Stanley leaves, Stanley returns

Last week I noticed that Stanley J. Catfish was not at morning feedings which is the norm. Since they came, the two cats have been a bonded unit, where one is, the other follows.

But I didn't think too much about it, and went on with my feedings. Still, it was not right. After all the ferels and barn cats we had taken on out West, I knew they often disappear, sometimes for many days, a few weeks even, and return unscathed. And sometimes they don't return.

I just knew it was odd that the two were a unit, unlike the cats out west, who were part of a huge clan and separate barns, so they had more interdependence from each other.

I waited a few days, and lost hope, and posted about it on Instagram. I think it was two days later, and there he was at breakfast. I was so happy to see him. He must have thought I was nuts because I sang to him, discussed his where abouts, gave him a lecture [oh yea, cat lectures really work, right?] and sat with him too, looking to see if there were any wounds on him.

The night of his return, he was extra hungry at dinner I thought, and I sat with him while he ate, pushing the bowl with my finger, and then touching his head. I'm trying to tender them both up in time for autumn rabies shots-it would make it much easier for everyone including them.

This morning at feedings, after being back one day, he was not there.

So Stanley J. Catfish must have a double life, a really good reason not to be around for a free and easy meal of stinky cat food, which he devours when he is present. I wondered if he might be onto a female somewhere, since he was only neutered about three months ago and it supposedly takes about 6 months for their wanderlust hormones to dissipate after neutering. Or maybe he is just napping, maybe he is ill and wants to be alone...maybe he has a pickup out in The Wood and he drives away to a cabin once a week. He might even have a passport.

Such is the mystery of the barn cat.

I was thinking though how quickly I had lost my hope when he left. I have been through this so many times, but instead of taking the 'think positive' route, I just accepted pretty quickly an eagle or fox got him, thinking he wasn't that worldly as other ferels I've known. I wondered if I'm losing my touch, my innate gut feeling-something we all have for sure-but I practice at listening to my intuition, and I wondered if I wasn't listening, or what had made me so doubtful this time.

I don't know. Maybe it's that death is everywhere there is life, and sometimes, especially on a small farm, it is best to acknowledge, and move on or one can go crazy worrying, wondering, imagining what happened. Was it a quick kill, was he stuck somewhere, had he been hit...on and on.

I'm not sure what the lesson is in what I just wrote. But I do know, as always,

Nature knows more than I do.

So does the darn cat.

Guarding for dinosaurs and wild bear

White Dog waiting to be set free in the lower pastures, which are not ready for animals yet since they are wet, and some are being reseeded and limed. He's perfectly happy though, as long as he has a job, which he always does-right now it is guarding the paddocks from wild bear and dinosaurs.

Poem for Boone

Boone and I had a great workout this week. We rode over to a nearby corral and worked out together. It felt so good. And he was really in sync with me, which made me feel like we are getting back to each other. I wrote this poem some time ago and came upon it today.

Wind blowing through his mane

up onto my hands which hold two reins loosely.

We ride, or I ride and he carries, down a gravel road

chunks of itself missing

after log trucks rush by with their fallen victims.

All around us, before us and in front of us,

lay fallen leaves, dead on arrival.

He stops to ask me with his ears and a twinge of his neck,

"May I have one?"

"No," I say with tight leg, "we still have a ways to go."

And we move on,

the flies sitting in the corners of his eyes

which he blinks away, only to have them return seconds later.

With each gust of wind I watch his mane's journey,

left, then right, left, right again.

I lose my sense of place as I watch,

waiting for the course strands to settle again.

We near our destination,

a small valley with abandoned house,

nothing left but an old satellite dish,

and a gate falling down, bent in age.

The hay has been cut, bundled and hauled off to old barns

leaving us this empire of grass, and a backdrop of ancient trees.

We hear the true collaboration of trees and wind

with branches and space humming, hissing, and groaning .

It's not a greeting, or a playful song -

It's a resonance.

Ignoring skin, it sinks down into the flesh and then the bone,

while the heart skips beats trying to keep up.

Haunting, it reminds of a past time

that we can not get to.

I strive to give you the little things

I have been designing, writing, producing and publishing my own illustrated books now for many years. I do all the layout, concepts, art and writing. I have been working with an offset printer for my books with larger print runs, but with "Little Tulip" I am using a well respected printer that does smaller digital runs. People ask me why I didn't use Amazon [Create Space] and my answer is: control of the little things seemed iffy. And I do not want to sell my books on Amazon, I much prefer to do it in my humble one-book-at-a-time way, where I can hand wrap each book and sign them. If you've bought a book from me, you know what I mean.

There are little things about books that I can remember as a child, and I want these surprises in my books. One of the most important and fun things for me to work on, and it is usually the last thing I do, are the 'end sheets'. Remember when you were little and you opened up "Winnie the Pooh" book, and on the inside cover there was a colored map of Pooh's world? Those are end sheets. And when you do print-on-demand books at Blurb, or Amazon, you get blank end sheets for your hard cover books.

Blank end sheets? That's no fun.

So that is a little thing you have to look forward to with all my books-illustrated end sheets. I'm showing you a glimpse of the front end sheet for "Little Tulip". I'll save the back end sheets for your surprise.

We are 1/2 way funded but I will be getting production going soon. There is a limited run of this book, only 151 copies will be made. This is a teeny run compared to my other books in which I usually pre sell 300-500. S0, if you want one, it is best to pre-order today.Why am I doing such a small run this time? It allows me to produce the book without a huge out of pocket for the printing so I don't carry debt. It also is a storage issue. And, as importantly, these smaller run books will allow me to get some ideas off the table and in your hands as a book. I will still do 'bigger' books but these are going to be a great addition to my line.

It's a hard cover book, illustrated and will come sitting inside a linen case.

And if you pre-order, you might take home a piece of art from the book. There is also a reward level if you want a book and you also want to offer some extra money for my indie publishing efforts.

When I'm with an animal, I check my intentions

Muddy is going on nine later in the year. He is still very athletic and most, including vets, think he looks much younger. But I've noticed in the past six months or so he is getting the old dog look. Sometimes I think I see Huck when I look over at him. They were five years apart in age but out of the same parents. I did that on purpose, knowing someday Huck would leave us, and Muddy could carry on, in his own way of course. The two dogs were very different. Where Muddy could run all day, especially with his frisbee, Huck became a lay-around-and-just-be-me-lab, pretty much when Muddy showed up as a pup. He played, but it was as if he thought,

OK, good, they have reinforcements, I can relax a bit now.

I spent all day and everyday with the Huck, and when Mud came along, Huck sort of became more of my at-your-side-guy. When we moved to Maine, Huck was still healthy, although gimpy, but by the next spring his behavior and changed a bit. I saw deep thoughts in those brown eyes, and he began sleeping away from Mud, by my side at the bed. When I found the large mass on his neck, which came on quickly, I knew something was wrong. It was a wasting cancer, and we helped him on his way. He was 12. It was a horrible goodbye for me and Martyn. "End of an era," as Martyn said.

Muddy is a talker. He talks in a series of lip movements, lip curling, and yawning words. We walk together and he loves that. He seems so very happy when he sees me put on-not my Muck boots-but my hiking shoes.

That is the thing about dogs, they just want to partake in simple, but important, rituals with their owners, like a morning walk to sit by the cove a spell. They could care less about my aging face, but are completely tuned into my intent of the moment. They pick up on that, which is probably the best training lesson I can remind myself of with any animal-check your intentions with an animal, because they sense it.

Opie smile therapy-and how much should I help?

Jeanne and Opie

Opie and I had a really good visit with our friends in Wiscasset. I can say that each visit has been fun, good, full of beautiful moments, some visits are quiet some are more active...each visit has an energy, just like any get together with anyone.

But this visit was really a special one. I have known these people now a year, so part of it is getting to know each other. I think it is safe to say that Opie has become an extended member of the household. This comes from the fact we consistently visit, this is something I am committed to. And as I've said, I'm very fond of this group. I know that shows, I know when I give of myself in a genuine way-without motives of self-my higher self is emitted to those in my presence.

One thing that made it extra special was the conversation was really full of all sorts of topics, and we talked again about Jeanne's time as a professional dancer in NYC. It came up again because I brought up Gramercy Park-one of my favorite places and neighborhoods when I was living in NYC back in the '80's. And Jeanne, who is 97, smiled broadly and said that's where her sister lived. Her sister was Clare Luce, famous actress of the era. Jeanne also lived there with Clare at some point. We talked about Jeanne's career, and she traveled the dance circuit then, around the region, and did dance on Broadway too. I told her she should write a book.

"I tried a couple times," she said. She went on to say she had daily diaries and had tried to start books and never got it done. My little head was bursting inside. I was dying to read those diaries. I'm sure they were full of wonderful stories. I told Jeanne that, and that I could help her get the writing together into a book of some form. We smiled and that was the end of our visit.

All the way home I thought of Jeanne, and her life. We all have these rich wells of stories. You can walk down any given street and have no idea what that body and soul experienced in life. We all share something in common, something. Just think, years ago, Jeanne was walking around Gramercy Park. Years later when Jeanne would have been in her 60's [I'm 60 now] and I was in my late 20's, I was walking around Gramercy Park. I'm talking my place on the great mandala.

I wondered how much to push on these ideas. How much help can and should I extend to my elder friends? I have wanted to share more of each person's life, their stories, in a way they would enjoy. Maybe interview each one and write a story about them...share it with you, maybe the local paper if the residents liked that idea. Or maybe a book, "Opie's friends". We are all in this together, the people that came before me were rich with story. I wished I'd asked more questions. Someday, I might be somewhere, sitting petting a therapy animal...and my head might be thinking,

But they have no idea how I lived amongst the animals, I wish I could tell them all their names.I wish they knew Opie.

They really love Opie. The care manager of the home took me aside before I left to show me a scrap book she had started for them all, with Opie's first letter. That just made my day.

{If you like the work we do here at our non profit, please consider a donation. Donations help our elder/special needs animals and allow us to continue our elder outreach work. We do not take salaries and all our visits are our gift to the elders.}

Ruth also lived in NYC and was there when I was

You can take home this dachshund

From "Little Tulip" a new book

I have two drawings from the upcoming book of comfort, "Little Tulip" {It Will Be Okay} that will go home with two people. One will be picked from the people that have already pre-ordered or supported the book, the other will be picked from people that pre-order today through next week.

Help me get this quiet little gem out to the world. I am going to making these books of comfort in small print runs, which will mean less out of pocket cost to my indie budget [I will still do other book projects in the coming year that will require larger budgets, FYI]. Making books is expensive, a labor of love, but I relish it and get joy out of each book. I hope you do too.

We are halfway there so your support is till needed. By pre-ordering, you are helping me a lot!

I will pick the new owners of these two art pieces the week of May 6.

Visit the pre-order page >

From "Little Tulip" a new book