Midnight Special

Hello World, Woof! Just when we thought the worst of the dreaded "Dog Days" were behind us, along comes another genuine heat wave rearing its ugly head, with oppressive temperatures and suffocating humidity, so that if you go outside, it feels like you are trying to breathe through a steaming hot towel, thanks not. The occasional pop-up thunderstorms have done nothing to help, and the poor over-burdened window air conditioners are no match for it. It's at times like this that I am always surprised to see that, yes, not only have the pro football camps opened, as impossible as that might seem to believe, but they're playing actual pre-season games on television, no less. One can only hope that they're doing all this in a much cooler climate (like Siberia) because after all, it's all fun and games, as they say, until the players start to spontaneously combust due to the excessive heat. I realize that football is not for sissies, but I think even the KGB agents monitoring my email (whose name is legion, heaven knows) would agree that this would be considered taking things to extremes, da? Speaking of fun and games, we have The Hallmark Channel to thank for bringing us the 2016 Kitten Summer Games, their adorable adoption event in delightful counterpoint to the summer Olympic Games in Rio, where skill is not a factor, playfulness reigns supreme, and the cuteness is off the charts. The event featured 4 teams (North, South, East, and West) easily identifiable by their coat colors (South = orange tabby, West = black, and so on) "competing" in such categories as de-cat-lon, high jump, balance beam, rings, long jump, meow-athon, and somewhat surprisingly, synchronized napping. (This is when all members of the team fall asleep at the same time - no peeking!) My personal favorite was boxing - and they did in fact have a tiny boxing ring set up with boppers and streamers for the kittens to play with - but the real boxing challenge was the kitties climbing in and out of empty boxes on the floor, and which actually ended up in a tie, and had to be decided on cuteness points. (Purr-cules pulled off the upset over track star Jesse Meowens on that one.) It was all in good fun, and very carefully edited and scripted for maximum entertainment value, besides being wildly successful as an adoption event, and that was the most important part. But I will say that if they ever decide to turn pro, my money's on Kristi Yama-cat-chi. Also speaking of cats, alert readers may recall our previous next-door neighbors, who brought their menagerie of 2 large dogs and 4 cats into our lives (the irrepressible Cinna-Mooch, Squeaky, Sugarfoot and mini Cooper, not to mention Flopsie, who we basically cat-napped right out from under their noses) and then summarily folded up their tents and snuck off in the dead of night several years ago, for reasons unknown. The house had remained empty since then, although a few weeks ago, I bumped into a young man in the street who introduced himself as the new owner. I would like to tell you our impressions of the new neighbors, but unfortunately the jury is still out on that question - because currently the property appears to be occupied by nothing but contractors at every turn, and no actual residents to speak of. Of course, anyone who's lived anywhere can tell you that neighbors tend to be a very mixed bag, so it remains to be seen if the new people turn out to be the good neighbors everyone hopes for, or more of the "Nightmare on Elm Street" variety instead. I can tell you that we are not going to miss their contractors - with their loud power tools and blaring Mariachi music at all hours - when they go, and frankly, I already feel sorry for their neighbors, wherever they live. In any case, one of the tasks assigned to the contractors before the new owners moved in was apparently taking down a rather large but nondescript tree in the backyard, and ordinarily I would have thought nothing at all of it, one way or another. This was scarcely a centuries-old iconic specimen, or stately weeping willow sheltering wildlife in its capacious branches, or magnificent chestnut bursting with blossoms, adding a cheerful decorative touch for everyone to enjoy. To be honest, I never took any notice of the tree in any way at all, and would not have done so now, except for one little thing. Once it was gone, it turned our family room into a "window on the world," and suddenly the whole neighborhood was right in the room with us, as well as the blazing sun, as if we were a satellite out in space, orbiting around with the sun on our shoulders, and nowhere to hide from its relentless glare. It was the first thing I noticed when we walked into the room afterward, and we also realized at once that it would be impossible to see anything on the television under the circumstances. I never would have believed that taking down something so unremarkable in the next yard would have had such a profound effect on that side of our house, but there was no getting away from the fact that our family room had been suddenly rendered uninhabitable in one fell swoop, as it were. We scurried around and grabbed some old shower curtains to tape up over the windows temporarily, and at least make the room fit for human occupation once again. Admittedly, the room was somewhat dimmer during the daytime, but it was still better than the feeling of a World War II fighter plane caught in the beams of enemy searchlights on a midnight raid. And for the KGB agents monitoring my email, well, frankly, I thought the anti-aircraft guns were just way too much, nyet? The mention of trees sheltering wildlife reminds me of yet another story from camping that was unaccountably omitted from my vacation chronicles, as long-winded as they were. On our last day there, we packed up both campsites and then set off for the beach as we usually do, to enjoy one final splurge of sand and surf before heading back to mundane reality. Not so fast! At the top of the hill to the beach, we ran into a handful of youngsters tormenting a poor mole, who had somehow come out from underground where he should have been, and had fallen into the clutches of these ruffians, chasing him around for sport. We stamped into the middle of the fray trying to disperse them, and managed to hold them at bay by brandishing our beach chairs at them in a menacing fashion, while giving the mole some much-needed breathing room. (Anyone who knows me can tell you that my prowess at the hymnal toss was legendary, from the annual donnybrook known as our old raucous congregational meetings at church, and while my chair throwing skills were not at the top of the class, they were still nothing to sneeze at either, by heaven.) We soon realized that the substantial curbs proved to be an insurmountable obstacle for the tiny critter to find his way to safety, and away from the ceaseless tramping steps of beach-goers all day long. Finally I just scooped him up with a beach towel and deposited him into the brush, then prodded him into the bushes and away from the hill, hopefully out of harm's way. In retrospect, I can't imagine what the people behind us must have thought - since they hadn't seen the original incident to start with, and had no idea why we were behaving in such an outlandish manner - but to give them credit, most of them did stop and give us free rein to accomplish whatever lunacy they thought we were up to. When we came up from the beach much later, we saw no evidence of the beleaguered rodent, which we considered a good sign, and with cautious optimism, reckoned our ad hoc mole rescue to be a success. While I can't pretend that I possess any unique talents for rescuing furry varmints, please be advised that I am available to fill a need for hymnal tossing at any time. Elle