From the Cranberry Hollow, right off the Punkin Knob—
We have seen some rough fighting this past few run of days. Stovetop stuffing versus homemade, it got uglier and uglier, the survivors dazed and in need of cheer. We spent the night concocting pumpkin pie bombs, laced with cream cheese and whipped cream. But our hopes all rest with the forty pound turkey brother dragged to our fortress of buttered crescent rolls. May it sustain us through these hard hard times. #WarOnThanksgiving
Just off the coast of Gravy Boat Bay—
it’s quiet tonight. Too quiet. We suspect they are sneaking up to offer us deviled eggs and black olives skewered with tooth picks. To refuse might mean we give away our positions, but to choke down those deviled eggs means a total betrayal of all we believe in and hold dear. The struggle is real. The struggle is real. Do we hold true to who we are? It all seems so much dark meat tonight. Footsteps. I hear the rustle of holiday clothes and the clink of holiday dishes. Send me strength to see this through. #WarOnThansgiving
Somewhere near the Marshmallow Yam Dish battlefield—
We approached the mound cautiously. It quivered. No one would go near it. It looks like something is suspended in the cloudy green interior. The horror we felt did not dissipate for several days. Our commander told us to buck up, it was only a damn Jell-O mold but we noticed our commander did not go near it, nor slice into it. We left it alone. It might be the biggest mistake we’ve made yet, but no one wishes contact with that quivery green horror filled with bits and pieces of God knows what. Someone whispered it was banana and peaches chopped up but surely not. A sinister pall falls over all of us these days. #WarOnThanksgiving
Interior of Turkey Bone Fortress, off Drumstick Circle—
Today we lifted forks. It happened. Small talk nonexistent as we dug in with serious will. Many fell to the wayside after, curiously immobile and moaning while rubbing at bellies. Too much, too much, seemed the weary battle cry this day. #WarOnThanksgiving
The kitten plays. She’s lively, endearing, clearly on stimulants such as crack or triple expressos. Her broken jaw has not held her up much. The stitches were removed, the vet declared Jaws doing well. It’s her nickname. Jaws. Probably, eventually, her name. She enjoys attacking the dog’s tails. We have three dogs, all with long wavy tempting tails. Jaws stalks each one, sneaks up on it, does the wrap all four paws around tail, kick with rhythmic precision until whatever dog has been enduring this decides enough is enough. Jaws like to hide beneath the loveseat, bat at the nearest dog waiting for food to fall into his or her mouth from the indulgent humans nearby.
The kitten also wakes up in the middle of the night. Wet cat nose. Murder mittens about my foot. Plaintive meows. Are you up yet, giant inept cat? I read where cats regard humans as other giant ‘very bad at being cats’ cat. It’s why they bring us gifts of dead mice or a dead bird, often not so dead. Our pet cats are trying to feed us.
So, the state of American politics at present. I feel like pouring a giant glass of whiskey, with some Coke thrown in it, and watching it all burn to the ground. Maybe that would finally satisfy everyone. We can all enjoy the flames, roast some marshmallows, blame it all on the DNC, Nancy Pelosi, millennials and those who lack civility.
People will vote straight R because the ‘other side’ uses curse words. Okay, sure.
I also notice that the Dems do not play offense. Ever. It’s always a bewildered ‘here are the facts, why don’t you get it?’ blinky sort of ingrained trained door mat niceness.
As the Republican PR propaganda machine churns out 24/7, every minute, whatever reality they wish pushed and believed.
Ukraine interfered in our elections in 2016! Investigate the Bidens! Hillary sold uranium! The polls are rising in favor of Trump!
And so many more, over and over and over, repeated, over and over and over, repeated, over and over and over. Relentless.
There does not seem to be a counter to that, other than a timid ‘that’s not true, here’s the truth, m’kay, you guys.’ Any actual fiery response or push back seemingly gets shot down. By the other Democrats.
Calm down. Calm down, be polite, don’t upset the apple cart, take the high road.
Until that one actually fighting back gets silenced or even shoved out. It doesn’t seem a coincidence that the fighters and loud mouths all seem absent, missing or gone altogether. Or those speaking out don’t get supported or defended that much as the right, with a gleeful savagery, goes after that person with lies, more lies and damn lies. Hello, AOC.
Adam Schiff practically has to be a robot, speaking without much passion or anger. Pelosi has to remain preternaturally calm in the face of rabid hyenas snapping their foamy jaws in her face.
Any show of anger or outrage from the left gets met with how nuts they are, how ANGRY all the time, how they hate America and Americans, how…oh sure. Until the Dems get so trained to be calm apologists you tend to…ignore whatever they might say. Which is the whole fucking point of training them so.
And I find myself wishing a Dem would snap, and just go to town on the R’s. That other Dems start repeating talking points in counter to the talking points we always hear–
That Dems are weak on family values. That Dems are into spending. That Dems are blah blah blah.
Boil down a few very simple talking points that counter the message that Dems are unAmerican fringe weirdos intent on turning everyone gay after handing out free abortions to middle schoolers.
Dems fix the economy after Republicans wreck it. Dems stand for human rights when Republicans don’t. Dems want immigration reformed, not some free for all whoever wants to enter can bullshit. That fucking wall needs to be shoved up the nearest MAGA asshole sans lubricant. Protect the environment. Wrecking the land, water and air will not make America great. It will just make America uninhabitable.
Just some thoughts.
The kitten has slipped off somewhere. She likes to look out the windows. I need to get her fixed before she can return outside a bit. I have made myself her caretaker and servant. I have no wish to lose her as she seeks out mates or take care of more cats as she churns out unwanted kittens.
I looked at that picture and went, whale clouds. I saw clouds full of whales above a landscape I’d seen since a child. Dust and yellow fields of wheat and duty stones and houses full of dull good people living dull good lives. I’ve been trying to write something poetical and deep. It comes across as trite and laughable so I will just write this. Poetry is honest little nibbles, yes? Or it’s supposed to be. I should hope that someone reads this and wants to quote it or make a poster around it to tell them something they wish to hear or that sparked some ‘ah, there it is!’ moment. Is that not a moment, to see a whale in those careful or careless cloud smears? Or do I see what I want? And before I can descend into something depressingly precious I’ll end this little shriek with something about hawks and panting coyotes and a black fence that seems quite aggressively divisive and old man ‘keep off my lawn’. Probably just me. Probably just me.
Howdy. So a stray kitten showed up the day before Halloween. She is about a month and a half old, a tabby-calico-ginger short coat and the sweetest personality. Just purrs! Very clingy and needy, wants to be held. She seems more like a puppy than a kitten.
So. She has a gash that’s mostly healed atop her little head. And there seems to be something truly funky about her mouth. Her lower jaw seems split. A birth defect? Or it’s, gulp, broken. She also has diarrhea. I mean DIARRHEA. There’s a bit of pus or matter about her nose and at times seem in her mouth, so I rinsed her mouth out with a mild saline solution– warm water and salt.
Long story short, with gory details left out about constant kitten watery glops of liquid poo…took her to the vet today as the diarrhea is not clearing up. I’ve had her on rice and watered down wet cat food for days, no milk, lots of water to keep her hydrated.
The vet takes one look at her, announces broken jaw. We can perform surgery, wire her jaw shut, or you can have her put down. As just leaving her to sink or swim would mean she’d have trouble eating the rest of her life, as well as other major problems. The kitten, just called Kitty as I’ve had her maybe four days, looks up at me, freaked out a bit about being in a new place but otherwise wanting to explore the exam room. See things and sniff and find out what’s what. She’s lively, eyes clear, exuding energy and will.
This is not a terminally ill kitten that’s suffering…except for the diarrhea. Her little bottom is quite sore. I put salve on it.
Do I coldly have the vet end her life or…deplete my tiny store of cash?
Yeah, I opt for the surgery.
So, I set up a GoFundMe. It’s set at 300 bucks or so. I expect nothing to come of it but people over on FB did ask if I was taking donations. I am, frankly. For that little three pound bag of gingery bones, you bet your bottom I’ll pass the hat.
note– this is hard for me to do. But. I can ask for help for a cat. She’s worth it. Thank you all even for reading this.
note 2– so, Crystal, possibly Lola [name? neither seems quite right…] is back home and miserable. Might need a cone. Ever tried to get meds in a cat that’s had jaw surgery? Fun! But hey, I have a cat now.