Buddy

          It was evening and time to feed the cats. Not that our cats don’t have access to a bowl of dry kibble all day, just that I open a can of the good stuff for them almost every night. I divide one can between the four cats so there’s not a lot for any one of them, but it’s a treat they seem to enjoy. If they haven’t come in, I’ll go out and call them.

          “TIGER! SPITFIRE! BLACKIE!” I cup my hands around my mouth and yell. If they hear me, they know what it means and they will come. Sugar, our outside cat, is the same way. If she’s not right there and she hears me call, she’ll come.

          Speaking of Sugar, and not to interrupt the story I was telling you, but speaking of Sugar, we brought her in for the winter. She’s getting old and Mike worries about her getting sick, so she spends the winter in the cat condo. The first day in the house, beautiful Raini sat and watched her. It looks a little messy but the throw rug is to catch the litter when I scoop her box. Raini rolled all over it when I first put it down. Silly girl.

          So, it was evening and time to feed the cats. They weren’t in the house so after I portioned the food into their own separate bowls, I went out and called for them.

“Someone just went past the porch,” Mike saw in the monitor from his recliner.

          “Are you going to go see who it is?” I was busy making my nightly bowl of air-popped popcorn with parmesan cheese.

          Mike put the footrest down, got up, and went out.

          “Peg! Come here! Bring your camera,” he bellowed.

          I thought maybe one of the cats had brought a present in. I grabbed my camera and went out. At first, I didn’t see anything. “What?”

          “Right there.”

          I looked at Mike and followed the direction of his nod.

          “It’s a possum!” As we watched, this poor creature drug himself under the BBQ grill, looking for a place to hide. “He’s been hit by a car.” I could see wounds on both sides of his rear end.

          “Should I get the gun?” Mike offered.

          “NO! I’m going to take care of him! Sugar’s in the house and the cat room is empty. I’ll put him in there.”

          At this point Mike had had enough and went back to his TV program.

          It was hard watching him drag himself. I went inside. “Where are those thick leather gloves?” I asked Mike.

          “On the golf cart.”

          I got the gloves and when I went back out, Buddy (which is what I call all the critters who don’t have names) had made his way from the grill to the corner of the house, following a well-worn critter path.

          “C’mon Buddy, you can do it!” I cheered him on, sweeping my hand and taking a step in the direction of the cat room — like he’s gonna follow me, right!

          He hissed at me then put his head down and played dead. I thought he might actually be dying.

          Mike came out. “How is he?”

          “Not so good. I think he’s almost dead.”

          I watched his chest rise and fall a few times and went in the house. I finished making my popcorn and couldn’t stand it anymore. I went back out to see if Buddy was dead yet. He wasn’t. In fact, he was almost to the cat room door, which I’d opened for him. I squatted down and cooed to him. He hissed at me. I pulled my fingers back into the glove and stroked his head with the empty glove fingers. He hissed. Then he got quiet. Playing possum again, I suspected. I picked him up, he didn’t object, and carried him the rest of the way into the cat room. I shut the door and closed the pet door so he couldn’t get out and nothing else could come in. I left him to get cat food and water. Then I left him for a couple of hours.

          “I’m gonna check my critter and see if he’s dead,” I told Mike when I got up from my recliner.

          “If he’s dead, get rid of him. He’ll stink the place up.”

          Don’t I know it! But, “Okay,” was all I said.

          To my surprise, Buddy was up and eating. “I don’t think he’d eat if he was dying,” I told Mike. Eating is half of it. He needs to be eliminating, too.

          The next morning, when I went out to check on Buddy, to see if he’d made it through the night, I couldn’t find him. He was nowhere in sight. I started moving the old cat bedding around and didn’t find him. He hadn’t climbed into Sugar’s bed. Maybe he’s under the shelf, I thought. I didn’t want to get down on the floor and look under. I thought it might be just as easy to move the old rug and pillow that were on the wire shelf. I pulled the pillow off and there was Buddy. All curled into a ball and sleeping peacefully. I was surprised he’d pulled himself up on the shelf.

          He slept all day, as possums are mostly nocturnal. I gave him fresh food and water and left him.

          The next morning, I could see a lot of the food had been eaten, there was a wet spot and possum poo on the floor. Both ends are working. Maybe he’ll live. I lifted the pillow and the spot he’d slept in the day before was empty. I went on the hunt again and this time I found him curled up in the blanket that stops the draft coming in under the door.

          “Hey, Buddy, how’re ya doin’ today?” I asked lifting the blanket.

          “Hisssssss,” he said.

          I gave him more cat food, fresh water, a hardboiled egg, a piece of cooked chicken breast, a carrot, and a leftover Tequita.

          This morning, Sunday morning, I checked on Buddy. There was some cat food left as well as the carrot, which he didn’t even try. Everything else was gone and he had eliminated on the floor again. I didn’t have to look too hard for him because his tail was sticking out of the door-draft blanket.

          I picked it up and said good morning to him but he only repeated yesterday’s response. “Hisssssss.” I put the blanket back over him and left.

          I know some of you are scratching your heads. “Why in the world would she want to save a stinky old possum!? They’re nasty, rabies-carriers, and a dime a dozen!”

          Actually, possums can’t carry rabies. And to answer your question, I can’t think of a single critter that I wouldn’t help if I could. I just don’t have it in me to turn a suffering critter away. When he’s recovered enough, I’ll open the door and let him go back to his life.         

          Speaking of critters...

          Mike was in the shower and starts yelling for me.

          “WHAT?!” I'm yelling even before I get to the bathroom door.

          “Get him! Or I’m going to kill him!”

          The shower door slid open and this poor water-drenched spider sat there looking forlornly up at me.

          This guy was huge! Much too big to be washed down the drain. That’s probably why Mike called me instead of doing just that. I cupped him in my hands and took him outside.

          I spent a very happy week painting. I finished and mailed the Dushore train station off to its new owner.

          I did some quick watercolors in my sketchbook. I don’t know if everyone wants to see my practice paintings, but some of you have asked to see them. These are them.

          The Aurora Borealis was visible here in northeast Pennsylvania for one night this week. I missed it but my best girl Joanie didn’t. She got some really nice shots of it. I was inspired to try and paint it.

          This is Joanie’s photo.

          This is my painting of it.

          Tiger helped. Here he’s sitting on my reference photo of the train station. Like that’s a help, right?

          The next day he came back to get a drink of my paint water.

          “That’s a cute water holder!” you say.

          I know, right! I think of Joanie every time I fill it with water. She gave it to me. Of course, it had a plant in it when she gave it to me, which I managed to kill. So now it’s repurposed and I get to use it all the time.

          I painted jellyfish for my editor and friend, Jenn. She loved them when I showed them in my practice book. Now she has one she can frame.

          I made an ink of Amazing Grace in anticipation of a thank you gift. It’s mostly leftover printer ink but because there’s no white in printer ink, I used thinned acrylic paint for the church.

          Right now, I have a commissioned dog portrait on my table. I’ve only gotten as far as the background. Which reminds me. You know something? The photo I was given shows this American Bull Dog sitting in the kitchen. You can see the cabinets behind him and the tiled floor. I did a quick search online for dog portraits just to get an idea of backgrounds. I saw some I liked but here’s the thing. If I put in the suggestion of cabinets and the suggestion of a tile floor, you will know this is your dog in your house. Not some generic dog with a generic background. That’s just how I feel about it. Is my thinking, my feelings flawed? Would you rather have a prettied-up background or something that identifies it as being really yours?

          Mike bought new lug nut covers for his truck. The old ones were rusted. Now that they’re on the truck he’s not sure he likes them.

          “I’m surprised you bought them at all,” I told him. Not that he bought new covers but that he bought this design. Hard rock style definitely gives off a badass vibe. They scream "Don't mess with this truck"—like a metal concert on wheels. But it’s hardly Mike’s style.

          We were coming back from taking our recycling down to the Boy Scouts recycling site and I got a little niggle that said, You better be ready to take an eagle picture. I’ve never seen an eagle on this road before but I’ve learned to listen to that little voice inside me. Out loud I said, “I better be ready to take a picture of an eagle if I see one.” I picked up my camera with the long lens and put it my lap. “And if I see one, you have to stop.”

          Halfway home, way back in a field, I see a giant bird perched in a tree.

“There’s an eagle!” I exclaimed. He was so far away that I wasn’t sure if it was an eagle or not but I took his picture anyway. I know it’s not a great picture, my old camera doesn’t focus well, which is why I got a new one, but I do think this is a juvenile Bald Eagle.

          I took pictures on my way to my Tuesday night Bible study course. I love how the setting sun highlights the trees. The photo really doesn’t portray the beauty of it.

          The sun lit up the side of the church as I came out of the canopy of trees that lined the lane.

          I stood in the parking lot and took tons of setting sun photos.

          Mike had an appointment in Sayre to have his eyes checked. He’s fine but considering an eyelid tuck to improve his vision. I took road pictures. No surprise there, right?

          “Look! They’re remodeling Burger King.” We’d been discussing where to have lunch and this place was mentioned. I guess it’s off the table now.

          I laughed at the sign. Not Open. Yeah. We figured that out.

                   I don’t remember where we ate. Probably McDonald’s. We eat there a lot. They give me free food and discounts because I use the app, so we can eat pretty cheap there. But later in the week we did try a new-to-us pizza place.  

          “How did you like it?” you wanna know.

          I wasn’t impressed. The crust was thin, which I like, they had lots of toppings, which I also like, but most of the time it didn’t seem like there was any sauce on it. I love a good, well-seasoned pizza sauce. Without it, the whole thing was kind of bland.

          More road pictures.

          When we get home, there’s a certain little dog that starts digging in the grocery bags looking for a new toy. When her search turns up no toy in the open-top bags, she jumps on the freezer bag to see if it squeaks. Sometimes she nails it just right and it does!

“Okay, okay!” I say and unzipped the bag.

Bondi digs around until she finds it, then pulls the card of five little squeakies out. Usually, we cut one off and give it to her and put the rest away. I was multitasking at the time, as a lot of women tend to do. I was on the phone while putting the groceries away, so I let Bondi have all five squeakies. Last time I did that, she pulled one off and played with it. By the time I turned my attention back to her, she had all five off the card. That stinker. I let her keep one and put the rest away. The next time we come home from shopping, we’ll slip one in the bag for her to find.

          With that, let’s call this one done!