from the porches

fourth of july freedom

 
I certainly hope all of you had a fun, safe Fourth of July.  My holiday was terrific. 

 
Merry Jennifer, (The Merry Gourmet), Sam, Maddie, Oliver, and Mr. and Mrs. Markham came to celebrate with us.  Whenever my daughter comes out, I know a culinary treat is in store for me (Macaroni Mama). Today it was key lime pie, which is showcased on her blog tonight.

 
I took the grandchildren swimming while the others kept Truett and Mama company.  "Sam, I don't even want you to go with us.  I've got it all under control," I told him.  But, I am cunning.  I wanted the grandchild all to myself in a fun situation.  Maddie and Oliver took turns doing cannonballs and diving for pool toys.  We screamed and laughed and giggled and hooted and had the best fun ever.

 
Taking the grandchildren to the pool, alone. . . was pure, simple freedom for me.  Maddie and Oliver are both excellent swimmers, so I was able to play like a child too on this Fourth of July. 

 
Dinner was the typical Fourth of July foods: burgers, potato salad, baked beans, etc.; with homemade Key lime pie topping it off.

 
After our family left, Truett and I watched a little TV with Mom and ended the night with the Macy's Firework Show.  Spectacular!

 
It feels good to be my age, where visiting with family is the most important thing in my life. We no longer have to travel thirty miles to see fireworks for entertainment.  Just playing like a child in the pool with Maddie and Oliver is enough for me. 

And that's my Fourth of July freedom! 

P.S.  Did you notice the last two photographs?  Do your grandchildren wear stuffed animals on their heads?

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tennessee & slim

 
Tonight's post is about the last several traumatic days in my life. 

No.  Nothing is wrong with Truett! 

No.  Nothing is wrong with Mama! 

It all has to do with my yard cats and kittens.  Do you remember when I showed pictures of kittens from mama cats that Clay told me were boys?  Well, these kittens are so cute.  I would watch them every morning and evening climbing on the cook shed chairs, leaping in what used to be basil, and nursing their moms.  (Shhhhh!  Cats are my favorite pets, but don't tell my puppies!)

Anyway, last Friday I decided to call the local Humane Society because the feral yard cats were costing me a fortune.  Plus, I know there are little girls and boys who would love to adopt a pretty kitten. 

The phone rang at the Humane Society and a young man said.  "We'll be there today." 

But they didn't come.

So I called back bright and early Monday morning of this week and kind of reprimanded whomever answered the phone. 

"Okay, mam," the fellow said. "Our guys will come out this afternoon and set live traps."

And they did. 

And then my trauma began because after the traps were set, Tennessee and Slim clearly said, "Call us in about an hour if any cats are in the traps.  We're working Fort White this afternoon and we'll come back and pick them up."

So an hour later, I dialed Slim's cell phone and he said, "Okay.  Just throw a sheet over the cages and we'll pick them up tomorrow morning.  We've had an emergency and are headed back to Lake City."  I told Mom they were probably swimming in the Ichetucknee River!

Let the real trauma begin.  

The next day there was no sign of Tennessee and Slim. 

So I called the Humane Society three times that day and plainly told them that three cats/kittens had been in a cage without food and water for over 24 hours and I thought that was inhumane. Furthermore, I wasn't supposed to feed the remaining six kittens that hadn't been caught, so everyone suffered.

 
People, it has taken five days to catch the majority of my kittens.  Five days of me looking at pathetic little caged kittens who only wanted to nurse their moms or play with their brothers or sisters.  Five days of me apologizing to little kittens, heads down, obviously traumatized as well.  And they didn't even know my name or that I love kittens.

Slim and Tennessee came back this afternoon and hauled away another little grey kitten.  Slim chased the daddy cat with a long handled grabber, much like Truett's, only made of aluminum.  But, of course, the daddy cat zipped out of the yard.  Both of these guys know the daddy cat is probably uncatchable.

Mama keeps saying,  "Let's keep the last three"; but I told her we just can't.  I know she wants her own kitten to love, but it can't be a feral yard kitty, and it's most certainly not Roger or Punky.

Next week my yard may be free of all cats.  Who knows?  The Humane Society knows my name now because I've pestered the fool out of them all week about their lack of concern for 24 -hour caged pets.

It's too bad Tennessee and Slim aren't fathers.  They may have a different outlook on life; but, alas,they're only kids doing a man's job.