We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We
forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what
we screamed, forget who we were. Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
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It's the birthday of novelist *Harper Lee*, born Nelle Harper Lee in
Monroeville, Alabama (1926). She has written just one novel, *To Kill A
Mockingbird ...
56 minutes ago
2 comments:
Totally fearful and fraught the life of the animal in the city.
We have been the neighborhood soft touch for strays and ferals since just before recorded memory set in.
In the mid-1980s a pair of small sister tortoiseshells, one dark, one pale, began appearing regularly.
We adopted one of them permanently, the dark one, the less favoured of the pair.
She seemed a bit bent out of shape, perhaps that's what made her feel right at home here.
Anyhow, there developed a backstory: we learned from over-the-fence gossip that the pair had been born wild on a golf course (the rough, as they call it), been briefly adopted by an AIDS victim and his ménage, but then... the darker and stranger of the pair had been thrown out a city apartment window.
The bent part then made more sense, the poor dear little thing.
She was a tough cookie, had many later hair-raising near-death adventures, but fought on into howling dementia before giving up the territory some three or four years ago...
I guess I am longwindedly attempting to suggest that if it's in the lower storeys, defenestration isn't necessarily the end of Kitty Everything.
(I have this in confidence from Elvis, Undercover.)
I grew up on a farm, and cats were always being dumped off. As a kid, I loved it. The more cats, the better, but it is creepy. What people do to animals.
What an amazing link! I would never believe it. Where do you find these things? Blew me away. Nixon, Elvis?
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