There is more life in this house, always a good thing. Not only is the Rev. Missus off for the summer (from the university; she gets to keep her other two jobs) and returned from nearly two weeks of Texas (enough for most people), but we have a Russian Blue as a permanent visitor. The carbon dioxide output in this home has increased by some degree, and everyone’s sleep has been a little off, but all are adjusting.
Including Lorenzo, which was this cat’s name when my son made his acquaintance at the local animal rescue shelter where he’s been volunteering twice a week for about a month now. It’s part of a program to integrate him into the world, get him out of the house and eventually into a job, but he’s had a leaning toward the feline part of our community for a while now.
So Lorenzo grabbed his heart and hung on, and soon we were down there, adopting him and losing sleep. The sleep thing was only the first couple of nights, as we got used to him wandering. But we relive it.
The Russian Blue is an intelligent, quiet, friendly breed, not that we knew anything about that. John just fell in love. But it’s nice to know. They also live a fairly long life, sometimes up to 25 years, so since Enzo is 5 this all just about worked out as well as it could.
So aside from a few doors that now remain closed (mostly the basement; even I could get lost down there for days), our lives seem the same, just mildly enriched by another life form. As with Shelties, the breed of our much-missed Strider, Russian Blues tend to be shy around strangers, so he won’t be an annoying cat. Just a creature to keep John company and the rest of us dancing, stepping around cat toys and occasionally sneering at spiders, who quite possibly have met their match. All good here.
The fireworks yesterday seemed louder and longer, and I hid under headphones while the others did pretty much the same. My neighbors got a little aggressive, but I remember having a young boy and doing sort of the same thing, and they’re good people. If they want to blow stuff up once a year, and clean up the next day, I can live with that.
Still, we’re surrounded by big events, including the huge show on the lake across the street, and honestly? I outgrew fireworks. I just did. If they disappeared I wouldn’t miss them. If I had to trade daily firework displays and leaf blowers, though, it might be a hard decision.
And as opposed to many dogs, Lorenzo seemed to handle the war zone fine. Just camped under the table and looked bored.
So summer begins. We already had one fairly warm day (high of 94 in Seattle, mid-80s here a little north of the city) and the weather people are saying more of the same, on the warm and dry side for the duration, which is fine. Snow pack is fine, no drought here. Eastern Washington is always another story, but there’s always another story.
I have several, in fact, but they tend toward the personal at the moment, and also unfinished. Let’s just say it’s anticipatory in many aspects, wondering what might happen, and also almost entirely dependent on me, so we’ll see if I feel like writing about them. Or writing at all. I may be evolving. For all you know. I could start doing watercolors, or sculpting, or running marathons. At this age, possibilities and limitations blur into something that vaguely resembles curiosity, and I’ve always been curious. Which, being a human and not a cat, feels like a good thing.