It's not Neville Shute waiting for it, or Cormac McCarthy's aftermath. More a Rod Serling winking-smirk point of view...
09/27/2010
09/21/2010
07/30/2010
07/27/2010
07/20/2010
07/15/2010
06/01/2010
The Heartbreak of Columba Livia
I'd been noticing a pair of pigeons in our alley for a week or so. They appeared to be the ones I'd seen last year in the neighborhood. They always seemed to be bobbing down the alley, or sitting on a rooftop or garage peak. They didn't mind if I drove past them, barely bothering to get out of the way at times. Friday night I was on the way to drop Ziggy at the groomers. A woman down the block stopped me as I passed. As each of our dogs barked like raving lunatics in our respective backseats, she told me to watch out for the pigeons because one had a broken wing. She told me she had called the city animal protection people. They told her that if she caught it, they would come and get it. They also told her they would then 'humanely euthanize it."
It was then that I realized that I'd never seen both of them on a garage - it was just the darker one. The cream-colored one was always on the ground with her partner. It got me thinking about protection. Being there for someone. Providing safety and reassurance in a time of need. All things that I want to be for Nancy, All things at which I've failed miserably at times.
Coming up the alley
after dropping Zig off for is hair and nails appointment, I looked for
them. There she was, walking along just past our driveway. There he
was, up on the neighbor's garage watching closely. I pulled into the
garage and went in to get Nancy. I didn't tell her about the pigeons.
I just asked her to put down the chimichangas she was building for
dinner and come outside for a second. As we walked through the kitchen
and through the garage, I told her about the kind of guy I always wanted
to be for her. Being there, protecting, 'having her back' through
anything.
I pointed up at the garage roof next door and said "I
want to be That Guy." And then I told her about them.
The first words out of Nancy's mouth - as I knew they would be -
were "We have to do something." So we went back in to get some crackers
to give to her. She'd move away, but not too far, so we tried to toss
them her way. With That Guy cooing madly at us from the garage roof.
That didn't work, so we just crushed some up and left them on the
driveway.
During dinner we talked about looking on-line for options. Euthanasia couldn't be the only route, there had to be some other way. When the phone rang and sent me off to pick up a product-laden, ear cleaned, nail trimmed Ziggy - I saw the two of them tapping away at the saltines. Which made me smile.
We started our web search and quickly found that the Animal Humane Society in Minneapolis will accept wildlife for rehabilitation. They were open, so I talked to Nicole at AHS, and she explained that it could be many things and didn't necessarily mean a broken wing. If it were a broken wing, there was nothing that could be done - but if it was just a birdy clavicle issue it would be fixable. She suggested catching her and bringing her in. So we put out a mix of brown rice, oatmeal, and cheerios in a bowl, and set out a bowl of water for the two of them.
I also asked if her mate would wait for her to come back. She said that pigeons mate for life, and that if she was gone he would go through a grieving process, and eventually move on to find another mate. Which made Nancy cry again. I love that about her. She's a freak about animal suffering. Partly, she says, because they can't talk to us and tell us what the problem is and how we can help. I asked Nicole if we could have her back after rehab, to let her go in our alley again. She said absolutely. That's exactly what they try to do.
The next morning we could see signs that they'd enjoyed some of the food. And I set out to catch her to bring her in to Nicole. I thought, if I could herd her into our garage, I could shut the door, corner her, and pick her up to put her in Jake's little kennel. I found her three doors down, huddled behind a garbage can. She wasn't hard to find. That Guy was sitting up above her on the garage peak. And of course cooing madly as I approached.
She wanted nothing to do with me, and darted away. I followed, cornering her against a picket fence across the alley. I almost had her, when she bounced over me, flew low (Sweet! A broken wing wouldn't let her do that, right?) back down the alley and right into our garage! I ran over, keyed in the code, hopped over the seeing-eye-thingy, and into the garage. So far so good. Now, I just had to dig through the piles of soon-to-be rummage sale items and bins of things taken from a storage garage containing my former life.
I found her in a few seconds, huddled up against a wall between two boxes. She let me pick her up and put her in Jake's kennel. After a few minutes of Nancy now cooing and talking to her, and pigeon and I were off to get her fixed-up.
Nicole takes a look at her. Notices how emaciated she looks. She notices the bird-lice as says that's an easy fix, and tells me that it doesn't look like a broken wing. So she'll get some fluids and food in her and take a look. I leave - with Nicole's reassurance that I can come back for her when she's ready to rejoin her partner.
Fast forward a day. Our little patient has been at the Humane Society for a day now. That Guy is still up on the neighbor's roof. I call early to leave a message checking in to see how things are going. Later that day, Nicole calls back to say that things look good. She drained some fluid from the wing, and began some antibiotics. And physical therapy. Pigeon Physical Therapy? I don't remember that one on the grade-school what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up questionnaires.
So we wait. Her partner waits. Another week or so of PPT and we'll be able to go pick her up to bring her 'home.' To her partner who'll be waiting for her. Because he's That Guy.
05/10/2010
04/06/2010
Honoring Jake
We arrived on Cozumel on Saturday March 13th. We'd arranged to fly first class - allowing us to check 210 pounds of medical supplies for our second week of vacation. And explained as best we could at each and every chance that we weren't really American Pigs with 9 suitcases full of costume changes.
And for those scoring at home, We split wins at Travel Yahtzee... And never lost any dice.
Sunday is the day the locals venture into downtown San Miquel on Cozumel. The cruise ships are gone, the cruise ships don't arrive again until tomorrow... They're a curse and a blessing to the Cozumelenos.
Families everywhere - the kids in their Sunday best. Moms and Dads smiling everywhere - especially at the gringos and gringas - knowing they're here because they love the island. Not just because their ship pulled over for a stop at Carlos and Charlies.
The trip was planned with JoAnne and Richard scheduled to join us. At the airport in Minneapolis (Terminal 1, NOT the Charles Lindbergh Terminal - haven't you been keeping up?), we were startled and surprised to find Carrie and Shelly there to join us for week one. Hugs, tears, strange looks. "Crying at departure? Wha?" Liars. I'll never trust those I-hope-you-guys-have-a-great-time-wish-we-could-go-maybe-next-year liars...
I digress. And use ellipses a lot...
Just setting the table.
So anyway. Our intrepid heroes are wandering the town square on a Sunday night. Nary a drunken cruiser in port.
Richard and JoAnne cute as can be.
We listened to the band awhile, watched the amazingly romantic looking older couples doing a loving slow dance, and the little kids doing their dancing best. As we walked away, heading toward the malecon to grab a taxi back to the hotel, Shelly says "Look! There's Jake - here to say hello!" Which was spooky. Nancy and I planned our second week in Mexico around volunteering at Isla Animals on Isla Mujeres - honoring Jake's memory. Just ahead of us was a black cat with a white blaze that looked just like Jake. He wandered off as we approached, as most street animals will do. We thought that was kind of a sweet way to end our first full day on vacation.
So fast forward to the next week. Nancy and I had said goodbye to Jo and Richard, Shelly and Carrie; and had take a cab to the ferry, ferry to Playa del Carmen, and our arranged transport for the 40 miles north to the ferry at Puerto Jaurez on the north end of Cancun - to get us to the ferry to Isla Mujeres. I wish I would have taken a picture of the Isla cab, with our 9 bags bungeed into the open trunk and on our laps for the short ride to our hotel.
We relaxes for a day or so on Isla. Then headed over to Isla Animals to deliver our time and 210 pounds of medical supplies to Alison. We could see her house from our hotel, just a stones-throw away, but it was about half a mile by road. You'll have to ask Nancy about the cab driver she slapped when he said he shot dogs when he saw them. We spent our first day 'socializing puppies.' A more important job than you'd think. If a puppy is going to be adopted, it better be user friendly. What a way to spend a day!
Before this turns into a novel, let me get back to Jake. Later in the week, we had sweated through (whew) our puppy socializing, our cataloging the medications we'd delivered, the constant poop and pee patrol with 14 poopies- I mean, puppies. Plus 10 other dogs.
We finally said our goodbyes to Alison. Given of our time, our medical supplies, our money; we were going to relax for the last couple of days on Isla Mujeres.
The sweetest moment may have been Alison - having taken our money - ours and our friends and family's. She thanked us for trusting her with our cash. Can you stand it?
We tearfully walked away, promising more help - more money, more spreading the word. As we walked down the dirt road toward the north beach area of the island, Nancy was crying. Sad to be walking away. Wishing there was more we could do to help Alison. I was reminding her of how proud Jake is of us. Honoring his memory with this great thing we'd done. As I'm saying this to Nancy, we're approaching pavement again. And ahead of us is a black cat. Not just a black cat. It's Jake.
Not just looking a little like Jake...
So. there we are. Goosebumps galore. Not just that we planned this trip as a memorial to Jake. Not just that we saw a cat a week and a half and 60 miles and two ferry rides earlier. But I'm talking to Nancy about how proud Jake is of us, and this happens. Nancy sat down, and the cat jumped on her lap. Stray cats in Mexico don't do that. Especially if you don't have a seafood platter in front of you. Nancy asks me to find some food for our new friend. I know there's a dive op a block up the road with a small store attached. I find a can of potted meat for 100 pesos or so. I race back, and open it up. Our new friend starts chowing it down. Nancy's still crying. The cat is dividing it's time between eating potted meat and 'nursing,' sucking on Nancy's shirt. By now we're both puddles, wondering how we're going to leave this little Caribbean sweetheart. Nancy finally asks me to put it on my lap - where it begins sucking on my shirt, allowing her to walk away without looking. I move his remaining potted meat, and his water that we'd given him.(her, really) closer to the bushes- away from the road, and watched Nancy walking away. I let her get a couple of hundred yards up the road before I left the kitty to enjoy the rest of her meal.
I don't have a deep and hearfelt finish to this story. Just memories of a great vacation. Helping a woman who's life is spent saving animals. Marveling at her dedication. In awe of the time, the money, how she has opened her home. Given over to saving the dogs of the Yucatan peninsula. One spaying and neutering at a time. I don't have the words. But Nancy does.
We finally said our goodbyes to Alison. Given of our time, our medical supplies, our money; we were going to relax for the last couple of days on Isla Mujeres.
The sweetest moment may have been Alison - having taken our money - ours and our friends and family's. She thanked us for trusting her with our cash. Can you stand it?
We tearfully walked away, promising more help - more money, more spreading the word. As we walked down the dirt road toward the north beach area of the island, Nancy was crying. Sad to be walking away. Wishing there was more we could do to help Alison. I was reminding her of how proud Jake is of us. Honoring his memory with this great thing we'd done. As I'm saying this to Nancy, we're approaching pavement again. And ahead of us is a black cat. Not just a black cat. It's Jake.
I don't have a deep and hearfelt finish to this story. Just memories of a great vacation. Helping a woman who's life is spent saving animals. Marveling at her dedication. In awe of the time, the money, how she has opened her home. Given over to saving the dogs of the Yucatan peninsula. One spaying and neutering at a time. I don't have the words. But Nancy does.
03/20/2010
Anniversary Dinner At Prima Was Wonderful
And so was the food.
Cozumel Mexico. 2010.
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