Everything is gonna be ok. Really—we weren’t fighting ten minutes ago. We were just playing.
We should’ve spent today getting the garden ready for the tomato plants—though last weekend is when we planned to but thank goodness we didn’t. We had a frost last week. Today a project supersedes gardening as we have to pay the mortgage. But we took a break.
Roses are blooming—earlier this year than usual by about two weeks. And the false indigo is also early. The roses smell wonderful—there is one on my desk right now and I can enjoy the scent as I write this.
Tonight I’ll watch season finales of Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters, alas. But now for 60 Minutes, which is mostly about the BP disaster. At least I don’t think it can make me any angrier than I already am. I don’t think ...
Right now it’s 81° at just past 1 a.m. on a May night. May! It was 96° around 6 p.m. today. It normally gets up to 71-75° this time of year. Today it’s only supposed to get up to 79-80°. Strange weather.
We had a bit of excitement on Sunday—our neighbor Reneev and Stanley fished two tiny kittens from behind some shrubs next to Reneev’s garage. We noticed a black cat hanging around for a few weeks, so we figured they were her kittens. Another neighbor said there are four, but Blackie apparently moved a couple of them and two of them ended up in the street—not a good place given the insane and illegal traffic on our street. Don’t know where the other two ended up, but Stanley and I ended up with the two that were rescued. They looked for the other two, but they’re well hidden.
The kitties were about four or five weeks old. There is no way we could keep them—it just wouldn’t be fair to our gang of four, though Bingo was ridiculously in love with one of the kitties and probably would’ve adopted it. Bingo is a cat lover anyway.
We called Save Our Strays on Monday. They don’t save OUR strays—they only rescue animals about to be killed from New York. So they wouldn’t take them. They suggested we call PAWS here in Norwalk. We did, but the cat person wouldn’t be available for at least two days and could we please foster them until the cat person called. Well, no, we couldn’t unless we really had to—we attach way too quickly to the creatures in our life (except mice) and two days may as well have been 10 years ... So we called the Connecticut Humane Society in Westport, who took them and assured us they’d be adopted pretty fast. It cost us $20, which we would’ve donated to whichever rescue group took them anyway, and we gave them a small carrier that we didn’t need anymore (Slink is too big for it and Twitch knows how to open it and escape). We love the Human Society anyway since we got both Twitch and Ginger there.
The girls at the Humane Society named them Ross and Rachel, which cracked me up. We’re paying attention to see if we can find the other kittens—they must be around somewhere since Blackie keeps appearing. I don’t think Mom cat is feral—doesn’t act like a feral cat—but Stanley can’t get close to it. But we sure don’t need three wild cats hanging around so I would love to be able to find the other two and even catch Blackie, though nobody will take her if she really is feral. Too bad there’s nothing we can put out in some cat food to sterilize her so she doesn’t gift the world with more litters.
ASIDE FROM THE KITTENS
The roses climbing over the trellis this summer are so beautiful. The peonies are blooming, too, at least the ones on the sunny end.
The peonies are more than two weeks early—they usually bloom in June. What’s really weird is none of our irises came up this year—I have no idea why as usually once those are established it’s very difficult to kill them. Maybe rabbits like them?