Bleuberricous Butterballous

A few years ago I bought two small blueberry bushes. Before I bought them I looked up blueberry bushes and found they have pretty spring flowers, then blueberries (for the birds), then beautiful red leaves in fall. You needed to get two different species of blueberries for best results. I planted them and they never really took off--pretty spindly and few berries. Then, one died. I've kept the one lone bush but it was clearly lonely and not doing well. It did produce blueberries but only one little cluster of about 6 or 8 berries a year that the mockingbirds got always a few days before they were ripe.

In April, my friend and neighbor Stephanie surprised me with a blueberry bush in honor of Butterball. I have yet to plant it but I put it right next to my lone blueberry bush and exciting things started to happen! Bees were coming by and I watched as they would fly between the two bushes pollinating each one. My one lonely little bush produced many more leaves and flowers. Here, take a look for yourself...

I know it still looks spindly but it has at least 7 clusters of berries. Maybe I might even get to taste a few this year before the catbirds and mockingbirds get them all. I've named this plant Sunkist.

Here's my new plant, Butterball.

It has been two months on Saturday since Butterball left me. I've been under so much stress at work lately and this time of year the yard is growing out of control. It ain't easy being a single homeowner with a good-sized yard. I really think the reason I've not been able to shake this stress is that my main man is no longer around to calm me down. The rest of the cats, God bless 'em, can be a constant source of stress with all their allergies and issues with one another. I told a co-worker that as much as I love my other cats, it is always like they are saying "Feed me, play with me, love me, leave me alone, let me out, let me back in, would it hurt you to clean the litterbox?" With Butterball it was as if he would look at me and say "What's wrong mom, you look a little stressed. What can I do for you?" Oh, I still miss him something awful.

Butterball and Apu just hangin out

Meet Willy Mo

All right, I know I should be chasing these guys away and I usually do, but this guy was just too cute. I almost didn't post this video because of my geeky background talking but hey, that's me. I talk that way to all the animals here, the cats, raccoons, possums, birds, tent caterpillars, etc.

My friends Paul and Joy treated me to a Washington Nationals game a few weeks ago (in their new fancy schmancy stadium I might add). I was telling them when the time came to get another cat I had to think of a good name. We started going through the names of the Nationals. Joy wanted me to name it "Lastings". There is a Nats player with the first name of Lastings! What kind of a name is that? My favorite was Willy Mo! Now that's a name. And, since I won't be getting a new cat anytime soon, I decided to name this little visitor Willy Mo.

Flower Mart and a Shout Out!

I just realized I'm going to talk about a flower mart without any photos of flowers! Oh well.

One of the jewels of Washington, DC is the National Cathedral. Make sure the next time you visit to put the Cathedral on your list. It is an Episcopalian church with its own parish community but the community shares it with the nation as it is named the Nation's Cathedral. I LOVE this church and its surrounding gardens. This Church is a uniter in every sense of the word. They bring in wonderful speakers such as Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama.

Most former Presidents have their funeral service here as well as services for major events like right after 9/11.

There is a wonderful little book that was published years ago called "A Soul in Balance: The Gardens of Washington National Cathedral." The introduction states that early designers and supporters of the Cathedral "foresaw the creation of gardens suitable for a fourteenth century Gothic cathedral: ancient, walled gardens appealing to the five senses, filled with plants of historic interest, plants of biblical myth and legend, and native plants. Tranquil, permanent, and timeless; hallowed yet real, set in the midst of a bustling capital city."

Every spring the guardians of the Cathedral gardens, the All Hallows Guild, put on a Flower Mart festival to raise funds for the upkeep of the Cathedral close. The Cathedral is a quick ten minute drive from my house, so my sister and I have made it a tradition to attend almost every year for close to 10 years.

The festival is always on a Friday and Saturday. We have always gone on Saturday and, while fun, it is extremely crowded. This year with my sister recently retired I decided to take the day off and go on Friday. The crowds weren't nearly as bad. They have plant and herbs for sale as well as wonderful crafts and delicious food.

Every year the festival showcases a different country. This year was South Africa

As soon as I saw this group dancing I thought they were performing a Zulu dance.

And I was right! Sometimes I amaze myself!

It got up to the mid-80s on Friday so my sister and I were quite hot when we returned home. I had told her about my latest discovery--Edy's Coconut Creme fruit bars. If you love coconut, these are heaven.

They're even "Woody approved"!

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Now onto the Shout-out! I just need to publicly state how much I love and appreciate cartoonist Patrick McDonnell. He created the comic strip "Mutts" about the adventures of a dog, "Earl" and a cat "Mooch". The comic strip is a delight. I even named one of my strays Moochie. But the thing I admire most about Patrick McDonnell is his commitment to the environment, animal welfare, and especially the plight of shelter animals. Every year he devotes a few weeks to telling shelter stories. Now, I don't know if I will get in trouble for copying this cartoon here, but I just wanted to share it with those who may not get his comic in your paper...

A few years ago he was on a discussion chat sponsored by The Washington Post. I wrote in telling him how much I appreciated his work and asked him if he could write about the plight of older animals that always seem to get overlooked at shelters. He wrote back thanking me for my volunteer work and said he would definitely work different animals into his shelter stories. And, he was true to his word...

I could not have said it better myself.

Why It's a Sin to Kill a Mockingbird

“Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." -- Miss Maudie in the original book; Atticus Finch in the movie version of “To Kill A Mockingbird”

Yesterday was the day I was determined to work in my yard. It was sunny and in the 80s (already too warm for my taste!). But, I didn't let the warm weather sway me and started pulling bramble and vines from my side yard. All the while being serenaded by Marcel the Mockingbird. He literally sang for hours sitting in the bramble. After about a half hour I thought, "I need to get this song recorded" and ran to get my camera. (Yet another excuse to stop the yard work ;-). It's not pretty to look at and you really can't see Marcel but he is in the gray bramble in the lower center of the video. But, oh listen to him sing! The video is over a minute and towards the end I especially like his robin and jay impersonation.





He just went on and on and on. I sure hope he finds a mate.

When I first moved into my house (it will be ten years on April 25!), the yard was just an overgrown jungle. But, before I moved in I saw a few daffodils and one lone red tulip trying to peek out from all the overgrown vines. After that first year the tulip never bloomed again. The leaves would come out and I would get my hopes up, but no flower. Last week as I was walking down the steps of my front porch something caught my eye

Here's hoping it's a sign of better times ahead.

Possumlady Place is still trying to find a new rhythm to its household without the big personalities of Butterball and Sunkist. All the other cats have done their best to help fill the void. It will just take time.

Oh, I almost forgot. Let me show you my latest purchase! Years ago I had heard that the Isle of Man had a Manx coin. I always thought to myself that one of these days I needed to get myself one. About a week after Butterball's death I went online to research it. Apparently, in 1988 the Isle of Man started a series of cat coins that goes on to this day. Every year they come out with a one crown coin with a different purebred cat. It has been wildly popular. Of course, to start out the series they had the Manx cat as their first. This is what arrived in the mail yesterday

I was SO excited to get it. And look! The cat is a rumpy riser just like Butterball. I've put it next to Butterball's remains in a place of prominence in my living room

Don't you love the little cat stones! My sister Michele gave them to me when I first adopted Butterball and Apu.

Ahh, today is more my cup of tea. A soft rain outside with temps in the upper 50s. Great cleaning up the house weather.

Have a great week everyone.

Sunkist

I'm really at a loss of what to think or say right now. A little over an hour ago I discovered one of my inside/outside cats, Sunkist, was dead.

He was not an old cat by any means, probably around 6 years old. He stayed out last night with another cat, Toby. It was staying in the upper 40s to low 50s and they just didn't want to come in. This morning around 7:00 I woke up and let them both in. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. They both ate a nice breakfast with the rest of the cats. I sat on the couch with my bottled frapaccino like every other morning and Sunkist curled up in my lap for a while. I then got up and he went to lay on the couch in his favorite sleeping spot. I watched tv, went on the computer for a while, took a shower and dressed and went to put on my socks and sat down on the couch. I reached up to pet him and was surprised when he didn't respond. I kept petting him and talking to him thinking he was in a deep sleep. I then picked up his paw and was so shocked to see it was completely stiff, along with the rest of him. I want to warn you that I took a picture of him, in the position I found him. Here is the photo below. He just seemed so peaceful.....

My neighbor has come over and has taken Sunkist, as Sunny originally came over from her house and I had been taking care of him for the past 4-5 years. She will be bringing him to our vets to do an autopsy to see what could have happened.

The weekends have been so hard lately without Butterball and now this. Rest in peace Sunny. You lived up to your name. Always bright and happy. Wanted to be everyone's friend. I'm so sorry I couldn't give you the attention you so craved.

Home Again

I know this isn't an easy subject to think or blog about, but with all the bloggers out there that are animal lovers, I thought I'd bring it up. Do you know what you are going to do with your beloved pet after they die? Some of you I'm sure living in quite rural areas will just bury your pet on your property. But, if you live in a suburban area such as myself you may not be able to bury your pet according to local laws. Or, you live in an apartment or condo...then what? With my first cat Bill, I didn't even think about it until my vet was over at my apartment preparing to put Bill down. Luckily, my sister lives in a very wooded area in Fairfax and we ended up burying Bill in my sister's family's wooded "pet cemetary."

When my 65 pound dog, Jiminy was put down, I first had decided to just have her cremated along with other animals and her ashes would have been sprinkled at a nearby farm. But, it was hard to leave her body lying there on the metal exam table so I ran and told the receptionist that I changed my mind and wanted her individually cremated. The vet's office had a contract with an animal crematorium and said they would call me when her remains had been returned to the vet's office. Okay, well I had no idea how she would come back and was surprised when I picked her up to find her in a sealed wooden box.

Then Butterball started losing weight. I had decided that I would probably go the same route as Jiminy when at the end of February, The Washington Post printed an article about another animal crematorium called Heavenly Days. They sounded so wonderful and caring that I decided to go with them. They are always open for folks to tour the facilities and you can even arrange to watch your own animal's cremation. (I declined.) I'm so glad I used them. I steeled myself to call them a few hours before I took Butterball to the vet for the last time and they were so thoughtful on the phone. Then, the next day they called and left a message letting me know that they had picked up Butterball's body and he was "safe" with them. Their website has a full listing of urns and boxes to choose from. Being of Polish ancestry I was comforted to see that all their wooden boxes were made and hand carved in Poland. I got to pick out his box with an optional plaque attached. You can get the box back sealed or unsealed. They will also do a paw print for you if you wish.

Yesterday, I went and picked up Butterball.

This is how he was presented to me. Below shows you a better view of the beautiful carved box

Enclosed in an envelope was this:

and this:

Sorry it's so fuzzy but is says that they have made a small donation in Butterball's name to the Animal Welfare League of Montgomery County. What a wonderful gesture. They were a class act all the way around and I know I will be using them in the future (but hopefully VERY DISTANT future).

So, again, not something easy to think about, but better now then when you are already overcome with grief.

It's good to have Butterball home again.

My Main Man

I don't know when I started using that phrase but not a day went by without me saying "You're my main man Butterball".

The death of Butterball has knocked the wind out of my sails. How can I come home to a house still full of cats and feel such a loneliness of spirit? I told a friend that the house feels rudderless. Instead of a cohesive family of cats headed by Butterball, it seems like a hodgepodge of mismatched strays. I am thankful that my routine stays the same with all the other cats to take care of, but when one jumps in my lap to be petted, I stroke them without much attention thinking to myself, “yes, you are sweet and you are mine and I love you, but you’re not Butterball.”

Butterball had such a quiet dignity without ever being full of himself. He never crowded around me to be petted like the other cats. He was content to stay out of the limelight knowing he would get my full attention when it was time for bed and again when I would get ready for work. That was “Butterball’s time” and I would have to push many cats away as we would spend our one-on-one time together.

Butterball was a "cat magnet". All the other cats would seek him out when they wanted to take a snooze.

As some of you know, I adopted Butterball from the Animal Welfare League of Arlington back in 1996 when he was three. He was a purebred Manx and I must say that I’ve been smitten by the Manx breed ever since. In the late ‘90s, before I knew you could search online for Manx rescues, I even thought I would go back on my long-held belief of only getting rescued cats by going to a (gasp) Manx breeder.

Butterball and Apu enjoying a cool summer breeze last year

The Manx breed (or stubbin as they are called in the Manx Gaelic language) comes from the Isle of Man, off the coast of Ireland in the Irish Sea. (The fact that I had to have Butterball put down on St. Patrick’s Day made the whole experience even worse.) The breed has been around for at least 300 years. They believe the Manx’s lack of a tail came from a random mutant gene. Because of the isolation of the Isle, the mutant gene became the dominant gene. You can find four different variations on the Manx. The “rumpy” has absolutely no tail and has an indentation where the tail should be. The “rumpy riser” has a bit of cartilage that when you run your hand across its back, the cartilage will rise up like a tail. (Butterball was a rumpy riser.) Then you have the “stumpy” that has a tail an inch or two long—looks like a bobcat. Finally, you can have a “taily” with a normal length tail. Their hind legs are also noticeably longer then their front legs so when they run they have a hopping gait. That, combined with their small or no tail gave rise to the myth that the breed was a result of a cat breeding with a rabbit. Some still call them a “cabbit”!

Here''s a short video of a couple of weeks ago so you can see Butterball's rumpy riser and long back legs.

I found this description of the Manx temperament on the website “here kitty kitty kitty” and it describes Butterball to a T:

Temperament: The Manx's temperament is one of a kind. They are cool, calm and collected. Very rarely will they become angry like a standard cat. Friendly and affectionate, they are suited for just about everyone. Manx owners also refer to them as a "dog-cat" because of its strong desire to be with its people. Manx cats will follow you around the house, watching and learning everything you do. They are very inquisitive and therefore, are very intelligent creatures. Manx cats are protective of their homes and any unusual disturbance (even someone walking up the driveway) will cause a low growl much like a guard dog. Manx's are even known to chase after dogs that come into its property. The Manx are also well known for their "kissing" and constant head-butting if you put your head close enough. They will kiss corner walls, tables, chairs, shoes, their human family, just about anything with an edge. The head-butting is a sign of friendship, and sometimes they don't realise their own strength when doing so! As soon as you touch your Manx, give her a scratch on the head etc, it sends them into a purring frenzy and then the butting and kissing starts. They are very loving cats. Manx's make wonderful indoor cats, provided that they have plenty of toys to stimulate and exercise them in the house. When the cats' people are out at work all day, she will just curl up and go to sleep until they arrive home.

I never got a chance to see Butterball’s protective qualities when I lived in Arlington in a second-story walkup. So I was quite surprised when I moved into my house in Maryland in 1998. Butterball would be looking out the window and see someone walking up the sidewalk towards the house. He would get all huffy and puffy and emit this low growl. On another occasion, something woke me up one night but I couldn’t figure out what. I looked and saw Apu sound asleep but Butterball was sitting up keenly looking towards the side of the house and again emitting this low growl. You can imagine I was a bit frightened until I looked out and saw that a raccoon had knocked over my garbage can and was rummaging through it.

This photo brings tears to my eyes. I adopted Apu with Butterball in 1996. Butterball was 3 years old and Apu 4 months. Butterball has always been Apu's big brother and security blanket. Here they are sharing one last snuggle on Monday morning.

While all my cats are very loving, they have also at one time or another hissed or swiped at me. I mean, they are cats after all. But, in the 12 years I had him, Butterball never, ever hissed, growled or swiped at me. I even heard my vet talking to a vet assistant about Butterball. He mentioned what a great cat he was and that he could draw blood, poke and prod but Butterball never got upset. I have a sister who was visiting from Minnesota years ago. She is not a cat person at all. But she fell in love with Butterball and even picked him up to put him on her lap. She said she would get a cat if she could have Butterball.

When I would come home from work to find someone had yet again thrown up on my bed or urinated outside the litterbox or knocked over and broke a sentimental knick knack I would start fuming “I am SO tired of never being able to have ANYTHING nice. What is WRONG with all of you” as I huff around cleaning up whatever mess they made. By this time all the cats would have scattered to the four winds—under the bed, into the tv room or jumped out the cat door into my back porch. All, except Butterball. He would slowly pad his way to me, talking “ar, ar” then rubbing against me back and forth “kissing” me trying to calm me down. And he always did.
I honestly don’t know what I will do without him.