Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Domestic Bliss: Cats and Fruits
Here’s a little essay I’ve been promising some folk for some time. Every time I’ve re-read it since writing in back in early October, it’s returned me to a very pleasant piece of my personal timeline. And I’ve denied myself such pleasantries for long enough - so without further ado (heh), SHADOW’S BACK AND THERE ARE GUAVAS
Regular visitors to the Hut (or “hutulars") probably already know how I feel about visiting my friends Dave and Kim and their family: I like it just fine. I eat well, drink well, laugh well, and sleep very well afterwards. Even though we’re no longer living just 15 minutes away from each other in the same town, we see each other as often as we’re able and yet I always wish it were more. And, in a sense, it now is more. Their home has gotten both homier and more exotic. Here’s how:
* Guavas: My initial mental image of guavas is from my summer idyll in Hawaii. I learned to recognize the yellow treaclesweetsmelling orbs that littered the roads and paths, often crushed and split open with nubbly pink flesh spilling from their burst rinds. I pulled a few ripe ones from trees to check the flava, so to speak; I was disappointed. The pits were inconveniently sized - too hard to chew, too insinuated in the fruit flesh to be spat out; the fruit itself, though sweet enough, was paltry. Guava juice: fine. Guava itself: not so much.
Well, when we got to D&K’s house not long ago their kitchen was redolent of sweet fresh fruit and their countertop was covered with little green handgrenades, firm spheres with a fluted protruberance at the end. “Want some guavas?,” Kim asked. “This bag’s for you. They’re from the tree in front. The kids don’t like them.”
They looked different than the yellow zonkers I was used to; the fruit resisted the knife as I bisected one. With a spoon I curettaged out some of the pale greygreen flesh. It was sublime - sweet and juicy, a rich taste that filled my senses. Yes, it was a guava, but not like Hawaiian ones - this was better, tastier, easier to eat and more interesting to the tongue. The idea of local guavas delights me. I wound up eating three or four of the small treats every day with my lunch for a week, and with each bite I was amazed anew at the exotic qualities of a place I think of as home.
*Shadow’s Back: At the same time, the wild wideness that for so long has been associated with D&K’s cozy domesticity has survived transplantation and now roams among new tracts. When they moved in together into the little house on the hill, they each brought cats. Those relationships evolved, as do all relationships with and among cats, but one additional feline was grafted into the equation by the house itself: a feral had attached itself to the cottage, and expected to be fed there. Shadow was tiny and pitchblack with a notched ear. She didn’t let anybody close enough to touch her - ever, but within those limits she was moderately social. When I’d arrive for a visit she’d usually be out front, playing with the other cats; on seeing me, Shadow would give me a hard stare, a short yelp, and then she’d run away a short distance where she’d eye me with a combination of friendly camaraderie and healthy paranoia. D&K continued the prior tenant’s habit of putting out kibble on the doorstep for Shadow. Sometimes they’d open the front door on a dark night and see a big ol’ coon or polecat on the stoop having a nibble, but it was obvious that these animals knew they were interlopers - they were eating Shadow’s food, on Shadow’s stoop. The wild housecat had claimed a piece of the house for herself.
Dave and Kim moved last year and now they inhabit an awesome east bay bungalow. They’re living the dream with two towhead tots and a deeply coffered diningroom ceiling. Their two cats, enormous glossy specimens whom I consider close personal friends, managed the transition well; they just packed them up with everything else and then kept them indoors for a while. But Shadow required a different approach: they got a trap from a rescue organization and, after several failed attempts, eventually got the wild kitty in a cage and hauled her across the bay. Shadow cowered in the large wire enclosure as they navigated it into their basement, where they kept her for two weeks. When they finally opened the trap, the cat stayed put - at first, but then eventually disappeared into the house. I’d occasionally see her behind a cabinet, her yellow eyes, gazing out at me impassively from an impossibly narrow space; she apparently roamed freely at night, during which explorations Dave occasionally surprised her in the open.
Then she just disappeared; weeks passed without a shadow of Shadow. But then again she reappeared, outside. She’d gotten out of the house and found a new neighborhood in which to secrete herself. D&K went back to putting food on their porch; Shadow went back to living outdoors and unfettered. When I visit them now Shadow’s the first to greet me as I approach the house, with a friendly yelp and a playful scamper to safety. She is a wild domestic shorthair; moving her to a new home didn’t change that. I’m glad she didn’t change, really. I like having a friend who just isn’t domesticated at all.
