Just what would You Think if this was a Day in Your Life?

Another rainy day.  I don't mind the rain.  It slows life down.  It makes the view outside my window, lush and green.  It does interrupt my sunbathing.  The rain brings out strange creatures to observe.  What are those gray wiggling things that struggle out of the wet ground?

I have since learned, that they are worms. According to Wikipedia: "The term worm /ˈwɜrm/ is used in everyday language to describe many different distantly related animals that typically have a long cylindrical tube-like body and no limbs...Free-living worm species do not live on land, but instead live in marine or freshwater environments, or underground by burrowing."

I have watched as they are delicacies, of robins and other birds.  I wonder what is it like to be a worm.  Join me on this journey.

Down here on the ground, grass is a towering sky scraper, pebbles are rocks and rocks are boulders.  A simple trickle from a sprinkler's runoff, is a raging river and giants of all forms roam the ground above you.  Your purpose in life is extremely important.  You eat decaying vegetation and garbage and irrigate the soil. With out you a garden or lawn does not thrive, yet you are not respected.

Can you imagine struggling to the surface.  You are greeted by a hot searing welcome, from the sun.  You writhe and squirm to reach the shade, inches away but hours of travel for you.  Aah, some relief, then the sun changes direction, the wind blows and your shade is gone in seconds.  A day's work for nothing.  You sense danger, in the vibration of the ground and air.  You borough to safety, you think.

Suddenly you feel the earth and dirt loosen around you.  You feel a pull as your body is separated from the soil. You move higher and higher in the hand of a four year old.  Now out of your element and above the ground, you are tickled, poked and pulled.  Why?  You don't understand the four year old is fascinated by your movement.  In order to view more you are encouraged to move.

Out of love for you, you are carried around in a warm, moist, sticky and dirty hand.  Perhaps you are passed through many hands.  You get respite in plastic cups full of water, fighting to breath.  You do not realize this is a drink of water, for you from the four year old.  You feel yourself getting higher, is this creature rapidly growing?  Then you rapidly, descend to a lower atmosphere.  This is repeated until you are dizzy.  What you do not know is you are being given precious rides down a slide.  All you know is you want it to quit.

As the day nears its end you might get to swim in the lake dangling from a hook.  Perhaps you are placed inches from where your day began, definitely not in the shape you started out.  Perhaps you land in new territory, totally foreign to you.  Just what would you think if this was a day in your life?

A Walk Down Memory Lane

I saw my human write this.  Thought I'd share her thoughts today.  I am just laying around soaking up the sun so I used her words today.

Traveling through the world of fb I encountered posts about outdoor play. SNAP - memory lane opened up! (Many of you may not know, but seizures in my late teen years robbed me of lots of my early memories, once in awhile I get a peek into the past.)

My aunt Dorothy, took care of me while mom worked and dad was in the service. She had a big, beautiful, backyard that ended where a church parking lot started. One side of the yard ended by a large, city park and the other next to very close friends and neighbors. I was often alone, though watched through the window, in that backyard. (Yes, times were different and we were not so afraid of what could happen.)

The trees at the end of the yard were my house. A few old pots and pans, my aunt no longer needed were my dishes. No pink, plastic, play kitchens for me. I would cook all morning long. At noon I was called in for spaghetti-Os and chocolate milk. (My favorite meal.)

I remember feeling like the house was miles away. It seemed so tall, and the hill seemed so steep. I wonder what it would look like and feel like now, as an adult?

After lunch it was nap time. Often outside, under the shade of the lilac bushes in the front yard. Sometimes in the screened in porch my uncle Will sat in, to watch Little league games in the evening and on Saturdays. (You see on Sundays nothing was open, except church.)

I miss my Aunt Dot & Uncle Will. I have not been to their house in over 20 some years. We drive by on 35W S often but it is hidden behind sound barriers, no longer visible from the freeway. Though curious, I want to remember the little cream or green colored home tucked behind the lilac hedge just as my faulty memories remember it: full of love for me.

Yarn - Why is it so addictive?

What is it about that ball of fiber that is so irresistible to my human?  Well, OK to either of us. 

I sit in a corner of the couch and watch, as she gets to pull it out of a ball and make knots with it.  She takes a lot of time to craft her knots using a hook.  There is a lot of fuss and muss, as it is measured and blocked.  It is placed out of our reach, whenever she is done. 

Don't even think about sitting on her lap and helping.  I tried pulling it out of the ball for her once.  She was not very encouraging. 

The next time she was tying her knots and I was sitting in her lap, I tried to help control her fibers by personally wetting them.  That got me a placed on the floor.

Annie sits in my human's lap eyes half closed and ignores the yarn, most days.  She smiles at me as she watches the knots being tied.  Show off.  Calamity is like me she can't resist the call of the yarn.

Oh the things I could make with that yarn.  I could use a full skein up in less than an hour.  I would love to create a wooly creature, for my human to enjoy.  I would tie knots and braid strands together in a creation to be adored.  I would not even need to use any tools to make my master piece.  But, there is never an invitation to join her.

So I will try and be content with the smell of raw wool teasing me. I will try to ignore the whisper of yarn, being pulled from the skein.  I will resist the urge to chase the dazzling colors and loose tails.  I will dream of the things I could make; until she forgets and leaves that ball of yarn lying in my reach.

This is me the Couch Cat.  My family calls me Wyatt.  I was named George but when this couple brought me home to their house they had 2 other cats Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley, so Wyatt Earp made sense to them.

Why blog?  Well Calamity is the boss of the house and Annie is the lap warmer so I needed a place to call my own.

It has not been easy fitting in, but I bet a lot of people know about that.  Calamity is quick to remind me these are her humans, her spot is any spot she wants and she can eat out of any food bowl.  She is slowly warming up, but if I make a mistake she lets me know it.

Annie is alright.  She shares her toys and I can sit next to the human she is sitting on.  She will play chase and let me snuggle on cold days.

But it is my humans I contemplate.  This will be where I reveal my thoughts and try to figure that strange animal out.  Perhaps you will even have some of the same thoughts I have.