO . . .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo jumping off the lounge chair and lunging for the bird plays like a scene in a disaster movie. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Stop," I scream.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> The bird doesn't even turn its head. But I suspect the so far innocent bird can sense danger coming its way. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo, our little gangster cat, is in mid air when the bird moves, an elegant side step that catches Theo unaware. Theo crash lands onto the very wet deserted tile and with so much momentum pushing him forward, begins to slide toward the edge of the pool. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I can see it all clearly. Theo careening into the waiting water. Splashing about. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I can't think. Can cats swim? There's the doggy paddle, but what about cats? Theo actually likes water, but swimming? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Get Theo."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But, no, he doesn't slide into the pool. Later, when we discuss the incident, I ask Theo pointblank. "What were you planning to do?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo shrugs. "I only wanted to sniff him."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I narrow my eyes. "You can not commit murder near the infinity pool."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo shrugs. "I do what I have to do. See?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> That is not the answer I'm hoping for. "I mean it, Theo."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan interrupts, "You know the bird we saw near the pool--it wasn't a Grackle. I think it was a pigeon."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "What?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Little do I know, this eternal struggle between cat and bird will continue. See you next week for Part 2.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-16785568922261803292024-01-23T05:00:00.000-08:002024-01-23T05:00:00.241-08:00Cats--Only Kids in Disguise?<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> I</span><span style="font-size: large;">t used to be so easy to go on vacation. It used to be so easy to leave them behind. Hire a cat sitter. Clean the liters. Leave detailed instructions. Arrange their food on the counter. There were days when I left five furry cat babies behind. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Then, when Chuck traveled with us, we left three cats behind . . . and therein lies the problem. Not with Theo who knows the drill. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> But . . . that we're planning to leave Mico and Sienna behind. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Because something strange has happened in the last few weeks. They have become less like cats and more like kids. It is as if they are <i>reincarnated small kids</i> who have somehow found their way into our cat's bodies. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Is it me? I don't think so. After all, I see plenty of evidence of this phenomena on Facebook: Cats dressed up in outfits (it used to be only dogs but now cats are wearing little jackets, booties and hats). Cats treated to spa days--wearing robes, getting massages, and having cucumbers placed on their eyes. Cats talking or they seem to have some kind of human voice that is projected onto the video as if the owner feels sorry for them and feels the need to turn their meows into words. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I can identify with treating your cats like kids, but I'm talking about when your cats actually start acting/looking like kids. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Here's my evidence:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Sienna sleeps on our bed now and puts her head on our pillow. Just like a kid would. She hangs out by the stairs, listening into conversations just like we used to do--as kids. And she's always looking out the window to see if her friends are outside playing.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJx3seT0odP1YNmnhUPYs6TV9SOIhR9eywBNWffTkuWFIYLCc-n46j3rKCx60OEo6x8Jh62gSqzl8QHS4vlm0p0POx2K6RqopgesRRrfT2-hgSu9enHcYFtdNswtXU4-9YmGRSl5MsdD858No71G7Vl2qLv85YKt3s9wwQeoqK0izVmyi2ugFpeaxbUT6/s4032/IMG_0882.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJx3seT0odP1YNmnhUPYs6TV9SOIhR9eywBNWffTkuWFIYLCc-n46j3rKCx60OEo6x8Jh62gSqzl8QHS4vlm0p0POx2K6RqopgesRRrfT2-hgSu9enHcYFtdNswtXU4-9YmGRSl5MsdD858No71G7Vl2qLv85YKt3s9wwQeoqK0izVmyi2ugFpeaxbUT6/s320/IMG_0882.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNqjxF8y-dKnCAoyuevtYgj4nujLJePKwyp-Cs1zbKc8zlmvnwxkXCWpf-lZiJ6Xs9jYcxublQLrkpoziUkPRlixOfSWqn85yJKK-_oc1ycbELguVb9ox-AKAkf29Xn-6KjEbma1ZYqR1f3kMtzWP7mcxMNudlph1sbHvUEpjEmwXPlLOcJFB5pGEcK_f/s4032/IMG_0816.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNqjxF8y-dKnCAoyuevtYgj4nujLJePKwyp-Cs1zbKc8zlmvnwxkXCWpf-lZiJ6Xs9jYcxublQLrkpoziUkPRlixOfSWqn85yJKK-_oc1ycbELguVb9ox-AKAkf29Xn-6KjEbma1ZYqR1f3kMtzWP7mcxMNudlph1sbHvUEpjEmwXPlLOcJFB5pGEcK_f/s320/IMG_0816.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo, the little gangster cat, pitifully moans or whines (like a kid in pain) when he wants more snacks. He's already put his toys on top of my suitcase for the trip. And his paws look more like fingers--kid's fingers.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXt99lw1XaEPf85NW8O7wHXOdocQAYa1Mwffws-CVgoqR35152oTdoIUCTIGJ-jiajpjmRcrJ9P4Gk6C85PyCJQvXx3PH_cy_DXwl8Fo9QICBBWyuUdRTd4RLmYdLucc3DEPN4ZOle7049HpKuvOv9pMWnwxBJ2AdOtAuzS7Y59P0mT62Ff4HFPSBleQR8/s4032/IMG_0896.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXt99lw1XaEPf85NW8O7wHXOdocQAYa1Mwffws-CVgoqR35152oTdoIUCTIGJ-jiajpjmRcrJ9P4Gk6C85PyCJQvXx3PH_cy_DXwl8Fo9QICBBWyuUdRTd4RLmYdLucc3DEPN4ZOle7049HpKuvOv9pMWnwxBJ2AdOtAuzS7Y59P0mT62Ff4HFPSBleQR8/s320/IMG_0896.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EQ9MXTVSeWaoYP_063iAu9I_rPvGN3N9sXdPgeqtrSCXim8vK4JZy-vL8s6fqlhlgDfW_x8uRok8qFC0AQd6VvFsUY5qtJgP21h4qntCl-uWZ5gbDlRwEXoGRQ31T32a6M5ij1dDNcvAPE3BSCal41YMp0E26yqFtgzBHfYMFg2R3YntOd7QORdzbOKA/s3435/IMG_0897.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3435" data-original-width="2754" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EQ9MXTVSeWaoYP_063iAu9I_rPvGN3N9sXdPgeqtrSCXim8vK4JZy-vL8s6fqlhlgDfW_x8uRok8qFC0AQd6VvFsUY5qtJgP21h4qntCl-uWZ5gbDlRwEXoGRQ31T32a6M5ij1dDNcvAPE3BSCal41YMp0E26yqFtgzBHfYMFg2R3YntOd7QORdzbOKA/s320/IMG_0897.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Mico uses his golden eyes. He trains them on you whenever he feels like he's not being treated with respect. He eats the plants as if they were candy, like a kid. And he sulks like a kid, sometimes hiding under the guest bed for hours. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Qc1etMZCfkfQZCD52_UevViaOocZ87rtvrIq3z4FF9Yhfd1QcKiVeOZswpedu7xQd2BpnpQg3x4M4jKra6FTgfKMySRU2SCOSjs1jx1J_M9rmOXQHb0U2Z1qvbgMqaP9dn0WoveSZ4Twiry9CJNKC1Z1sJ9QaltvYpvhJCE4aXI-9-cZXRA6rsb_2qfe/s2815/IMG_0900.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2350" data-original-width="2815" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Qc1etMZCfkfQZCD52_UevViaOocZ87rtvrIq3z4FF9Yhfd1QcKiVeOZswpedu7xQd2BpnpQg3x4M4jKra6FTgfKMySRU2SCOSjs1jx1J_M9rmOXQHb0U2Z1qvbgMqaP9dn0WoveSZ4Twiry9CJNKC1Z1sJ9QaltvYpvhJCE4aXI-9-cZXRA6rsb_2qfe/s320/IMG_0900.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan said, "Are you sure you really want to go?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Are you kidding me?" (But I was thinking the same thing.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "I'm going to miss them."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Shsh. They'll hear you." I pause, wondering if this could be some elaborate plan on their part, orchestrated to make us feel guilty. Did Theo watch some program--how to act like a kid to get what you want?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Do you think they're acting this way on purpose?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "You mean like kids?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> We stare at each other. He gulps or I gulp. Why are they so darned cute? We both look back at the suitcases. Soon, we'll begin packing. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Then it happens. We walk into the guest room and find Sienna, all curled up and fast asleep--no, not on our master bed but on top of Dan's suitcase. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Maybe we can take all three with us," Dan says as a solution. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> For a minute, we both smile. Yes. But then reality reasserts itself. They're only cats. Not kids. Repeat after me. Cats. Not kids. Cats.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Who are we kidding? These cats are our kids!!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPKCeVyJycCUtC6gcCd-K1-O_Gk7UDCW3mzvxLDoM4-2xSuQv8Up4gl0dQeQ4AzvyvYxLfFOt_1gw1pWRs4QEQ6uyIcfPM5b0-ZO_Zgh82vSXYpbPZRI7XF77SDwaKg8pQQwDBBeE740C5WQXPtz_ovOHwICxCQi3RpghYxBeppgiAqn3Ww9TwC42UFTZ/s4032/IMG_3089.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPKCeVyJycCUtC6gcCd-K1-O_Gk7UDCW3mzvxLDoM4-2xSuQv8Up4gl0dQeQ4AzvyvYxLfFOt_1gw1pWRs4QEQ6uyIcfPM5b0-ZO_Zgh82vSXYpbPZRI7XF77SDwaKg8pQQwDBBeE740C5WQXPtz_ovOHwICxCQi3RpghYxBeppgiAqn3Ww9TwC42UFTZ/s320/IMG_3089.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> In honor of Chucky, the rascal cat. Gone but never forgotten. We miss him everyday.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-13321259455733976392024-01-16T06:10:00.000-08:002024-01-16T06:10:27.587-08:00The Little Sleeping Devils<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> I</span><span style="font-size: large;">t all started when Mico and Sienna found out that Theo was the chosen one. The one picked to follow in Chuck's footsteps. The one who would be going on the next long distance, air plane in the sky flying trip adventure. And they would be staying home.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsQXqvKT6tArgCpBN7krzyVR9Y8TJafjzSPrmtVhOBm9pKxsTwtA2W14eYfH-AJNUmrXIgbCASxGdSHo0bTSn_d-oC7XRQDLx67n9ENrfbEBrr1aWO19SZYZHrOlnNvm4xmbvX4Q1PwPElwc4OJYEeGtbr1CUrS5Lt-HiNzxjSGxuCd1q_lUTQkcOvTlj/s4032/IMG_0712.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsQXqvKT6tArgCpBN7krzyVR9Y8TJafjzSPrmtVhOBm9pKxsTwtA2W14eYfH-AJNUmrXIgbCASxGdSHo0bTSn_d-oC7XRQDLx67n9ENrfbEBrr1aWO19SZYZHrOlnNvm4xmbvX4Q1PwPElwc4OJYEeGtbr1CUrS5Lt-HiNzxjSGxuCd1q_lUTQkcOvTlj/s320/IMG_0712.heic" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo has gone on a few one day trips so he's used to car rides, backpacks, behaving himself as much as he can. He buys into the whole idea that traveling and being the star of Hot Blogging with Chuck is an honor and a privilege. Sort of.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> The conversation goes something like this: </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Can I sleep on the plane?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Yes."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Will there be extra snacks?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "What kind of snacks, Theo?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "There has to be snacks. See?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "All right. Extra snacks."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo always gets straight to the point. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Do <i>they</i> know about my going?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo is no dummy. He sees the suitcases on the bed. He sees the extra food stacked up on the counter. He knows I've been in contact with the cat sitter. He's put two and two together. On the other hand, the kittens are clueless. They have no idea what a suitcase is and what it means and how it will affect their lives. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Until they do. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "What does it mean, Theo? Are they coming back?" Mico wants to know. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "Of course, we're coming back," I want to shout, but Theo is in deep conversation with Mico. Theo's the alpha cat and needs to handle the questions.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> "This time I'm going. See? Next time, maybe you can go."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> What? That isn't the plan. </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Are you coming back, Theo?" Mico asks again.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I glance into the room. Theo has draped his arm around Mico, big cat brother style. "It's called a vacation. It doesn't last long."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxZXADKUMRUq3jBnkW7ljjUoUmZIwtRbOC1KYMx6ncrSCSeCUdQiayUndEv3uSKnp8RvEz_Fu9pgVCHBMDHTA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> That's the truth. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> And, so I think the matter is settled. It isn't. Theo's last statement that next time Mico can go rattles Sienna. Because . . . now she wants to go. Of course, I don't know this until all hell breaks loose. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> First, they avoid each other. Two kittens, who can't stand to be apart for longer than a mini-second, now are hanging out in separate rooms and barely meowing with each other.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Then, they are chasing each other through the house like a bunch of wild banshees. First a steak of white and gray. Then a streak of orange. Down the stairs. Through the hallway. Across the living room. Treacherous turn into the kitchen. Through the hallway. Up the stairs. It sounds as if we have 100 kittens racing through the house. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Finally, the fight. On the master bed. Which by some stroke of luck I've covered in a green blanket to keep their cat fur off of the comforter. Now it can protect the comforter from any blood stains. if it gets to that.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxzp6HmdHBE2W8PX2chHHvWx1sz54xxrB3lNu7zmVH-kZsPQ54RgfL_WOWX7i-gujwfe8bq3fKJWdXwVZ9Uzg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> It doesn't. It seems the "fight" is only a wrestling match between two spoiled kittens who both want what they can't have. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Theo later tells me he solved the entire problem (he caused.)</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Well, what happened?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "I grounded them. See?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "And no snacks?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Theo looks horrified. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Where are they now?"</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Sleeping."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoxf0e4IwExUmDO3f20gwdzsQO0FK1d7fSn5xbIw4I0G9b7Ap1wH6n2m72XhmXufvEBXLrR5vkS74yKoF4OmxHkkx_zNQ5aTHKBMEOTOdOJ2JB44wUAd3zcI_BSZvJNwWxfNeCL335Po4E-kREkOxEX9Vq8UvZkrVaUoEXDwxXT5Ijcu7c1FlitUZ76yQ/s4032/IMG_0718.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoxf0e4IwExUmDO3f20gwdzsQO0FK1d7fSn5xbIw4I0G9b7Ap1wH6n2m72XhmXufvEBXLrR5vkS74yKoF4OmxHkkx_zNQ5aTHKBMEOTOdOJ2JB44wUAd3zcI_BSZvJNwWxfNeCL335Po4E-kREkOxEX9Vq8UvZkrVaUoEXDwxXT5Ijcu7c1FlitUZ76yQ/s320/IMG_0718.jpeg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEckOUANsL7KBTbRfWvs5VN2uI1lrCXhocgOnJ8ToeLQ08C7vrQWrTS7eBO16oi4DqzecgTWPDTp23JfSkIQs4HndL8MKJGaR7QRxFR6B0ghTa5xJl132vigby_1tlry104-9YvPgmMUnZcV3mM0dQLuyaN2o7CNUyxEPD1UBmD2iP4VWhbxFE6wzOBb_u/s4032/IMG_0730.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEckOUANsL7KBTbRfWvs5VN2uI1lrCXhocgOnJ8ToeLQ08C7vrQWrTS7eBO16oi4DqzecgTWPDTp23JfSkIQs4HndL8MKJGaR7QRxFR6B0ghTa5xJl132vigby_1tlry104-9YvPgmMUnZcV3mM0dQLuyaN2o7CNUyxEPD1UBmD2iP4VWhbxFE6wzOBb_u/s320/IMG_0730.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Like angels," I want to say, but I know the truth--those little sleeping devils!</span></span></p><p><br /></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-50698252102720295822024-01-09T05:27:00.000-08:002024-01-09T05:27:50.591-08:00Theo's Gangsters at Play?<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> O</span><span style="font-size: large;">ne week later. You might be thinking. How is it going with those New Year's resolutions?<span> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> The jury is still out. I've been exercising more. Reading more. Eating healthier. Watching less trashy TV? Oh, you want to know about the gangster cats . . . how are <i>their</i> New Year's resolutions going.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> <span> Are they begging for more snacks? Playing more? Sleeping more? Let's examine the evidence. This evening for instance. I hear Sienna on the stairs, engaged in some life and death struggle with an inanimate object that doesn't look like anything in particular. I call it playing. You tell me.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw4mIblAdpVAQmihO4OdLxLgPfIkntDpg7zV6ItBB0dX3eEuLftsK_7OEE3Hszqhl4NRY-iKUah9pMSMiywmg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Sienna says, "I'm honing my mouse catching skills, mom." </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> The day before Theo, Sienna and Mico are engaged in more active pursuits. "It shows up out of nowhere. See?" Theo says. "What are we supposed to do? Flashing colors and lights. Going here. Going there. Banging against walls. Under beds. It's possessed. See?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Mico said, "We think it might be after our snacks, right Theo?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzI1UFoPJIxTHeXVzG_RuZBflDc4DcFO2xZZZwgIHAgtsGcXvY8yEhWrxe-R2wxwHdZUX-CDyNomxmnUtZ-iQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Oh, so in other words, you weren't actually playing with that mouse toy your aunt gave you for Christmas, you were involved in a major investigation."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuVP7iluEKzLvpE-GWCC4k5Fg9D7L1jgm-k-p9Jo6UQqtHPR8TksQJh8jogLfp1GMlunH5epPobhnK6KSE9FV67BmNuXjaZX5bZSjprFR92ovDtSBTF-BkJ0PfziYsOHtzTeDuECP0lm8u3bU7WhOX962oGoZvIwsE1g5rHrBFZvt7NUXJXe7d-sYB3LN/s4032/IMG_0809.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuVP7iluEKzLvpE-GWCC4k5Fg9D7L1jgm-k-p9Jo6UQqtHPR8TksQJh8jogLfp1GMlunH5epPobhnK6KSE9FV67BmNuXjaZX5bZSjprFR92ovDtSBTF-BkJ0PfziYsOHtzTeDuECP0lm8u3bU7WhOX962oGoZvIwsE1g5rHrBFZvt7NUXJXe7d-sYB3LN/s320/IMG_0809.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span> </span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo doesn't answer. He only strikes his typical gangster pose.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> And then there is the flopping fish incident. Sienna says, "Two giant fish suddenly appear. Out of water. They don't say anything. Just flop around."</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzeDu075l_vGhgpTdJjLxfjfYaoGp2yRtuQ_T9uKrp3PHcWW0RNwrN-Gb-SKXaEJvnaLg02nvYBPfDY_5U64g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> "They make this weird sound," Mico chimes in. "I chased them down the stairs." Mico still has this wide-eyed look on his face as if he'll be traumatized forever.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzgOZxuJigjfKei1ASJUm3GqPnqE1D5xlP61b_h5QkOKZ0GFyUyyMYJ5v9C4eH7R0ui4Yg_az0dLIvYKY9Qhg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Flopping fish. You're referring to those fish I brought home from Costco as a present. I suppose you're going to say it was your sworn duty to apprehend them," I say. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> The upshot of the entire conversation is that these three gangster cats insist they're not <i>playing</i> more, they're only doing what they have to do--practice their mouse catching skills, investigate strange objects that suddenly appear in the house, capture flopping fish. And, as for sleeping more?</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Not us", they meow in </span>unison, just before Mico hops into his big luxurious bed even though it's two o'clock in the afternoon. </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC-xZwOR2QruYUt5fF-tWdrAefXXd2udsF4VU3ioQjdu0XZ-Sbzw0Q21-ru9ylaQgYbNWt0Of5FDJbGH9IaMffyz1uGATvKqjJlfIZ1A6YbhJPAsBzeHrSbVLQr3LaOBxtA_s_CSqXMtjI_xCWxZSDIaj0uulvjuG7d5G9ig7m4ga-JMnWlukeOjyr-1J/s4032/IMG_0865.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC-xZwOR2QruYUt5fF-tWdrAefXXd2udsF4VU3ioQjdu0XZ-Sbzw0Q21-ru9ylaQgYbNWt0Of5FDJbGH9IaMffyz1uGATvKqjJlfIZ1A6YbhJPAsBzeHrSbVLQr3LaOBxtA_s_CSqXMtjI_xCWxZSDIaj0uulvjuG7d5G9ig7m4ga-JMnWlukeOjyr-1J/s320/IMG_0865.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-21659596552227022212024-01-02T06:15:00.000-08:002024-01-02T06:15:14.242-08:00The Gang's New Year's Resolutions<p> <span> <span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">N</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">ew Year's Resolutions.</span> </span> <span style="font-size: large;">The promises you make to yourself at the beginning of the new year. Maybe you tell someone else or maybe you write them down. Typical resolutions: Exercise more. Eat less. Or eat healthier food. Read more. Watch less trashy TV. Be a better person. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Which means be kinder to those people who irritate you. Clean your house more. Call your mother more. All well intentioned. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I decide that our three new kitties--Theo, Sienna and Mico--can benefit from setting New Year's </span>resolutions. At the time it seems a good idea. I explain the concept to Theo. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Theo, your mission is to come up with three resolutions. See what Mico and Sienna think. The trick is to find things that can make your lives better."</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> Theo, the little gangster cat, is lounging on the sofa at the time. He's just finished breakfast, and although I think I see him nod, he also appears to be giving me the slant eye. I could be wrong.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> I go off to write out <i>sample</i> resolutions. Of late, since Mico and Sienna have arrived, their behavior--putting aside the assault on the Christmas tree--has been mildly atrocious. </span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> My <i>sample </i>list:</span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> 1. We will stay off the dining room table. Always.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> 2. We will not eat the plants or jump on the plant stand.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> 3. We will not use dad's toothbrush as a toy and hide it under the guest room bed.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> This is not a random list. Each one of these behaviors is well documented. And, they <i>know</i> they should <i>not </i>be doing these things. Nevertheless, if either Dan or I come down the stairs, we will, on various occasions, catch any one of them stretched out on the dining room table in the small patch of sun that is shining through the window. Immediately, they will jump down onto the chairs and pretend to be engaged in some other activity. The little hoodlums. We have found Dan's toothbrush under the guest room bed. AND the plants on the plant stand are slowly disappearing as if by magic with only remnants of what used to be a plant on the floor.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwQrIIHOP5ICmX0ah3aX9_CmbJstF7YetlvfMrG9SqWPBv8bCL4g-CmNeIegfrplwief2XD8RvBSe9fWqzlVJ7vHtbf9IlqmftnGIOOsdNj0jnsXgWpbUdsPJ6oOwYmV1PBsKvJHIbPBgNHDptPLlYyHTGkiCrj2Yx3TeINYaEtuYRm2pLQCyZ54giWdE/s4032/IMG_0673.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQwQrIIHOP5ICmX0ah3aX9_CmbJstF7YetlvfMrG9SqWPBv8bCL4g-CmNeIegfrplwief2XD8RvBSe9fWqzlVJ7vHtbf9IlqmftnGIOOsdNj0jnsXgWpbUdsPJ6oOwYmV1PBsKvJHIbPBgNHDptPLlYyHTGkiCrj2Yx3TeINYaEtuYRm2pLQCyZ54giWdE/s320/IMG_0673.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> Fast forward. It is my opinion that all resolutions should be formalized by New Year's Eve. I confront all three of them on the upstairs landing. It is clear they've been conferring. Of course, when they spot me, Sienna pretends to pay attention. Mico begins to groom his coat. Theo heads for one of the tunnels in the cat tree--to hide.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw3uktDQ3M5rJxCep5Vl7b4AwTHQscNvFajoG99zXpebaEpNNIw5OPYXFyXDCXvvhIeHMc10qLVVjgvKIy5tHxzdULp-wAhlr60jbNn96aJpF0cZ3yb9eQuraHEPFmfX7-tAtffBY5Ui6iUN4WK270YfAioMB39H1ySOvz-xoprbCSpH3sau8bH1K-KvK/s4032/IMG_0839.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw3uktDQ3M5rJxCep5Vl7b4AwTHQscNvFajoG99zXpebaEpNNIw5OPYXFyXDCXvvhIeHMc10qLVVjgvKIy5tHxzdULp-wAhlr60jbNn96aJpF0cZ3yb9eQuraHEPFmfX7-tAtffBY5Ui6iUN4WK270YfAioMB39H1ySOvz-xoprbCSpH3sau8bH1K-KvK/w400-h300/IMG_0839.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> "Theo, your list. Three resolutions."</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> Theo moonwalks back to the center of the landing. This is his big moment. He does not have a loud meow, but he meows with confidence. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> 1. We will eat more snacks.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> 2. We will spend more time playing.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx_mBuZaoLojJhZgwwOkMXmYvKioEXTY9mkjWtZET2r8p5J_i4okZScb1Cf0AMHzGo1Kzsp7NvvDHJcaLm42w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> 3. We will guard our house from all intruders, especially those pesky squirrels and birds.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I can hardly believe my ears, but before I can say a word, six eyes are on me, waiting for my reaction. This is a teachable moment. Where did I go wrong? My own words come back to haunt me--<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">the trick is to find</span></i> <span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>things that can</i> </span><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">make your lives better.</span> </i></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> And that's the difference between cats and humans. They live for the moment. They play. They dream of snacks. And they sleep the most heavenly of sleeps. We humans, on the other hand, come up with ways to make our lives better (or more miserable)?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoNt0GgzsJYId5L_HY-jCsUriyAlVUoEAWDWF_ofJsVAkA9nmhXF5f1wQUl3pY4KandIv-eWyFooGr6AHM3JTmjwiL8mHW4wWP_J_e_Wl8hxOBT73KcnCma7N2iwP2z-VmFLPExwfC7ZrazgBGrR0ykej3dO9Q7OzLTLVIb_Op_cpedgyfiyvfiXMJ3cz/s4032/IMG_0640.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoNt0GgzsJYId5L_HY-jCsUriyAlVUoEAWDWF_ofJsVAkA9nmhXF5f1wQUl3pY4KandIv-eWyFooGr6AHM3JTmjwiL8mHW4wWP_J_e_Wl8hxOBT73KcnCma7N2iwP2z-VmFLPExwfC7ZrazgBGrR0ykej3dO9Q7OzLTLVIb_Op_cpedgyfiyvfiXMJ3cz/s320/IMG_0640.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Good job, Theo," I hear myself saying. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Is it snack time?" Mico meows. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Sienna is <i>not</i> pretending now. She is really listening!<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span style="color: #cc0000;">Have a Happy New Year!!!</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-5520460066413238202023-12-26T06:30:00.000-08:002023-12-26T06:30:25.443-08:00Theo the Holiday Hero<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e make a decision this year.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Wait until next year to replace the Christmas tree. Even though it needed replacing. Even though I'd planned to replace it. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91zcGGb2luAEzSA7GR51g0q2B20jiuVPvU-wh3WOBs9GNwtePEPAemOST6i48KZ8LPRzAglj2l3q2U1xMREX0_GCifymx5fDqYe0lyGOu4uZJKhLPXTTli4yTYMfMDkg4qXL-YSxM7xsD-OAcAphE7VhYWRODwEM4beJ5jCHrceGkxtBqgze_nL4c8WCM/s4032/IMG_0832.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91zcGGb2luAEzSA7GR51g0q2B20jiuVPvU-wh3WOBs9GNwtePEPAemOST6i48KZ8LPRzAglj2l3q2U1xMREX0_GCifymx5fDqYe0lyGOu4uZJKhLPXTTli4yTYMfMDkg4qXL-YSxM7xsD-OAcAphE7VhYWRODwEM4beJ5jCHrceGkxtBqgze_nL4c8WCM/s320/IMG_0832.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> What changed our minds? </span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> Sienna and Michelangelo. Two nine month old rapscallion kittens who took one look at the Christmas tree and decided, there and then, that they like Mohammad, were destined to conquer the mountain or . . . ahem, the tree. Which meant climbing it to the very top. </span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> Michelangelo (Mico for short) put himself in charge of the mission. A secret mission. Even Theo didn't know what they were planning. Or did he?</span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> We have one photo of them together meowing together. Or plotting?</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bq5YbJP2gpvzDEIwYTef5eXlCE1JHKOwxQwvpO9L9EMVekvo_jCY_CI3k_PMDDmBSUwBfwADOqGcX5xmKHKwd4Zfc30wU28cw-9Fks7nsf3HTcERsToH_6IK90umhh1Ssgl6pZBBQDMHf2lj9Mz9g-gF_dJx8wPrHFLw9ebV_WK2L_qJ1WhVShbwMO-x/s4032/IMG_0834.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bq5YbJP2gpvzDEIwYTef5eXlCE1JHKOwxQwvpO9L9EMVekvo_jCY_CI3k_PMDDmBSUwBfwADOqGcX5xmKHKwd4Zfc30wU28cw-9Fks7nsf3HTcERsToH_6IK90umhh1Ssgl6pZBBQDMHf2lj9Mz9g-gF_dJx8wPrHFLw9ebV_WK2L_qJ1WhVShbwMO-x/s320/IMG_0834.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span style="color: red;">Three days before Christmas</span>. We should have been suspicious, but all we knew was that Mico was spending a lot of time under the tree. How were we to know he was doing valuable reconassance work that would be needed for later on? </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>We hardly noticed because Sienna was doing her bit. Distraction. Being cute. Prancing around. Wanting to be petted. Purring. We fell for it.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span style="color: red;">Two days before Christmas.</span> We're watching TV. It is close to ten o'clock. From the corner of my eye, I see the tree sway this way and that. The angel on top seems to be doing some kind of weird dance. Then suddenly she is not upright, but hanging on for dear life about to fall down, down, down. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I jump up out of my seat. "What's going on over there?" </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Sienna races across the room--a streak of white fur--a mad dash--designed to capture our attention and draw it away from the tree. But we're no dummies. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo, who is lounging on the couch beside us, and who is unofficially in charge of the rascals (even though in public he is known as the little gangster cat himself) looks up in seeming alarm. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> By this time, of course, the tree has ceased swaying. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Mico?? Where are you, Mico?"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Suddenly, Mico appears in front of us. Casual like. Then he begins to groom, which is always the tell-tale sign that something is up. Like . . . "I'm so busy cleaning my coat, I don't have time to explain where I've been or what I've been doing. And that angel who is hanging down from the tree, well, I have no idea how <i>that </i>happened."<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSYwbIXH64dYE7o3UMrB_Mh-f4wY0Aw-CGTrgGNKb8-RUDUhFVDhCPHLh8eTjtXJ4TrmfoFFMrEGh3EnwMIah3rzeDI0Nqa1w4u3bRs3EhvEjSYml9WzKx2GyYzx8jcpV_oEPTt-PSIp4S9rEphbnx4OlCrHd2Ds-oeG_G7J0PoSirCEFKIW6R1zVxuBu/s4032/IMG_0815.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSYwbIXH64dYE7o3UMrB_Mh-f4wY0Aw-CGTrgGNKb8-RUDUhFVDhCPHLh8eTjtXJ4TrmfoFFMrEGh3EnwMIah3rzeDI0Nqa1w4u3bRs3EhvEjSYml9WzKx2GyYzx8jcpV_oEPTt-PSIp4S9rEphbnx4OlCrHd2Ds-oeG_G7J0PoSirCEFKIW6R1zVxuBu/s320/IMG_0815.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo jumps down and saunters over. He is sniffing. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Now Mico looks worried. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Then Theo plops himself in front of the tree, in a semi-guard posture. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> The rest of the evening passes with no incident.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span style="color: red;"> Christmas Eve</span>. The angel is back in her place on top of the tree. All the calm. All is bright. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmULVzK2Ha13ajog6RBhtnLxJT2I3IP9DjgI_dhMDzQ73nVca7oqfOVQYqB_LXSElwRATK20EthSmGLQCnwV6bn2v1mzUcjSiOcI6ZVdD44UAdxF1Zih3ua_Z2uL9PcM58KPEaMqQTO_gzenyTC0DviG7YS4YeuoyJ_y6Vcl8oaevLUgKcWyozmInHkCJ/s4032/IMG_0833.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmULVzK2Ha13ajog6RBhtnLxJT2I3IP9DjgI_dhMDzQ73nVca7oqfOVQYqB_LXSElwRATK20EthSmGLQCnwV6bn2v1mzUcjSiOcI6ZVdD44UAdxF1Zih3ua_Z2uL9PcM58KPEaMqQTO_gzenyTC0DviG7YS4YeuoyJ_y6Vcl8oaevLUgKcWyozmInHkCJ/s320/IMG_0833.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> We are watching <i>It's A Wonderful Life. </i>Theo is beside us, but he seems on high alert. Sienna jumps up and wants to be petted. She is being even more unusually affectionate. Mico is absent. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> And then . . . several bulbs from the tree crash to the floor. Our poor Christmas tree, which survived Mico's first assault, is now swaying like I've never seen it sway before. It doesn't take a genius to realize that Mico must be half way up the tree now, eager to accomplish his final assault. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> The angel crash lands on the rug in front of the tree.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo, who is beside us and watching the spectacle with </span>horror written on his little gangster face, leaps across the sofa and over to the tree.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> A fierce "Meow" echoes through the room, directed at Mico.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I imagine so many things are encapsulated in that Meow: Get down. You're in big trouble. Are you crazy? We meowed about this. If that tree falls . . .</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I hear the biggest </span>kerplunk--the sound of Mico jumping and landing on the hardwood floor. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> The Christmas tree stops swaying. Somehow it remains upright. Saved by hero cat Theo, who assumed command at just the right time. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span style="color: red;">Christmas Day</span>. All three are up and scampering around. They run down to the tree to see what their presents are. Cat toys and treats abound. All except for Mico. COAL. Ha. Just kidding. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6aD0UnM5Fy93ikNzcnp18jtIfEDvYlDlTB1Smjz8B18ZNlYJTCxM3LHvnW96lrH_r_tmiI65f7VR6H0o-l4OOEsmOLI0f4cWfBB0O24b3gdPSjeh7FpsrRv31YsJbPpmcKU_yIRXlsfSbPkJeBVidyc64HS8858vj6SwPtrLCxpK-_nOy2jmkQU3e4TI/s4032/IMG_0830.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6aD0UnM5Fy93ikNzcnp18jtIfEDvYlDlTB1Smjz8B18ZNlYJTCxM3LHvnW96lrH_r_tmiI65f7VR6H0o-l4OOEsmOLI0f4cWfBB0O24b3gdPSjeh7FpsrRv31YsJbPpmcKU_yIRXlsfSbPkJeBVidyc64HS8858vj6SwPtrLCxpK-_nOy2jmkQU3e4TI/s320/IMG_0830.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> As Theo put it, "Mico had to get it out of his system, see? It's his first Christmas. A right of passage, see. I did what I had to do, see?"</span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Yeah. Yeah. We get it. From our house to yours--<span style="color: red;">Happy Holidays!</span> <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-45521586104335435232023-12-19T06:11:00.000-08:002023-12-30T08:14:24.366-08:00Theo and the Waterfall<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">M</span><span style="font-size: large;">ost cats hate water. Or let me put it this way--they would prefer not to get wet. Theo, the little gangster cat, is a cat of a different breed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> He's never met a water fountain he didn't like to drink from, a bathtub he didn't like to swim in, a puddle he didn't like to stick his paw into. How far would he go?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> We decide to make Theo's day, so to speak, and introduce him to a magical place where water is king. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Imagine a beautiful fall day. The sun is shining. Leaves are just beginning to turn. We are entering what is called the Chimes Tower District. An historic bell tower sits atop a <i>fifty foot waterfall.</i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Constructed in 1929 by Pierre du Pont, this 61 foot tall stone chimes tower was based on an ancient fortified tower du Pont saw at Chatillon-Coligny on the Loire River in France.</span> Du Pont then bought chimes from a company in Chicago--the largest set of chimes he could find--twenty five tubular chimes costing close to $16,000--and installed them in the upper chamber of the tower. The chimes were replaced several times over the years. Finally in 2000 a Dutch firm created a 62 bell carillon for the chimes tower, which still exists today. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny_kvMbL7gD67I2BiEvMMKv67t1LlVdNUSyn24NJ0K82hDey6HbVH2SNi4HU5bDW6JO9MC1BUnK2z6boSfLWovGKJxaAzGi54lk6Qw3U1troXzDdjtil4XdWEubKBi5krKQpb2bsqJvrBmk62ZpJikfQCEpMsBi9omR81kUEsLW_E2x2q4EE7OhwqInWb/s4032/IMG_0487.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjny_kvMbL7gD67I2BiEvMMKv67t1LlVdNUSyn24NJ0K82hDey6HbVH2SNi4HU5bDW6JO9MC1BUnK2z6boSfLWovGKJxaAzGi54lk6Qw3U1troXzDdjtil4XdWEubKBi5krKQpb2bsqJvrBmk62ZpJikfQCEpMsBi9omR81kUEsLW_E2x2q4EE7OhwqInWb/w300-h400/IMG_0487.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> So you are likely to hear at any given moment the sound of rushing water from the waterfall <i>and/or</i> the sound of chimes playing music as you make your way along the path. It is an enchanting place. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Now I forgot to mention that Theo is a musical cat. When either Dan or I are practicing piano, he is usually perched on the rug nearby, listening. It doesn't matter if we're playing Bach or the Beatles. Occasionally, he jumps up and plays the keys himself.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> For now, though, all we can hear is the waterfall. The chirping birds, the usual rustle of the leaves falling--nature at her best in the fall is drowned out, literally, by the magnificence of the water as it cascades down, </span>never-ending, propelled by some hidden pump. The sound is both captivating and mesmerizing and it lulls you into a different world. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzUv3Xb_3BzbUZ1TWqpgN-n5SFpAS53F_6V620zr3UiT8g3mJIyOLT3x4_SFic4RnulbZwI4E3ZrPSjpagX1A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Dan and I walk along the path. Theo is listening and sniffing. He can both hear and smell the water, but I think he's standing a little too close to the edge, gazing out at the water.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> "You think everything is okay, right?" I say to Dan.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> "Sure, why not?"</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> We are totally alone. We don't for a minute think that Theo is a suicidal cat. We don't for a minute think that Theo would ever jump off the bridge into the frothy, turbulent water below. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> "You don't think he looks a little <i>too</i> interested in that water?"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Well." Dan shrugs. "He is a cat, after all. They tend to be curious about everything."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> That comment unnerves me. I stare at the water. It's a big drop down. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfPjTf8WNsjgPhPfO7CG5JErN5mnKbZdB4Jrnz-e5hJfTcdvw946wJEmjbPV7WAenlIx__3hrViSdrgZsr_ubria9J19pfz49mLxvEHDgsEX2PBOzB4RuTsoU2Vq6tJ8AzfdEC5ETCmI-Z7IeULLcnmydei3ajIzbDLoPzzP0y_dQJ_-C6r1VwEt80Sx-/s4032/IMG_0484.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfPjTf8WNsjgPhPfO7CG5JErN5mnKbZdB4Jrnz-e5hJfTcdvw946wJEmjbPV7WAenlIx__3hrViSdrgZsr_ubria9J19pfz49mLxvEHDgsEX2PBOzB4RuTsoU2Vq6tJ8AzfdEC5ETCmI-Z7IeULLcnmydei3ajIzbDLoPzzP0y_dQJ_-C6r1VwEt80Sx-/s320/IMG_0484.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><span> "Call me crazy, but I'd feel a hundred percent better if you pick Theo up. Just in case. Who knows? He might just impulsively do something crazy."</span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan knows me by now. He leans down to </span>retrieve Theo, and it's at that very moment that the chimes go off. Now they're on a schedule. They chime about every quarter of an hour. And they're loud. If you've never heard them before, if you're not expecting the sound of a very loud chime to resound through the air, to even overtake the cascading waterfall . . . you'll be taken back. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> You might even lose your balance temporarily. "What's that?"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Later, we realize that that's what must have happened. When Theo hears the chimes, he freaks out. He's used to the sound of the waterfall. He's into all the water gushing downward. But the chimes are just too much. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> So, imagine Dan is grabbing Theo by the middle. Theo tries to get away. There's a bit of a skirmish. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I'm afraid that if Theo breaks loose, he might skedaddle off to who knows where. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Maybe Theo thinks Dan is trying to </span>throw him into the water. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Later, back at the ranch (well, it's actually a townhouse), Theo tells the story, leaving the part out about the chimes, the misunderstanding and the skirmish. His version to Mico (Michelangelo) is more like: "I see the waterfall, see, and it's big, see, and I'm going to go for a swim, see, but . . . mom and dad wanted to go home."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "I wish <i>I</i> could see it," Mico said.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ScFE4nd5wQC9EjHRAYPk_DxWg11UT6ZxJdEhoQTWtwKylCQKErZIiZMwTxAcu4gvdBd2FfrdPl5jR070LVsIg20OdDjCnd1T70tSfomUWtuJntK_bAKC8PfrkhwOYJlRU12qsyGKyEJgmEYjHmWqgJZcJxelFBamI6XfEoAWHQWuoogPGfgIXVhVlrmT/s4032/IMG_0806.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ScFE4nd5wQC9EjHRAYPk_DxWg11UT6ZxJdEhoQTWtwKylCQKErZIiZMwTxAcu4gvdBd2FfrdPl5jR070LVsIg20OdDjCnd1T70tSfomUWtuJntK_bAKC8PfrkhwOYJlRU12qsyGKyEJgmEYjHmWqgJZcJxelFBamI6XfEoAWHQWuoogPGfgIXVhVlrmT/s320/IMG_0806.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Maybe someday, kid," Theo says, in his best big brother meow voice, not giving away a thing.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-80735447701318152572023-12-12T05:00:00.000-08:002023-12-12T09:07:42.876-08:00Theo Horses Around<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span><span style="font-size: large;">discover later, after we're safely home, that Theo got the idea from YouTube. A horse on a farm--location unknown--fell for a cat. An unlikely pair, to be sure. They became fast friends, so much so, that the cat would jump on the horse's back and go riding. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> That image of a cat on the back of a horse was the inspiration for Theo. </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> That's why when we're in Pennsylvania, riding around on a very beautiful day, Theo decides <i>he</i> wants to go horseback riding. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> "Out of the question," is my first response. A horse and a cat? No way. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> Theo, who is quickly developing a reputation as a little gangster cat, gets that look on his face which essentially means he's not budging. At least, not yet. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> We're riding past a pasture, and there are horses, of course, that are right there. And there is a place to park. </span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ES7QzXKCMS0LZ2mKKzJYF9hm0VtMoArhzfBUZAme0GHDwNukp9ZEi3xEk-1VDY_ZEtv18qlJkkHnzbB4bSzxIlJAw_y8XeLz4a_bBj-ZqGysM34EIa5eAXztTJuWiw3kq0qTgY7M9SfRMCmnUU6qYLxzhOPmDDmNGez1rdO_JH9OvJn8GnP1_fB0fcMX/s4032/IMG_0595.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ES7QzXKCMS0LZ2mKKzJYF9hm0VtMoArhzfBUZAme0GHDwNukp9ZEi3xEk-1VDY_ZEtv18qlJkkHnzbB4bSzxIlJAw_y8XeLz4a_bBj-ZqGysM34EIa5eAXztTJuWiw3kq0qTgY7M9SfRMCmnUU6qYLxzhOPmDDmNGez1rdO_JH9OvJn8GnP1_fB0fcMX/s320/IMG_0595.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjveDuHfMv2qbg3-Xd6nUT_xbFZU33S7YbyP5UZSnLKiXVgF2kqGyaPbouZEMex3UEtw27xTC2owzcuiw6JxmeA7MZM1ozaedoDzfMfxj-YY5vYod9D2rM94I_wXxt9hp1nelc-7MEIIYaLovSslRG8mNX5uEdGrS8WUFMQuva3FGEQUvnU47yp23JUTmhz/s4032/IMG_0596.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjveDuHfMv2qbg3-Xd6nUT_xbFZU33S7YbyP5UZSnLKiXVgF2kqGyaPbouZEMex3UEtw27xTC2owzcuiw6JxmeA7MZM1ozaedoDzfMfxj-YY5vYod9D2rM94I_wXxt9hp1nelc-7MEIIYaLovSslRG8mNX5uEdGrS8WUFMQuva3FGEQUvnU47yp23JUTmhz/s320/IMG_0596.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHtzpbWJt2UmsfZleMPdM3Ib6v0Ek8O2c-q-37kyaqbkQm8I4iKFoHUdiVb4CKPFxx541QWgIGwfrb2dvhPRJhrG-V5EqhIfLIJ6VRQ5yKSBnmcf8E56KuF_Obtya_QBB0JZ4BySTQcw5lvW7vEFrWtPiB6IxlFBjGXOoRHYarg2cUUDz4AuLOy7fzwvB/s4032/IMG_0597.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHtzpbWJt2UmsfZleMPdM3Ib6v0Ek8O2c-q-37kyaqbkQm8I4iKFoHUdiVb4CKPFxx541QWgIGwfrb2dvhPRJhrG-V5EqhIfLIJ6VRQ5yKSBnmcf8E56KuF_Obtya_QBB0JZ4BySTQcw5lvW7vEFrWtPiB6IxlFBjGXOoRHYarg2cUUDz4AuLOy7fzwvB/s320/IMG_0597.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> Dan smiles. "Come on. Let's humor the kid. It'll take five minutes."</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> Now, I love horses myself. And if there is anyway I can get out of the car and jump on the back of a horse and go riding . . . like if this is a fantasy movie, and we just happen to have saddles in the back seat . . . and the horses are friendly and love to be ridden . . . and there's no fence or maybe one of of those low split rail antique numbers that we can easily hop over . . . and nobody's going to suddenly show up and have us arrested. </span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> This is reality. There are no saddles in the back seat. And there is a fence, shoulder height, that no one is jumping over. And the horses are looking at us with suspicion in their eyes.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU33-mDGh3iqQ73ydXCF_8q_hWnoctbASRpPOstRWpQxJHLJNaVycQ_gBZ8ZGcRrzCh8KuC6YtBLChFoJz_bsOnmo0a52AEINOId2-DbmFSeLWyytB-fTzW-ZaOiGUN9iJzb2Z1zgCHdJvewlH5DiMkofiqV_ct8eqGOPr5hItI__i_vJ6Ol79gEmyPvWb/s4032/IMG_0598.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU33-mDGh3iqQ73ydXCF_8q_hWnoctbASRpPOstRWpQxJHLJNaVycQ_gBZ8ZGcRrzCh8KuC6YtBLChFoJz_bsOnmo0a52AEINOId2-DbmFSeLWyytB-fTzW-ZaOiGUN9iJzb2Z1zgCHdJvewlH5DiMkofiqV_ct8eqGOPr5hItI__i_vJ6Ol79gEmyPvWb/s320/IMG_0598.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxFsxo3wT6VO0X4WAbjjcvva2_rQvZohz0vEzTKTGKCW14N36YhQ3Rb_UJwrl0T8Z-1fIVaJc2-c0TAF5DM6BME4Yw55Ofq0NOXDSrEdekGiHOUxe13Z5WSn4tz_hfO4qtFvI4qY1dsJ1hfXH_1L4Fk__Ro07PU5ILRMcrFuGejapht5hg19Ob6SCrqI-/s4032/IMG_0599%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxFsxo3wT6VO0X4WAbjjcvva2_rQvZohz0vEzTKTGKCW14N36YhQ3Rb_UJwrl0T8Z-1fIVaJc2-c0TAF5DM6BME4Yw55Ofq0NOXDSrEdekGiHOUxe13Z5WSn4tz_hfO4qtFvI4qY1dsJ1hfXH_1L4Fk__Ro07PU5ILRMcrFuGejapht5hg19Ob6SCrqI-/s320/IMG_0599%20copy.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span><span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I'm thinking--this is an impossible idea on Theo's part. </span></span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Theo comes waltzing up--every bit like a gangster would. He's got a certain style. A kind of confidence that I would not have if I were a cat facing at least ten equine beasts.</span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> But if I look closely, Theo's not looking at ten horses. He's looking at only one horse. And one horse is looking at him.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxz8-MNPa6V6Aox-DM8TOrXHf0DzJ8iGkUg08hNVN1a4OtBsBxkxLbyau5CI9-VIjtOwoHZA0Q_0EtidZ1zxQA5rtRLdTzSMo6IiJ0WUEBCP1CDxSSyDouw3eDTO2YZqog3D4CG4RmrtznVYf6AVgXykS1CRTMN9Fg1_vEgvSbO3Kk7atQJ6fctuQaFxv/s4032/IMG_0601.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxz8-MNPa6V6Aox-DM8TOrXHf0DzJ8iGkUg08hNVN1a4OtBsBxkxLbyau5CI9-VIjtOwoHZA0Q_0EtidZ1zxQA5rtRLdTzSMo6IiJ0WUEBCP1CDxSSyDouw3eDTO2YZqog3D4CG4RmrtznVYf6AVgXykS1CRTMN9Fg1_vEgvSbO3Kk7atQJ6fctuQaFxv/s320/IMG_0601.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span> </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> Theo's eyes grow wide. He marches up to the fence. His nose goes high. He is sniffing. The horse moves even closer. And then she does something quite extraordinary. She lifts her foot off the ground, her knee bends, and she stomps it down. Once. Twice. She does the same thing with her other leg.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> Theo does the exact same thing. He lifts his tiny paw off the ground, kicks it forward and stomps it back on the ground. He does it again.</span></span></span></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> </span>I push any traitorous thoughts out of my head. For example, that this stomping horse could crush Theo's skull with a single kick. </span> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> Dan practically reads my mind. He shakes his head. "I think they're communicating. She wants to meet him. She's not going to kill him."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> "He's not going in there," I whisper. "Theo can stomp all he wants."</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> But . . . I do pick Theo up and bring him closer to the fence. The horse does saunter over and they get a chance to go nose to nose and sniff each other</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>It is a <i>close encounters of two different species who interact with </i></span><span><i>each other </i>moment.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> When Theo wriggles to get free (no doubt he has visions of jumping on the horse's back and riding into the sunset), I hold him closer. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Later, when we're all safe at home, he is retelling the <i>almost </i>adventure to Michelangelo and Sienna, the two younger nine month old kittens we recently adopted, but in Theo's version the almost adventure sounds like it <i>was</i> an adventure.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> Mico's eyes are bigger than quarters. "Did you ride her, Theo?"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "That was the plan, see?" Theo says in his usual Brooklyn style accent. "To ride across the fields. Bareback." He puffs his chest out.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Wow." Mico is impressed. He takes a few steps closer to Theo, maybe hoping that Theo's bravery will rub off on him.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">"Don't get so close, kid," Theo says. "I need my space."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a class="style-scope ytcp-video-info" href="https://youtube.com/shorts/Kug17lpcxP4" style="color: var(--ytcp-call-to-action); font-family: Roboto, Noto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;" target="_blank">https://youtube.com/shorts/Kug17lpcxP4</a></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /> </span><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><br /></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-9266099523121020732023-12-05T05:55:00.000-08:002023-12-05T05:55:35.582-08:00Theo, the Little Gangster<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span><span style="font-size: large;">heo won't say a word. He will neither confirm or deny. Can he see or hear Chuck? Is he taking orders or acting on his own? As I flip through photos, I find yet another photo of Chuck about to confer with Theo in that last week before Chuck passes to the other side.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuW0ot_TDqhix5s9xrKFvrC9p94fE6RW-AyASygaqIYirxtWeC4d7WP-SlaLR9rtNp6z5pLdqv14s2EOpNUr8GGylH_rHY0YxqYw69HV0CcIQL36RbmhbW9MsKOkuJEgJNtMhVHWT22YJ8K4kfCeCkF1FtV9AUn1Rpx6_flOx1Cjw6xJNSF71sWbi16MX/s4032/IMG_0512.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuW0ot_TDqhix5s9xrKFvrC9p94fE6RW-AyASygaqIYirxtWeC4d7WP-SlaLR9rtNp6z5pLdqv14s2EOpNUr8GGylH_rHY0YxqYw69HV0CcIQL36RbmhbW9MsKOkuJEgJNtMhVHWT22YJ8K4kfCeCkF1FtV9AUn1Rpx6_flOx1Cjw6xJNSF71sWbi16MX/s320/IMG_0512.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">Dan says, "Chucky knew. He was cementing his legacy."</span></p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">My eyes well up with tears. "How brave can one cat be?"</span> </p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">We are on our way to see an exotic plant called the Bird of Paradise, an exquisitely beautiful flower that looks like a bird and even moves like a bird in flight when the wind hits it. That small detail, that a plant can imitate a bird, is what causes poor Theo no end of humiliation on his first travel assignment. Because he thinks we are going to see <i>Birds</i> of Paradise. Which are actual <i>birds</i>.</span><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Like Chucky, Theo has a bucket list. Where Chucky loved the History Channel, Theo loves animal shows and mafia movies. He even talks like a little gangster. And he does his research.</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> Dan says, "The <i>Bird</i> of Paradise is a perennial plant from South Africa. It's also called the crane lily. It causes no allergic reactions--" </span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> We are on the way to the conservatory, and Theo is listening intently, but he begins to shake his head, disagreeing with everything Dan is saying.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> But we can't stop and argue. </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Sneaking Theo into a place like this will be tricky business. A bird of paradise is a rare plant. We suspect there will even be someone </span><span style="font-size: large;">watching--a kind of plant guard. Sure enough as we move closer to the plant, I feel eyes on me.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Be careful," I whisper, "there are spies all around."</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> The <i>Bird</i> of Paradise is beautiful and looks exactly like a bird who has been, unfortunately, attached to a plant. </span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANFS5wns1EGqoBJ1HYJ6qGPqLfaeAG1cZtDVRf-Ease72AzKXHPPds7JivoKcfP_NXfC6kDYLbB0hKL29OliTiNWYdJvSBtNNU7IO65HVcfgZ9d_KFuoOcEf8bW_1bvG2njve7OrumNnb25hwEMSnJDNvh8JQq5oghDp-GlBu6aAuOFecB0y5FVG1iWci/s4032/IMG_0440.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANFS5wns1EGqoBJ1HYJ6qGPqLfaeAG1cZtDVRf-Ease72AzKXHPPds7JivoKcfP_NXfC6kDYLbB0hKL29OliTiNWYdJvSBtNNU7IO65HVcfgZ9d_KFuoOcEf8bW_1bvG2njve7OrumNnb25hwEMSnJDNvh8JQq5oghDp-GlBu6aAuOFecB0y5FVG1iWci/s320/IMG_0440.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Stand and block the view so I can let Theo see."</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> That's the plan, but the plant guard comes rushing over. He's a nice guy who offers to take our photo, posing with the plant. We pose. At this stage we'll do anything to get rid of him.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt7W1_jLK-Ny5VlWWaD9elpfdAFNfms8Ibk016cVtUL8AL6OP8t_MFxonkHkAabmGNEiRm24okZ0ljHGJGaipuNUyMDZ0OoKoJILBdhXGbLkqTW2IkG1HTzv0NuaG34L2O-r5t6ooUCpGUoV7qRHBy0vrXyvwJt0UfHAKLR_c7U8mYmlAqwD9s7eDrTxy/s4032/IMG_0437.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt7W1_jLK-Ny5VlWWaD9elpfdAFNfms8Ibk016cVtUL8AL6OP8t_MFxonkHkAabmGNEiRm24okZ0ljHGJGaipuNUyMDZ0OoKoJILBdhXGbLkqTW2IkG1HTzv0NuaG34L2O-r5t6ooUCpGUoV7qRHBy0vrXyvwJt0UfHAKLR_c7U8mYmlAqwD9s7eDrTxy/s320/IMG_0437.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span> </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> I then pretend to admire the plant while Dan lets Theo peek out and see the plant. (Which, of course, we find out later, he sincerely believes is a bird.) </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> No one can anticipate what will happen next. Or how strong Theo is. We're used to traveling with Chucky who was a rascal but he'd never, ever have been able to leap out of a backpack in a single bound. Somehow Theo is able to get traction with his tiny paws and do just that. He leaps out of the pack, onto Dan's shoulder, intent on . . . well . . . if you were a cat and you thought you were that close to a bird.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> I am taken completely unaware.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan is one step ahead of me and two steps ahead of Theo. As Theo readies himself for the final leap (no doubt harboring images of bird of paradise served up on a serving platter with delicious gravy dripping off its wings), Dan catches hold of him and reels him back. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo grunts. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Oh my God." That's me in total shock.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> It is a miracle that the plant guard sees absolutely nothing. Mainly because at that very moment a bevy of children have come in with their mom and they are running wildly through the place, as if they've consumed too much grape juice. The plant guard's attention is diverted. We are saved. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Later, at home, we have the discussion:</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan: "It is a <i>Bird</i> of Paradise. A plant."<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo: "I did my research, see. I know it was a bird." Is it my imagination or does Theo talk with a Brooklyn accent?</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan: "I know it's confusing, Theo. But we went to a conservatory. No birds. Only plants."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Theo: "So, you took me to see a plant?"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> We have nothing to say to that. I take out my iPhone and show him close up two shots of the <i>Bird</i> of Paradise. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRliUEQ9Uiwkrv7w4OfFZySf243ri6TsGL0fTOYXmmD7Yo4yZca8EY_6ITOFfcLJ2N1AvbSaoKgm3W_bHGWh9PSNaksLVK4QdeTFBojbmjSPVMnR_1O-RO3Jo4ENb7O_XgFidWmxvj-taivIc9Or5X-8Cv791Q1NFwMjygQC3_BsGV_xuq7ql18D4CqSc/s4032/IMG_0441.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyRliUEQ9Uiwkrv7w4OfFZySf243ri6TsGL0fTOYXmmD7Yo4yZca8EY_6ITOFfcLJ2N1AvbSaoKgm3W_bHGWh9PSNaksLVK4QdeTFBojbmjSPVMnR_1O-RO3Jo4ENb7O_XgFidWmxvj-taivIc9Or5X-8Cv791Q1NFwMjygQC3_BsGV_xuq7ql18D4CqSc/s320/IMG_0441.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nk2eo9tu3tBYf6VLWjqH3W9JCjgRsVduRWrhZChWxtqGb6CXnzARbbJLFN2nY1FG4rPTkIqKZcyEG3evMDyZHCjLXgZdsLz0wlvUpyRPTi-EjSkZ6hlOJxMQVGb3JJwF9-A2BRXHWA8b_rThtAw-SmzZVYH1_QAEs-lYQeEF7l30XwwaWoxjiEDwIId1/s4032/IMG_0435.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nk2eo9tu3tBYf6VLWjqH3W9JCjgRsVduRWrhZChWxtqGb6CXnzARbbJLFN2nY1FG4rPTkIqKZcyEG3evMDyZHCjLXgZdsLz0wlvUpyRPTi-EjSkZ6hlOJxMQVGb3JJwF9-A2BRXHWA8b_rThtAw-SmzZVYH1_QAEs-lYQeEF7l30XwwaWoxjiEDwIId1/s320/IMG_0435.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span> </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Now do you get it? <i>Birds</i> of Paradise are birds. From Indonesia and Australia. They're known for their plumage and feathers. They live in rainforests." I take a deep breath. "Still, Theo, you can't go into a conservatory and eat the plants."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> <span> Dan taps me on the shoulder and points. Theo, like Chuck, closes his eyes when he's heard enough. </span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> "We'll do better next time," I tell my little gangster cat, rubbing the top of his head gently.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO8OKbTuWfj6a1rF5030MiI1WsFhtxWEWgZoqc55OPDpMksl8AqDvPp31FrZrYKWGNjHjPsRqnzycmokfDWP_hlSZii0sg1gEp0Oi-Lb6KLhj42Fd27u1PnxD63sxV_LjJ-POzkBddYZiRhCWpAZXKvJRloDG0ybYNxWY6uPATNs3JpeEQLTTqrqoi3ogF/s4032/IMG_0444.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO8OKbTuWfj6a1rF5030MiI1WsFhtxWEWgZoqc55OPDpMksl8AqDvPp31FrZrYKWGNjHjPsRqnzycmokfDWP_hlSZii0sg1gEp0Oi-Lb6KLhj42Fd27u1PnxD63sxV_LjJ-POzkBddYZiRhCWpAZXKvJRloDG0ybYNxWY6uPATNs3JpeEQLTTqrqoi3ogF/s320/IMG_0444.JPEG" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> One eye pops open. I could say he's got the cold hard stare of a killer. But beneath that gangster exterior is a mama's boy. I just know it.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-91005031928647446552023-11-28T09:52:00.000-08:002023-11-28T09:52:59.589-08:00Can Theo be the new Chuck?<p> <span> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span><span style="font-size: large;">t first I'm not sure if I should take the idea seriously--that Theo is the new Chuck.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I mean, my first thought is to stop writing the blog. Chuck is gone. I feel like I have lost my inspiration. For me, every adventure has centered on the things that Chuck did, the dreams he had, the ideas that popped into his furry little head. </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> But then I admit to myself that </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">I do have memories of the two of them doing a lot of meowing together in those final days. Chuck is outside, as usual, and Theo is standing by the patio door. They are deep in cat conversation.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIyU1OZJDb70rBnX-2KXzKttUQEV7kqciDOk4FQi66e8x9tZnrKxY_qeiK0TMtW5Bv5fn7QAlg76XPEJmvkJHh4cXuf-cmhRvz7b-K6ADzABYixzzVN3SqpTFLI5SshYtJxeIfPpAgR2_FGo97ECJyLftKrUEF9kRkgJDOHRUtaoMVfJcaZzj2UPzqqFU/s4032/IMG_0131.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIyU1OZJDb70rBnX-2KXzKttUQEV7kqciDOk4FQi66e8x9tZnrKxY_qeiK0TMtW5Bv5fn7QAlg76XPEJmvkJHh4cXuf-cmhRvz7b-K6ADzABYixzzVN3SqpTFLI5SshYtJxeIfPpAgR2_FGo97ECJyLftKrUEF9kRkgJDOHRUtaoMVfJcaZzj2UPzqqFU/s320/IMG_0131.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> Or Chuck is lounging on the sofa and Theo comes up. Their two cat heads are pressed together, whispering for what seems like a long time. Is Chuck trying to convince him to step up to the plate or is it the other way around?</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6X2RdYTBpYg_9p86Ilv8j2sSm7jj5RmDYUnn5HLIjYGFzLhVWiUHplKcUoKoVJCyCWIWZXsBID-ku59tSEvO2LFx2Aq3vuNI5zQ-HyZ2ZeFI9ahYjBPH_pGaoqw94Uc8WIqkxwWuIKgioLr9aLsb-f2tShzuR-JciDcUAvX5eXRw-yAEQmb9mwwofca2T/s4032/IMG_0454.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6X2RdYTBpYg_9p86Ilv8j2sSm7jj5RmDYUnn5HLIjYGFzLhVWiUHplKcUoKoVJCyCWIWZXsBID-ku59tSEvO2LFx2Aq3vuNI5zQ-HyZ2ZeFI9ahYjBPH_pGaoqw94Uc8WIqkxwWuIKgioLr9aLsb-f2tShzuR-JciDcUAvX5eXRw-yAEQmb9mwwofca2T/s320/IMG_0454.JPEG" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> "You can do it, Theo," I imagine Chuck saying. Or "Somebody has to go with mom and dad when they're traveling to all these places. You don't think those two kittens they're going to adopt are going to be ready? Michelangelo? He's just a kid. Sienna? She's a girl. This is a man's job."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Or, is it Theo who is trying to prove himself to Chuck? "I spent two years in a cage. They stuck all kinds of needles in me," I can hear him saying. "If I can survive that, I can survive anything."</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> Now that part is true. Theo, who is named after Theodore Roosevelt, was imprisoned in a testing lab for two years before he was rescued. He swears--meow, meow--he has little memory of his time there, but I wonder. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> He puffs out his chest whenever I bring it up. He has a number tattooed into his inner ear which is now blacked out as proof of his rough upbringing.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> All I know is that the knapsack we were going to throw out after Chuck passed over mysteriously re-appears on the chair where it always sits. Waiting for a new adventure?</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> That's when I say to Dan, "I put that knapsack in the garage. Now it's back on the chair. I think Theo wants to be the new star of Hot Blogging with Chuck. I think Chuck somehow made that knapsack . . ." I know I sound a bit crazy.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> We consider. Theo's only three, but Chuck was even younger when he started traveling. He's rascally like Chuck. Amazingly curious. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> But is he cute enough? We rifle through some of the photos we've taken. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dgE_5IgWEnNaP1073Y2OROnRQf8D4uXMOa4l-8EVwXLSCeL-ZvTnyOnamgXe1TMRdkb_bXzHaZ9LYeKTDrwKQsctivyUdiTNiwqTZXil5LyC_UTm88A170mKLrtAGkmZoUcGAl5T6DcveOdk9zKAVsbeurzHB7C7Qcq3_tTA-vLCDS9MC_b9T1mOVRT0/s4032/IMG_0114.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dgE_5IgWEnNaP1073Y2OROnRQf8D4uXMOa4l-8EVwXLSCeL-ZvTnyOnamgXe1TMRdkb_bXzHaZ9LYeKTDrwKQsctivyUdiTNiwqTZXil5LyC_UTm88A170mKLrtAGkmZoUcGAl5T6DcveOdk9zKAVsbeurzHB7C7Qcq3_tTA-vLCDS9MC_b9T1mOVRT0/s320/IMG_0114.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQq2pA2pW6GvU2KGUfAh7B0aj02PF9tVXroir5vr1ZsYYRXRymcgRQuk1AxmJcOevpzbQx3wCMqcJV5vCKZ5suFoaW_Qoq-STvyzPrXOb7dnPYHx6s2tivQ4lcip5Ty8BVqK1ovZoKAkRExaMTQDfPWZPe6MVJTDLKbkaEsIi58y9NHaQA8nuNOYAOtwgk/s4032/IMG_0500.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQq2pA2pW6GvU2KGUfAh7B0aj02PF9tVXroir5vr1ZsYYRXRymcgRQuk1AxmJcOevpzbQx3wCMqcJV5vCKZ5suFoaW_Qoq-STvyzPrXOb7dnPYHx6s2tivQ4lcip5Ty8BVqK1ovZoKAkRExaMTQDfPWZPe6MVJTDLKbkaEsIi58y9NHaQA8nuNOYAOtwgk/s320/IMG_0500.jpeg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggr5IKQ0BvJ5QDacZckDBfpgYS7Yyg2ZiUoIrcZ16_paoI09sv9MKaOR60je-4IsUdh-PaxvuJ-X8KCGDxf9NltUkXvWLli2OBhiy7EvYjj3mbGlFGvtGQ5kJ12omhkYXzcreBKcJ1STIfe4K6yCwx9NgclVdSo34bgCSySWNHu9wBIKceCDXRZs7atR5f/s4032/IMG_0298.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggr5IKQ0BvJ5QDacZckDBfpgYS7Yyg2ZiUoIrcZ16_paoI09sv9MKaOR60je-4IsUdh-PaxvuJ-X8KCGDxf9NltUkXvWLli2OBhiy7EvYjj3mbGlFGvtGQ5kJ12omhkYXzcreBKcJ1STIfe4K6yCwx9NgclVdSo34bgCSySWNHu9wBIKceCDXRZs7atR5f/s320/IMG_0298.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Does he have star appeal? (Yes, that's Theo posing, half on half off the hibiscus plant he sits on in the sun.) </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEf5EcUcxZSonPR7YkZAHg0d3NSMcDrIfmDh0XnJb65iOBzSYZGSFRK8_byQzHuaa0-SfS07ZhjA2I3DT-7CxU8FeTqAwhclSW-Q62fz-T8ybHxm-XUDmSLZubQwtcvbr4QUpNe0QbKTR8baDa-r3Z_76DUpS-7ztFe7CVaXsLQ0mnQGntYzVhIrSpUJ3/s4032/IMG_0600.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEf5EcUcxZSonPR7YkZAHg0d3NSMcDrIfmDh0XnJb65iOBzSYZGSFRK8_byQzHuaa0-SfS07ZhjA2I3DT-7CxU8FeTqAwhclSW-Q62fz-T8ybHxm-XUDmSLZubQwtcvbr4QUpNe0QbKTR8baDa-r3Z_76DUpS-7ztFe7CVaXsLQ0mnQGntYzVhIrSpUJ3/w300-h400/IMG_0600.JPEG" width="300" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><span> Before we can make up our mind, decide if we should take Theo with us on our next adventure, we get a sign. And that's the crazy part. We can't tell if it means what we think it means.</span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> What if </span></span>Chuck is still with us, guiding us somehow? </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Before I tell you what happened, let me be perfectly clear. Theo is his own cat. He has his own personality. Chuck had a very quiet voice. Theo makes himself heard. Chucky always slept upstairs at night. Theo likes to sleep on the downstairs sofa. And during the day Chucky had a favorite fluffy cat bed that he loved to snooze in. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Suddenly, Theo's meows have grown softer. Suddenly Theo has taken to sleeping upstairs, not down. And now he's snoozing his afternoons in Chucky's fluffy cat bed. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Dan and I both say it together--Is Theo becoming Chucky? Or has Chucky come back . . . and somehow . . . found a way . . . to </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> TO BE CONTINUED</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p></div></div>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-30836789090171951372023-11-21T05:56:00.000-08:002023-11-21T06:09:50.926-08:00Rascal Chuck's Destiny<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e go to the shoemaker because we believe he will have all the answers. </span> <span style="font-size: large;">Is this place only a restored village? Why did Chuck suddenly disappear and then reappear in the post office of the Country Store? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> In other words, what the heck is going on?</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> "You can't just barge in there and start asking him all these questions," Dan says. </span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> "Why do we even think he has all the answers, anyway?"</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> "Because he's been here from the beginning."</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> "The beginning?"<span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Now even Chucky is intrigued. He's been plodding along beside us as we walk down the main road of Landis Valley, headed toward the shoe maker. I glance over. Chuck looks different somehow. As if he's fading in and out. More ethereal. As if he's not really there. Even though I know he is.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Are you feeling okay, Chuck?" I ask.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "I'm ready," he meows.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> What the heck does he mean by that? </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWY0MUGJ0EQG4tK-opy_-liFmjdm_Kr6ykK9afr4TmfwFYYFfk1S6NfR1q0VdfqC9kjjOAP928IV8Qv260pCeor_8k7uF_MwnoQikHG-r4TZj6g511zWPOG9kevO45_4KPOG-cZPCIuxcxMwsMtjOy_apTILNdP8qiQoHjt1taDB7iccvgbQM9w2x3QKS/s4032/IMG_0591.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWY0MUGJ0EQG4tK-opy_-liFmjdm_Kr6ykK9afr4TmfwFYYFfk1S6NfR1q0VdfqC9kjjOAP928IV8Qv260pCeor_8k7uF_MwnoQikHG-r4TZj6g511zWPOG9kevO45_4KPOG-cZPCIuxcxMwsMtjOy_apTILNdP8qiQoHjt1taDB7iccvgbQM9w2x3QKS/s320/IMG_0591.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95HvYs9jVCzIJhp6jAR46ZxoPDyCs2BowtW01d_Ijpie8VTeLbC6v0_Zj9JZVQCElv_AxfvPnXWr82yJwG-uTKqh6pqnAu1rsiOWDHn7IOuWjfZTfnG8OBNUMfzgO-Wgq8Lh5IvJOzPbq2z-szlyk8Q_XfKH2XoG9si39tFyG3n0mg_HZUFuViHIMqq0C/s923/IMG_0591%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="923" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95HvYs9jVCzIJhp6jAR46ZxoPDyCs2BowtW01d_Ijpie8VTeLbC6v0_Zj9JZVQCElv_AxfvPnXWr82yJwG-uTKqh6pqnAu1rsiOWDHn7IOuWjfZTfnG8OBNUMfzgO-Wgq8Lh5IvJOzPbq2z-szlyk8Q_XfKH2XoG9si39tFyG3n0mg_HZUFuViHIMqq0C/s320/IMG_0591%20copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan is ahead of us, already walking into the shoemaker's house. I scoop Chucky up and give him a big hug. "You know I love you to bits," I say. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Another adventure always awaits," Chucky meows back as he leans his head into mine. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I get the sneaky feeling that Chuck already knows what's about to happen. That somehow he has already figured all of this out. Why he suddenly disappeared and then reappeared.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Can you tell me," I ask my super wise cat.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "It's destiny, mom," he whispers.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I get a lump in my throat, guessing I must cherish these next few moments. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXC71rmcNhLIWfjlFhjP0kSN_aNMpRsJTJ9g6vgZ1iJMjb2KBESbxEyzBpH5ErU3dRoFKIpRKMW5_xO1uIhXT42Crzeqeao1J15IabO-xqiLM7hnHsUoQEEf86bJjHSwk5OMDfRk-9lKyk7E_zpRKReErCyI3rCG-TBWwWqOWI96_fiQL5ikeMHsp9fMU/s4032/IMG_0594.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXC71rmcNhLIWfjlFhjP0kSN_aNMpRsJTJ9g6vgZ1iJMjb2KBESbxEyzBpH5ErU3dRoFKIpRKMW5_xO1uIhXT42Crzeqeao1J15IabO-xqiLM7hnHsUoQEEf86bJjHSwk5OMDfRk-9lKyk7E_zpRKReErCyI3rCG-TBWwWqOWI96_fiQL5ikeMHsp9fMU/s320/IMG_0594.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>The shoemaker looks exactly the way I expect him to look. He's making a pair of shoes from real leather, of course, that he has cut and shaped. He has already begun to explain the process to Dan. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTn_foWBSCyEs-B-6Y9YB30TSvd2leM6c8DLxhLoO0GJEW2VtKgQwAwNte0qLDLu_N-G02Cd5yEERGMrKSywSrHeulzV9SqBg7ngpao5LEGDuCncf-vpGTQYdSqSpyf4dYJKPNemQrF9LGz8bYcpGc36P6a3aIYo_8LJA0aI79DLk9SkM47nv72W161-nO/s4032/IMG_0592.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTn_foWBSCyEs-B-6Y9YB30TSvd2leM6c8DLxhLoO0GJEW2VtKgQwAwNte0qLDLu_N-G02Cd5yEERGMrKSywSrHeulzV9SqBg7ngpao5LEGDuCncf-vpGTQYdSqSpyf4dYJKPNemQrF9LGz8bYcpGc36P6a3aIYo_8LJA0aI79DLk9SkM47nv72W161-nO/w400-h300/IMG_0592.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I stand in the background and listen. Chucky, of course, is sniffing his heart out. The smell of leather and sawdust is everywhere. It is a good solid smell that for some reason makes me think of my childhood. And Chucky looks happy, happier than I have ever seen him.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I learn something from the shoemaker that I didn't know. Back in the day, before people bought <i>ill fitting</i> shoes from the shoe store, they had their shoes made from a shoe maker. But going to the shoe maker was step two in the process. Step one was having a carpenter make a <i>last</i> for you--a wooden form in the shape of your foot. You paid for and owned the <i>last</i> and then gave it to the shoemaker who used the form to make your shoe. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Shoes back then fit very well. They conformed to all the quirks and inconsistencies of your foot. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Finally, the shoemaker looks at us, I mean really looks at us, looks at Chuck and asks us why we are really here. "You are not here for the shoes," he says.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "No." We tell him </span>what has happened as we have walked around the village, and ask him if he can explain. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "I am not surprised. You are not the first. Yes, this village is special because we are unchanged from the past. We are half in and half out of where we used to be. The cloakroom in the school. The post office in the Country Store. And, even here."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I look around and notice that Chucky has stopped sniffing. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Suddenly I understand what the shoe maker is trying to say. "Doorways to the past?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Yes."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "But where is this doorway?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> The shoemaker points to just beyond where the half made shoes are on the table. There is a corner in his shop. "He knows. He will find his way if he is meant to go."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zkpz5_BqqFz30aPnHAOfOlFAz-xFRAwWYmFDlTSiBix9eVmnbL3WF9iJ_k9Q2r4rwEHh28tZ4iMsjUdb0ATKygcxJdtgbPyX-OUBBOxdtp13reBeBw5JMpL_h5YZUPhdWJ3pCXkTdx2E1N8CAp857uq13GgWINvWh0Ixl9ArE37eWhIcA92Oo0fKzrz_/s4032/IMG_0593.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zkpz5_BqqFz30aPnHAOfOlFAz-xFRAwWYmFDlTSiBix9eVmnbL3WF9iJ_k9Q2r4rwEHh28tZ4iMsjUdb0ATKygcxJdtgbPyX-OUBBOxdtp13reBeBw5JMpL_h5YZUPhdWJ3pCXkTdx2E1N8CAp857uq13GgWINvWh0Ixl9ArE37eWhIcA92Oo0fKzrz_/s320/IMG_0593.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "But he'll come back?" I ask.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Not this time," he says. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "But why must he go?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> It is the hardest thing to let destiny take its course. You want to make time stand still. You want to stop the future from happening. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I cannot describe how we love and hold and hug our Chucky at the end. But then we must let him go. We are so grateful to have shared his journey for 14 years. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> We watch him march toward that doorway with confidence and </span>curiosity, the way he has always faced life. And then he is gone.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJySHUOqsPbB7YFBdZcFtiW0Ig9TLTETHoPHIECjF2SCkitv81gVXuF70CIE2AF3klrQvKluLyjkc5TSwbbsFizYFqkqg652HWppWmoUiCJwQ8scB6QHO3Lv0h8IwckGn4I9jz_EGGE5oeVH7wktEJMBsJ6PVJl-_vVMF8sV9USsy0aCbY8I4Bfd1gTEN/s4032/IMG_5495.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJySHUOqsPbB7YFBdZcFtiW0Ig9TLTETHoPHIECjF2SCkitv81gVXuF70CIE2AF3klrQvKluLyjkc5TSwbbsFizYFqkqg652HWppWmoUiCJwQ8scB6QHO3Lv0h8IwckGn4I9jz_EGGE5oeVH7wktEJMBsJ6PVJl-_vVMF8sV9USsy0aCbY8I4Bfd1gTEN/s320/IMG_5495.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span> What really happened . . .</span></span></div> </span></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I have had the great honor of living with 13 cats so far in my life. They've all been special in their own way. Chuck, the rascal cat, was one of a kind. He literally bounced into my life as a kitten, inspired me to begin Hot Blogging with Chuck with his always curious and adventurous personality, and gave me oodles of love over the years. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>It is with great sadness that we recently discovered Chucky had an inoperable tumor in his stomach/pancreas. We made the very hard decision to let him go and send him over the Rainbow Bridge to join his sisters Ella and Molly and his brother </span>Jack. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> We miss him each and everyday. He had a strong personality, loved to go outside and raid the neighbor's catnip garden when he was home and truly was an ambassador, eager to make friends with the neighbor cats. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I have to admit I feel Chucky's presence around me even now. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>When I wanted to give up the blog and retire, he meowed--No, Mom. Let Theo take over. He can do it. I know he can. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga9dQ2NXJ2YnVHhcBoZNLpCYyJvJpL0aHNaz1JgiU0owBh-Mh2KtVdUdc1245oPE6R-H1utZqZHE3Z12VUtT-TEY_ru0wJyrC1Zc7dYBXS0ekx6pSKzxM3hLOvHXIeI9peGM6iYh-_OJASu-NMa2liz9msL6io6FPbh5ksHQc9zBP5qlzFpjhwThEfT47m/s4032/IMG_0601.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga9dQ2NXJ2YnVHhcBoZNLpCYyJvJpL0aHNaz1JgiU0owBh-Mh2KtVdUdc1245oPE6R-H1utZqZHE3Z12VUtT-TEY_ru0wJyrC1Zc7dYBXS0ekx6pSKzxM3hLOvHXIeI9peGM6iYh-_OJASu-NMa2liz9msL6io6FPbh5ksHQc9zBP5qlzFpjhwThEfT47m/s320/IMG_0601.JPEG" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> When I wanted to hide away in my sorrow, he </span>reminded me that I've always adopted cats who needs homes. It's the cycle of life. He led me to our newest two kittens--9 month old brother and sister, Michelangelo (Mico for short) and Sienna. They were rescued as feral cats from a farm, so I guess they're a bit rascally too. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVTAUF9qYAm0wzvcWLJmBuMd_dXfT149BfpFjQzTHzgfObszRFt_T5xUNo4HPEKZSWSHNfqyDDt5MmqMeJZseFmq4jRYurZSUQAmHrdqgtHnT886k9LSFqmMFmTqeI-NqDm-XMV2JfXmxqqZcDAM-_7C45jU8RafpiSTa65wYmWK_El1RvTRjXRUZZ7DL/s3000/134452.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVTAUF9qYAm0wzvcWLJmBuMd_dXfT149BfpFjQzTHzgfObszRFt_T5xUNo4HPEKZSWSHNfqyDDt5MmqMeJZseFmq4jRYurZSUQAmHrdqgtHnT886k9LSFqmMFmTqeI-NqDm-XMV2JfXmxqqZcDAM-_7C45jU8RafpiSTa65wYmWK_El1RvTRjXRUZZ7DL/s320/134452.jpeg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXoANuHDwRdkwGP6oeiXsL7eK0tzPpAH0_zowxe4F5J_AzaqRDdHpQuScGv2cWBsr3FLKGRmAJ_b8RKFTEgjuRcPi7x6lWjAyv73dqsPNM5ctGlK7kllMImREPGeoQMF0Fk1DuNOSJcU3d0qXvdtxqdHbmwrkhsKSvaI4Y2PRVTEuQOhKt70zw6Ikqn3S/s1600/134454.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXoANuHDwRdkwGP6oeiXsL7eK0tzPpAH0_zowxe4F5J_AzaqRDdHpQuScGv2cWBsr3FLKGRmAJ_b8RKFTEgjuRcPi7x6lWjAyv73dqsPNM5ctGlK7kllMImREPGeoQMF0Fk1DuNOSJcU3d0qXvdtxqdHbmwrkhsKSvaI4Y2PRVTEuQOhKt70zw6Ikqn3S/s320/134454.jpeg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: xx-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Theo looks forward to introducing himself and taking you on the next adventure, but one thing we've decided--we're holding fast to our blog name: Hot Blogging with Chuck. Because you never know with Chucky, he may be back!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p></div>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-14598768608121545982023-11-14T05:15:00.000-08:002023-11-14T05:15:51.072-08:00Rascal Chuck Vanishes in the Country Store<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">I'</span><span style="font-size: large;">m going to call this Part II. If you remember from last week, Dan, Chucky and I left the supposedly deserted school, crossed the street, and now face the prospect of exploring The Country Store.</span><br /></p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">W</span><span style="font-size: large;">e hesitate before even going in. The Country Store looks innocent enough. The store owner stands on the doorstep and waves us inside. Still, we're suspicious. We're supposed to be in a restored village from the late 1800's. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Dan, the voice of reason, tries to make light of it. "Maybe you just imagined what you heard." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span>Chucky looks at me and I look at him. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span>"We didn't imagine it." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span>We now think the school is haunted, but, we see two people coming out of the Country Store--unharmed and laughing. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcoesQ2O-pxD4TQqAU58tCeeY-Xa0xSI1vpgVcCEZI98dfsTb6Ht2PFqccIlikTHFxuXlCN-1ffMNgMlQ9R7bw7mNUZ_WdxU7at-7fDrRroH0okV19tN-gef8_EzyFn18gk4EeluAD9XKFqnp4ne5PVkkMeKrOzhVOJdwPVFmO_GOziJovpvYsWko7ZVP/s4032/IMG_0566.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcoesQ2O-pxD4TQqAU58tCeeY-Xa0xSI1vpgVcCEZI98dfsTb6Ht2PFqccIlikTHFxuXlCN-1ffMNgMlQ9R7bw7mNUZ_WdxU7at-7fDrRroH0okV19tN-gef8_EzyFn18gk4EeluAD9XKFqnp4ne5PVkkMeKrOzhVOJdwPVFmO_GOziJovpvYsWko7ZVP/s320/IMG_0566.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> "We'll only stay for a minute," I whisper to Chuck. "Stay close by." But who am I fooling? Chuck, otherwise known as Inspector Chuck Clouseau, now has his mojo back. He marches up to that store, determined to sniff his way through.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkFc_Vs5Ea4-xfHu_gub_UAV71KQ8X1jCvpquqrNLHotBP4N2gX-6JUSRHH7ewrpqvo7-kNSadMCrTfjJ-MyTShImI2iXCjdebNAS3h5-wovSYcjGhiRZ6O4Oa01849t7U1-Vj_cQU9G718H5CGdJOp8Y9QRVWAQEob7oYKNlfDvWlANV9Jxvb5OIeVUH/s4032/IMG_0580.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkFc_Vs5Ea4-xfHu_gub_UAV71KQ8X1jCvpquqrNLHotBP4N2gX-6JUSRHH7ewrpqvo7-kNSadMCrTfjJ-MyTShImI2iXCjdebNAS3h5-wovSYcjGhiRZ6O4Oa01849t7U1-Vj_cQU9G718H5CGdJOp8Y9QRVWAQEob7oYKNlfDvWlANV9Jxvb5OIeVUH/s320/IMG_0580.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> "Welcome to the Landis Valley Country Store," the volunteer interpreter says, who's playing the role of store owner. He's dressed like he would from the turn of the century. </span></span></span>Dan immediately engages him in conversation, and this guy is good. He never breaks out of his role. It's almost as if he believes he really is the owner. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "I see you brought the missus," he says. "Go on. Look around. But stay out of the post office," he warns, his tone darkening. </span> No explanation. Just--stay out.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> Chucky has, of course, begun sniffing. Dan continues to talk. I feel as if I've been dropped into some kind of time portal wonderland. I want to stop and pick up everything. Imagine what it would have been like to live back then, before electricity, tv, internet. This is a world that still revers George Washington as a hero.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ApGcXuWfyYKQ6LfDRAIWAA6uvOO5lo8FkQJQ0IG3bQeJeO8Ora9x5uP3-OsIsXTk96r3PTfP8GQRc-tt26LFiOz6FMQQV7oMBz9yEVyS8vZoogWz3EdPRwvC5Y5HWRQ8jz5rnsREGevpdvdtmD2j17z4V-9AIhujQ-BIqJ9G31tX0Lykue7GyvYfRb8h/s3512/IMG_0576.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3512" data-original-width="2624" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ApGcXuWfyYKQ6LfDRAIWAA6uvOO5lo8FkQJQ0IG3bQeJeO8Ora9x5uP3-OsIsXTk96r3PTfP8GQRc-tt26LFiOz6FMQQV7oMBz9yEVyS8vZoogWz3EdPRwvC5Y5HWRQ8jz5rnsREGevpdvdtmD2j17z4V-9AIhujQ-BIqJ9G31tX0Lykue7GyvYfRb8h/s320/IMG_0576.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> Most of the people who lived in this village grew their own food. This country store, for them, was like amazon is for us today. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngz9no9Nvm38ljk4VqqHeKOGKv6uFOsrLgAP8A5Yix5gzNQY_SS826qGlHVDdRAL9_KjkAOYyCSR0OUHbby76KSCm56S1Imj4bSZ8rMsiLoyHAt821tppaEa-dNnrY5TdlAy9S7x6w30QqHh_TESCDmzt9HVhhi25p5r3VqQQDEnOOJA_GPrmTCw_H2cM/s4032/IMG_0567.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngz9no9Nvm38ljk4VqqHeKOGKv6uFOsrLgAP8A5Yix5gzNQY_SS826qGlHVDdRAL9_KjkAOYyCSR0OUHbby76KSCm56S1Imj4bSZ8rMsiLoyHAt821tppaEa-dNnrY5TdlAy9S7x6w30QqHh_TESCDmzt9HVhhi25p5r3VqQQDEnOOJA_GPrmTCw_H2cM/s320/IMG_0567.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span> </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgju3QeBRd3LTwyxdk1ghaTJMuuROomxCoo_nXRjMFTb9bhgqlC9DZGivqR8_-poVLYuZ7ThYji1pgFS8h1ZYVZzio3cd5CssHwFInmx8CsKhnqHdLH45BTToqZpVYaIKs4i3U2xPfQebkMUg_2ocyWrwDlVvKNMlGvyYHDi7FilBTgQJeGHTyaXfKpCv1G/s4032/IMG_0568.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgju3QeBRd3LTwyxdk1ghaTJMuuROomxCoo_nXRjMFTb9bhgqlC9DZGivqR8_-poVLYuZ7ThYji1pgFS8h1ZYVZzio3cd5CssHwFInmx8CsKhnqHdLH45BTToqZpVYaIKs4i3U2xPfQebkMUg_2ocyWrwDlVvKNMlGvyYHDi7FilBTgQJeGHTyaXfKpCv1G/s320/IMG_0568.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3TrVZNtZjZFIUNXsTSqVymxA-37E8rawrQ2iUoN7aLslE6GMWmoMT8yPT4BCJxYoyRUNIrGs_SW0NtwiRUDRZh2ujiLv4DVTjtcYwLUqjuzn0ecBuIbjJ9_Ja4y-mrAAK0iVF2PQv64Nb3Q_T5gKqNLdBD2gh7z6i8Lxr9RH1ySD5ccgvgGIQWmi_OpY/s4032/IMG_0569.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3TrVZNtZjZFIUNXsTSqVymxA-37E8rawrQ2iUoN7aLslE6GMWmoMT8yPT4BCJxYoyRUNIrGs_SW0NtwiRUDRZh2ujiLv4DVTjtcYwLUqjuzn0ecBuIbjJ9_Ja4y-mrAAK0iVF2PQv64Nb3Q_T5gKqNLdBD2gh7z6i8Lxr9RH1ySD5ccgvgGIQWmi_OpY/s320/IMG_0569.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKN3sAWr2Vo7ncY7g0Y0-OcO-ERcDDHti-BKnwtb_zH7lj1Ur6qYIyDJz9gLVU6MoczI-2cY9NW-gVlHWE1Oakfqdzhif2b5MlM4VtsKNsiWyP_W_HJ6oPdBPf7zM6DVy6l_bd2JKuLOr-06irs2zHoEloiIQeHYog0CFfluNco3cczQzIZT_PFtHQWSDC/s4032/IMG_0570.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKN3sAWr2Vo7ncY7g0Y0-OcO-ERcDDHti-BKnwtb_zH7lj1Ur6qYIyDJz9gLVU6MoczI-2cY9NW-gVlHWE1Oakfqdzhif2b5MlM4VtsKNsiWyP_W_HJ6oPdBPf7zM6DVy6l_bd2JKuLOr-06irs2zHoEloiIQeHYog0CFfluNco3cczQzIZT_PFtHQWSDC/s320/IMG_0570.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I spot the old-fashioned operator phone in the corner and step over to have a closer look. I imagine this would have been the only phone available in the village. You came to the country store to make a call. You came to collect your mail. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftj8FiVFEAOPv2UZnSJB68X9XX-6lnOoic8pMNwojPFnmhMEsbx-aQ5HROFov8AUYxcjr2piSY_zbgvPJHtR9pZuIqAA0fFS4KU11m3rdrPkQ6dloddepKAvwhkHtDGPYleDEFhzwuHxJ5ILzEaWC20WtC5hr7kSr8JLf5tix-1OFM6TvNcg0L0mYgBAi/s4032/IMG_0577.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftj8FiVFEAOPv2UZnSJB68X9XX-6lnOoic8pMNwojPFnmhMEsbx-aQ5HROFov8AUYxcjr2piSY_zbgvPJHtR9pZuIqAA0fFS4KU11m3rdrPkQ6dloddepKAvwhkHtDGPYleDEFhzwuHxJ5ILzEaWC20WtC5hr7kSr8JLf5tix-1OFM6TvNcg0L0mYgBAi/s320/IMG_0577.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>Stay out of the post office.</i> I turn to my right, remembering the volunteer/owner's warning. Chucky has sniffed his way through the store and is now feet away from the <i>post office. </i>I imagined an actual office, but it's only a section of the store with a sign and three walls with cubbies to put the mail. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_tZ17JCRtkFcs-2GEv7_7hFTkzzHRETaJWPmuBYtqjDLzMdLdpa6RUN9jqwskDlWxWudV9hHyYVeyQO26JNQ4oiXIYRxTivTz8hueiUOBgN4VTk1iYnyWsaV_g1mGxx8ZoBGcfJ3RoR22nnjHgdo0c5bll4iZ3mbZikn7Wa7jC9C6zf_N4TFfhPsAQVW/s4032/IMG_0573.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_tZ17JCRtkFcs-2GEv7_7hFTkzzHRETaJWPmuBYtqjDLzMdLdpa6RUN9jqwskDlWxWudV9hHyYVeyQO26JNQ4oiXIYRxTivTz8hueiUOBgN4VTk1iYnyWsaV_g1mGxx8ZoBGcfJ3RoR22nnjHgdo0c5bll4iZ3mbZikn7Wa7jC9C6zf_N4TFfhPsAQVW/s320/IMG_0573.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> "Chuck," I call out, trying to avoid the inevitable. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> For years Chuck has suffered from selective hearing. He can hear his snack bag rattling from two floors away, but to hear his name being called out a few feet from him--for some unexplained reason, a sound barrier goes up. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Chuck, stop."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> He doesn't. He sniffs his way into the Post Office. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> I turn toward the front of the store. Dan is still talking, talking with the volunteer/store owner/and I can also assume postmaster about 1860 politics of all things. I have a few moments, I think, to make this situation right. I will run in, scoop Chuck up, <i>before </i>the postmaster realizes that Chuck is in the post office. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> But Chuck has vanished. Totally. Desk, stool, cubbies. All there. No Chuck. What? I look around. Did he run past me? No. There is absolutely nowhere he can be hiding in this post office space. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZthiVfubIZPeHrII8UCqy0jZVc1attk5nwsxu9iej-8m0UWfR680k6Rk67Pna9Zzl1wSnk-9tA2iw9HSjX1WDqpjupN1evWXXBEhtt18EPotDB4Lkn4kjnCCtHBBlPAqZ8uglNs0F80jDKBM5mEUhbmo3xkRj_oCmwr_nELtqd1KVPCcliFKMtDjvY9Q/s4032/IMG_0574.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZthiVfubIZPeHrII8UCqy0jZVc1attk5nwsxu9iej-8m0UWfR680k6Rk67Pna9Zzl1wSnk-9tA2iw9HSjX1WDqpjupN1evWXXBEhtt18EPotDB4Lkn4kjnCCtHBBlPAqZ8uglNs0F80jDKBM5mEUhbmo3xkRj_oCmwr_nELtqd1KVPCcliFKMtDjvY9Q/w300-h400/IMG_0574.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span> Now I'm worried. Maybe there is a good reason why this guy wants us to stay out of the post office. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I have no choice now. Just confess everything. Get Dan. Then tell the volunteer/owner/postmaster what has happened. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I purse my lips and get Dan. He follows me to the back of the store. He reads my body language. He knows something is wrong. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Where's Chuck?" he asks.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> I grab his arm, speechless, and point to the post office. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Hey," Dan says in his calm, reasonable voice, "you're not supposed to be in there."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Chuck is not a big talker, and for a rascal cat, he has a small voice, but I can hear him clear as day. Meow.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "Chucky." There he is as if he were there the entire time. But he wasn't there. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> </span>I tell Dan the horrid truth. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">"There's something fishy about this place. I can feel it."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> "I don't know what to say." Dan picks Chuck up, and we say goodbye. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span> "Can we just go? Now?" I ask. Beg.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> "But what about the shoemaker?" Dan asks. "What can possibly go wrong at the shoemaker?"</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span>TO BE CONTINUED - PART III</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><br /><span> </span></span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-24361091759444623492023-11-07T05:09:00.000-08:002023-11-07T05:09:35.983-08:00Rascal Chuck Is Haunted At School<p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">E</span><span style="font-size: large;">ven now it's difficult to explain how the haunting happened. We're traveling in Pennsylvania when Chuck insists on seeing a one room school house nearby. A very special place. Circa 1890. Called the Maple Grove School. </span></p><p><span> <span style="font-size: large;">I know all about it. Thousands of school houses just like this one existed in Pennsylvania after free public education was established in the state in 1834. All across rural Pennsylvania, they were built to provide schooling from first through eighth grade. These are known facts. No dispute.</span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> Chuck wants to see the school. Go inside. See what it was like over one hundred years ago.</span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;">What can go wrong?</span></span></span><br /></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span><span style="font-size: large;"> Dan parks the car, and we head across the beautiful grass field. I see the school in the</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>distance, and it's just like the school on <i>Little</i> </span><span><i>House on the Prairie</i> or <i>When Calls the Heart.</i> There's even a school bell on top to call the kids to school.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUBJwvIBrpWcKIvBl0sdv_RzntzshU4FA-KIG77MQlzMJ4zvWAmJGIPEDODV5K_tNVMeWRBAPLq8phCAoL3PuYft93ZPEfMkLGhsVljg0a2u4oEBRcE7ACGYxhg-55ycgzVFAKQRTqGWGGmTW6Qzh3QC1uE4egZDYlOuKtJDUaYYg-q6OZYhdQ26AL9Sh/s2111/IMG_0588-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2051" data-original-width="2111" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUBJwvIBrpWcKIvBl0sdv_RzntzshU4FA-KIG77MQlzMJ4zvWAmJGIPEDODV5K_tNVMeWRBAPLq8phCAoL3PuYft93ZPEfMkLGhsVljg0a2u4oEBRcE7ACGYxhg-55ycgzVFAKQRTqGWGGmTW6Qzh3QC1uE4egZDYlOuKtJDUaYYg-q6OZYhdQ26AL9Sh/w400-h389/IMG_0588-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> One teacher and a bunch of kids of varied grade levels all in the same room. Chuck's grandfather (my dad) went to a school like that in Minnesota. He was a second grader who skipped a grade because he did the third grade work when he finished his work. So, the next year he jumped to fourth grade. </span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> There's no one around because the school hasn't been officially used since the 1960's. Is that an important fact to consider? We spot the outhouses to our right. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC80csmA3pXk8FElpqY0GPPBYRDBlnsVBNSfVhrer57fp9qoRGocnB2ZutqMZ0umaJKKN0uCcx0HrUYm4EHWIA71n9j2v-n14UTfPgFa3MZHinua4zxRxHke_42v-LjFbIItENMMhFFGzCzlfkXaQVT_pCnzfsBTcuDEXfIDbpAITgLKCQfDqiQHfJex7w/s2282/IMG_0590.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1567" data-original-width="2282" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC80csmA3pXk8FElpqY0GPPBYRDBlnsVBNSfVhrer57fp9qoRGocnB2ZutqMZ0umaJKKN0uCcx0HrUYm4EHWIA71n9j2v-n14UTfPgFa3MZHinua4zxRxHke_42v-LjFbIItENMMhFFGzCzlfkXaQVT_pCnzfsBTcuDEXfIDbpAITgLKCQfDqiQHfJex7w/s320/IMG_0590.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> There is also a place to tie your horse if you were lucky enough to have one to ride. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXSunzbTWHFx-zFzevTCdAqqyUaZs-Td4VKsNLPpp3_3uk41NXwNFTdgyaP1PC4iyqzfrGm8RW9kzCeNYfeaL61B2Q1nbCubrCWrATB0qw3lQ5-r8NauVH8x9SozT-tBIqWJ9P_2iHlfIJC9XUWGNvQI513XtTmVLxfVHLX7-FXd0_OwFJuZjKQ7iOBNd/s4032/IMG_0589.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSXSunzbTWHFx-zFzevTCdAqqyUaZs-Td4VKsNLPpp3_3uk41NXwNFTdgyaP1PC4iyqzfrGm8RW9kzCeNYfeaL61B2Q1nbCubrCWrATB0qw3lQ5-r8NauVH8x9SozT-tBIqWJ9P_2iHlfIJC9XUWGNvQI513XtTmVLxfVHLX7-FXd0_OwFJuZjKQ7iOBNd/s320/IMG_0589.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> We open the front door and peek in. Eerily deserted. I don't use that word <i>eerily </i>lightly. I can feel something in the air. I shrug it off. The place is old. Sometimes I have a too active imagination.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I am immediately mesmerized, staring at the rows of desks, old-fashioned desks, and the black wood stove that sits prominently in the middle of the room. I imagine all the kids who sat there, farm kids, most likely.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9Iy1AS2ROmWet74NE8Ba2KSChrchHdBGc5gjeh1rtzuSuoa_QplMElRLDWkIrBuSsoWesoHlxbi1xTeA3RPjoavFL2M5__PSwibYXkM2b6QbmYVkbqoWelry2-Q29SHGIuRInDy7TFytOLZmprfl5PiwE4YYvmyk-ZpAJDxF9CgRuM6JbpIbsTbPCnwA/s4032/IMG_0584.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9Iy1AS2ROmWet74NE8Ba2KSChrchHdBGc5gjeh1rtzuSuoa_QplMElRLDWkIrBuSsoWesoHlxbi1xTeA3RPjoavFL2M5__PSwibYXkM2b6QbmYVkbqoWelry2-Q29SHGIuRInDy7TFytOLZmprfl5PiwE4YYvmyk-ZpAJDxF9CgRuM6JbpIbsTbPCnwA/s320/IMG_0584.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> T</span>he blackboard proudly displays the Pledge of Allegiance for the children to recite. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAc85h-sATBQ-NQCCtPAmfQmD0MdiZo0VpwpZ-1IbiqIdsZ_-hCoYFaKO-hKFJcWvIIZRGVkUend095cDtjAziyVsO3nMfVFklAHFwrs-gf9EN0u_gmcdbLlFtH7bBMRBZ1Q_a_M7xoKccMNRb7NqHfJpm_xunYo9jX-lwxlalVPd2LDTLuVRKQ6fhJUR8/s4032/IMG_0585.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAc85h-sATBQ-NQCCtPAmfQmD0MdiZo0VpwpZ-1IbiqIdsZ_-hCoYFaKO-hKFJcWvIIZRGVkUend095cDtjAziyVsO3nMfVFklAHFwrs-gf9EN0u_gmcdbLlFtH7bBMRBZ1Q_a_M7xoKccMNRb7NqHfJpm_xunYo9jX-lwxlalVPd2LDTLuVRKQ6fhJUR8/w300-h400/IMG_0585.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Chuck scampers in beside me. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> "This is the way it used to be," I explain to my rascal cat. "No computers, no WIFI, no TV's in the classroom. Just books and a chalkboard. Kids brought their lunch with them or they went back home for lunch. There was no cafeteria with hot lunch being served." I'm pulling from memory here because I used to be an elementary school principal, and I know all about lunch periods and recess.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Chuck doesn't react. I gaze down and he's not there. Has he even heard a word I've said? Where the heck is he?</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Suddenly, I hear a crash. What?</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Behind me, to the left, is the cloakroom where the kids would have put their coats and hats. When we walked in, we saw only the coat hooks hanging from the walls. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> The tell-tale signs of an orange and white tail disappears out the front door. Chuck is running as fast as Chuck can run <i>out</i> of the school. The bang was the front door slamming, then swinging open again after Chucky ran through it. Something scared him. This doesn't make sense. He's the one who wanted to see the school.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> I go to investigate. Now I hear it--a kind of stomping of boots. The sound that kids would make if they just came in from a snow storm and were trying to get their boots clean. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> I hesitate. One side of my brain is saying there must be a reasonable explanation. Just go look. The other side is screaming--this is too weird because I know there's nothing there. No snow outside, no kids. No boots. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> I round the corner. Sure enough, only a deserted cloakroom. Again it's eerily quiet. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmZTr3uz33OJvb1tLVqNniyMxb5mcbo3bMkZS6JMpR_2W_XYJLapmbgaBnDr5jwzxp229_sRgNo65NRgovdkIX1_911hEwOfCS2Qu6ncw8FGmQSOPPIXJdCP0LcAtsn8aNf40QZtungi1nYTgY9LXY7ym8kp-51OEGiecuQwy2j8uoWd8GjDEsiRfzd_5/s4032/IMG_0586.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmZTr3uz33OJvb1tLVqNniyMxb5mcbo3bMkZS6JMpR_2W_XYJLapmbgaBnDr5jwzxp229_sRgNo65NRgovdkIX1_911hEwOfCS2Qu6ncw8FGmQSOPPIXJdCP0LcAtsn8aNf40QZtungi1nYTgY9LXY7ym8kp-51OEGiecuQwy2j8uoWd8GjDEsiRfzd_5/s320/IMG_0586.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></p><p><span> <span style="font-size: large;">Chuck is outside. He's found Dan, standing where they would hitch the horses. </span></span></p><p><span> <span style="font-size: large;">"What's going on?"</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">A haunting? I can't even begin to explain it. "We heard something. Let's just get out of here."</span></p><p><span> <span style="font-size: large;">"Chuck said . . ." </span></span></p><p><span></span><span> <span style="font-size: large;">There's more to see in this preserved village that dates back hundreds of years. But now I'm beginning to wonder. Is the General Store haunted too? That's where we're headed to next.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">TO BE CONTINUED</span> </p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-53826681836570373692023-10-31T05:04:00.000-07:002023-10-31T05:04:56.547-07:00Rascal Chuck Climbs a Mountain<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> I </span><span style="font-size: large;">suspect the idea started when Chuck and Theo, his brother in crime, conferred that morning on the sofa. </span> <span style="font-size: large;">I think Theo put the idea in Chuck's head that climbing a mountain was a good idea. Imagine the view, he probably meowed. The fresh scents you can sniff.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0lBWpmI_ebn1WplsO6mrjFYAQN3fM9mqAGnjPWkKgRhHDqRI-fq3KTcvtt62NUwjIzWJ1kyR2OfoQ4Xch4wsT6Oo3cmi312al25trXeLwhyphenhyphent7yTOOeMfUEKYRRjVXhLJHqH7N0tXVOwFoFcZ9HXnAdLpoaZ5u24slwimPaupCVPQj4Z-mSo_WC7efg-n/s4032/IMG_0454.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0lBWpmI_ebn1WplsO6mrjFYAQN3fM9mqAGnjPWkKgRhHDqRI-fq3KTcvtt62NUwjIzWJ1kyR2OfoQ4Xch4wsT6Oo3cmi312al25trXeLwhyphenhyphent7yTOOeMfUEKYRRjVXhLJHqH7N0tXVOwFoFcZ9HXnAdLpoaZ5u24slwimPaupCVPQj4Z-mSo_WC7efg-n/s320/IMG_0454.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> "Do you want to come with us?" Chuck probably asked.</span></span></span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> "Me?" Theo probably let out a slight cough. "Not today, bro. Feeling a little under the weather. But you go ahead."</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> So Dan, Chucky, and I find ourselves signed up for a two hour hike, following our trusted guide, destined to climb a mountain. But, first we have to get to the mountain, which means hiking through a forest. We are in northern New Jersey in Ringwood State Park, light jacket weather, the day after too much rain so it's a bit soggy but glorious.</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> We follow a secret path through some fields and woods to reach the trail that will eventually lead upwards. </span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg636gUbD01xTLsG4yi75CMr6RVynR-8mGq96Hv-Vwf6NWj1jdPFbOFgKWeOWYGDoat7iV5jeNQvUZuDdeslKDTmlPsLdnS2QPDP3z0Wy8bfDEyfiVK8V8_GATETKMWs4WhAuH_3XcQUTwkLvwTkfCFRZzP4Snc35ZDVxNcPJGN7IimdD2qEK2Ul-a3G0EG/s4032/IMG_0620.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg636gUbD01xTLsG4yi75CMr6RVynR-8mGq96Hv-Vwf6NWj1jdPFbOFgKWeOWYGDoat7iV5jeNQvUZuDdeslKDTmlPsLdnS2QPDP3z0Wy8bfDEyfiVK8V8_GATETKMWs4WhAuH_3XcQUTwkLvwTkfCFRZzP4Snc35ZDVxNcPJGN7IimdD2qEK2Ul-a3G0EG/s320/IMG_0620.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span> The path seems somewhat magical, especially when we pass some ancient statues, each one representing one of the major continents--Europe, America, Asia and Africa:</span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnG0zU-txtJNVCU4NefmzeRSSqxYb3-KPRPyteee-lAmAYg1PsC1lUbWN6f1xgTrr_UCfKIyBviIrN5pulHU7fPoTNmeb7VGPHDfZZrKY98FJAPW10HxT0DW_eCZ62vXmOZDpH8kr9PvDLIo19RxGvz6hVrhjCn0TQK5eqab3KDZjTL7IzEZ0gzW4TSYg/s3520/IMG_0640.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3520" data-original-width="1937" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnG0zU-txtJNVCU4NefmzeRSSqxYb3-KPRPyteee-lAmAYg1PsC1lUbWN6f1xgTrr_UCfKIyBviIrN5pulHU7fPoTNmeb7VGPHDfZZrKY98FJAPW10HxT0DW_eCZ62vXmOZDpH8kr9PvDLIo19RxGvz6hVrhjCn0TQK5eqab3KDZjTL7IzEZ0gzW4TSYg/s320/IMG_0640.jpg" width="176" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjovLsOrZestpZEP6QaQWHprJZjQVjxow-iUJ6AxJtN3MPepqw5ygqaeWqnnV5Z6Cuhaxo3x0m1BuVQ6-1ms0k-L37VrkUrmeCAb0Ui_j4XyefPkkNAi31MA6S_UDn0vC58WNdh1C7d07FwJEQVhxhsNP7H79nezY_bb_36fc6xofTvU6jVyzQuQ-tJu76/s3261/IMG_0641.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3261" data-original-width="1675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjovLsOrZestpZEP6QaQWHprJZjQVjxow-iUJ6AxJtN3MPepqw5ygqaeWqnnV5Z6Cuhaxo3x0m1BuVQ6-1ms0k-L37VrkUrmeCAb0Ui_j4XyefPkkNAi31MA6S_UDn0vC58WNdh1C7d07FwJEQVhxhsNP7H79nezY_bb_36fc6xofTvU6jVyzQuQ-tJu76/s320/IMG_0641.jpg" width="164" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdhh6FVapWPuUc0GOjK5NYEB6SF6CTp4UzCBXtz7waLmVGLCASFiq5CaS5_ih4EW_PEpaT1KieNGEoJGAOc7a-dw9yIRZC7M8gPP43XoqgzTC5292Qce5ZGscTgjooAZ3xR59m1kuqv71SpxDq6RAOPXpuO-azprZSN-piGaeWpnzJDvzzFf2NLkFrDi8/s3632/IMG_0642.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3632" data-original-width="1954" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdhh6FVapWPuUc0GOjK5NYEB6SF6CTp4UzCBXtz7waLmVGLCASFiq5CaS5_ih4EW_PEpaT1KieNGEoJGAOc7a-dw9yIRZC7M8gPP43XoqgzTC5292Qce5ZGscTgjooAZ3xR59m1kuqv71SpxDq6RAOPXpuO-azprZSN-piGaeWpnzJDvzzFf2NLkFrDi8/s320/IMG_0642.jpg" width="172" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbWQJiNZRmO3j65wzR6Rz5e-rB3ksvwWa_ZBjHhP8e-K7VGzT3R6DtcWORf0ucZroM30ElqoigBrG5FaTj32GtTupLKrk-ooGbqeg3NOn2bfbsbtUYQdHFVF5W2raCc3x46w6e8VmexuLRvVeDOCxdRTVdPiYTWQNKoLnWlD8FBIrdLcKBvdHT53jKYh6/s1024/IMG_0679.WEBP" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbWQJiNZRmO3j65wzR6Rz5e-rB3ksvwWa_ZBjHhP8e-K7VGzT3R6DtcWORf0ucZroM30ElqoigBrG5FaTj32GtTupLKrk-ooGbqeg3NOn2bfbsbtUYQdHFVF5W2raCc3x46w6e8VmexuLRvVeDOCxdRTVdPiYTWQNKoLnWlD8FBIrdLcKBvdHT53jKYh6/s320/IMG_0679.WEBP" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> <span> We pass a lovely wooden bench, but there is no time to rest. </span></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Qi1ZYu-4dtECbJA4FAsZqC6o-_9jWq7OWAOR5j_iTul8bvQHeMJpYkjPkChw3Sb1i0DtH6fmJMyB7f4BwOdVtbeqbJpBzKyTZjJTwWs_5fYlGKI8DoJHWw92_fCjMTCydxxDWboJxoVwT-n0V-NJAizxrvEZtvERYg1b6CzTbRhSioTvLillTa46Baux/s4032/IMG_0623.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Qi1ZYu-4dtECbJA4FAsZqC6o-_9jWq7OWAOR5j_iTul8bvQHeMJpYkjPkChw3Sb1i0DtH6fmJMyB7f4BwOdVtbeqbJpBzKyTZjJTwWs_5fYlGKI8DoJHWw92_fCjMTCydxxDWboJxoVwT-n0V-NJAizxrvEZtvERYg1b6CzTbRhSioTvLillTa46Baux/s320/IMG_0623.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><span> <span> <span> We now begin to enter the forest. Chuck is with Dan, snuggled securely in his backpack, but when we reach a stream, he meows to be let out. Looking for frogs and fish is one of the things Chuck likes to do best, so while I distract our guide, Chucky does his thing with Dan.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczkC6jgb1mSwhyphenhyphen-nLAy2DugcJdTGX_afbfCyVt2L9LQy_k3_o3hbScMELSWPPmiZSLpk5uyFZWpY5374fIgI9876UTF-eIJN9RGQPTz4lOHkupYKiNALvjV_gD-nayug_KVajC3sSDNOaG-moyPjLmYhhybTo5SVtUc1jAke462mHY7dFgjYligyx_7-1/s3000/IMG_0463.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczkC6jgb1mSwhyphenhyphen-nLAy2DugcJdTGX_afbfCyVt2L9LQy_k3_o3hbScMELSWPPmiZSLpk5uyFZWpY5374fIgI9876UTF-eIJN9RGQPTz4lOHkupYKiNALvjV_gD-nayug_KVajC3sSDNOaG-moyPjLmYhhybTo5SVtUc1jAke462mHY7dFgjYligyx_7-1/s320/IMG_0463.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span><br /><span><span> <span> Soon we're hiking into the inner part of the forest. The trail inclines nice and slow. There is a slight breeze. The sun is out. </span></span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjSG_IeweW_CS4cXW6563zO8091A93ZCJ9E2i1gZq6KSNptcRx4cGezTu6P-GT1j8zbgAVN3HUuQeIvE8z2qjrhD7m1RD5oO4vBuj0ag4hiH90DI9C00YTAfFJale6cFeuFiPl3j92lcez1Qb5myi6tWGK6e_d1m2ic2XVudYraJYt33opeNLx5bKFsiY/s4032/IMG_0629.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBjSG_IeweW_CS4cXW6563zO8091A93ZCJ9E2i1gZq6KSNptcRx4cGezTu6P-GT1j8zbgAVN3HUuQeIvE8z2qjrhD7m1RD5oO4vBuj0ag4hiH90DI9C00YTAfFJale6cFeuFiPl3j92lcez1Qb5myi6tWGK6e_d1m2ic2XVudYraJYt33opeNLx5bKFsiY/s320/IMG_0629.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeY0VC2DOyEqpt9Bzl-7hZvV4kIChhlrjhnkmjVCZl6t8h7g8Nmq0K-WD1CuQSSQdvPpXNVU0vzq-nBcl_40lzf95NxuPSJ2yKm3KzQU9UpVZ5KVPx0Y9NdN0SpszGqpP0yAC2ytMFeNfLZaUNaXwN-oECko8mvRAGf-kKaER69WRFdGCU_6NFGNvQKpbR/s4032/IMG_0630.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeY0VC2DOyEqpt9Bzl-7hZvV4kIChhlrjhnkmjVCZl6t8h7g8Nmq0K-WD1CuQSSQdvPpXNVU0vzq-nBcl_40lzf95NxuPSJ2yKm3KzQU9UpVZ5KVPx0Y9NdN0SpszGqpP0yAC2ytMFeNfLZaUNaXwN-oECko8mvRAGf-kKaER69WRFdGCU_6NFGNvQKpbR/s320/IMG_0630.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChnLbPf02ekdOpPopKAHzX_xkQK2OI3-VQIREVLrnRwilMnqHY8tHYyR8viF3aB5hr8oLg5PC0lLFZmltZth4YuETeYPg2GOaU7gtA9HhS0VWjisghPLCRCDmYGUZj50jVQvXheTcqs33QDfJUIruoauWX2vpz8kZj7mdDZf7BQRV1rWQiXEdFed8DRWk/s4028/IMG_0631.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4028" data-original-width="2283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiChnLbPf02ekdOpPopKAHzX_xkQK2OI3-VQIREVLrnRwilMnqHY8tHYyR8viF3aB5hr8oLg5PC0lLFZmltZth4YuETeYPg2GOaU7gtA9HhS0VWjisghPLCRCDmYGUZj50jVQvXheTcqs33QDfJUIruoauWX2vpz8kZj7mdDZf7BQRV1rWQiXEdFed8DRWk/s320/IMG_0631.jpg" width="181" /></a></div><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> We are almost there. The incline steepens. The trail narrows. At the highest point, we must climb a few steps onto a giant rock that is flat on top, but the sides extend down, down, and if you are afraid of heights, it is best not to look down. If you think you might slide down the sides, it is best not even to climb on top of this rock. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> But, of course, we do. The view is magnificent. Chuck is out of the backpack, and he has scampered up the rocks. He wants to see the view.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> "Keep an eye on him." </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I have no idea how well cats can navigate on slippery rocks. I have no idea how well <i>I</i> can navigate on slippery rocks. I already know how Dan is feeling. He is staying exactly in the middle of the large rock and not looking down.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> The view is of the Ramapo Mountains. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_q-0VLYrNZtEJhfY6ukqo7ZLGJqoKzVDt8w4oIQQtFmmcjSFZWJv4tHeh3z-AIeqkPOT1Bl56r_I0cHT2BYFZ4jwCbjZVT9nLFnJTfqanBIDJjIeyltYbO-RpiTP0b-V0Cw8MSxjLS3HCs_96feZisBsalp8LOAL_zK41_h_uF2ytm0q9yzqEYdp9w92M/s4032/IMG_0634.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_q-0VLYrNZtEJhfY6ukqo7ZLGJqoKzVDt8w4oIQQtFmmcjSFZWJv4tHeh3z-AIeqkPOT1Bl56r_I0cHT2BYFZ4jwCbjZVT9nLFnJTfqanBIDJjIeyltYbO-RpiTP0b-V0Cw8MSxjLS3HCs_96feZisBsalp8LOAL_zK41_h_uF2ytm0q9yzqEYdp9w92M/w300-h400/IMG_0634.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span><span> <span> I make the biggest mistake while I am up there. I look DOWN</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1W2932Dl3p8ZK6iszhsmIKhyOSxTWjZ3cR8j8o8T-_L3jrC30pW41BbuZiw9yXZchO59Ycg6lw_anN_-GeCoBo9-O-vDTKn4GsEu5yT1W97zYGHsaWL8aXJP0SVdxNQ3fRq7oTpbYjFPZNH8Mw_pqQF2tPZKFSqAtyzI3St_Fnr1x8uwo89Jpgh1WmSl3/s2882/IMG_0637.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2882" data-original-width="2147" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1W2932Dl3p8ZK6iszhsmIKhyOSxTWjZ3cR8j8o8T-_L3jrC30pW41BbuZiw9yXZchO59Ycg6lw_anN_-GeCoBo9-O-vDTKn4GsEu5yT1W97zYGHsaWL8aXJP0SVdxNQ3fRq7oTpbYjFPZNH8Mw_pqQF2tPZKFSqAtyzI3St_Fnr1x8uwo89Jpgh1WmSl3/s320/IMG_0637.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><br /><span><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span>and realize at once that we are at tree top level and if we slide down and fall, we will be in BAD SHAPE. It is a long way down. </span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> I make an executive decision. "We should grab Chuck."</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> He is on the edge of the edge, sniffing. Of course he is. Half his body is off the rock, half is on. I don't think he even realizes where he is. Some plants are growing in between the crevices, and he is exploring. He has absolutely no interest in the view. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I very carefully move closer to where he is. If he looks up and sees there's nothing in front of him, will he panic? </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0Ix6b4cqpgbwYUYT9RW0NYGEBzd9yYZvKDPb7i-ONuiafuOmGewfiJ1GhP0ArLEDD5nxJ3gQiK3FmhMkxCBL8nQbU-RY3jmnzdupt3rrCClrxLZ27XanPklmWJknPfoPeZrMZoLsJh7gMeWVRB8n2qzFuBz376_25YLUyQJoknN4CG508tbSLCvx4zb7/s2108/IMG_0635.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2108" data-original-width="1581" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0Ix6b4cqpgbwYUYT9RW0NYGEBzd9yYZvKDPb7i-ONuiafuOmGewfiJ1GhP0ArLEDD5nxJ3gQiK3FmhMkxCBL8nQbU-RY3jmnzdupt3rrCClrxLZ27XanPklmWJknPfoPeZrMZoLsJh7gMeWVRB8n2qzFuBz376_25YLUyQJoknN4CG508tbSLCvx4zb7/s320/IMG_0635.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> <span> "Chucky, Chucky."</span></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span> <span> He turns and looks at me. And then without a second thought he moonwalks from the edge and returns to where <i>I</i> am standing, paralyzed with fear. They say that cats need to be rescued from trees because they can't backtrack once they run up. But I've just seen for myself that a cat can save himself, if he's a rascal!</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Later, safely back at home, I see Chuck with Theo. I hear a lot of meowing, and I imagine that Chuck is telling Theo what happened on top of the mountain--how mom freaked out once again. But I'm wrong. He seems to be telling Theo how he made it to the top of the mountain!</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Theo, lazing in the later afternoon sun, doesn't seem to care. He's all stretched out and mighty glad he decided to stay home. He's no rascal cat!</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYHmhnJsoI7SIFy-T2TaOoi-eBch5ZXovEToLstMpGFknW3ncHmm5-pZ_l-T3nel8SW0x6L_IuhHp3Gdj8RHMGU6PJJ6srxztyoeJNR1yCp5afOuRDNtITJo3xm4aq8JO-mgXFxtBCmPIPiewddvtYeAVHUsODk3kKMXTXJJiFOvdeqzp5t7Y2-PhZdT1/s4032/IMG_0500.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhYHmhnJsoI7SIFy-T2TaOoi-eBch5ZXovEToLstMpGFknW3ncHmm5-pZ_l-T3nel8SW0x6L_IuhHp3Gdj8RHMGU6PJJ6srxztyoeJNR1yCp5afOuRDNtITJo3xm4aq8JO-mgXFxtBCmPIPiewddvtYeAVHUsODk3kKMXTXJJiFOvdeqzp5t7Y2-PhZdT1/w300-h400/IMG_0500.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span><p></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-87218217037523080842023-10-24T06:25:00.000-07:002023-10-24T06:25:20.409-07:00Rascal Chuck Meets The White Ghost <p> <span style="font-size: x-large;">"S</span><span style="font-size: large;">o what is a cactus plant, anyway," Chuck wanted to know. That was his first question. Then he wanted to see one. </span></p><p> <span style="font-size: large;">Where do you have to go in this USA to see a cactus plant, and not just any cactus plant? A <i>Euphorbia</i> <i>lactea. </i>Better known as the White Ghost. In<i> </i>Arizona? </span><br /></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> Dan, of course, has the answer: "Actually, there are six states that have cactus plants: Texas, California, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, and . . . "</span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> <span> "Arizona. Well . . ." I look over at Chucky. "Maybe this coming summer we can go in search of the White Ghost, but for now . . ."</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> We reach a compromise. The Conservatory in Longwood Gardens, Pennsylvania, has a section filled with </span></span>cacti. We confirm that they have the White Ghost--an extremely rare cactus plant with a chunky trunk and an unusual pale ghost-like complexion to its skin.</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> I am suspicious. I believe that the cactus plant is there, all right, but why name a plant the "white ghost"? I'm not a fan of cacti anyway. They're prickly, for one thing. Don't bang into one by mistake, or you'll be sorry. And I'm concerned that Chucky in his enthusiasm to see the White Ghost will want to sniff it, get too close, and get his eye gouged out or get those prickly things lodged in his fur. Or maybe he'll try to climb it. And then he'll be stuck up there, literally STUCK.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Dan has a completely different opinion. He finds them fascinating. Cacti can store enormous amounts of water. They collect CO2 at night, not during the day, like other plants. They have many medicinal purposes and have been linked to treating glaucoma, liver disease, ulcers, fatigue, and they contain antioxidant properties, minerals and vitamins. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> I am reluctantly impressed, but still . . . </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> We hurry through the Conservatory, reach the cacti, and set Chuck down with a stern warning to BE CAREFUL! Look don't touch. But I know this kid. He barely listens when he's on a mission. He wants to see this White Ghost and there is nothing that is going to stop him.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;">Luckily, there is no one else around. This is not a very popular exhibit. Everyone is looking at the fabulously beautiful orchids, which is where I wish I was. I'm determined not to like these cacti, but sure enough I stumble upon one that takes my breath away. Because this one is NOT prickly. What?</span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6KrXZhOEKhCnGdEvkQLYzzc45QVwtXNIf3bDVH1zEt5vCSvpxD3fOFwntDPdaAkE8KJewVBBx6GSjc6VgEMg6HVmxwW-yETUToRnAtkgC5nbV4M7xedHzyL2_-Q1K-eXWErflcu9phakvFsA7WBc4oTTiWf5rIbNh-hOxOd2_C5zfGsSjKnokpyS5Uuk/s4032/IMG_0415.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6KrXZhOEKhCnGdEvkQLYzzc45QVwtXNIf3bDVH1zEt5vCSvpxD3fOFwntDPdaAkE8KJewVBBx6GSjc6VgEMg6HVmxwW-yETUToRnAtkgC5nbV4M7xedHzyL2_-Q1K-eXWErflcu9phakvFsA7WBc4oTTiWf5rIbNh-hOxOd2_C5zfGsSjKnokpyS5Uuk/s320/IMG_0415.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><span><span><br /></span></span></p><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> I reach out and touch the leaves and they feel like velvet. This cacti is called Felt Brush. I try to steer Chucky over here. He gives them a glance, but it's no go. I walk further on and now I'm in love with the Mexican Fence Post Cactus. Tall and lean. It looks exactly like its name.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fURaTPOhYxq_vzkOOhDMb3X4iH8pAYdy02PK92I0BEjtQ6Lroxhg-ozQkZwdf2-AobJdIjgGTFVTJ7ir0s_ONRXsnKF3LY1UUBVdCVxnG2NhWLA_18tlTrGvTEKE4Q6xZjuaWEN4zXEPbgB4J1z2ij-OFqs1Y8MTgOtjrSYrSexcoWbKhE0-jvoH2_GD/s4032/IMG_0416.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fURaTPOhYxq_vzkOOhDMb3X4iH8pAYdy02PK92I0BEjtQ6Lroxhg-ozQkZwdf2-AobJdIjgGTFVTJ7ir0s_ONRXsnKF3LY1UUBVdCVxnG2NhWLA_18tlTrGvTEKE4Q6xZjuaWEN4zXEPbgB4J1z2ij-OFqs1Y8MTgOtjrSYrSexcoWbKhE0-jvoH2_GD/s320/IMG_0416.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwU8e2qbfoVnLpdUMQXyahvgSXgURmDT9Zj9t6jgdXN4zgnAVuYqeNlcPmUlAN-28vHTuSzcIFYbZ3Dnn-O8Ll7QqFZewEM7YPBBE6X_DVhVK-_ENCL-tQ2GskYDNH_IQiAVzngEx8XQh3QsUWQ05f3HJ0jbKfntd5PZ2oNKSqtnixsLoFyuhhW4utt-WQ/s4032/IMG_0224.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwU8e2qbfoVnLpdUMQXyahvgSXgURmDT9Zj9t6jgdXN4zgnAVuYqeNlcPmUlAN-28vHTuSzcIFYbZ3Dnn-O8Ll7QqFZewEM7YPBBE6X_DVhVK-_ENCL-tQ2GskYDNH_IQiAVzngEx8XQh3QsUWQ05f3HJ0jbKfntd5PZ2oNKSqtnixsLoFyuhhW4utt-WQ/s320/IMG_0224.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><span> </span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"> "Chucky, over here. Look at this." But Chucky is sniffing his way through the exhibit with only one thing on his mind.</span></span><br /></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> I then stumble upon something even more spectacular--Silver Ball Cactus. Frankly, I never knew cacti can be so interesting. Maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong. Maybe this White Ghost is not as threatening as I think. I take a few quick deep breaths. Smile.</span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFWRvoqSY8vP6GKSV-4EsnAJ9vMmdydtbQ9nFOfEWQ9lFykbizQw_ggnfQAwAxRTVz9FoMReoikqZ6TPD3EWMjW75LPjbvsViWMMREmlfNU3na78ysgQIYDMmfsIC7E7E1ROvLyQxzpzUATngphwnqX-zPcEuEHSkKmuObRQ1lvTnKoRumCXlNwu3r1C_/s4032/IMG_0426.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVFWRvoqSY8vP6GKSV-4EsnAJ9vMmdydtbQ9nFOfEWQ9lFykbizQw_ggnfQAwAxRTVz9FoMReoikqZ6TPD3EWMjW75LPjbvsViWMMREmlfNU3na78ysgQIYDMmfsIC7E7E1ROvLyQxzpzUATngphwnqX-zPcEuEHSkKmuObRQ1lvTnKoRumCXlNwu3r1C_/w400-h300/IMG_0426.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><br /></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> "Dan, where's Chuck? He's got to see . . ."</span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> </span>I am too late. Chucky is across the exhibit. He has found the cactus plant he's been looking for, the cactus plant of his dreams. He's stopped a few feet away and is staring at it, most likely admiring it. I start walking towards him. So this is it--the White Ghost. The sun is shining through the glass roof, and the darned cactus plant is actually glowing, almost as if it's going to come alive and do something. It looks other worldly. But then . . .</span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgToqzizrsohAtbWhUGO10QNSIw_dAzf0IF5jrtEyRT5zeLsa4UcjDl4ELpL1TIByL9EnqHcvdEvoLdh-4M0hHE-JZNeE0KefvXaPqtkiSUi8N-omUDZven5aFnb_ASK752Z-HcvOOcfLoy_jt_SoPNWRuwPSN8oowy4W-Z6Tc_QVW6lIrVXHd2L3WxvK8c/s3276/IMG_0422.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3276" data-original-width="1770" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgToqzizrsohAtbWhUGO10QNSIw_dAzf0IF5jrtEyRT5zeLsa4UcjDl4ELpL1TIByL9EnqHcvdEvoLdh-4M0hHE-JZNeE0KefvXaPqtkiSUi8N-omUDZven5aFnb_ASK752Z-HcvOOcfLoy_jt_SoPNWRuwPSN8oowy4W-Z6Tc_QVW6lIrVXHd2L3WxvK8c/w346-h640/IMG_0422.jpg" width="346" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></span></p></div></div><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Someone turns off the lights. That's impossible because the light is the sunlight coming from outside. Still, the room darkens. I feel a chill course down my spine. This has got to be all in my head. I'm about to turn to Dan, the voice of reason, when I hear howling wind. What? An eerie background noise. A kind of groaning begins around me. I'm not going to get freaked out by this, I tell myself, as I run toward Chucky and scoop him up.</span></span></span></div></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Of course, he doesn't want to be scooped up--rescued--and starts to wiggle with all his might. He is a strong cat. </span></span></span></div></div></blockquote><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> Now I hear laughing. Dan?</span></span></span></div></div></div></blockquote><p> <span style="font-size: large;">"Sorry. Sorry. I couldn't resist."</span></p><p><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;">"That was you?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;">"Only the moaning. The rest is the storm outside." </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;">I've been so wrapped up in exploring the cacti, I don't notice the oncoming storm. Darned global warming. This crazy weather is getting ridiculous. </span><span style="font-size: large;">"So this has nothing to do with the cactus plant. I'm an idiot." </span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span>I put Chucky down. He shakes off the humiliation and gives me that look that cats give you when they agree with you that you <i>are</i> an idiot.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> <span> "Okay. Okay. Go look at your White Ghost." </span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> All is well. Chuck scampers over to sniff the White Ghost. He's almost there when suddenly, out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning illuminates the space. We all look up. The raindrops that have been falling turn into big juice drops. Thunder crashes down.</span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> "That was dramatic," I whisper, staring at the White Ghost, which is still there, of course. BUT . . .</span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> Chucky is not. The bolt of lightning, the crash of thunder was too much. He is huddled, this rascal cat of mine, amidst the Felt Brush cacti. His long orange and white tail is the only part of him that is visible. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> Ha. Ha. He must</span></span></span> know what I've been suspicious of all along--this White Ghost cactus is not just your regular cactus. There's something funny going on in Cactus Land.</span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><br /></p><p><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-37890478051009289902023-10-17T08:52:00.001-07:002023-10-17T09:04:19.069-07:00Chuck, Ramsesses the Great, and the gods<p> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Visitors to Egypt—even rascal cats—come to Egypt to see at least two major sights: the pyramids at Giza and the Temple of Luxor. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We didn't even have to emphasize to Chucky that a trip to Luxor Temple will be like nothing he has ever seen before because he wanted to come.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Remember the pyramids at Giza,” Dan asks. "On all that sand?"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chucky nods.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Imagine a complex, filled with gigantic statues.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Luxor" Dan explains, “was the capital of ancient Egypt back in the day.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“1300 BC,” I chime in. “That’s even before ancient Greece had its Golden Age." </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But Chuck isn’t here to see the temple. He has only one thing on his little cat mind: Ramesses II.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ramesses II was the pharaoh who ruled for 66 years. A real mover and shaker. He built the entire temple complex.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chucky knows all of this.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Actually, the <i>people</i> built the complex, but not for the Egyptian people. This place was built for the pharaoh and the priests, a place where they could come and meet with the gods in private. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(37, 37, 37);"><b>Which means they actually believed the gods were there, in the inner recesses of the temple.</b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dan tells Chucky that this temple complex was dedicated to the gods. BUT everything—the statues and the drawings (called reliefs on the walls) celebrate the Pharoah Ramesses II.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But, again, Chucky knows everything about this pharaoh, and he can’t wait to see Ramsesses. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am in awe of my first view of the temple complex. Humans look like insects in comparison. At the entrance we spot the infamous obelisk on the right and know there is a companion obelisk to this one in Paris.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaf3MS2Cc3Xm7j9qzcebB73S0rym3Vuexrdqn73bmDvk786gOhiIIqaQEiEjX0q-HxjFeifj8K5k1hGJ7DMhLrQuFFwHvGy-Q4U4PiJf6XXH1yWFPmj9JeIq8VL6c0NFaTcRGWyphJ-zIaCmyw93o-tXGCXydlRp1wYyvVlrqhILySqNN_UigGeW-O9HRD/s4032/IMG_1824.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaf3MS2Cc3Xm7j9qzcebB73S0rym3Vuexrdqn73bmDvk786gOhiIIqaQEiEjX0q-HxjFeifj8K5k1hGJ7DMhLrQuFFwHvGy-Q4U4PiJf6XXH1yWFPmj9JeIq8VL6c0NFaTcRGWyphJ-zIaCmyw93o-tXGCXydlRp1wYyvVlrqhILySqNN_UigGeW-O9HRD/w400-h300/IMG_1824.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span> <span> As we continue to walk, we spot some of the columns of the temple that have survived.</span></span></span></span><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVoomHjbAvkk9bTinsvhbvwe9mEiidWUtvT65geBYjDnS6vrOXkL3oKl22oPpBQYYLdSbk3zo618hasGiCBHvful1PyACPYzbalS482tFCoDpTzChjtcYt68hihfo0BcZjc9WF5pqbCzRB4cHg76HnrF-RNPcpeuqA6f9I92YA2oGVsUaWGBJ087veZxC/s4032/IMG_1825.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVoomHjbAvkk9bTinsvhbvwe9mEiidWUtvT65geBYjDnS6vrOXkL3oKl22oPpBQYYLdSbk3zo618hasGiCBHvful1PyACPYzbalS482tFCoDpTzChjtcYt68hihfo0BcZjc9WF5pqbCzRB4cHg76HnrF-RNPcpeuqA6f9I92YA2oGVsUaWGBJ087veZxC/s320/IMG_1825.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This place is bigger than I expected. I turn to Dan. "I think Chuck needs to be in the backpack, or he'll be trampled because everyone is looking up."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Dan agrees. Chuck is not happy. He prefers to be on his own. He wants to scamper off and sniff. But the temple is very crowded. Finally, we compromise. He climbs into the backpack, but positions himself so he can look out and see the sights, on the lookout, of course, for the Pharaoh. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We walk around toward the entrance. Now we can see the obelisk more clearly and also some of the statues that are positioned in front of the temple. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEislilrhFJbPRDw4mJyxshZ-_RUD6NWNm9e2g9F715TnNVyOutgxcz7nPt-4G0pSn7yEuirL2oE3kY_mXwGp8tbOrwlvCYj7dngNkAcMvySoe9Wn38mlR8YRUj4mWyDveKQ4y0tQ_ekGSsnrN6AnaSPR7DrSLgadDu16FoxO27jZVz68XQ2xJoTr2QtCSnI/s4032/IMG_1827.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEislilrhFJbPRDw4mJyxshZ-_RUD6NWNm9e2g9F715TnNVyOutgxcz7nPt-4G0pSn7yEuirL2oE3kY_mXwGp8tbOrwlvCYj7dngNkAcMvySoe9Wn38mlR8YRUj4mWyDveKQ4y0tQ_ekGSsnrN6AnaSPR7DrSLgadDu16FoxO27jZVz68XQ2xJoTr2QtCSnI/s320/IMG_1827.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReD-V_UTrVJi2M8T_s22vfdYZF7MUkm4dqizJxmozuxol1iBe4-suWczadC7_Ml1ub2tPzYv58HWKMHakoc7J8Of2_g4pNTqWSCtYnXXXUAvONG8ZTc8tPoFzTWMSzCGKBVx1swrqdreSJkbiUQJ93ef2TzsklBYQTRRuQ_VXLVYBz4iC_VpS1xDfW6hu/s2499/IMG_1826.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2418" data-original-width="2499" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjReD-V_UTrVJi2M8T_s22vfdYZF7MUkm4dqizJxmozuxol1iBe4-suWczadC7_Ml1ub2tPzYv58HWKMHakoc7J8Of2_g4pNTqWSCtYnXXXUAvONG8ZTc8tPoFzTWMSzCGKBVx1swrqdreSJkbiUQJ93ef2TzsklBYQTRRuQ_VXLVYBz4iC_VpS1xDfW6hu/s320/IMG_1826.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Finally, we are smack in front of the entrance and facing Ramsesses II. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1CVlTGhdkBdrYRlAzp3f6mm1DkC42rWFvzcyBUlhBYHUqNQ4RlxDWyIDkRXMoH3-rA8OmyAw45W8GsfVGRibAGENhzHDR0Y2FpFX38YysWDbP4LZ83_1csFsG14xtaf-zy6RAf0_JuTLjQl4a93H3Hflxii5DuaC0GEv8Knc6AmGcOY-NjVR0eRkXscg/s3317/IMG_1828.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3317" data-original-width="3021" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG1CVlTGhdkBdrYRlAzp3f6mm1DkC42rWFvzcyBUlhBYHUqNQ4RlxDWyIDkRXMoH3-rA8OmyAw45W8GsfVGRibAGENhzHDR0Y2FpFX38YysWDbP4LZ83_1csFsG14xtaf-zy6RAf0_JuTLjQl4a93H3Hflxii5DuaC0GEv8Knc6AmGcOY-NjVR0eRkXscg/s320/IMG_1828.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1it7dyhssRHZBGqOlLCzHpgMGiv2SZtqtuoO-tdkUbEM2TluSKThFJ_DESUm5uU-YOsZ5_9Iro4T66GQnFwkBXXApw2pTewbF4bKfTcIqKIi8mC-WLgZTOzIEmHo1H4NxNZuBHGCshdBI7r-ta77D7NMjzkTWVfK0_s7_ITpkO1kAurCEK6P6uP_CkqH/s4032/IMG_1831.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1it7dyhssRHZBGqOlLCzHpgMGiv2SZtqtuoO-tdkUbEM2TluSKThFJ_DESUm5uU-YOsZ5_9Iro4T66GQnFwkBXXApw2pTewbF4bKfTcIqKIi8mC-WLgZTOzIEmHo1H4NxNZuBHGCshdBI7r-ta77D7NMjzkTWVfK0_s7_ITpkO1kAurCEK6P6uP_CkqH/w300-h400/IMG_1831.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span> Well, the truth is <i>I'm</i> facing Ramsesses. Dan is kind of walking backwards, so Chuck can see what I'm seeing—his hero. </span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span> Dan is an expert on Ramsesses. He read his entire biography in French and begins to share with Chuck even more tidbits of his life:</span><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span> <span> He is fourteen years old when he becomes pharaoh.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> He is married to the famed Nefertari, his first wife and favorite queen. Even after she died, Ramsesses continued to have statues dedicated to her, reliefs done of her. Scholars say he was obsessed with her. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span> Supposedly he is the pharaoh associated with Moses in that wonderful Hollywood movie <b>The Ten Commandments. </b>Ramsesses is the pharaoh who rejects a Moses who demands over and over again--Let my people go--but there is no concrete evidence to support that connection. </span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Ramsesses lives to be 96 years old, has over 200 wives and concubines, 96 sons and 60 daughters. He lives so long that his subjects believe that when he dies the world will come to an end.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> There is no ancient site in Egypt that does not make mention of Ramsesses the Great. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Chuck becomes more interested in Ramsesses. When Chuck gets excited, he wants to be walking around and sniffing. That is what is happening now. He begins to meow. The crowds around us moves on to tour the temple. </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> "All right. All right. Just for a minute or two." </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Now that Chucky's paws are on the ground, he darts over to Ramsesses, sniffing at the base of the magnificent statue. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan and I are gazing around. We walk around the temple proper and begin to examine some of the walls. The reliefs tell a story of the pharaohs interacting with the gods. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(37, 37, 37);"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(37, 37, 37);"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(37, 37, 37);"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQ3ro-8PLmtOOuLGpMQFmBNSU1ceUU-qfCwZU5pn2GHNc753UrgVET6X6pAGAVIqz1MU7oFlYQXDmX64CrtYFYMgft43yR7uhyQSi0FfOdAOjU5PwQcj6rWmLpP16vsdgaxgre2bqXdTIc9uLyWf2d6yaiw8bx240UaWfNQxVXehWoYEZVJJ7e-4UopPU/s4032/IMG_1840.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQ3ro-8PLmtOOuLGpMQFmBNSU1ceUU-qfCwZU5pn2GHNc753UrgVET6X6pAGAVIqz1MU7oFlYQXDmX64CrtYFYMgft43yR7uhyQSi0FfOdAOjU5PwQcj6rWmLpP16vsdgaxgre2bqXdTIc9uLyWf2d6yaiw8bx240UaWfNQxVXehWoYEZVJJ7e-4UopPU/w300-h400/IMG_1840.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Don't worry, though, I have my eye on Chuck. There is no way he is getting lost here. I'm soaking up all the Egyptian history and lore and watching Chuck at the same time.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> In fact, I notice him move away from Ramsesses. I notice him move away from where we are. It is a big complex and he seems to be on some kind of mission. Moving faster now.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> "Dan, it's Chuck."</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Chuck can scadaddle rather quickly when he wants to. He is racing now as if being drawn somewhere toward the temple. Suddenly, he seems to disappear around a corner.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4dXXBuTMTW5Hx2fH79dpXVoXZr_i81cAVkCz2k75Nfkb28dviTwUVCg6ZdMUPnOuHf9R-OfB_7VlHZwEezMSotoEl4lipe-WBcCduyEbP3Fwv58gMFKbFQqHMtjm9iaxjRRmKk_NtyeYSm-udz4CEovIjl75rVwNbg5-xR2TIjY6RMULfnFljkOn3MKrg/s4032/IMG_1837.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4dXXBuTMTW5Hx2fH79dpXVoXZr_i81cAVkCz2k75Nfkb28dviTwUVCg6ZdMUPnOuHf9R-OfB_7VlHZwEezMSotoEl4lipe-WBcCduyEbP3Fwv58gMFKbFQqHMtjm9iaxjRRmKk_NtyeYSm-udz4CEovIjl75rVwNbg5-xR2TIjY6RMULfnFljkOn3MKrg/w400-h300/IMG_1837.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Oh, no." My greatest fear is that he'll go inside, and we'll never find him. Because we've been warned to go in the temple as a group. Don't wander in there alone. An errant thought enters my mind. Chucky in there alone. This temple was built for the gods. Maybe there are still some spirits there . . . some forces . . .</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Dan breaks into a run, headed in Chuck's direction. In a minute Dan disappears. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> I hold my breath. Now both of them could be headed toward disaster. I try to wait patiently. Everything is going to be okay. There has got to be some reasonable explanation why Chuck ran into the temple. Dan will find Chuck, and they will be back. I know they will. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Chuck has not been abducted by the gods.</span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> Sure enough, I see Dan emerging, unscathed from the temple. He's waving. </span></span>Chuck is following close behind.</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> "</span></span></span>What was that all about?"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> Dan lowers his voice. "The kid wanted some privacy."</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> "What?"</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> "Let's just say that all that water he drank earlier, well, he suddenly realized he needed to use the restroom facilities."</span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> What???? "Chucky, I hope you didn't . . . take a whizz . . . in the . . . </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">temple."</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;">Chuck has his lips pressed together. He looks up at me. He's not saying anything, but I can guess what he's thinking. "Mom, a boy has to do what a boy has to do."</span></span></span></span></span><br /></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #252525; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> </span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3442038953160012580.post-56417162598981862812023-10-10T05:01:00.003-07:002023-10-11T07:16:19.287-07:00Rascal Chuck and the Heliopolis House Adventure <p> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">T</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">he gig is up, as they say. We have no option but to tell Noah the truth. Especially after Chuck lets out another BIG MEOW.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> “Yes. He’s our cat. Chuck.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Noah opens his mouth to say something. Probably, the usual. Cats aren’t allowed in . . . but he doesn’t. We’re long gone from the seminary and finally heading toward Dan’s house in Heliopolis. We all know that getting into the house, at this point, will be a long shot. There are always complications in Egypt. So, Chuck being there, amazingly, is less of a threat.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Which is super good news because finally Chuck is interested in what’s going on. He wants to see the house. We have no idea why except that maybe we’ve been talking about it for the last year or so . . . Chuck maybe imagines it to be some grandiose structure, surrounded by catnip gardens.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXD8wZaOpdCVMd5r1xR5uQAekC51wA1eUWgY2zTEhjXABAMwl3AtD_MyreIO-3ErANT85ajHqtMJe1woWfTOe1upIgXDia0L985gguUYFOJF-S5Sfx7KYJbqbATOwylDb_o4IhMPAtmfL9ax3B7hXXQd6SNJ9-0qsCy5OYazapoPX93ps0PGGeiAUqK1s3/s4032/IMG_1759.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXD8wZaOpdCVMd5r1xR5uQAekC51wA1eUWgY2zTEhjXABAMwl3AtD_MyreIO-3ErANT85ajHqtMJe1woWfTOe1upIgXDia0L985gguUYFOJF-S5Sfx7KYJbqbATOwylDb_o4IhMPAtmfL9ax3B7hXXQd6SNJ9-0qsCy5OYazapoPX93ps0PGGeiAUqK1s3/s320/IMG_1759.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Anyway, all Noah does is nod and then the focus is on finding the house. Dan still remembers his address after many years. He’s said it out loud every so often. It always sounds totally incomprehensible to me. Luckily, he can spell it—in Arabic—and Noah has put it into his GPS so we find this illusive house without too much trouble. We park the car and hit our first obstacle.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> The gate keeper. Now, in America, you encounter a gate with a guard (and clipboard) only when you want to meet a very wealthy or very important person, and you usually have an appointment. Here, in Egypt, we have no appointment. The gate keeper only speaks Arabic, and Dan’s house now belongs to a church. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Dan’s Arabic has slowly been coming back since we arrived in Egypt, but it’s not nearly good enough to explain why we want to get inside the gate and see the house. Noah tries to explain in his faltering Arabic. For some odd reason, the gate keeper gets it and lets us through. Miracle #1<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7mI8Sl6rCyR77ze59x4XqRV7Az5Onp6mySybBmfheoDcIP6PaksSfBOmhkOd3i9BeO8P6vvNSoJ-QuYF8qYanWNRkmDWk7mmysHNxMJM9kW1vEW1Jt-OJluzhjnXbHMFxOAzcmdgV6R5ibL8aWbYN6KIaClZzwgiJRjsk4qyQaGd95NrF90bvjGfLRvGm/s2883/IMG_1760.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2367" data-original-width="2883" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7mI8Sl6rCyR77ze59x4XqRV7Az5Onp6mySybBmfheoDcIP6PaksSfBOmhkOd3i9BeO8P6vvNSoJ-QuYF8qYanWNRkmDWk7mmysHNxMJM9kW1vEW1Jt-OJluzhjnXbHMFxOAzcmdgV6R5ibL8aWbYN6KIaClZzwgiJRjsk4qyQaGd95NrF90bvjGfLRvGm/s320/IMG_1760.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> He doesn’t even blink when he sees Chucky. Miracle #2<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> But the house is locked. A phone call has to be made. To the head church guy. Who has to agree. He does. And then he has to find the grounds keeper who has the key. As we’re waiting, we’re offered a soda. It seems the idea that Dan grew up in this house enthralls everyone. In fact, a guy shows up out of nowhere insisting he used to play baseball with Dan. The guy with the key shows up and unlocks the house. Miracle #3<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHJWE8yV0gYWBeF2KzMZHcXJu2GjP1KnaBNLAMNFKM9u8wXKX901EigXmrqhImSve-yKanHmYTgZxQ4_Rg3V1STeWSft0FR58I21Z03wN0Z6UDAF2VElARn_72dVqYSEGXWzCgAY-PjCU-34PdeDjmU4WHQDyu5hPABZcJOa_zMWH1mmLF02Vhcus7jeA/s4032/IMG_1762.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHJWE8yV0gYWBeF2KzMZHcXJu2GjP1KnaBNLAMNFKM9u8wXKX901EigXmrqhImSve-yKanHmYTgZxQ4_Rg3V1STeWSft0FR58I21Z03wN0Z6UDAF2VElARn_72dVqYSEGXWzCgAY-PjCU-34PdeDjmU4WHQDyu5hPABZcJOa_zMWH1mmLF02Vhcus7jeA/s320/IMG_1762.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4Gs78xpUixDPxm_Dkb9PfSkxB6fLRpoW-bITALsAk19kYIiSPTAqrAQTfJelUiaFuf9YhwsR567lIXT3SGaH-KpsIPDeVM27-0Pj_VV9Dj6YahfCvjq7mDVqCqJd93FBNjRvyeJgsgHo8cF1wJRFmkpK42eLJQXoHMA4QHtqDhEAnxyrksTV9Lyr1TB0/s4032/IMG_1763.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4Gs78xpUixDPxm_Dkb9PfSkxB6fLRpoW-bITALsAk19kYIiSPTAqrAQTfJelUiaFuf9YhwsR567lIXT3SGaH-KpsIPDeVM27-0Pj_VV9Dj6YahfCvjq7mDVqCqJd93FBNjRvyeJgsgHo8cF1wJRFmkpK42eLJQXoHMA4QHtqDhEAnxyrksTV9Lyr1TB0/s320/IMG_1763.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> </span></span></span>We’re in. Chucky’s in. It’s only polite to wait for a tour. Dan is looking around trying to remember which room is which. The house is now a kind of meeting place for church officials, fund raising projects, etc. There is no sign of anything from when he lived there—only the rooms are the same and yet different—the kitchen, dining room, the bedrooms and the porch out back. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pbbGr2qO6mbWtIfRLr5sex6z4i6Q3nW3G20pHr4UXDDsWwUKWUQlb4Vdmk13gagRjbsECyAYgy2oq8LwBq8xeNmv6bPHXMrlUPYj5aXLPFsBuArvuVPiXJoyzOo09ySj7mHlLwynZjbbEL0Jiu_kIeqWIee3ho0itFX7O-oVzydIYRKyC0doJGk_VsI9/s4032/IMG_1776.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3pbbGr2qO6mbWtIfRLr5sex6z4i6Q3nW3G20pHr4UXDDsWwUKWUQlb4Vdmk13gagRjbsECyAYgy2oq8LwBq8xeNmv6bPHXMrlUPYj5aXLPFsBuArvuVPiXJoyzOo09ySj7mHlLwynZjbbEL0Jiu_kIeqWIee3ho0itFX7O-oVzydIYRKyC0doJGk_VsI9/s320/IMG_1776.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oF-OAWN-kRkc2h3-yjyHlVfzWeyQupH9Qe_c44PEsf-RuLmNbm70GSS5dDPJSmKOpIhUjhK5Y90kiKnS2KkiXDRnY2_x3MMVw3vxbqs839SqkOSYfKmQo0IjRuDctbMPNNasYnslci2CSq9dYsCoffnb3FVolNUGYMvQXyGJYnIp8f_W7KkI41rTo2ou/s4032/IMG_1777.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_oF-OAWN-kRkc2h3-yjyHlVfzWeyQupH9Qe_c44PEsf-RuLmNbm70GSS5dDPJSmKOpIhUjhK5Y90kiKnS2KkiXDRnY2_x3MMVw3vxbqs839SqkOSYfKmQo0IjRuDctbMPNNasYnslci2CSq9dYsCoffnb3FVolNUGYMvQXyGJYnIp8f_W7KkI41rTo2ou/s320/IMG_1777.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZTtWiVaZNVzDgABoAlyhRMfRkBas9pnTeTjo7sM_gx2qv3NvwxIhLeXhiAN0rvIbXWgBHRAMQjFlGnUCBRA9Mf7YxVP0_eWxs-BdTo10b9HKgHL40mxLN32CDmkABemCJtbPWw-upLwrF0gSLtfBqR-fIB-5SRCuaLEIX68osLTEP_9LHm6vMo6DK8Sb/s4032/IMG_1784.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZTtWiVaZNVzDgABoAlyhRMfRkBas9pnTeTjo7sM_gx2qv3NvwxIhLeXhiAN0rvIbXWgBHRAMQjFlGnUCBRA9Mf7YxVP0_eWxs-BdTo10b9HKgHL40mxLN32CDmkABemCJtbPWw-upLwrF0gSLtfBqR-fIB-5SRCuaLEIX68osLTEP_9LHm6vMo6DK8Sb/s320/IMG_1784.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDZNHaUc2u1RMFa2RsNGGrbZtEMmbWyBPO7ZLtJB2HNyf4AeqKJPGUyAm3iJ9TzISl7bDwcUK6GWfAna8rsWQDhVII0brZF8o2LpRZ3x1knF-mkCesgsLUseATSukh3ZyBUe0trW1CreTypndR4p8ho6xVIOBF81JUuf4uR9Brm66wdlxN3aXFaA2VcVF/s4032/IMG_1785.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDZNHaUc2u1RMFa2RsNGGrbZtEMmbWyBPO7ZLtJB2HNyf4AeqKJPGUyAm3iJ9TzISl7bDwcUK6GWfAna8rsWQDhVII0brZF8o2LpRZ3x1knF-mkCesgsLUseATSukh3ZyBUe0trW1CreTypndR4p8ho6xVIOBF81JUuf4uR9Brm66wdlxN3aXFaA2VcVF/s320/IMG_1785.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRdeuR7qBrf4zabW2JAdSuwFgGFV5Q4x5ru1w8VSf58VsSZqlen-8K5bVhxHb5pKa1TSeeFmXX5_kFk2jqfJutZYDxaV3WmEApj32VFbR_97sxpUJJbk-Rx6mlco89c-Hn8boupzmvMEdf5TELMiba_V0OoYE_xeqEsyNvkf9uS33OvQZNJCkyi2Ietg0/s4032/IMG_1791.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnRdeuR7qBrf4zabW2JAdSuwFgGFV5Q4x5ru1w8VSf58VsSZqlen-8K5bVhxHb5pKa1TSeeFmXX5_kFk2jqfJutZYDxaV3WmEApj32VFbR_97sxpUJJbk-Rx6mlco89c-Hn8boupzmvMEdf5TELMiba_V0OoYE_xeqEsyNvkf9uS33OvQZNJCkyi2Ietg0/s320/IMG_1791.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Chucky, however, has taken a different view. He’s going to sniff out the entire place. Leave not a corner unsniffed. He is determined to get his fill as if he’s been comissioned with writing a report on this house once we’re back in America. He's also being very secretive about it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> We begin walking room to room. Dan is enjoying this trip down memory lane, gleefully recounting stories of how they belonged to the local swim club during the summer. Of how he used to take the local tram across town to take piano lessons when he was ten. </span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> “Where <i>is</i> Chucky, by the way?” Dan suddenly asks.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> “Somewhere sniffing.” </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Dan doesn't look surprised. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span> "What's going on?"</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span></span><span> <span> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> "Well, I might have implied that there's a small garden of . . . "</span></span></span> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Sure enough, Chucky has somehow found his way outside and is sniffing the perimeter of the house, in search of the supposed garden. Outside a bunch of boys are playing ball.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2JTL97o25FihMtUdhb2S5bI195lEg-hUnStg7dsntpZ-qwc8hSOZ57fDsjaWxDgyGo0Irn5mt57D7fP-xDMOP67L3VcUcGp0SbYQ4Gq_qcvcoqbeCNiBfIRGPmvsIWYdltu6TSsHw-1c9rYBkVM_4qON3FAHIbEbSABxgPsvNE4Qx8A9VmMX4LqFODR4/s4032/IMG_1783.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2JTL97o25FihMtUdhb2S5bI195lEg-hUnStg7dsntpZ-qwc8hSOZ57fDsjaWxDgyGo0Irn5mt57D7fP-xDMOP67L3VcUcGp0SbYQ4Gq_qcvcoqbeCNiBfIRGPmvsIWYdltu6TSsHw-1c9rYBkVM_4qON3FAHIbEbSABxgPsvNE4Qx8A9VmMX4LqFODR4/s320/IMG_1783.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Is there any catnip back there, really?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I had to find someway to keep him happy."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> <span> "You're right. He was moping around. But you know, you gave him mission impossible."</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "He should be thanking us."</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span> <span> <span> Now, of course, we feel incredibly guilty. </span></span></span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> But all is well. The boys spot Chucky and run over to pet him. He is the center of attention. Which he loves. They decide to make him the mascot for their team.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesQujhAXgW6n6XifokJTEi92mKLcXkJWuwmlzHXGcppSqet-PtYKuemT4CeDG613c86j6wRAZgEOk4_78JKj9-Ix-6VAN6hwJCU6vyD0qwmU5UOotZeNiIFKfy08z9Fz0fdTxz70hfVBpOwU3Ow_U7CCpMxh-Ict1WZHaSILdWASuBSIv4THOQlnxCtqe/s4032/IMG_0606.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesQujhAXgW6n6XifokJTEi92mKLcXkJWuwmlzHXGcppSqet-PtYKuemT4CeDG613c86j6wRAZgEOk4_78JKj9-Ix-6VAN6hwJCU6vyD0qwmU5UOotZeNiIFKfy08z9Fz0fdTxz70hfVBpOwU3Ow_U7CCpMxh-Ict1WZHaSILdWASuBSIv4THOQlnxCtqe/s320/IMG_0606.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> Chucky</span></span></span> never finds the garden or the catnip. But the rascal cat is purring away and that makes all the difference. </span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p>Kate Lutterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15824114192137708036noreply@blogger.com1