Status Update: "Snow," Said Merlin

One of the few influences of pop culture on my childhood was that I've always remembered a scene from a Disney movie that attempts to revive Merlin, King Arthur's court magician, the last of the Druids. "Snow," said Merlin, and it did. It was snowing anyway, someone observed. "Snow harder," said Merlin, and a real American prairie blizzard was instantly raging in Old England...

It is snowing. It has been snowing all week. 

Yesterday I thought, "I've been free from all specifically COVID-type symptoms for a week now. I should go to McDonald's just to show that I'm out of quarantine, and call someone who doesn't have e-mail yet from a store in town...if a store in town still has a phone." Then I thought, "It is below 20 degrees Fahrenheit. The road is clear. A neighbor just drove his old heavy truck up the road, with no more difficulty than usual,  hauling in more hay for the cattle. Why should I leave this warm spot on the screen porch and give myself bronchitis, just to go to McDonald's? I am not craving their usually glyphosate-contaminated French fries all that much. If anyone who doesn't have e-mail wants to see me, they can jollywell drive up the road. I can always go to McDonald's on Friday, when a person for whom I work is likely to have been paid and to pay for work done."

So this morning...I looked out the window. It was snowing. "Why should I risk destroying the laptop by hauling it to McDonald's in falling snow, when the Internet is still crawling along on the screen porch? I need work. I need wages. I need to pay the bill for all this lovely electricity I'm using to keep warm. But the person for whom I work can drive out the highway, which is specially treated so that it freezes about twenty degrees Fahrenheit lower than ordinary roads do, so it should be clear. We can meet on the highway, or on the private road. The person worries about bears in summer, but everyone knows bears hibernate through weather like this. I enjoy walking in fresh snow and will do a little of it around the time this person would drive up, if the road were clear, tonight...unless the electricity goes out, in which case I'll probably do more walking to get to a warm place, or the Internet goes completely out, in which case I'll probably go to McDonald's after all." 

The Bible tells us that a virtuous woman is not afraid of snow, because her household is full of warm snowproof clothes and blankets. So it is. 

I am concerned about my cat Silver. Regular readers may remember that she went home with a neighbor's tomcat last week. She hadn't done that before. The tomcat's calling had been loud and full of distress, and from a quick inspection when Silver came home I knew what had happened at this neighbor's house. This is the tomcat I call Trumpkin, because he is a little orange Manx mix who won't go away when he's told to go away. He is a persistent nuisance but not all bad--it depends on your tolerance for tomcats. Trumpkin is quite social. He had persuaded my calico kitten Crayola to elope with him a few summers ago. Evidently something happened to her, because he was very lonely at home, but didn't want to stay here; he wanted someone else to go home with him. Silver's coat smelled like someone else's household cleaning supplies--she had been in a warm, clean room. She had just eaten a full meal, before walking more than half a mile. Trumpkin must have presented Silver to his humans as a new friend of his, and they'd accepted her as a stray or outcast and tried to adopt her. This is not adoption. It is petnapping, I told Silver and Trumpkin. 

"You have a home, Silver," I said aloud, because Silver seems to understand a lot of words. "You are supposed to stay here. We need you here."

"Meow meow meow meow meow MEOW MEOW MEOW," said Trumpkin, aloud. He seemed to be saying, "Don't leave me alone with my humans! I have nobody to talk to!"

"Serena and Pastel have each other," Silver was clearly thinking as she nibbled uninterestedly at the kibble served here. "Trumpkin is all alone. His humans want to spoil a cat with lots of attention and overfeeding. They may have stuffed Crayola to an untimely death, but wotta way to go."

Silver is not a greedy cat but she is a gentle, tenderhearted one. She gets kibble regularly, and fish, chicken, ice cream and sometimes even beef as a treat every few days, at home. She's always interested in an extra treat; she does not overeat and grow fat, even when the opportunity is available. She is very social and more likely to respond to considerations a normal cat wouldn't even notice. Serena has never approved of Silver seeking human attention; only when Serena's not looking has Silver ever purred or cuddled, but she clearly enjoys being petted when it doesn't seem disrespectful to her own mother. Trumpkin's howls of neediness seemed to prevail on her good judgment. She went home with Trumpkin again. She is being snuggled and overfed and spoiled. She has been petnapped, if only by a cat friend!

The first time she strayed off with Trumpkin, around New Year's Day, Silver may honestly have thought I'd dumped out some extra kibble and gone inside to die. I had not, of course. I'd gone inside to sweat out COVID in quarantine. It was cold, and sweating-out makes people vulnerable, so I stayed inside for about sixty hours, but all is well now. Regular meals have resumed. Silver came home and observed that for herself. She is not reacting to food insecurity at home, now. I could see and hear that she was persuaded by sympathy for poor little lonely Trumpkin.

If I knew which house to approach, I'd knock on the door and explain things to Trumpkin's humans. I can help them get a cat of their own to spoil. Maybe two. There are far too many nice cats languishing in the shelters in Kingsport. Silver has a home, and duties, from which she is being Led Astray. We don't need to quarrel about Silver. Those other cats need and deserve a good home. We need to choose a companion for Trumpkin. A nice young lady cat who has already been spayed...the Blountville shelter has set up web pages for half a dozen, with several pairs of sisters and several single cats to choose from.

Silver has not been spayed. I think Silver needs not to be spayed. She has clearly inherited the gene for the Seralini Effect from her mother. She has given birth to very few kittens,  in her lifetime, and only one of her kittens has survived, but unsuccessful pregnancies are her body's way of flushing out glyphosate and keeping her healthy through these years when we've all been regularly poisoned by glyphosate vapors. Spaying Silver before glyphosate is banned just might kill her in a year or two. I don't know that that's what happened to Crayola, but I know what Crayola's immediate family have been living with. 

Trumpkin's humans undoubtedly don't want to go through the drama of living with a cat who's surviving glyphosate poisoning thanks to the Seralini Effect, so they should get a cat who is already spayed, no kittens, no drama, and just take their chances on that cat surviving until we get the ban we all really need.

I am more concerned about Silver, and about poor lonely Trumpkin, and about the shelter cats who so need to be spoiled, than I am about the snow. Or about the virus, which I think I've whipped by now. I am actually feeling full of energy, looking forward to walking in fresh snow tonight.