Light moves through

Archive for February, 2012

Cat Mountain, Part II

This will be the second and last post about cats for now, lest I seem like a crazy old cat man before I’m officially either of the first two.

We left off with Ryan and Jackie taking in Bhikku the stray, who suddenly gained a lot of weight, which ended up being two brothers she birthed in the closet. They kept them both so we get to have this little pride of mother and her sons, Sal and Lew.

When I lived with Ryan and Jackie after first arriving in Portland, Sal was my roommate. He’s a big fella, but not as big as these pictures make him seem. He flops for love, which he did even before he lost a leg in the war. As noted elsewhere, he is truly the fastest three-legged cat I’ve ever known. People really freak out about fat cats but when you look at a family sharing the same household, all getting outside a lot, all hunters, and Sal is the hunky one, I think that Sal is just expressing his true Sal-ness as it was meant to be.

Lew has traditionally had trouble expressing his emotions, as Ryan originally explained, but he’s doing better. He has a penchant for high fives, a kink in the tip of his tale, and a handsome ascot.









Cat Mountain, Part I

My dear friends Ryan and Jackie, whilst living in Ohio, adopted a tortoise shell stray they named Bhikku. They didn’t realize it was an adopt one, get 3 deal. She had a litter in their closet, and they kept the brothers Sal and Lew. The family all lives in Portland now on Cat Mountain. (The story of Jackie’s cat Barry Sagittarius will have to wait for another time.)

This is Bhikku on a sunny afternoon in February as I paid the pride a visit. Little mother is full of affection and temper and strangeness.






As Above So Below


A pigeon whispered go east, so I went east up the hill and up and looked at all the wide reach and snapped happily away, all the clouds and sunbeams and winding roads and river. But my gaze fell down and I fell in love with the entire little world at work on the ground. So much stone and so much time meant whole civilizations of little green beings tucked happily into cracks of light. For a little while I forgot about the wide view and got down on my knees to marvel at something I wouldn’t normally even see, miniature grasses and trees thriving in their own great place. I watched the last light fall and felt unreasonably glad.