Here we are in the new year.
This is the first time we crossed over the next year without rain. The hoax climate change we lived in had given us a very long rainy season that April monsoon (switch from rainy season to summer) pushed all the way back to the last week of December.
I didn’t plan to stay overnight celebrating something obvious, mostly because I know my system can barely handle it dragging sleep deprivation for so long; but one thing after another, and the next thing, the rooster croons; even before I enter my bedroom.
So I hauled my bucket and brushes and clean the cattery at sunrise. Pushing out the bad shit and the old curse, so that the good shit and the new blessings may come.
And then, the first breakfast. With clean as new old bowls and new sack of cat food, coming from new food container. The cats saw me dropped the old one once. They saw how the lid broke open and cat food sprayed like confetti. Since; the old pail had endured many Hulk-ian cats push it over the counter to make their own party. Sometimes they succeed, some other times, they don’t. They also saw me open the lid, and since laboriously been scratching it for snack, with one missing aspect: thumbs.
This year, the pail finally gave in, and it cracked at the bottom.
Afterwards, Pet Natural Vermont Daily Best. Regardless of the name I use it as treats for special occasion. I’d drop one into the bowl when the cat in charge finish his/her meal, though the old ones knows the trick and pushed the other over for the second drop.
The floor is (still) clean, so I’d flung one and all of them skidding and scrambling like rugby across the hallway. Meanwhile, the rightful cats get their treats.
Then, the community garden. Honey’s home. I knew our gardener will come in a hangover. Young guns like him will brush away all reasons and went ahead blasting his motorcycle into the jamming little town, tooting his own horn. Outside, already the third idiots sent their mother, sister, brother or wife and baby crashing to the hard and rough asphalt from sleep driving.
This year, I promised Honey there will be more fruit and veg. I will try to sustain myself completely from its produce.
I was right. The gardener walked so stealthily I didn’t hear him coming in, and wake up only when he slammed onto piles of composts and guano 100 kilograms (200 lbs) in total. I deliberately put it there. I know it will be fun to watch him slam the wall right behind it instead, but starting a new year with good karma is not superstitious.
On lunch break, I slipped back home and sit alone in my studio, which I fail to finish by the new year. Behind me, my little orchestra is playing lullaby with their sleeping purr.
I took a breath to seep into a little lonesomeness.
If we made it, tomorrow Sencha will walk into his new year.
We didn’t. It’s my fault. I threw out a fund raiser when everyone dropped everything and mind their own business, but it was close; both The Whiskers’ Syndicate and him, and I am truly, immensely grateful that we all made it through the end of the year.
I am truly, immensely grateful that there are people who stays and still care about us. I am truly, immensely grateful that this little circle of angels never abandoned us, any way, any day.
And I am truly, immensely hoping, that we all will stay together another year, to deliver, many, many more suffering animals into a happier new year.
To start the new year with good karma: paypal.me/