Dear you -
November, 2018. Since last writing, the family property at Inlet Beach was sold/closed for a good chunk of change. Then, as resident and former protector of that land, I had 45 days to make a move. The real estate agent was far from inventive and rather vague, so I won't address that drama. (The whole selling and buying process was torturous and sad.) To sum it up, I just did not want to own a big, stupid house/yard and be saddled with tasks and upkeep. So, I purchased a condo on 30A in Seagrove Beach, just about 8 miles from the former home. The 8 miles influenced my decision.
The decision also involved my cat clan. First, there is/was Vivo, the totally socialized fur baby who adopted me. She could not return to simply being a neighborhood cat. No one followed through on possible adoption promises. Even the oh-so-righteous animal protection organization (Alaqua) in Freeport could not take one more cat. ONE more fucking cat. Seriously. They advertise themselves as Eden. Lies. Anyway, Vivo came with me and is now a condo cat, litter box and all. The remaining wilder ones (Dinky, Flash, Noche and Grover - an alpha male who was not a regular in my zone but dropped by now and then) are still on the land, the now not manicured, trashed land the new owners are ignoring as they wait for a profitable offer. And that is why the close locale, 8 miles from here to there, mattered. They gotta eat! And drink!
I now do the "8 miles to and 8 miles from" dance every day. I am the trespassing cat handmaiden. (I hope the "neighbors" feel slightly shitty and petty for not taking on what would be an easy task for them.) Sometimes, I see one or two of those felines and say hello! They understand I don't live in the house. They also understand I won't abandon them. Close enough to give them more time in Eden.
Yes, of course, the commitment aggravates me. And it is odd to be held captive by creatures in order to save them from captivity. However, it also feels rather liberating to save what others fear, the wild things who are never sorry for themselves (D. H. Lawrence, I think).
See the photo above. Many are unsettled by a stare like that. Hard to turn this dominant entity into a "pet". But oh man, I LOVE that look and whenever I feel a bit outside of the "human herd" here in the Panhandle, I try to be what I see in those eyes.
Six months later. Comfortably exiled with Vivo. Often bored and often longing for the unbelievably colorful and risky life lived in my cities far away. However, I also appreciate the fact that all that property bullshit is over and I am free to . . .
Let the ellipsis speak. Today, my focus is simply to get over the FLU and keep tackling Vivo's FLEA issue. Oh, the random things we pick up as we move through life.
Love,
Joyce
PS - Oh, did I forget to talk about Hurricane Michael? I am tired of talking about Michael, especially since NOTHING happened to me and so many others who just will not shut up about how awful it was to lose power for two days. Seriously. Check the carnage to the east and shut the hell up. Obviously, 30A and I survived. I refused to evacuate (yet another law broken) and witnessed the winds, felt a fear that was justified!
XO
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