Over a year ago I brought home a sniffly-nosed, skinny kitten with diarrhea from my mom's farm. Her vet had prescribed a liquid antibiotic that wasn't clearing up his illness and was making him have the trots.
He was orange and white and so sweet natured that cleaning up the occasional poop spot from the bed spread wasn't a big deal. Bed spreads need to be washed on a regular basis anyway.
We named him Loki - Little Orange KItty.
This is a recent photo of Loki curled up with Randy, one of the senior members of of our fur baby family. Loki liked to hang around with the other cats. His best friend was Fang, our youngest black cat, who is just a little older than Loki.
Loki grew up to become a beautiful boy with a sweet temperament and loving disposition. It is so funny to me that as loving as he always was, he didn't take crap from anyone or anything.
When he first came home I was very worried about the big cats hurting him. He was still kind of scrawny with leaky, poopy butt and a bad upper respiratory infection; disadvantaged in a match against far larger and healthier felines.
The others came to sniff and investigate. Loki, as a farm cat, has lots of cousins and brothers and sisters and was unfazed by the inspection. I suppose he thought they were playing so he chased them, running alongside until he had the right angle to tackle. He'd jump up with his forepaws out to wrap around the big cat's neck and bring him down.
When we brought home our robo-vacuum the other cats gave it a wide berth. Loki was a curious kitty, a brave fellow who wanted to challenge the intruder and insure it knew that cats were supreme in this household. He confronted the monster and showed the others that it was no threat.
Loki threw up last night, the usual chunks of kibble, then vomited more - foam this time. That isn't an ordinary cat reaction in my experience. Monday is surgery day at my Vet's office but they took Loki in and Doc checked him between operations.
Doc said that Loki had kidney disease and was in renal failure. My poor baby needed to go to sleep since he was only going to be in pain. There was no magic to bring my purry Lolo home, no tears that would make him better, no money to get a cure. No choice.
I have cried, sobbed, for Loki today. My head still hurts from crying. I will miss this precious darling.
Mama and Daddy love you, Lolo. Your sleeping place will let you watch birds and your kitty friends as they chase them.
We've had a big problem in the Apalachicola Bay (AB) lately and oysters are mighty scarce, as are other seafoods harvested from the normally bountiful AB.
This puts a lot of people who are self-employed out of work and me and my group into work over-drive to try to ameliorate the situation. We work with other groups to corral resources for survival (food, shelter, power) and to help the affected people make the step to "what's next." We set up training programs to help them make the bridge and to have some money in pockets in the meantime.
It is stressful as hell for all concerned.
I take a deep satisfaction in living where I do, I love the way it looks and smells and the way the ground feels under my feet. When I am as stressed as I am now, I look for the extra pieces of joy to be had from more close observation.
Butterflies are everywhere now, mostly Monarchs, and there are areas planted in Apalach designed to provide sustenance for them on their trip. If you look carefull above, you'll see an orange and black Monarch having a snack in a clump of lantana.
I spend about 40 minutes of my drive to Franklin County running parallel to the Gulf Of Mexico. This is what it looks like on a pretty October day.
This is the front entrance to the Coombs House Inn B&B, the place I stay when I am in Apalach overnight. The picture is sideways because the computer hates me.
Stair case at Coombs House. Also fucking sideways. The wood is black cyprus and used throughout the house.
The groundfloor is dark and cool - large windows shaded by large trees. The upstairs has a wrap-around veranda and all of the rooms have doors leading out.
This is a very small town in a low-population county -- around 11,000 souls total in the county. After I process this experience a little more I'll write about it. I just wanted thes pictures up.
The butterfly photo is reminiscent of particular moments of heart-lifting. There is a very long bridge connecting Apalachicola and Eastpoint. I had to cross this bridge at least six times last week and every time there were clouds of butterflies clipping their way around the few cars crossing.
Even though Apalach sits right on the Gulf and the Apalachcicola River, I never smelled the things that say "healthy coast" to me - no salt, no fish, no crabby corpses.
There is something wrong.
