Since producing the very simple book I call “Under This Texas Sky,” I’ve been looking up at the clouds even more. And since most of my time outside is while I’m driving, looking up at the clouds is not advisable. Most of the time.
I’ve also been starting to take photos again ten minutes after the sunrise, which is a moving target but gives me a baseline to see how each morning looks particularly in relation to the sun. There’s a building across golf course and road, about 200 yards away, whose southern side gets lit up about that time during the darker part of the year but is a “muddier” light during the warmer months. The sun, perhaps slightly lower at sunrise during these colder months, hits the side of the house fully, while a more obtuse angle might defuse its effect.
Speaking of 200 yards to the north, I got a voice mail one morning last week from a woman who said she found Buttons, our cat.
Apparently, Buttons — who is the adventurous non-human in our family — had explored the community to the north of us. In fact, she had explored up the street that is across that road and apparently also let herself into the caller’s home. (She can jump up and open door handles.) Buttons is a slight cat, only 7.2 pounds. (She needs the extra “0.2” to sound heavier than air.) She has “anime” eyes, as Karen likes to say, and looks innocent and sweet. She is neither. She relies on her sibling, Bucket, a ‘fraidy cat who doesn’t like to explore but has other skills, to open the pocket door to the laundry room, and then she does her thing with the handle. She’s so good at opening the back door that we now keep (our dog) Leo’s collar on almost always, so that if she escapes, leaving the door ajar, Leo doesn’t race out the back.
So I called the woman and said I’d be right over.
Buttons was backed into a corner between the washing machine and a wall and protected from the front by a step ladder. She was looking up at me, licking her chops the way scared cats do. And I thought, “Silly girl. You got yourself into this. Why should I be your enabler? Can’t you see we’re in a codependent relationship that must stop?
I brought her home, was able to keep her in for a while — we have to keep front and back doors locked so she doesn’t do her door thing — until she slid past me once while I was entering.
Karen was a bit upset by my inattention to this, especially since I hadn’t kept her in long enough to eat.
I had figured perhaps that she wanted to dine out. I was merely showing her some tough love.