Max Has a Mission

The first time you meet Max you might think he resembles a wrestler, cat style, and the sound of his voice would surely make tall buildings tremble.

Not so. He has a Mike Tyson kind of voice--soft and lispy. It wouldn't scare a hummingbird pausing for a nap.

Max has taken to spending his waking hours, and sleeping, come to think of it, perched on the kitchen garbage pail, waiting for action at the small feeder hanging from the eaves.

Today a mourning dove came to check it out and Max practically swooned with delight, making that funny croaking sound cats make when they see birds. In Max's case, it was a tiny little sobby sound.

As soon as I can inflict enough guilt on my nearby son, I'll have hin make me a simple feeder for the back yard and then Max can sit at the back family room window and hyperventilate with joy.

Prelude to Spring--

What a thrill when I spotted the bulbs popping up in front. Even the frog was surprised. the blob to the left is the cedar still wrapped in its winter coat.


I was so heady with it all that I skidded over the ice on the back deck to check the pond and the fish are coping,whic is darned decent of them in that frigid bath.


The cats are itching to get out despite the fact that they're house cats. I have a mental picture of them getting in the way of the rabbits out there now that its mating season. The poor boys might come home looking totally confused-- or happy. Anyway, the boys are under house arrest.