Whales & Ferals & Human Woes

With so much to trouble over presently, I could easily seriously worry for some friends’ health and well-being; the risks of heartache, sorrow, anger, fury, grief! I hope you’re taking it all the best possible way. On top of world troubles, disasters, our own open democracy is plainly being eroded dramatically. “Nice Canada” as if being scratched away as per upon an infestation of rats. Chewing away at sense of trust, rights, privacy, and our very humanity up for grabs, with the whole ecosystem in tow. Watching idealist activists murdered and then slandered with impunity, then the next story features wildlife drowning in oil, then that is followed with the death of the baby beluga… can just wittle away at the commonplaceness. People love their vacations and adventures, but that commonplaceness is the core of functioning personhood. Don’t let it be taken away.

Nor hesitate to grieve. I myself have been gradually absorbing the reality that the feral cats (look at just about any item in this wordpress domain for their stories) really have been wiped. gone.

I hold out hope for Gem. He was double the size of any other, radiant all season coat, unlimited confidence, and the regard of all the other cats in the colony and area. But that hope is merely based on the fact that that scene there from late winter, one of his main hangouts, is now dense with greenery, high foliage branches darkness…

But where he had been hiding more and more was under the dumpsters, and he’d gladly stretch out in plain view nearby or over by russian car salvage, during the day. I asked the old guy who feeds the groundhog about him and the other cats today. And he said “no… (another version of the question) … “nooo… (another version of the question) noooooo… the coyotes got them – I could tell he had admiration as well for the coyotes. It seems to be his own little business there, seems to be there all times of day, my impression was that he knows. A long time now since seeing any of them, after seeing several almost daily, and always others turning up every so often, now none. I’m sure I’d be fascinated to see a coyote, but I have no good about it with regards to the Gem cat. It’s sickeningly sad

Many of the ferals seemed in over their heads, too ill or small to comprehend, or just desperately on the run all the time. Whereas Gem as at home and in his element there as a man settled into his easyboy on page 426 of a history of the world. Imagining his last battle, I so certainly would have intervened. I think of it and have an energy in my arms new and alien to me. This awesome cat, so wise, such a leader. What do you Do?

We have to care, and maintain the ability to care. Which means: everything. We have to live as meant to live, rest as it matters, sleep with loving intensity. It angers people, but no-sense-of-humour = death. Even if you are “aggravated to death” – and even if you are aggravated to death by me lol – you have save your sense of humour. As awful as it is. Sense of humour is a component of real mental health. It’s an essential link in the mind, as vitamin C or D are in the body.  You can help almost no one if you don’t hang on to the whole mind’s power. So, yes! Search the woods, search the ponds, search in the marshes, search your golf course for the dog Deerhurstians, go against them, find your animal. If disasters hit, you have to find them. They cannot tell you not. (So outrageous the people need Deerhurst… retirees… older vulnerable people… told they cannot leave their homes without police escort, cannot leave their property without advance permission and accompaniment, in their friccin late 80s they have to wait several hours for police clearance to rescue the family bird (or get to the hospital. They’ve gone too far. No one is worth this. Some people are in fact not more valuable than others. So outrageous.

This last image some of you may not recognize. I believe the gas station is a petro can, and this is its inflateable sales beacon action figure, blowing around dramatically in the wind. Like an apocalyptic vision of Satan! Hot air blows up it from the bottom and it is supposed to inflate; failing to though it flails and pretzels and heaves and twists and flings – like an indominatable bear of a cat in the final throes of a battle with a coyote club. Like some end of the world scenario. You come away thinking, more Fadden, more interviews with Fadden. Andy Barrie must interview him. How is Pat Burns not in the hall of fame, what is this democracy.

So anyway all you cops prostestors spies coyotes if you're just in town a little while and looking to gas up there is A GAS SALE up in Downsview, north dufferin = where advertizing and nature meet


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