Kittens are fine

At bedtime, Sorin was still growling and hissing at Ajani, but now he’s acting normal. And Ajani seems fine too. He was sure mild-mannered about all the hostility from his brother.

We’re thinking that Sorin had no idea why Ajani had suddenly started howling and screaming, seemingly going feral and scary, and that it really upset him. J’s idea is that it might be an evolutionary response to a rabid animal, and that rabies for cats is like vampirism is for humans – he looks just like your brother did, but now he’s a monster, and you’d really better keep your distance.

Anyhow, this morning they’re all side-by-side again, with Sorin sniffing Ajani’s butt and eating off the same dish at the same time. And that’s good, because my house is much too small to accommodate separate rooms for them.

I hope my hand gets better soon.

Chong, going home

My friend Chong is heading back to Korea soon, after nearly three years in Eugene, with her two kids but mostly apart from her husband. She earned a masters in linguistics, then stayed in the U.S. longer when her husband’s job sent him to Pittsburgh but did not allow her to join him (corporate policy).

We had a potluck barbecue for her at T’s house. T. and most of the other people there have sons who played on various sports teams with Chong’s son (now finishing fifth grade), and she was invited to our weekly walking group when we started it, which was more than two years ago at this point. So I’ve had a great many conversations with her on Sunday evenings.

Anyway, so I was sitting there, in T’s back yard, around the table with a bunch of women and J., with visits from T’s son the entomologist, who shared his moth orchid mantis with us and then his penny collection with J, and I thought, this is really a good life. This is how evenings should be, as often as reasonably possible. This is where we live and who we are, and I am glad.