Genevieve; Spring Rushes Forth by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Chapter 9

Sunshine joined Genevieve in the verbena. Seeing that neither he nor Genevieve were injured by his bold journey into the fresh purple, the other four kittens followed disregarding any notions of possible long term deleterious effects. After all, they didn’t work, had not yet been schooled, and consequently had not yet acquired any chance of having experienced the possible contamination perpetrated by the “high level” discipline or some reasonably close facsimile thereof routinely imposed by the politically and salary motivated PhD’s at the FDA.

Genevieve and the kittens in the verbena; property of the author.

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Regardless of the possible politics and hominid motivational methodologies employed, those in the purple verbena were dogs and cats; once again or for the first time experiencing the strange pleasures of nature induced springtime.

They had collectively taken their first steps into the carnival which would soon come in greater force, though only Genevieve had an inkling of the immediate future; having lived it countless times in the advancing past. The two robins continued to chirp and hop, seemingly undaunted and completely unafraid of their existing co-habitants.

Down the road or up the road a bit, depending on perspective, Lucky and Bella were going through another of their case specific, but generalities general, indoor discussions.

They may well have both known what the other would say or do, but chose to refrain from articulating that on the risk that it might impede further conversation.

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Lucky and Bella; property of the author.

For those of us not sufficiently neurotic and obsessive to take meticulous as well as extensive notes, Bella consistently displayed the persona of a depressed prophetess of imminent doom, which naturally or as the result of a beneficial contrivance allowed Lucky the leisure to take the more socially acceptable and dually conversationally stimulating role of the optimist. If that’s not true love, then it has to be analogous to some sort of beneficial car wreck; that apparently yet to be seen by anyone other than an injury free scammer collecting more than “Blue Book” plus pain and non-suffering, or those now choosing an “honest” testimonial mode.

Unaware of the first returning promise of warm air, they were still huddled together inside. Perhaps in consideration of

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the “new” kitten additions to Pacific Lane they were simultaneously reading a very old book written by currently and of course thereby temporarily out of fashion Enid Blyton titled

“The Cat with a Feathery Tail.” Lucky perched himself over Bella’s shoulder whenever Bella wasn’t perching herself over his. The only “issue” ever non-articulated by others worthy of noticed articulation and in Lucky and Bella’s case also kindly un-articulated, was who had to bear the “burden” of holding the book open and turning the page at an appropriate time for their partner’s completion of the two open pages; that “burden”

potentially and ideally regarded as a pleasure.

Stylized cover of Enid Blyton’s “The Cat with a Feathery Tail”; property of the author.

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Bella said; “Oooh, that nasty cat wants to catch that poor bird. He’ll kill it!”

Lucky said; “No, his tail is feathered just like the bird.

He just wants to play.” Distracted from the book, Lucky got a view through their tattered floor-to-ceiling double windows.

Just like the other residents of Pacific Lane, he saw that the snow was in the process of making a rapid retreat. In fact there were small puddles right near their house, where the ground was unable to absorb all the water at the rate it was forming. He said; “Look at this, Bella.”

Bella said; “Don’t tell me. One of those cats has a dead bird in his mouth.”

Lucky said; “Stop that nonsense and look.”

Bella went to the smaller window to the side of the double ones. Despite its size, it worked perfectly. In fact it worked better in some respects; as on a practical basis, all of its panes were almost perfectly clear, at most the candidate for a monthly rag wiping. On an aesthetic basis, the little one’s exterior molding was not exactly the way it was when new, but the beauty of its time acquired patina could only be truly damaged through a foolish attempt to apply a modern purchased stain. The match was not possible through the perfunctory, electronically clicked on, mechanical use of a mass merchandising, Home Depot machine, even with its attendant use

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of a dried out sample piece. The frame looked as it had always had, if not put under the one-eyed scrutiny required by a state-of-the-art microscope, soon to be superseded by the inevitable

“new and improved” version.

Bella jubilantly said; “The snow is finally melting!” She went to the front door, opened it, and beckoned Lucky to come with her.

Lucky thought he was cute at that moment. Just to be a roguish joker, he took his sweet time going through. Bella didn’t mind Lucky’s leisureliness at all.

Windows; one requiring some cosmetic repair; property of the author.

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Lucky and Bella did exactly what most any healthy set of pooches do when encountering the hospitality of spring. With abandon, they went right into the young flowers and wild onions; their delighted senses led by their topnotch noses.

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