On Soundarya's birthday, cake was cut on three continents, there were animals: small, big, newborn, passed on and symbolized

Manoj, fiance and more to Sujitha Ravichandran, Soundarya's younger sister, put out a request for Sandyz birthday that we who loved her should celebrate with cake for us and her. Although I had put up my birthday remembrance on the 12th, so that her family and friends in India could see it early on her birthday of April 13, I waited until the morning of the 13th here to begin our celebration.

Margie then mixed up a cake and put it in the oven, to bake for Soundarya. As it baked, I went walking. I came upon a frozen puddle that held this face - or faces. One can clearly see the ears and face of a cat, its chin resting atop its front paws. Yet, look closely and you will see that within the face of the cat there is a human face as well.

One of those little odd things that happens in nature, and on a day such as this.

Cats played an enormous role between Sandy and me. A gigantic role. I have been told from multiple good authorities that cats are very rare in India, but for Sandy and me, they were ubiquitous; they were everywhere.

As I walked in the morning of the 13th, her birthday, it was late night of her birthday in India. So I placed a Skype call over the local AT&T 3g network to Sujitha in Bangalore. It was an exquisitely beautiful morning - the sky clear and blue, the snow on the mountains bright against it, the clean, frosted air wonderfully chilled and pleasant.

So I tried to describe what I was seeing and experiencing to Niece Suji, which is very different than anything she would ever see in Bangalore.

It seemed to me that my description was inadequate. I wanted her to somehow sense and feel it herself. Suddenly, it struck me - I could break the ice of a puddle with my foot and let her hear the sound of the ice cracking and crunching beneath my shoe.

I stopped, held the phone near to the puddle and then crunched it repeatedly with my foot.

Sujitha, I am pleased to say, was pleased.

After Margie baked and frosted the cake, she cut it into three pieces - one for me, one for her and one for Soundarya. Jim observed. That's Margie's thumb, there at the edge of the plate.

I was a little unsure as to what to do with Sandy's piece of cake. I could eat it myself, but that didn't feel right. "Why don't you take it out back and leave it for her where we have buried the cats and dogs?" Margie suggested.

So I took Soundarya's plate to the back door and then opened it. Jim shot out ahead of me and led me across the grass in the direction of our pet cemetery, but stopped short of entering there himself.

Although she never met them, Sandy knew my cats - both the living and the dead. She knew Royce and sent me words of comfort after his death - just about one year ago. So I put her piece of cake at the head of his grave. I then looked through the trees into the clear blue sky and spoke a few words to her.

There was nothing more to do after that, so I stepped out of the cemetery. I found Jim waiting for me on this stump, right at the cemetery edge.

Manoj, "Manu" - posted these pictures on a special web page set up by Sandy's cousins to commemorate her birthday. He took them at his celebration in London, where he is looking for work. Sandy's brother, Ganesh, also told of his cake in Pune - and of course there those in Bangalore had their own cake.

So on her birthday, Soundarya... Sandy... Sound... Soundu... Muse... was remembered on at least three continents. 

Not long after I pedaled my bike to Metro Cafe, Kristine from almost next door showed up with a bagful of puppies - born at 2:00 AM, 14 hours earlier. 

It was a nice touch to add to Sandy's birthday... and not the last one, either...

In the evening of Sandy's birthday, this young bull moose came to our house. I was sitting on the couch when I saw him trot through the backyard, so I grabbed a camera and followed him. He stopped in the low growth that lies just beyond the pet cemetery and there allowed me to take this portrait.

So, Soundarya - this moose is for you. This is your birthday moose. I hope you like him.

View images as slides

Airplanes, ice cream and the need to escape; the final picture of the living Royce

I just want to escape for a bit now - not forever, not for years, not for months, perhaps not even for weeks. Days would be good, but I don't have days to spare. Hours, perhaps?

Just for a bit - and then while I am in escape to imagine that this little bit is forever. I want to climb into my airplane as I once used to do and go up there, into the clouds, into the sky, as I witnessed someone else do here, above me, late yesterday afternoon or early evening as I pedaled my bicycle.

But I want to be more free than the folks in this plane were. They were in the air, but they were completely controlled by people down on the ground, people who gave them orders as to just what altitude, heading direction and speed they could fly.

I want to be in the air, my hand on the stick and my brain free to choose what direction to push that stick and if I should push it that way and then change my mind and decide I want to go the other way and climb or descend to a different altitude than that is what I want to be able to do.

I want to fly into the updraft and then just let go of the damn stick altogether and let the wind carry me; see how high it will lift me into the sky before it turns me loose, and then to see what the view looks like from that perspective. There will be many mountains to look at, I assure you, and fields of ice and snow. 

I know, because it has happened just this way before.

And if I should come upon an eagle, bald or otherwise, I want to push the stick so that the airplane goes into a hard bank, to fly a tight circle with the eagle at center, it's pivot point, close enough to my cockpit window so that I can see the eye that it locks upon my eye.

When this happens with an eagle, even though one is flying a 360 degree circle around it and it is matching the turn degree for degree, the eagle appears not to move at all. The only hint that the eagle is rotating is that the areas of light and shadow upon the eagle change. Only the rays of the sun mark its turn, for its eye stays connected with yours, it's eye looks right into your's, and does not blink. It's wings do not flap, it's body appears to remain stationary.

But my airplane is broken and I cannot do such things now.

Yet I must break away for a bit.

What will I do?

Will I ride my bike, on and on, never stopping?

No, I am not fit enough right now to do that.

Will I walk, hike, up in the mountains?

I don't know.

But I've got to break free for a bit, somehow.

Of course, there is always ice cream. We have a Dairy Queen in Wasilla and I love their soft ice cream. This is from one week ago. Jacob, Kalib and Jobe were visiting us while Lavina went to Homer with Sandy for Sandy's early bachelorette party. She is getting married September 4 at Lake Lucille, here in Wasilla.

So us boys went and got ice cream. The chocolate coated cone Jacob is grabbing is for him. The other one is for Kalib. The milkshake, strawberry, is for me. Poor Jobe! He got none.

He didn't feel bad, though.

It didn't bother him at all.

Kalib, with his ice-cream cone.

Remember the patch of dandelions in the black and white series that Royce defended from Happy the dog and then floated above? This is the very patch, 15 years later. And that's Kalib in it, the little boy that has emerged from the baby that Royce loved so greatly.

If Margie were not spending her week days in town, babysitting Jobe, there would not be so many dandelions here. She loves to spend the days of late spring pulling dandelions out by the roots. There have been years where it has appeared that she has gotten them all, but, of course, with dandelions, you never get them all.

The dandelions are always there, surviving, even when not seen, even when the ground is frozen solid and the snow piled atop it. The dandelions are there, preparing to proliferate again. To a young boy, this is not a bad thing.

To a young boy, it is a magical thing, one that supplies him with many tiny parachutes to launch into the breeze.

Oh, dear! I have gotten things completely out of order! Chronologically, this picture should have preceded the ice cream shots. In it, we have just begun the trip to Dairy Queen. Muzzy needs a little exercise, so he runs alongside the Tahoe as Jacob drives down Sarah's Way toward Seldon. When we reach Seldon, Jacob will stop the car and Muzzy will get in.

Then we will continue on to buy the ice cream.

Now I am in the car. I have just stopped by Metro Cafe where Carmen and Sashana presented me with smiles and a cup, plus a muffin and I did not pay for either one. Someone out there, one of you my readers who refused to identify yourself, felt badly when s/he read about Royce and so bought this cup and muffin for me.

It was a very nice thought and I thank you.

So I proceeded on, to escape as best I could while drinking from the cup and eating the muffin. I passed by Grotto Iona, the Place of Prayer, and there were horses there.

On my way towards Grotto Iona, I came upon a place where a vehicle had gone off the road and was down in the bushes. A tow truck had just arrived and there were a few guys there. Before I could safely turn on my camera and get it ready, the picture was behind me.

On the way back, I knew they were there. As I passed, I lifted the camera as high as I could, hoping that it would catch the vehicle down in the bushes, but it didn't.

Out of chronologically order again - here is Carmen, before the Grotto and the horses, before the vehicle off the road, even before I got my cup and muffin. I have not even reached the drive-through window yet.

Metro Cafe, headed to drive-through window study, #32.9: Carmen and Branson

Financially, though I have managed to go far and do many things, these past few months have been hell. But finally my latest contract has been activated and yesterday I got my first check. I took Margie to the movie in Eagle River - Jonah Hex. 

In many ways, it was an absurd movie and the bad guys came to predictable ends, but it was fun. It was escape and I enjoyed it. Afterwards, Margie and I dined at nearby Chepos.

The food was good and the atmosphere pleasant. 

And then, last night, as I was going backwards through my largely neglected take of the past week, I came upon this, the very last picture of Royce, alive and aware, that I ever took or ever will take.

Since his passing, Chicago has been a very needy cat. She wants to be with me constantly. As much as is practical, I let her.

Images from the life of Royce, part 2 of 2 - the color images: A birthday cake, a comfy lap, an amazing bond with a baby and more

After thinking more about it, I decided that I would drop part 2 and just let the previous black and white post stand as the total "Images from the life of Royce series." I did not want to overdo it. But I had made two promises - one, I would tell the story of how Royce once saved Jacob from getting a ticket.

I could not break such a promise, and so, hoping to save time by doing copy and paste, I just spent one hour searching for that story, which I wrote down shortly after it happened. I could not find it. It is out there, on some disk somewhere, probably in paper form too.

Well, now that I have thrown an hour away, I'll sum it up:

Royce had a brother, a black cat by the name of Little Guy (not to be confused with my own Little Guy) whom Jacob gave to his friend, Angel. Angel and Little Guy now live in Phoenix, but back then they lived in Wasilla. One day, Jacob. Jacob put Royce in a pet carrier of the kind that fold and are made either of plastic or cardboard so that he could take him to Angel's house to play with his brother. Royce hated to travel in the car and howled and fussed all the way over.

I understand that once they got there and Royce went inside and saw Little Guy, he calmed right down and they had an excellent time.

When it came time to go home, Royce fought hard against the idea of getting back into the pet carrier, but Jacob stuffed him in anyway.

Again, Royce howled and screamed and clawed and fought, but he could not get out of the carrier... until he did. He went a little mad. Jacob then stuffed him back into the carrier, but Royce now had his escape technique down and just kept popping back out.

Jacob gunned the gas, hoping to get home fast. A cop pulled him over on Lucille for breaking 50 in a 35 mph speed.

Royce was out of the box, but now he wanted out of the car. The cop came with his ticket book pulled out and motioned to Jake to roll down his window. Jake partially did. Royce lunged for it. Jacob pulled him back and tried to get him back into the carrier, but Royce soon broke free and lunged for the window again.

This kept up for awhile until the cop gave up and told Jacob just to get that cat home as quickly as possible.

That's how Royce saved Jacob from getting a speeding ticket.

Of course, you could also say that Royce was the one who caused Jake to speed in the first place - but, knowing Jake, he would probably have sped anyway and then would surely have gotten a ticket.

So Royce actually did save him.

Royce and Melanie.

Caleb and Royce.

Lisa and Royce.

Charlie, Royce and the Oldsmobile Starfire. 

Charlie and Royce.

On December 26, 2007, a new baby was born into this family. When Jacob and Lavina brought Kalib out, Royce was right there, hanging close. We did not know it, but an amazing relationship had just begun. This is the second thing that I promised to do in this post - explain something of this relationship to newer readers who might not know.

Kalib and his family moved in with us for over a year so that they could save money to buy a house. During that year, Royce was always watching over Kalib and hanging out with him. He watched when ate his first birthday cake.

He was there to coach him on when Kalib took his first steps and his mother cried.

When Kalib went out to hunt Easter eggs for the first time, Royce was right there with him.

The two were together most all the time.

They would even go walking with Muzzy, out in the marsh.

When Kalib laid down to marvel at the mystery of a fluffy white cloud floating through a deep, blue, sky, Royce gave him a soft pillow on which to lie his head.

Kalib could be exuberantly rough with Royce, but no matter how rough he got, Royce understood and tolerated. Not once did he ever claw or bite him.

Not once. Martigny clawed once, but not Royce. Not ever.

Kalib could be caring and gentle, too, willing to share his food.

Kalib would cuddle the cat.

Royce did so love his little friend!

When little Kalib would sleep, Royce would watch over him.

Kalib was not the only one to ever use Royce as a pillow.

Then he got sick and I had to give him medicine.

I could go on and on and on. There's lots more, but I will just leave it here with Royce in the window, when he was good and healthy.

Royce, the cat who was always looking for love: December 31, 1994 - June 15, 2010

There is a certain pain that sometimes strikes me in the prostate when I am sleeping and it is horrible. It usually lasts somewhere between half-an-hour and an hour and then it goes away and I can go back to sleep. I had barely fallen into a strange, colorful and bizarre dream that was taking place simultaneously in three separate frames when that pain woke me at 12:20 AM Tuesday morning.

I did not want to believe it was coming on, because I never want to believe it. I always want to imagine that if I just think it gone it will be gone and I can sleep on. It never works that way. Only the cats and I were home. Margie had gone to spend the week in town babysitting Jobe and Caleb was at work.

I waited for the pain to go away as usual, but it did not. One AM passed, then 2:00, then 3:00. About 3:20, just because I wanted to change my surroundings, I left my bedroom and headed to my office, where I stayed for somewhere between two and three minutes, then turned to go back into the house.

When I opened the garage door into the living room, I smelled something horrid. Then I saw Royce, lying very still on the checkered rug somewhere between two and three feet from the door, eyes open, the left side of his face against the rug, his front paws framing his face. He looked dead. I could see no breath. I could hear no sounds.

His eyes did not blink.

He had not been lying there when I had entered my office, but now he was. I knelt down beside him and placed one hand on his chest. Suddenly, without moving his body, he took a gasp of a breath, then lay still again. Perhaps 30 seconds later, he took another breath.

I could see that nothing could be done for him. He was dying, but why? It looked to me as though he had been struck down. The only thing that I could think of was maybe he had a stroke. I wondered if he was suffering? I ran my hand up to his windpipe and for a moment thought that maybe I would just squeeze and end any pain that he might be experiencing.

But I couldn't. He was going. He was leaving this world and if he had any consciousness at all I did not want his final memory to be of me choking him. Plus, he did not look to be in pain. So I just sat with him, stroking him, saying a few things to him now and then, waiting for him to die. Every now and then, I would grab a paper towel and pick up the poop that kept coming out of him.

I put another tissue under his face to catch the drool.

Fifteen minutes passed and he was still alive. I hated the fact that he was lying on the floor, dying on the dirty rug, so I went back into my office and got the little bed that I had made nine years ago for Jim from a Mac laptop computer box, placed Royce in it then sat on the couch with him on my lap.

Chicago and Jim quickly joined us. Chicago positioned herself at the head end of the box, Jimmy on the arm rest. Pistol-Yero came, but sat on the far arm of the couch.

Remember, Chicago and Royce have always been friends. I wondered what she knew?

Just before Royce died, she climbed up to the back of the couch, crossed behind me, then put her paws on my shoulder, her face next to my face. At the moment Royce died, about 4:05 AM, Chicago was looking into the box, right at him. I took the above picture very shortly afterward.

I remained where I was with Royce on my lap and one hand stroking him for another hour. I called Melanie but got no answer. I sent text messages out to everybody. Rex called back within minutes. Then Melanie called.

Finally, I put Royce on a high shelf in the garage and then went back to bed. It was nearing 5:30 AM now. As usual when I go to bed, Jim and Pistol-Yero joined me. A few minutes later, I heard a mournful, mournful, sorrowful cry out in the hallway. It was Chicago, who never sleeps with us.

I got back up, opened the door and saw the wailing Chicago down the hall. She stopped her cry, came running to me. She followed me to the bed, jumped up and crawled under the covers with me.  It had never happened this way before. There she stayed until 8:00 AM, when the phone rang and I had to get up.

I hung up the phone and went back to bed, but it rang again about two minutes later. It was all business stuff. I decided just to stay up and go get breakfast at Family Restaurant. I got a good seat in the corner with my back to the wall and a window to look out of.

Soon, I heard a distant whistle, then a low rumble. The train came along.

My order came not long afterward. As I was eating it, I was surprised to hear another whistle, and then to feel another rumble in the earth.

It was a two-train breakfast.

That doesn't often happen.

In the afternoon, after I had gone out to deal with a bizarre happening that I will one day write about but not yet, I was in the car and came to a stoplight, right alongside and just beneath this car.

In the evening, beginning with Lisa, the family began to trickle in from Anchorage for the funeral. She had left work early this day to go home and be with her two cats. I still had Royce in the box in the garage. She went to see him and wept.

Melanie arrived later. She spent some time playing with Kalib, who was a bit sick, then came out to see the kitten that she had loved from the day it left the womb, the kitten that I had told her we could not keep, but when I saw the love I had tied a blue ribbon around his neck and then presented him to her on her birthday.

Now, she petted him and then began to work the knots out of his fur.

Then she got a cat brush and smoothed him out real good. I was amazed at how good he looked when she was done.

The boys set about to dig the grave as Lisa gathered rocks to place atop it.

According to the Navajo belief she lives by, at this stage in her motherhood Lavina could not look upon Royce, nor could Kalib or Jobe. She could fix dinner. She did. Corn chowder.

We brought Royce outside for the final viewing. Everybody shared a memory or two or three or more of him. 

When Jacob remembered how Royce had once saved him from getting a speeding ticket, everybody laughed. Tomorrow, I will put up series of pictures of Royce in life and will include that story as well as others.

Margie chose this blanket to be his burial shroud, as she had often observed Kalib and Royce together on or near this blanket. Kalib would point to the different squares as Royce watched attentively. Now she wraps him in it.

Muzzy and Royce were friends.

Royce was Melanie's cat. She carries him to his grave.

Before Royce goes into the earth, Lisa holds him and weeps. Then I take him and lower him into the hole, which is deeper than my arm is long.

Melanie scoops up dirt to gently place directly atop him before the rest is shoveled in.

Once Royce was in the earth and could not be seen, Kalib was allowed to come to the grave. He picked a wild rose and brought it to his good friend. Long time readers know of this amazing relationship shared between the baby and the cat, but, for those who don't, I will address it in tomorrow's post.

Kalib placed several flowers and several rocks upon the grave. Lisa put the golf ball there.

There is so much more that I wanted to write in this post, as I placed the above pictures, but it is now 2:07 AM the next day, I have not even taken a nap and I need to drive into Anchorage early in the morning. I need to get some rest, sometime, so I will go to bed now, sleep a bit, take a quick look at this before I leave for Anchorage and then hit, "published."

So this is it. Never again will I pet this cat or hear him purr.

If I had known that, I would have picked him up repeatedly on Monday. He would have purred and purred and purred.

I just didn't know. I thought he was getting better.

A free cup of coffee; 65 degrees, four-wheelers, the Little Su, black cat outside, a golf course far away

Just as All Things Considered began on the radio, I pulled up to the window at Metro Cafe yesterday afternoon only to discover that someone had bought me a cup of coffee and a cranberry muffin. She did not leave her name, but remained anonymous. And the day before, I found a gift card waiting for me from Funny Face.

My goodness!

Thank you all!

As Sashana prepared to hand me the cup, she and Carmen posed for:

Through the Window Metro Study, #3.3333333... and so on to infinity

As I drove away, sipping, I saw these two - father and son, perhaps; uncle and nephew, maybe; perhaps just friend and friend, out enjoying the 65 degree weather on a four-wheeler.

Yes. You read me correctly.

SIXTY-FIVE DEGREES!

I thought for a moment that I had moved to The Bahamas.

But it was still Wasilla. I could tell by the four-wheeler dust. Can you believe it? Just a few days ago, the ground surface varied between frozen solid and muck, and now a kid on a four-wheeler can have a blast, kicking up dust.

As I crossed the bridge over the Little Susistna, I saw this man and this young girl walking along the bank.

It turned out that he is Mike and the young girl is his 26-month old daughter, Dagne. They live five miles from the river and this is the first time that they have visited it since before the snow came down in October.

Jimmy also ventured outside for the first time. He kept pawing at the window until finally I relented, but only under the condition that he would remain always in my eyesight.

Chicago observed, but did not follow. In the ten or 11 or 12 years that she has been with us, Chicago has ventured outside exactly once. As I have mentioned before and will someday tell in detail, here or in a book or both, it took us seven weeks and two days to get her back and then she was damn near dead - nothing but a dehydrated bag of bones.

She is fat now.

As eager as he had been to go out, once he got out, Jimmy was spooked. Something out there was frightening him. He refused to leave the porch.

As for Royce, there in the background, I would have been happy to let him out but he never wanted to venture past the window - which is odd for Royce.

I am happy to report that, at long last, he is gaining some weight. Yet, he is still skinny. He eats a ton of food - more than the other three combined, I would say, and it just seems to go right through him.

But he is gaining some weight, so he must be retaining some of it.

It was Caleb that had spooked Jimmy so. Caleb had knocked some balls way back into the trees, at the bottom of the little hill and had gone down to search for them.

Jimmy could not see him, but he could hear him. He did not know what he was.

A bear, maybe.

If Jimmy even know about bears.

I doubt that he does. How would he?

He probably imagined that Caleb was something even bigger and more frightening than the biggest, baddest, bear out there.

From behind my office window, Pistol-Yero calmly observed it all.

This is Caleb this morning. Where do you think he is and what is he looking at?

He is at IHOP. Caleb had to drop his car off at the shop at 8:00 AM. He asked me to pick him up and then he took me to breakfast, his treat. Caleb loves IHOP pancakes, so that's where we went.

Well, he's still looking. At what?

Passing cars, is all I can think of.

Or maybe golf courses, far away, like Pebble Beach, Tucson, or Scottsman's Head.