Thursday, July 28, 2016

Suburban Terrorists

I worked the late shift yesterday and didn't return home until after 9:30 last night. The first thing I did was go for a walk with Wishes; we both had things to work out of our systems. It was a warm night, nearly 90 degrees, and we were lost in our separate thoughts as we returned to our little apartment. As I went to open the gate, something leaped from my patio to the chest high brick wall next to the gate and stared me down with its yellow eyes. I did what anyone would do; I screamed and took a step back. In that split second, the monster jumped from the wall to the ground and I was able to pass through the gateway unmolested.

Upon entering the enclosed patio, Wishes' nose went crazy sniffing all around and I noticed that the intruder had not left at all, but was eyeing us from atop the brick wall behind the crepe myrtle tree. I realized then that this grey striped cat was the culprit who had been making a nest in the pine straw each night at the trunk of the tree and I sighed.

He is a part of a neighborhood gang; feral cats, seven of them. They call themselves The Panthers. They've chosen this name for themselves because they see the many Panther decals displayed in the rear windows and bumpers of the cars of the human residents in this complex. Panthers are worshipped in these parts.

At one time, they had intimidated one of my neighbors into giving them food and protection and the gang lived on their patio, protecting their digs by posting sentries on the top of the brick wall and in the thick bushes around their protectors' domain. Sadly, those neighbors have since moved on, having fled out of fear of these thugs, and now the gang is on the prowl. 

They keep to their territory, the south side of my building and the adjacent ravine, and they patrol it incessantly, staring down anyone who dares to intrude. And they are in ardent pursuit of a new protector. One morning the entire gang checked out my patio and each member peered into the window at Wishes before moving on. Wishes was too awe struck to put up much of a fuss, but the little fuss he did make was enough to keep them searching.

The leader is large and black and white. There are 3 other black and whites in this gang. They also include the grey striped monster who terrorized me last night, a calico and, of course, a token black. I at least admire the fact that they seem to be an all inclusive gang by not letting color be an issue; but the black and whites definitely rule the group. They all drive Wishes to distraction. I don't dare let him escape the confines of the patio because I know they would lure him into chasing them into the ravine and ultimately to his demise.

I'm not sure who the gang will find as their new protector, it won't be me. 

The grey striped monster slept the night on my patio again last night. Despite his frightening ways he has manners. After sleeping and defecating, he thanked me for the use of my patio by leaving a gift of a dead lizard at my doorstep.

Or was that a warning?



Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Yoga - Do It!

Like many, many others, I became fascinated with yoga when Raquel Welch discovered it and promoted it to the Western world in the early 90's. She was 50, I was 34. But, hell yes!, I wanted to look as good as she when I was 50. Use it or lose it, right?

It wasn't until my 38th birthday that an easy opportunity arose for me to learn the practice of yoga and I loved it. I loved the calmness and the way I calmly and patiently pushed my body to be even more flexible than it already was. I maintained the practice for about three years and then let it slip away. What was I thinking?

Part of the problem was that I was still very flexible when I took it up and I took my flexibility for granted. And then, very subtly, that flexibility began to disappear. And then I began to ache.

Today I began a new yoga regimen. It is one of my New Year's resolutions, but I'm not one to launch into my resolutions on January 1. It takes me a while to wrap my brain around them. Then I can start. Today was the day. 

The first session lasted all of 10 minutes, but I bet it ends up being the best 10 minutes of my day. Only 10 minutes made my body feel so much better and I felt better about myself, too. The goal is to work up to 30 minutes; but more than the minutes spent, the ultimate goal is to bring back some of the lost life to my aging and atrophied joints. 

Yes, shame on me for having given up the practice, but it will be a worse shame if I don't take it up again.