Theo-The Museum Menace

 We're in Doylestown, PA and it's a long day. Despite the major protestations of Theo, we decide to go to the Michener Art Museum. We explain that Michener, a well-known novelist and short story writer (famous for writing epic stories of foreign lands) purchased local art in the Doylestown area and then built a museum to house it. Ah, the lives of the rich and famous.

But Michener didn't start out as a rich dude. He was a foundling who was adopted and raised as a Quaker. He then made his own fortune. The stuff of novels.

Theo has a ho hum attitude. How much fun can a museum possibly be? I have to agree. I've been to museums that were not impressive. 

Why I like the Michener Museum:

There is a lovely courtyard filled with statues where you can eat your lunch.

Inside the museum, I spy paintings that make you long for the good old days--fill you with nostalgia.

In one of their many rooms, there's a lovely mural, framed like a window with a view, that tricks you into thinking you are looking at a real view. 

Theo stares and doesn't stare. He looks but does he see? Finally, as we're walking through a deserted part of the collection, we let him down to stretch his cat legs. This is our big mistake. One minute he's looking bored, but harmless; the next, he jumps up onto a display. But not any display. A giant cat perches there. Bigger than life-size.

Now Theo is interested. Unfortunately, he's in a museum where there's a firm look but don't touch policy. 

"Theo. Get down from there."

He doesn't.

"Theo. Don't touch that statue."

He is only sniffing.

"Theo, if you knock down that statue . . ." The threat hangs in the air. 

Finally he jumps down and looks at me as if I'm the crazy one. 

"You are exhausting," I tell him.

He wanders away from me and ends up, exhausted himself, on a bench. I join him. There is a lovely face of a sunflower. I can't resist the urge to pose. Yes, this is my exhausted face. 

Dan poses next to a most unusual door.

All in all, the museum is pretty cool.  My opinion, not Theo's.

Theo and Woody the Woodpecker

 We decide on a whim to visit the Peace Valley Park in Pennsylvania and join a weekly guided morning walk that takes us over a bridge, beside a lake and along a trail. You feel as if you're being absorbed into nature. 

Our guide is Kelly, a naturalist. I confide in Theo as we're walking along that I feel as if I'm deaf and blind to the nature that surrounds us. I see it, but I can't really see it. Kelly points to some of the earliest buds that have arrived with spring--lovely pink flowers--that sit on a nearby branch. I would have walked by and missed them.

Kelly points to the tiniest flowers, native flowers, on the ground along the trail that I would have passed by and never noticed. She talks about them--their name, the fact that these perennials bloom around this time every April. 

Mallard ducks swim by us in Galena Lake. We stop, and I have to squint to see them at all. To notice them. They are swimming in the distance. Two or three of them. I hear nothing. I imagine the water is lapping around them as they glide through. 

Way out into the lake, we see what first appear to be only rocks jutting out from the water. And then, with Kelly's guidance, we see turtles sunbathing on the rocks. 

We spot a sun bathing turtle closer by:

 

All the things we don't notice. All the things we don't know. For example, Kelly refers to David Attenborough's (a world famous biologist and natural historian) discovery that in nature plants and insects use different kinds of signals to communicate with each other: chemical signals, electrical signals and even vibrations. For example, a flower will let a bee know whether it has any pollen or nectar available or if the bee should fly by and try another flower. I never knew the flower was telling the bee anything. I assumed it was a hit or miss situation. 

The group moves slowly along. Kelly stops so we can look around us and feel the peace that emanates from the trees. We've been carrying Theo with us, but now he's itching to get down and explore so we let the group of hikers move ahead of us as we deliberately lag behind. 

We are following a trail and give Theo strict instructions to stay on the trail. Do not wander off. As we're explaining to Theo why it's important to respect the forest around us (ie. don't trample on the flowers and plants), sawdust or pieces of bark begin to float down from a nearby tree. 

We look up. I see nothing, but Kelly has doubled back and easily explains that we are witnessing a woodpecker building his home, meticulously widening the hole that he will live in. The floating things in the air are a kind of tree shavings.

As I'm wondering to myself--gosh, is he there--Woody the Woodpecker, Theo leaps from the ground and latches onto the very tree that Woody has claimed as his own. I am astonished that Theo, listening to the conversation, has no trouble spotting the Woodpecker, no trouble deciding that he wants to climb that tree.

"Wait," I cry out.

Theo reaches out his front right paw, eager to hitch his way up. His gaze is laser focused on the top branches. I wonder if Theo can sniff Woody from where he is. With lightning speed Theo advances up the tree--one feet up, two feet up. He pauses.

"Theo, what are you doing?"

Theo doesn't answer. He never answers. Cats have this way of becoming insulated in their world. Once they make a decision, come hell or high water, they are going to follow through.

I used to watch Chuckie do the same thing. He'd be lounging around outside, spot a squirrel, and no matter what happened next . . . if I lunged towards him, called out his name to stop, it was as if he couldn't hear me. 

I pray for a miracle. I have several fears. Theo will engage in a territorial fight with Woody. Or he will climb up, change his mind, and be stuck up there. 

Suddenly, more tree chips float down, seemingly aimed directly at Theo's face. I can't believe what I see--Theo stops and uses his right paw to swipe at his face, his eyes. He blinks several times. Woody has amazingly good aim.

"Theo," I whisper.

He begins his slow descent down the tree--half climbing, half sliding. His front paws hold him in place as he allows himself to slip down. Then he jumps. 

It's at moments like these that I am torn--should I hug him or kill him?

"Theo." I am disappointed in his behavior. But feeling sorry that he's struggling to clean the sawdust out of his eye.

"I only wanted to sniff him, mom." 

Am I being played by a gangster?

Home Again with a Gangster (Cat)

 Yeah! We're finally back home. Theo is re-united with his two rascal siblings Sienna and Mico (Michelangelo). As usual, unless they're eating, they're up to no good.

Their three cat heads are together. The room is exceedingly quiet which can mean only one thing. They're hatching some kind of plot. What do they want? Other than general mischief (which they call "playing") and "sniffing" the world around them, it's always the same thing--more food, more snacks, or the water fountain re-filled. 

Theo is the ringleader. Although he may be a bit snarky on the road, he is the gentlest of cats at home. He takes his job as big bro very seriously. He sees himself as a role model for the younger hooligans.

 But, even he's not immune to their antics. He's always watching. Somehow he gets drawn in.

If Mico is zooming around the house from living room to den, up and then down the stairs, careening around the corner towards the kitchen, jumping on chairs and then off chairs, Theo won't be too far behind. Where do they get all the energy?

If Mico jumps on the dining room table, spies the lovely basket filled with fruit (wooden fruit--so what's the attraction), and begins using his paw as a baseball bat, smacking the fruit out of the basket and onto the table, and then onto the floor . . . Theo will be right there--smacking the fruit with him. It's gotten so bad, we now have to put Saran Wrap around the basket to keep the fruit where it belongs.

Sometimes Mico is still. But his face tells you he's always thinking.

If Sienna is poised on the banister on the second floor that overlooks the dining room, then Theo is transfixed--can he jump up also and oh so precariously balance himself? Danger beckons. Once or twice Sienna slips, her paw dangling in mid-air, but she rights herself. We're afraid to approach her, afraid we'll spook her and she will lose her balance. 

We expect Theo to do the right thing. Meow at her to come down. 

"Why would I do that, mom?" he asks. 

"Because she's your sister and she might slip off and slam against the dining room table and break a leg or worse," I respond in even tones.

But Theo is Theo. A cat. He sees the world through a cat's eyes. He sums up the danger, the risk of possibility, and stands firm. On little cat paws. 

I reconsider. Will she tumble off to her death? Am I being over-concerned? Am I over-thinking? 

The night before last, Sienna is posed on our larger than life brown lounge chair, at the very top, her body kind of slanted with the pull of gravity. She's clearly catnapping. And she slips and is midway between falling to the floor or righting herself. I don't know how she does it. She saves herself in the end and, of course, returns to the exact same position. Theo barely blinks an eye.

His opinion--she knows what she's doing. She wasn't born yesterday. 

Then Mr. Squirrel appears. On our patio. Looking for an acorn that I guess he's hidden in the hibiscus tree in the planter. The hibiscus is on its last legs. Mr. Squirrel jumps up, smells something and starts digging. Dirt goes flying. Utterly intent on his job, he doesn't notice the three faces staring at him. 

Then the protective instincts of the three hooligans kick in. Sienna takes the lead. She bangs her paw against the screen. The squirrel doesn't budge. He is close to the acorn now and nothing is going to deter him.

Mico lets out a screech that I have absolutely never heard before. Yes, he sounds like he's being murdered. And he scares himself--he scoots backwards, slams against the sofa, and in a genuine state of panic, sets off across the room. Looking for safety? He disappears.

Suddenly the other two mesmerized cats unfreeze themselves and race after Mico as if their lives depend upon it.

Sienna runs upstairs and poses on a chair. Theo hides under the guest room bed. Where's Mico? Upstairs, underneath a chair in his comfy bed.

Meanwhile Mr. Squirrel finally unearths his acorn and holds it in his paws like a crowned jewel, totally oblivious to the ruckus he has caused. Fifteen minutes later, Theo and Sienna are fast asleep on a chair upstairs. 

And life goes on.  

Birgu--for Theo the snack capital of Malta

 Theo, Dan and I love our time in Malta. We travel to Birgu (Maltese name) or Vittoriosa (Italian name), an ancient fortified city on the southern side of the Grand Harbor that dates back to medieval times. 

Birgu has a fascinating history. A diversity of people have lived there--the Phoenicians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantines, the Angevines, and the Aragonese, and remnants of their culture still exist, but the most influential people who arrived was the Order of St. John. This Catholic Military Order built Birgu. 

Why was the Order of St. John in Birgu and why did it frankly exist at all?

The Order of St. John was a papal order founded in the 12th century, honoring John the Baptist, charged with defending the Holy Land. This fact floored me. The Order hired knights, and they fought in the Crusades until 1291. This is the background about the Crusades that I knew little about. I have read about the Crusades but wondered how were they formed? The Order has a complicated history, but essentially in 1526 the Order was driven out of Rhodes, a Greek island, and sent to Malta. When they arrived, they built three cities--Birgu was one of them, and it became important because of its prime location near the harbor where it could defend against invaders. 

During the Great Siege of Malta the Order of St. John with 500 knights and 6,000 foot soldiers repelled a four month siege from the Ottomans. Birgu was on the front lines protecting the Maltese Islands from attack.

That is one of the reasons why Birgu is so fascinating. The buildings date back to the 1500's, with plaques that share their historic significance. The town itself is quaint and inviting, with narrow streets . . .

 

romantic balconies . . 

beautiful doors . . .

 

intriguing door handles . . .

and plaques that hint at the history. This plaque identifies the Church of St. George used by the Rhodians back in the 1500's. The Rhodians were the people who followed the Order of St. John to Malta when they were kicked out of Rhodes.

For me, it's all about the details. 

Theo cares nothing for this. He is with us, but I wonder is he really with us. Mindfulness? What is going through his cat brain? He is pouty, has no interest in doorhandles or narrow quaint streets. 

Plan B for us with a pouty cat is SNACKS. They become the bribe that Theo can't resist. We walk down the charming streets of Birgu. And Theo eats snacks. And more snacks. 

And more snacks.

Enough. 

In all honesty, we finally give up. Theo becomes interested only once when we lift him up to sniff a door knocker in the shape of--you guessed it--a fish. He sniffs and sniffs. 

Finally it's time for lunch and Theo is all in. Unbelievable. 

Theo Stuck in Prehistoric Temple in Malta

 

This adventure is inspired by the history channel. Theo watches a show on cavemen and decides, out of the blue, that he wants to be a cave cat. What that means I don't know, but now he is inordinately interested in anything cavemen related.

"Theo, we're talking about long time ago. All the cavemen are gone. All we can do now is see whatever they left behind."

I think of prehistoric times and I imagine cave men, dressed in animal skins, lugging a large club around as a weapon, barefoot as they hunted for food. I never really thought much about where they lived--outdoors year-round surrounding a camp fire or obviously in a cave.  

Dan, Theo and I set out to find out what life might have been like. On Malta--a beautiful island south of Sicily--there are three ancient stone structures that are prehistoric and deemed UNESCO sites. In other words, their prehistoric dates have been verified and they are protected. 

How old? Hagar Qim is a complex of temples dating back to 5500 to 2500 years BC. These temples are older than Stonehenge in Great Britain and the Pyramids of Egypt. They are a marvel of construction considering what the "cavemen" didn't have to work with. Inside archaeologists have discovered animal bones, which means these temples were either places where animals were kept or sacrificed to the gods. 

Hagar Qim means "Standing/Worshipping Stones" that are constructed in such a way that they are not held together by nails or cement or crazy glue. Scholars over the years have speculated that the Phoenicians built the temples with no advanced technology, no tools and no system of writing. For years mythic folklore believed only giants could have moved the  boulders in place, partly because the facade contains the largest stone used in constructing these megalithic temples--it weighs 57 tons.

Hagar Qim wasn't excavated until 1839-1840, but since then the rain and sun and wind have been wearing away these megaliths. In 2009 a protective tent was erected. 

"Do you want me to get you a cavecat club?" I ask Theo before we set him down.

Theo shakes his head. He is too sophisticated for play acting. He is merely a modern day explorer, always curious, wanting to understand.

I worry. In a place like this, Theo will roam around and, of course, sniff. He will want to jump on the boulders. I can sympathize. I, too, want to touch something that is so old and yet has managed to survive. I convince myself that Theo will stay within the cool confines of the temple, especially since it seems to be getting hotter by the minute outside.

So with one eye on the temple and the other on Theo, we roam through what scholars consider the most ancient religious sites on earth. What were lives like back then? Did their lives resemble our lives at all? 

The temples were made of limestone. Features of the temple suggest fertility rituals because there are statues of obese people, representing people who had enough to eat and were, therefore, virile. The local museum in Valletta holds some of the finds which were excavated, including decorated pottery. The walls were decorated with etchings of plants. 

To the untrained eye (Dan and I) some of the boulders look as if they were blown apart as part of some kind of explosion and then hastily put together. 

But upon closer inspection, you can see that the boulders support each other and there are even smaller stones wedged between the boulders.

Scholars recognize a pattern that was reproduced throughout the world--the inner chambers and hallways.

Theo cares about none of this. He only wants to roam and sniff. Most of the temple ruins are not kept behind a gate or glass partition or cordoned off like the Acropolis in Athens. You can literally touch the stone, get close enough to see the decorations up close. Sniff the stones as much as you like.

Theo is in his glory. He jumps up, of course, on what looks like a piece of furniture and poses there as if he could be a cavecat statue. No harm, I think. And then he disappears.

For a brief moment I think about the plot of Diana Gabaldon's wonderful book Outlander where the heroine disappears near Stonehenge and travels back in time. Through a worm hole? 

Then I see his tail. Somehow Theo has wedged himself between two boulders--trying to get to the other side? Because he likes to be squeezed into tight spaces? 

Dan and I stand and stare. Is he stuck? What do we do--pull him out by his tail?

"Theo."

He seems frozen in time. Like a cat up a tree who doesn't know enough to turn around and climb back down. Until we hear something.

"Theo is snoring," Dan says.

Sure enough, adventure cat is taking a quick snooze. We yank his tail--gently--and he slowly backs out.

Embarrassed? Not really. Only hungry for another snack.

 

The Lure of the Dingli Cliffs

 So far Dan, Theo and myself have spent all of our time in Malta in Valletta, the capital. This morning we decide to branch out and visit the small village of Had Dingli that dates back to prehistoric times. It is approximately eight miles away and known for its scenery, most specifically the sweeping vistas of the sea.  

Less than 4,000 people live there. For years Had Dingli was connected to Rabat, Malta, but when Malta was divided into small parishes, Had Dingli came into its own. 

Had Dingli is also known for--and you spot them right away--the super high cliffs. It is actually the highest place in Malta. Which most likely explains why Had Dingli is still semi-rural, with little to no public transportation to get there from Valletta. 

 

I'm glad we're seeing these cliffs from a distance. No one has any desire to climb onto those giant stone rocks for a better view. We can see imaginary signs for danger all around.

Except Theo. He's been squirming around all morning. Not content to be carried safely in a backpack to see the scenery. As always, he wants to be on the ground, sniffing.

"What do you think?"

I shrug. There's only so much you can do to keep a cat happy. They always seem to have their own agenda. Which, of course, they'll never admit to. Dan puts him down.  

I issue the usual warning. "Stay with us, Theo, and stay away from those cliffs."

We slowly walk around and continue to explore. Theo is sniffing behind us. I continue to look back, just to make sure he has no intention of making a mad dash toward the boulders, that now seem like they're getting closer. Or are we getting closer to them?

We seem to be walking in a diagonal direction. Unconsciously, we've been trying to stay near Theo, 'close enough to scoop him up' distance, while he's been slowly but surely making his way toward the boulders, ie. the cliffs. 

I whisper to Dan, "Do you see what he's doing?"

Dan smiles, supremely calm. "He's either moving closer to the cliffs or the cliffs are moving closer to us."

"And moving closer to him." (Referring to our gangster cat.)

Sometimes it seems as if we speak a secret language to each other. Dan's eyes widen--a sign that he's about to take action.

"I get you."

Dan wanders over to Theo. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out our secret stash of dried cat food. Theo looks up and comes over. We have a small portable, rubberized bowl that flattens for easy carrying. But now Dan punches it out to be a bowl. We pour the food. Theo sniffs his way over. Danger is averted. For now.

There is one more thing we want to see. An ancient, tiny chapel--St. Mary Magdalen Chapel--overlooks the Dingli Cliffs. No one knows when it was originally built but there is a reference to it dating back to 1446. It was used by the local farmers. It is of simple construction with one door and one window. By 1575 it collapsed, but it was rebuilt in 1646. There's an inscription--dating from hundreds of years ago--above the door that this chapel was not awarded the usual "ecclesiastical immunity". That was changed years later.

We can't go inside, but we learn that the altar is made of limestone and behind the altar there's an altarpiece depicting Jesus forgiving Mary Magdalen.  

I stand in wonder--in awe of the Dingli Cliffs and the ancient chapel that in one form or another has been around for almost 600 years. Theo is about to take a nap. And so it goes.