Having a Good Time in Sag Harbor

Friends, we're interupting your Diesel Day celebration for a special blog. Read on!

As part of the Diesel Day celebration, my male person had an opening of a show of photographs from his new book, Keeping Time in Sag Harbor. All week long, he’s been scurrying about getting prints ready, finishing frames, thinking about programs for the show, and doing interviews with local journalists. I’ve lent a paw whenever I can.

On Thursday, the book arrived from the printer in Singapore, unbound. It was beautiful. We had a local bookbinder sew up a copy so people could see it during the opening. It will be a week or two before the first copies of the bound book arrive.

Honestly, this whole thing was planned separately from my own celebration, but I do think it is serendipitous that Diesel Day and my person’s opening fell on the same day.

We all had a lot of work to do to get ready for the show at the Whaling Museum. My role was to assist in the installation. I joined the museum director and my person yesterday morning to supervise the hanging. (For those of you wondering what Alex’s role was, she personally sat on every matted piece prior to framing, ensuring it had the cat-stamp of approval and just the right amount of fur inside the frame.)

The book itself was three years in the making. Alex and I spent many a late night up with Stephen, assisting with phrasing, providing comments and ideas, and generally supporting the writing of the book, planning of pictures, loading of film.

What you see here are the first images of the show, albeit as the installation was being finalized. Here I am overseeing the hanging of one wall.

I spent a lot of time eyeballing the images, making sure they were hanging straight – cats are experts at balance, you know, and we have a much finer sense of a horizontal plane than humans. Think about all that jumping, balancing, walking on backs of chairs we do. It involves a complex calculus that is simply innate to our species.

You can learn more about the show at the museum’s website; look to the right in my links section. The book – which has 94 of my male person’s photographs in it – is being distributed by the University of Chicago Press and will be in bookstores by mid-summer. If you are interested, go to your local bookseller and ask them to carry it.

E.L. Doctorow, writing about the book, said that my person “has an eye for the glories of an historic village – the way its past endures in its doorways, its gravestones, its fences, its finials. This lovely and loving book, attesting to the unorganized acts of preservation that have maintained the truth of a place for 300 years, is itself a scrupulous act of preservation.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Happy Diesel Day!!!

Consider a donation to my favorite animal shelter or yours!

The Sauk County Human Society can be reached at:
618 Highway 136
Baraboo, WI 53913
(608) 356-2520

Tell them Diesel sent you.

New post just below (part two of two)

Coming Home (a continuation)

I was sitting in my space on the top row, looking out at a couple kittens in large cages on the floor, when I heard Wendy’s voice. She’s the shelter director and she had kind of taken a shine to me.

She was walking ahead of a tall guy. He was very pleasant looking. She was saying something about ears healing. I’d been in a couple scrapes in my young life and in one of them my right ear was torn. Cats don’t use mirrors, so it wasn’t a big deal to me.

Wendy opened my cage and the tall guy was right there. I needed a stretch anyway, so I figured I’d take a walk. So, what the heck, I stood up and walked out of the cage, onto the tall guy’s shoulders. He seemed cool with it. I did a nice pivot, gave his head a good brush and sauntered back into the cage.

I think he was just a bit surprised. Wendy though, knew I was a charmer…I’d already charmed her and most of the women in the place. Just takes a few good manners and a little respect. It doesn’t hurt if you’re furry and have a nice face.

Anyway, after I returned to my cage and turned to look at the guy, I felt a real connection. He was looking at me in a way. It is hard to explain, but I think he saw something. Perhaps he recognized a fellow wordsmith. He asked for my name, I think…I felt a little lift, a bit of a flutter. But, you can’t get your hopes up.

A couple of days later a woman walked in. She saw the little furry guy two rows below me first…one of the kittens that came in with me. He had been pretty worried about the whole ordeal and had asked me some advice the night before about looking at the people who came to look at him. What could he do, he asked, to stick out from the crowd?

I liked the furry little guy. He was black like me. So I figured it wouldn’t hurt to teach him the head tilt. You look deep into the eyes of your potential admirer, cock your head firmly but ever so slightly to one side and give a plaintive little mrrrw. Works every time.

The kid was a natural, he was devastating…I regretted teaching him the move immediately. Then again, how could I begrudge him a good move? It’s like a book idea…you can tell someone your idea and they might use it…but they’ll never execute it quite the way you will.

So this woman, she’s totally sucked into the kitten. But somehow – perhaps she realizes he has nothing yet to follow up with – she looks away from him. Our eyes meet. It was nice, really nice. I liked her. She was interested in me. We just looked at each other a bit.

She went away. She came back. Next thing, the door to my space is open and we’re talking. We spend some quality time together on the floor. But, after a time, she leaves. I can’t quite shake the memory of her.

Time passes. I don’t think it was more than a couple bowls of food later. Here they come in together her and the tall guy! Wow. The door is open and suddenly I smell the glorious smell of catnip. Fresh, organic catnip…laced with a scent I could only describe at the moment as stripey girl cat smell. (Oh, yeah, cats can smell color.) It is a furry mouse. I can’t help myself…it’s all licking and rubbing and purring. They are nice. We talk…

Then they go again, but they leave the mouse. It was rugged.

But one short bowl of food later, there she is. She’s picking me up. We’re signing papers together, taking vows to care for each other. She’s paying my bill for me. Into a nice carrier and then into a very nice black Volvo with a big purring engine and very nice suede seats (I made a mental note to remember to mark these later…didn’t want to get possessive right out of the box.)

Right at that moment, I could have done without the trip to the vet…but, in retrospect, it was the right thing to do.

Then I went home…which is not so much any one place but a set of emotions and relationships that are fulfilling. I owe a lot to the good folks at the Sauk County Humane Society but, I love my home.

As soon as we had some quiet time that evening, I did the head tilt move. I guess it worked.

In the Beginning

Dear Friends,

As part of our celebration leading up to Diesel Day, I thought I’d share a bit about how I got to be a former Midwestern shelter cat living the good life on the East End of Long Island.

The beginnings of my life are foggy to me. I remember my mom but not too much about my brothers and sisters, except for the fact that there were quite a few of us and not enough milk dispensers to go around.

I was young and curious and very attracted to the outside world and to books and newsprint. At the time, I primarily considered these comfortable, insulating objects, but later I would recognize that I was, from the very beginning, attracted to words. I roamed a bit as cats will, exploring my world.

Next thing I remember, I was in LaValle, Wisconsin, a tiny town west of Baraboo. I had teamed up with another guy a little older than me, Orange Cat. Orange Cat and I had found some people who did pretty good at bringing in food…we were young and foolish and didn’t really know what human commitment was.

Over time, several small cats, kittens really, joined us. By the time of the incident, there were eight of us.

Up to that point in my life, I really wasn’t thinking about the big picture. I was just going from day to day, doing the best I could. Having Orange Cat around was nice. The incident changed my life.

Again, all this is a bit foggy. One day, the eight of us were in the house. There was a little food but the people were gone. There was no way out. Orange Cat and I did the best we could to keep the spirits of our companions up, but we had a frightening few days. I don’t really know how many. I do remember promising myself that if I got out of this, I’d pay much more attention to the things around me and be more thoughtful.

We heard the sound of a vehicle. We saw several people, they seemed nice but nonetheless we were scared. They scooped up the kittens, it didn’t take them too long to get Orange Cat and me too, put us in carriers, and we went for a ride. They took us to the shelter.

The next few weeks are really a blur. Everyone was nice but they were also very firm. I took another trip, south this time. I stayed for a while there for a medical checkup and a surgery – no kittens for me! Then I was back at the Sauk County Humane Society. I had a penthouse cage: a cubicle like everyone else but on the top row where I could see everything going on.

My buds from the house were with me. We all had new names. Orange Cat was named Tucker and I was named Diesel…I think because I am dark and have flecks of white. One of the little guys from the house was just below me.

Every day people came to look at me and the folks taking care of all of us would talk to us, pet us, and let us out from time to time to explore our room. Food was regular. I got my picture taken for the first time. I figured the deal was to get one of the visitors to take me home, but how do you know who to pick?

Then I met the tall guy…



(to be continued...)

Celebrate Diesel Day!

MrrrrRrrr Friends,

Saturday 26 May is Diesel Day – a day of celebration and thanksgiving for the good that furry companions can bring into human lives and for the humans that work hard to see that beings like me find the homes and people of their dreams. It is the day I was adopted by my people from the Sauk County Humane Society in Baraboo, Wisconsin.

My blogs this week will be devoted to getting you revved up to celebrate with me.

I’m betting that none of you has gotten through life without caring for a furry or feathered creature or, at least, enjoying the momentary company of a friend’s dog, marveling at the feathers on a companion bird, or sharing the wise glance of a cat. Most of the companion animals I’ve met in my life – and I’ve met quite a few – are yearning to be in a relationship with a human. To be sure, that’s all about living securely, knowing you will be fed, kept warm, and given the respect and care due to any living thing. It is, however, also about companionship, friendship, and love.

But let’s face it, there are a lot of us out there. Because we are determined to live and love, we reproduce. Hey, we’re animals (just like you), and we simply have the urge to merge.

In the US, one 1990 estimate has 60 million cats in the care of people. That does not include the number of wanderers or free-roaming cats, which may be just as high. I can’t help you with how many dogs there are, but the news is that cats are the most populous home animal.

So the people who care for us when we are otherwise uncared for are an important part of the equation. It is a tough world out there. More cats die from being struck by cars than by any other means. But many of those struck may be impaired in some other way: a fight with another animal, exposure to a chemical, exhaustion, hunger, and, I am very sad to say, sometimes by abuse from humans. We don’t want to be confined, but we do want to be cared for.

It is then, a mixed bag when we end up in our local shelter. It’s warm, we get medical care, good food, and, in most cases, a second chance. But we do sit in smallish cages and wait…it can be agonizing at times. Certainly, there are bad places that pretend to be shelters, run by unscrupulous people with no honor. The majority of shelters, however, are run by people with big hearts and good intentions who know how to pull in the knowledge and expertise to care for their animals well. I was lucky enough to land in one of these and my debt to the good folks of the Sauk County Humane Society is great.

You note I don’t use the “P” word. It’s just that my friends and I feel that we aren’t here solely for the enjoyment of humans. We think our lives – simple seeming though they may be – have an integrity of their own. No offense, but “pet” seems so much based on ownership. We’d rather be your friends. So I choose companion animal…longer but basically more respectful.

Okay, so what’s my point?

I’d like you to celebrate Diesel Day with me. If you have a furry friend in your life, if you ever have had such a friend, if you know someone who depends on an animal companion, if you’ve smiled at a dog with its person, or a cat laying in someone’s lap, or a Mynah bird’s bawdy language, or if you simply enjoy this blog, it is a good time to give something back.

I’ll be sharing part of my story with you later this week. The upshot, though, is that I wouldn’t be here without the good people at the Sauk County Humane Society. They rescued me, they made sure I was healthy, and they worked like crazy to find me a home. And they found me the home beyond my dreams.

Please consider supporting the lives of misplaced animals and the good people that work to keep them healthy and find them homes. I am hoping that you might take the time to do one (or more) of the following this week in celebration of Diesel Day.

1/ Make a donation to the Sauk County Humane Society - $5, $15, $50 or, better yet, $150 buys food, medical care, toys, pays the electric, heat, and other overhead and ensures the shelter has the staff it needs to run efficiently. I urge you to write and send a check on or before Saturday 26 May and note on it that you’ve contributed in celebration of Diesel Day – believe me, they remember me.

2/ Donate a HUGE bag of food to the Sauk County Humane Society. You know how I love food! I ate many bags when I was there. They serve Purina Cat and Kitten Chow. Take it right in and tell them you brought it in celebration of Diesel Day.

3/ Find your local shelter, go in, and ask them how you can help. If money is as tight for you as it is for them, consider volunteering an hour a two a week cleaning, working with records, or helping with the animals. You could even join the Board if you have that set of skills. Tell them a certain ex-shelter cat sent you.

4/ Ask your veterinarian if they support a local shelter by donating their time to help care for the animals there. Tell them it is important to you that there is a network of animal health care professionals supporting the local shelter. My Wisconsin vet, Mara, gave me a free first visit – complete with shots – because my person adopted me from the shelter.

Remember, most shelters are 501(c) 3 not-for-profit charities. They run entirely on donations – which are, for the money-minded among you, tax deductible to the extent allowed by law.

I promise I will not be hitting you up like this very often, but I do hope you will act. I still have extended family in Wisconsin and, you never know, you may be directly aiding a furry cousin of mine…another future feline blogger.

Giving away without regret is one of the most important things a being can do. You’ll be amazed at what comes back to you. Granted, it is a crap shoot…someone might give you back some really ugly toy with no catnip in it…but you gotta try.

The Sauk County Human Society can be reached at:
618 Highway 136
Baraboo, WI 53913
(608) 356-2520

Tell them Diesel sent you.

Diesel is Here

Mrrrrr,

There’s a disturbing development on the street. Or maybe it is a regional thing.

A couple of you have been quite distressed, so I feel the need to reassure you. I am here, in the little house, not anywhere else. Believe me, if I get in a car again soon, I’ll yowl about it ahead of time.

So the signs you see on the side of the road at particular retail outlets proclaiming, “We have Diesel,” they are really just taking a further step into merchandising. They don’t actually have me. It’s okay.

But why the move from the simple celebration of my name to a cockeyed claim to have actually purloined me? Is it more appealing? Do they think business will improve because of this odd shift from a word to a phrase? Or is this evidence of a deeper problem? Does it indicate that the dominant human society these days has moved from a practical service/consumer orientation to a kind of slavish consumption/possession?

When did humans in this society go from having enough to wanting more and more?

We have a rule here. If you buy one thing…especially a new thing (as opposed to something gently used by another) you have to get rid of one, preferably, two things in the same category. It doesn’t always work out, but it seems a good intention. That goes for cat toys usually too…though I work to maintain a certain level of need by ravaging particular cat toys, rendering them…well, rending them asunder.

We buy used things when possible. Cat toys are not often in that category, but we go for (a) biodegradable and (b) organic. Used things can be cool. Old furniture, stuff other people don’t want but still care for and want to find someone else who will enjoy it…even older cars. My humans have a thing for older Volvos…though they look forward to buying a used hybrid car someday.

And then there’s a good old boat….

Rusty Stormy

The little house is in bloom. We have forsythia, daffodils, lilac, Japanese cherry trees, dogwood and then all those green and red leaves (King maple, copper beech, sycamore, sugar maple) unfolding. It is quite a sight.

On top of that, there’s sage and allium coming up, and my male person brought us several of Alex’s prairie plants from Wisconsin: yellow and purple coneflower and ox-eye sunflowers.

It is so lovely that Rusty Stormy came by just to check it out yesterday afternoon. I was in the back yard at the time.

It was a good meeting. RS was quite the gentleman. He stayed his distance after we sighted each other. He did a full-tail salute, standing tall and still for several minutes. I, being a cat, do not salute. Instead, I strolled casually about on the side of the back yard near the garage, putting my back to RS and calmly walking about.

I then walked a few paces toward him and casually marked the nearby cherry tree. He walked a few paces away from me, toward the back of the yard and playfully rolled several times. It was not a serious invitation, but it was nice to see that he has potential as a play companion. He then retook his position. We stared at each other a few minutes (quite boring really). Then he woofed, walked a few steps toward me, turned, and ambled to the back of the yard and homeward.

As I said, it was a good meeting. Quite promising, really. Every cat is looking for a good dog. One he can join forces with when circumstances warrant. A good dog, though, is hard to find.

Raccoons and Retrievers

It’s a fairly simple life out here. In between our people’s continuing organizing activities, Alex and I have been going outside for our supervised visits. We sniff around the house and shrubbery to suss out the various nocturnal visitors to our new home, eat a little grass, roll in the dirtiest spots we can find. I do perimeter duty every day smelling the exterior corners of the house, checking under boats, marking bushes and, if needed, plants. Alex focuses on the front yard, doing blade-by-blade analysis.

We are noting two sets of frequent visitors, besides Ricky the mailman. First, there’s Rusty Stormy, a big galoot of a Golden Retriever. Sweet enough looking for a dog, but it is fundamentally disturbing to a cat to see a dog just stroll into the yard as if he owns it. He just appears, strolling (we don’t think he moves faster than an amble) through the yard, smelling stuff as he goes. He rarely stops for any period. He is never accompanied by a person. One day Alex or I will be out there when he comes through. What will happen?

Then there’s Fric and Frac. Alex named them. They are two adult raccoons who must live nearby. We hear them but rarely see them. They make quite eerie growling sounds at night as they check to see if our neighbor has any clams in his garage. Then they come over to our house to look for the trash can that used to sit outside. Occasionally, they bring over “take out.”

Raccoons will eat just about anything. Their populations have grown as individuals have become habituated to humans, as humans have encroached more and more into remaining wooded areas, and as humans have become careless about leaving trash and other raccoon food (dog and cat food, for example) unattended outside at night.

The amazing thing about raccoons is that they have thumbs! Really. They aren’t opposable like human thumbs, but if you are wondering why they can get into almost anything – especially your feeble trash can – this is it.

We like Fric and Frac, as long as we are inside and they are out. Their thin striped faces with the large eyes remind me a bit of Alex. But a lot of folks don’t seem too fond of them. I don’t imagine they are too fond of many folks, either.

Small Thoughtless Devastations

We had a bad day today. The new neighbor lady – who took control of the house after the death of our long-time neighbor and friend, her mother-in-law – killed one of the most beautiful mature Wild (Black) Cherry trees I’ve ever seen.

It soared about 80 feet high and the four symmetrical main branches of the trunk spread out perfectly forming a beautiful crown. It swayed in the wind gracefully. We loved having it watch over our home. I’m glad I got to spend last autumn with it. It was just leafing out this week and would have had lovely white blossoms mid-May.

My person says that every year a pair of Baltimore Orioles built a nest near its crown, hanging from the very end of one of the thinnest longest branches. Using plant leaves, orioles take up to 15 days to build a soft bulbous nest that hangs, delicate but sturdy, from the branch. They line it with feathers. Baltimore Oriole populations, and other songbirds, have been declining in recent years. It was originally thought this was because of habitat loss in their Central and South American wintering grounds. Now many experts think one of the primary reasons is loss of nesting habitats – trees for some, grasslands for others – here in North America.

I guess that’s one less tree for breeding birds.

This tree was our friend. It had stood for over 50 years, growing slowly, watching the world change around it. It had another 50 years in it at least – some live well over 200 years. The new neighbor lady didn’t like the tree because people tracked the small, late-summer fruits that fell on the edge of her yard and driveway into her house (a house no one lives in now).

Prunus serotina – Black or Wild Cherry – is a native to the eastern US. It was also one of the first trees imported from the New World to England, where trees were present in English gardens as early as 1629.

In most Algonquin Indian cultures, and for us, this tree was also one of our ancestors. A direct tie to our history, to the earth we live on, and to our relationship with the world. It rooted us, helped us to look around and outside of ourselves – up and skyward, to see the beauty around us.

That’s one less tree to lift our souls. A connection has been thoughtlessly cut away. As have some of the ties that bind us to the natural world that holds us.

It is difficult to look at the sky right now because our friend is not there.