Sunday, Dec. 09, 2007 - 6:02 p.m.
Have a Nice Shitty Day !
***********************
Woo was it bad this morning outhere
I looked out the window
and it was charcoal gray at noon
Jinky woke up all stiff and crabby
drank out of the toilet
and sort of whined for food
- what a day it isn't gonna be
and when he whined to go outside
i cautioned him to
maybe use the catbox
and forget about nature
have a Sunday
hole up in here
its ok
but he demanded to go out
and when i swung open the door
it was
not bad
out there!
some how the winds from the lake
stopped blowing overnight
and its a calm dark barely bearable
-10 below zero
so we prepared to go
down to the beach
and see whats what
in our corner of paradise
I grabbed Jinky up on the driveway
and stuffed him in my coat
and r peddaled him down past the
silent roadside snowdrifts
towards the deserted grey ice clogged beach
and it was
not bad !
Jinky followed me down the steel staits
and onto the awaiting beach
which was one huge sheet of cranky slick ice
anchoring several huge knarly tree stumps
tossed up on shore
during a week ofcrazy storms
the lake had coughed up
its deepest secrets this week:
a few giant clams from way out there
misc weird plasic things
chunks of wooden docks
andcrunchy heaps of zebra mussel shells
and most odd,
an entire dead loon
drowned & washed up on the ice flow
it was huge -size of a toddler
every black feather perfect, huge feet pliable
cold creepy yellow eyes
looking into a hopeless infinity
Jinky walked right up
to the dead loon
and was able to walk on top of it
like a man on a whale carcass
he was just a quarter its size
The dead loon looked like some
enormous prehistoric water bird
being scavanged by a saber toothed lion
but Jinky just sniffed its carcass
and jumped down
and ran out to the edge of the ice
and looked down at the
cold menacing winter waters
pulsating with a chunky slury of ice
the sky was low and cold as a snake
the clouds over the lake
were slow and stubby,
pregnant with tomorrow's
snow
but Jinky and me loved it
because there was nobody there
and no chance
of anyone showing up to spoil our
perfect beach side solitude
the giant stone boulders
we had suntanned on in June
were now completely iced over
with a metre of forbidding
grey lake ice
the accumulated varathane veneer
of 10 million crazy waves
dashing themselves senceless
in subzero temperatures
just to freeze framing on contact
the flowering bushes
we remembered from summer
as frames for an endless green canopy
of leaves and vines
were just rows of grey sticks now
refugees on a barren hillside
overlooking a wild and deadly cold lake
still, the beach was fun and interesting
and we were able to creep
along the ice alley
from one end of the beach
to the other
Jinky using his claws like ice grippers
me checking my balance with every step
we get there
wherever " there" is
at the far end of the beach
with great effort we scaled
up the vertical hillside to walk
the ice crusted meadow above
where we surprised an athletic lady
walking her equally surprized
german sheppard
who did not expect
anyone sane or alive
to come up from the
crazy ice choked beach
certainly not a red cat
who seemed to own the place
with some non descript guy
following closely behind
it was wonderful
to walk the beach
under such adverse conditions
' and still find adventure and freedom
that grown up cats can and do
appreciate in these troubled times
where no body will bite you
scratch your face
or steal your food
although not exactly
comfortable to navigate
this is
paradise
then home on the bike at sunset
rush indoors to see what food is still there
and after catfood and a grilled cheese
we settle down to rhaw out
Jinky licking his feet
me watching the
2004 Southpark series on DVD
and I can see upclose
that Jinky has some white latex paint'
in his fur from yesterday
from watching us overpaint
the trash canvases
that formally hosted the bad art series
and as the little cartoon idiots on screen
vie to out evil each other
I pick dried white paint from Jinkys fur
him flopped down
in pre snooze mode
roasting under my desklamp
the mircowave bell chimes
the reheated tea is ready
but who cares?
I can reheat the reheated tea anytime
this delicious moment
must be savoured before
dinner hour normalacy creeps in
winter must never win
not in the smallest way ever
routine you don't care about
is just pandering to slavery
