A Tale Of Two Kitties

Our neighbor across the street adopted two tabby kittens soon after she moved in.  Her vision was so poor she could not tell one from the other, but she was very attached to them and provided generally good care.  She insisted that they be free to roam the neighborhood.  
 

In spite of the fact that they had a large yard at their disposal the two cats seemed often to prefer our yard to theirs.  I didn't mind the intrusion as they were quite friendly toward me, and I often went out to say hello when I saw them perched on our fence rail.

About a month ago our neighbor was told she had to move as the home's owner was going to undertake some substantial house repairs.  She found a rental close to Albuquerque's Old Town a mile to the west of our neighborhood.  We helped a bit with the final packing for the move and piled some boxes and the two cats into a friend's car for the trip to their new home.

About a week later we got a call from our former neighbor saying that one of the cats, probably the male, had disappeared, and she asked us to look out for it.  Given the distance to be traveled it seemed unlikely the cat would successfully make that journey, but I did look around the property.

When I called back with no good news, our neighbor asked if I could pick her up  and bring her to our neighborhood so she could look herself for the errant cat.

To my great surprise, the cat did soon show up in response to the owner's calls.  I said it seemed like a good idea to limit the cats' roaming, possibly including some training to walk on a leash.

About ten days later came another call and another request to bring the cats' owner to the former home.  I was even more pessimistic this time as surviving the long trip which included negotiating heavy traffic for a second time seemed highly improbable.  I dropped off the cat owner at the property and told her to let us know how the search went.

Within minutes the lady with the cat cradled in her arms was at our back door.

It seems now that the idea has finally sunk in that the two cats need to reconcile themselves to an indoor lifestyle.  We are happy with that outcome, and still marveling at the cats' navigational skills.

In the initial car trip to their new home the cats could not have gotten any visual clues to the route taken.  It seems they must somehow have been able to detect and compare the coordinates of the two properties and then plot a course.

There have been a lot of research projects tracking the movements of both wild and domestic dogs and cats, but most of that is centered on movements within home ranges.  Testing an ability to reach a known destination through unfamiliar territory presents a different challenge which cannot be easily met under natural conditions.

There has been research, however, which indicates that all cats have a homing instinct which can point them in the right direction for a successful return, barring accidents in route.

Just how such a navigational capacity works is not really known at present.  Speculation on the issue most frequently points to the possibility of a sensitivity to the earth's magnetic field similar to that which has been proposed for migrating birds.

Let's Not Forget

 Before the Castro revolution the U.S. government bankrolled the Cuban dictator, Batista, for years. Under him Havana was a cesspit of casinos and brothels run largely by U.S. gangsters.  It was a scenario which Trump would have found congenial.

Authenticity

Last Sunday's Albuquerque Journal featured a column by Deb Haaland in which she lays out the policies and programs she proposes to enact if elected to be New Mexico's next governor.  It is a well-thought-out approach informed by her own experience in overcoming the kind of challenges which many New Mexicans face. She has done a lot already for the State as the Congressional Representative for my district, and for the Country as Secretary of the Interior. Her leadership will help us all face and survive what is coming during the remainder of Trump's term in the Presidency.

Compare Deb Haaland's well-defined campaign to that of her principal primary opponent, Sam Bregman.  He presents himself in campaign ads sitting on a horse and wearing a cowboy hat, while tooting a tough-on-crime whistle and promising to prosecute ICE maleficence (which is likely to be unfeasible). Bregman's chances in the race look slim, but he could do some damage to Haaland's candidacy.

Bregman's macho posturing may hold some appeal for New Mexican men.  If he has a real interest in being of service to New Mexico he should end his primary challenge and  use whatever authority he has by bending the male vote toward Deb Haaland.

Looking Ahead

In Sunday's Guardian was an eye-opening column by Jo Glanville about caring for two parents with dementia.

"A great revelation for me in caring for my parents was a discovery I made through reading to them – that in some respects, their brains were unimpaired.  Both continued to enjoy being read to until the end of their lives. They responded positively to hearing stories, poems and novels throughout their illnesses. They retained their ability to comprehend and follow a story, as well as their knowledge of the meaning of obscure words."

I don't recall before coming across such an assertion about how one might help in caring for someone with dementia.  I'm going to look around now to see if I can find some additional sources of information on the subject. I'm thinking the literature about end-of-life and hospice may be a good place to start.

What is implied, but not specifically stated in Glanville's narrative is that sessions of reading aloud are also very likely to be a source of relief and accomplishment for the caregiver.  
 

Imagine sitting alone in a room with someone who is unresponsive to conversation or other stimulus.  How long would you endure such a scenario in the absence of an action plan?  

Maybe an hour or two of reading aloud would be as much as you could manage. However, if a book was chosen with appeal to both parties it is likely that you would be ready for another session before long.

What is also implied in the story is that it may be important to consider that understanding and responsiveness should likely be considered as separate processes.  Just because someone may not be able to show some outward sign of comprehension does not mean that there is a lack of inner understanding.  In fact, not jumping to the wrong conclusion may open a way toward picking up subtle cues of what is going on that otherwise might be overlooked.

Is the suggested reading activity well suited to anyone?  Maybe not.  If the person in earlier times disliked  reading, perhaps subjecting them to lengthy reading sessions would be more like torture than therapy.  So, perhaps other activities might be found to be more suitable.  It is worth some thought.

Take This Pill and The World Will Change

 One of the The Nation's headlines today reads:

"The Smug and Vacuous David Brooks Is Perfect for The Atlantic”  

and 

"The former New York Times columnist is a one-man cottage industry of lazy cultural stereotyping."

* * *

It seemed to me that Chris Lehmann was being gratuitously critical of Brooks as he departs his two decade job at the New York Times.

Then, I read Brooks' lengthy goodbye column, and I see where Lehmann is coming from.

Brooks is critical of Trump on moral grounds, and he sees America's current state primarily as spiritual malaise.  Nowhere does he mention the fact that the richest 1% of the country own over 30% of the nation's wealth.

Rather, according to Brooks, an attitude change on both sides of the political spectrum is all that is needed to take us back  to unity and a renewed faith in the American Dream.

My guess: 

Musk is thinking of the Brooks column and laughing all the way to the bank.

Survivor

I just finished reading another book by one of my great favorite writers, Arundhati Roy.  Mother Mary Comes to Me is autobiography, telling what it was like to grow up in India in the care of a mother who provided life lessons embedded in nightmares.  The story is an excellent example of how some children endure horrific life conditions and yet seem to arrive at adulthood with functional personalities supporting often successful and rewarding lives. 

Roy left home as a teenager, unable to support her mother's continuous abuse.  She got herself through school to a degree in architecture, but it still took her many years to climb out of poverty.  She spent four years writing her first novel, The God of Small Things, which won the Booker Prize and made her wealthy.

Beyond recounting her personal story Roy also provides a first-hand account of India's  history which cannot be found easily in journalistic reports.  Roy lived through Ghandi's era and the following genocidal clashes of Hindus and Moslems, and the rise of the current authoritarian Hindu state under Narendra Modi and the BJP.

In the face of those challenges Roy became an activist supporting resistance against giant dams which displaced vast numbers of rural people, as well as reporting about the on-going persecution of the Moslem population of Kashmir, about which she wrote another of her popular novels.   Roy, like her mother, has also been a champion of women's rights in India.  That and her political  activism has made her the target of constant threats and governmental persecution.  In spite of that, when she could live in ease in any part of the world, she continues to live and work in Delhi.

As I wrote in one of my previous posts about Arundhati Roy, 

"Americans don't pay a lot of attention to what is going on in India,  but we make that choice at our own peril."

Mom

 I recently received some family pictures I had not seen before.

On the back of the little 6x9cm sepia shot my mother and her brother are identified.  Under their names the location and date are noted, Wisconsin - 1928.  If the date is correct my mother looks old for her age, which would have been 10 or 11 at the time.  That is probably the family car in the background.  Tough times.

The family left Wisconsin, probably soon after the above picture was made and drove to Idaho.  Living in Winchester, my uncle grew tall and became an accomplished highschool athlete.  He went off from there to become a WWII aviator.  My mother went to work for the phone company as an operator in Lewiston, where I was born.  She stayed with the phone company after the family moved on to Seattle.

The picture on the street was shot in Seattle in the mid-1940s.  It was very likely made by one of the photographers who lurked on the streets in those days, snapping photos of pedestrians and then giving them the address of the photo processor, usually a drugstore, where the photo could be retrieved.  The quality of this shot must have been disappointing, though it does portray a pretty good representation of the style of the time.