 |
|
|
| GERTRUDE AND THE CAT
|
|
March 14, 2007. Tom and Ann Taylor, known to cruisers as the longtime operators of Greenway Sound Marine Resort in the Broughtons, have their winter home in LaConner, at Shelter Bay. A few years ago Tom volunteered to look after their neighbors’ house and cat, while the neighbors took a long winter vacation in the Desert. What follows is the extensive correspondence from Tom to the neighbors, detailing developments back at Shelter Bay. Gertrude, you see, is the giraffe Tom had to rent to keep the grass down, and—well, read for yourself.
GERTRUDE AND THE CAT
This is SAILOR CAT. He belonged to my neighbors across the street. His owners went to the Desert and I had to take care of him. He was a good guy… all 17 pounds of him.
March 5, 2003
Hi Tom
this is a pic. of our new cat…we found him in the desert. our cheetah friend has been raised with a yellow lab and they are now both 19 mo. old. He is so sweet.
March 7, 2003
Hello Neighbors,
I told Sailor, your CAT, about your intention to acquire a Cheetah, and it was met with considerable disgust. He felt that the idea was just about as insulting as getting a DOG! God forbid, nobody with taste and class does that.
Then he went on to tell me that I should read the label on his cat food can. It said to serve my CAT ONE FULL CAN of Ocean Whitefish or other delicious choice per 6-7 lbs. of cat.
At 17 pounds, he should receive somewhere between 2.5 and 2.9 cans of Ocean Whitefish per day.
Admittedly, Following the instructions as written would produce the following results: He would gain a pound a day, causing his allotment to increase to 3+ cans a day. This would increase his weight, which then he would eventually require 4-6 cans a day, until he attained the size of the Cheetah.
Thus, you wouldn't need to bring home a Cheetah, as you would already have a black and white one.
Your caretakers.
March 9, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
You will be pleased to know that your CAT now weighs 27 pounds, and growing daily. However, we are about out of Ocean Whitefish, which he is totally sick of. Please send quite a bit of money, so we can restock the can supply with something decent, such as Gourmet Prawn and Lobster Feast or Medley of Filet et Champignons with Sherry. Your CAT thanks you.
Your faithful caretaker
March 12, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
Your CAT just passed 35 pounds, which earned him a sixth can a day. He is awfully sick of Ocean Whitefish. Please send funds quickly for Gourmet Feast Steak & Prawns. He says thank you.
The Caretakers
March 16, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
Sailor CAT is becoming wide of beam, and can barely fit in the cat door. Every time he goes in and out, he drags his tummy through, which is removing his fur on both sides. He is virtually bald on each side, and really looks funny. Now with 6 cans of Ocean Whitefish a day, most of the back yard is covered with Ocean Whitefish. We are starting to get seagulls, which now are turning the back yard white.
The place is becoming a tourist and bird-watcher attraction. I ordered six porta-potties, so that nothing else would be added to the back yard. I am watering the back yard often to help the grass benefit from the fertilizer, and already the grass is over two feet high. Your CAT thinks he is a Cheetah, and leaps through the tall grass and Ocean Whitefish. He sure looks funny with the bald spots on both sides.
Your faithful caretakers
March 17, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
Things got out of control when your CAT jumped up on top of one of the porta-potties and tipped it over onto the stump by Len's house. Mrs. Hifalooten of the Shelter Bay Lot Committee was in it. There was much screeching, which the Shelter Bay Tree Committee heard, and came to her aid.
They were appalled at the condition of the back yard. They dried off Mrs. Hifalooten, and resumed their inspections. The upshot of this is that both committees, having first duly established proper quorums, have passed down edicts.
You see, 6 more cans of used Ocean Whitefish wound up in the back yard, and as it is raining, immediately became fertilizer, which caused the grass to grow exponentially, and is now over 8' high.
Now this caused a conflict in the committees. The LOT committee requires an immediate abatement of the high grass. However, the Tree committee says the grass is indigenous to the Northwest, and since it is over 6' high, you can't cut it. Neither committee would budge. You have to vacate the premises, as your house is being moved off the lot.
Your frazzled neighbor.
March 18, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
First of all, Mrs. Hifalooten of the Lot Committee came back to assess the condition of your back yard. She carried the power of the entire Lot Committee, as she is the Sergeant-at-arms, and nobody argues with her. Needless to say, she was appalled at all the used Ocean Whitefish with Tuna, the Seagulls, the tourists, the bird watchers, and this leaping CAT with bald belly sides.
She promptly ordered that your house be moved off the lot as was previously decreed, so ordered Shelter Bay Maintenance to come right away, which they did. As soon as they saw the situation, they rounded up all their lawn mower attachments and loaded your house on them. Then they brought up the older blue pickup and put a line on it and pulled. But it wouldn't budge.
So I got involved. They did not know that now that your CAT is consuming 7 cans of Ocean Whitefish with Tuna per day, that another problem has come up. He gets GAS! You see, when this happens, he swells up and floats on the ceiling of the laundry room, which lifts up on the house. I timed it so that they pulled when Sailor was floating against the ceiling. Worked like a charm.
They got the house part way out in the street when your NW corner passed over the electrical vault by Green's driveway. The lawn mower fell in, shorting out the junction box, and blowing the power all over the neighborhood. We decided to leave your house in that position, as one lane of the street was still passable.
Green's thought it was fine, as it saved them from having to install a window on their South side to watch the nightly entertainment in your hot tub.
No one knew how to move the house any farther, until Bernie, our UPS driver showed up. Bernie is really sharp, and she came up with a solution none of us would have considered.
As the exterior of your house is sort of a box with protective exterior coating, and the contents of the box should have sufficient padding, technically it was a Parcel. As her employer is famous for delivering parcels, out came a Bar Code strip, which was stapled to your front door. She then duly scanned it, and put the shipment on your account.
Bernie found Gene Walter's old red lawn mower that he left behind when he moved, and put it under the NW corner. Then she got some garlic powder out of your spice rack and fed it to Sailor. Then she attached her truck to the Shelter Bay service truck. We even showed her that her truck actually did have a super-low granny gear. She did not know that.
When the garlic powder hit Sailor, he went right up to the ceiling and away they all went. Bernie was so excited to use her new granny gear, that she spun her tires all the way out Frank's lot pulling everything, and showered theNorth End of your house with mud. You will probably have to repaint. The garlic ran its course, and there was this loud explosion in the Laundry room, and the house ceased to move forward any more. It was just as well, as Bernie was almost in the water anyway. I'm afraid to look in the laundry room.
So that's where your house is now. Your living room overlooks our bathroom and Hot tub, and that just may affect our lifestyle somewhat.
Your faithful caretaker
March 20, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
Bernie went back to her base in Burlington thinking she was a hero, but UPS made her buy four new back tires for her truck, and put her in a different truck with an automatic transmission and very low horsepower.
She pointed out, however, that you will be paying her UPS bill for moving your house, so they will be more than whole, tires and all.
Then Frank showed up, and wondered, "What in the Hell is your house doing on his lot?"
I explained to him the decisions by the Lot committee. He knows how ferocious the Lot committee can be, so he decided the best course of action is to charge you rent. After all, you upgraded to waterfront, although your blank North Wall faces the water.
Sailor survived the explosion in the laundry room, but the concussion blew his biscuit bowl off the wire rack and upside-down on his bed. He ate them all. Now he weighs 50 lbs.
I'll send you Frank's address for your rent payments.
Your faithful caretaker.
March 22, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
An interesting development occurred yesterday, from a most unexpected source.
The US Coast Guard Auxiliary motored into our bay, and viewed the scene of your house sitting sideways on the lot, and your 50 lb. leaping CAT in what was the back yard, now a side yard.
None other than the TOP brass, Captain (jg) Morton J. Squigglett, III, USCG Aux. (ret.) attended to the incredible scene in behalf of all navigating vessels in the bay. He commanded that all involved parties stand forth henceforth, and prepare to be addressed forthwith. I represented your interests in this matter.
Captain (jg) Squigglett, III, proceeded to read the laws and regulations promulgated by and for the USCG Aux. relating to interfering with navigable waterways. Specifically addressing this situation, it said: "No shoreside activity shall interfere with the concentration of a Skipper navigating a constricted channel. Specifically, there shall be no Demonstrations, Brothels in operation exposed seaward, or Strip-Tease acts which would distract otherwise serious operation of the vessel. The obvious reaction would be to lose concentration, and run aground or into someone."
He felt that without question that this scene with your house sitting cockeyed on the lot, and the leaping CAT, qualified. He could see that someone could lose concentration and plow into something, or worse, run up on shore and land in somebody’s Hot Tub. Somebody must do something!
This being a weekend, no Shelter Bay administrative personnel were available. However, we contacted George, the elite Weekend guardian of the Entrance to Shelter Bay, and duly served him as a representative of the Community. He said he would accept as soon as he finished his sandwich.
He also said he would deal with Mrs. Hifalooten, as she is just a big windbag anyway. I feel we are definitely in good hands with George. We should elect him Mayor of Shelter Bay.
Your faithful caretaker
March 24, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
This morning, Mrs. Hifalooten of the Shelter Bay Lot Committee came back to see what was going on. The grass in the back yard had grown to some fifteen feet or 4.65 meters. She convened the Lot Committee, and even skipped all the Old Business, the minutes, the treasurer's report and everything, and went straight to New Business, which this was not.
Something had to be done about this grass before it blocks the views of the houses above. She screeched " What WILL we do?"
Mr. Elmer Milquetoaste of lower shelter bay, the part of town that does not get capitalized, raised his hand and suggested that a giraffe could top off the grass quite handily. Mrs. Hifalooten agreed, a motion was made, seconded, and passed, and it was decreed that the Lot Owner (which is you) would acquire a giraffe forthwith.
As your duly appointed representative in such matters, I called Consumer Rentals on College Way. They have everything.
They didn't laugh when I asked to rent a Giraffe. In fact, they said they had two or three somewhere in the back. I was to drive over in your Aerostar and bring your Visa card, as they remember you as a good-old-boy, and they would take care of you.
When I got there, they loaded up Gertrude, their tallest giraffe, into an open trailer, and hooked her to your Aerostar. We started west on College Way to Riverside, where the County took down the traffic light at Riverside, and then the next four lights over to Lowes. Gertrude fit under the freeway, just barely.
As we were turning left, the giraffe caught wind of the grill cooking in the Buzz Inn, and leaned over to get a better whiff. The trailer tipped over and the giraffe fell out. Before we could stop her, she bounded into the Buzz Inn and ordered 21 cheeseburgers with fries, and a half-drum of Mountain Dew, on your account. There was nothing we could do.
Later, satisfied, the giraffe came out and the journey resumed. A total of seven traffic lights had to be moved.
Well, nobody thought to measure the Division St. Bridge, and the giraffe wouldn't fit under the framework over the roadway. Traffic backed up all the way to Bellingham to the North, and Arlington to the South. Finally, someone thought to have the giraffe bend down while in the bridge. How do we do that?
People called "here boy," and "giraffe, duck your head," and such things. None of it worked. Then someone suggested feeding the giraffe. Give it a bowl of good food, and it will bend down and eat.
Now how does one entice a giraffe to eat so it can get across the bridge, when it just ate 21 hamburgers with fries, and drank a half-drum of Mountain Dew?
So we bought a dozen filets and sirloin tips on your Visa. The giraffe was not interested. The solution was to fire up the propane grill and barbecue the steaks for the giraffe.
Now picture this, here we all were sitting on the East End of the bridge, barbequing steaks, smoke pouring out, with traffic backed up, and horns honking and bad things being hollered. We were just trying to get this giraffe across the bridge. Well, it worked. Down came her head, and we drove across the bridge before she rose up.
Onward we went. Across McLean, through La Conner, and up over the Rainbow bridge, and turned into Shelter Bay. Well, wouldn't you know, we could not get in the gate. Seems there is a covenant in the by-laws about harboring wild animals, and the Wild Animal Committee, Percival Uppertick, Chairman, forbade entry of the giraffe.
That is where we sit tonight. The giraffe is at the gate, awaiting further documentation. Meanwhile, the 21 hamburgers with fries, 12 steaks, and half-drum of Mountain Dew caught up with her. It all let loose in one mighty kerfloof, and the guardhouse is completely covered. Now no one can get in or out of Shelter Bay, so residents have to park at the Channel Landing for $3.00 per day, and ride the Viking Star home. Folks are getting annoyed. I gave them your number in the Desert, so you may start to get calls. We are doing our best. It isn't easy.
Your faithful caretaker.
March 26, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
First of all, we got the giraffe down to your back yard, and it is eating up a storm.
What we did is convene the Wild Animal Committee, which first duly noted a quorum, and then it passed a regulation permitting wild animals in emergency situations. This was certainly an emergency, as the grass was ”quite out of control.”
Your neighbor Len fired up his Denali 4WD and went up to the guard station, and attacked the big pile of giraffe dung. The idea was to open up access for Shelter Bay residents. However, the dung, being relatively light and fluffy, got in Len's fan and plugged the air intake to his engine. Poor Len has been sitting on top of the pile for most of the day now. Somebody brought him lunch.
However, the Shelter Bay Garden Club convened, and when new business came up, Bessie Hawthorn told everyone that rare giraffe guano was free for the taking at the guard station. It wasn't twenty minutes and the ladies were scooping it up into garbage bags. Of course, they dug from the street level, which undermined Len, and all of a sudden, Len’s Denali with Len in it fell backwards and landed upside down. The ladies, ever thinking, called the Anacortes/Guemes Island chapter of the Garden Club to come get some giraffe dung, so Len was rescued in good time. Fortunately, he was still wearing his seat belt.
Now the Coast Guard Auxiliary was still raising Hell about your house. I was standing in the street trying to come up with a plan when Bob Agramento came by on his walk.
Bob said, "What in the HELL is going on here? There's a giraffe in your back yard, and your house is across the street sitting sideways on Frank's lot.” I explained the story up to this point, and he was somewhat flabbergasted. I was, too. I said I was trying to think of a way to put the house back where it belongs, before the Coast Guard Auxiliary cites someone.
Bob says, Hell, is that all? There’s nothing to that. Done stuff like this a lot. When do you want to do it? I said right now. OK.
I wasn't sure what he had in mind, but it wasn't 15 minutes when here came about 40 members of Shelter Bay Yacht Club. All of them went in your house, helped themselves to “refreshments,” and proceeded to "loosen up." Commodore Agramento, Emeritus, convened the meeting by tapping a knife on your finest glassware. They were hard to quiet down, as they were getting "pretty loose."
The Commodore said the purpose of this meeting is to document each person’s experiences "In the Roughest Seas we have ever encountered."
Well, the first boater told about crossing Queen Charlotte in 60-knot winds. Hell, that’s nothing, the next one said. You should have been with me in Dixon when it was 80 knots. It went on and on. They stopped for an intermission and opened the rest of the refreshments. Now we were in the Gulf of Alaska at 100 knots.
It wasn't long until I figured out how Bob planned to move the house. There was so much Hot Air in that house that it gently rose up and started to float away. We had to put ropes on it or the place could have floated off to points unknown.
As long as it was in the air, we got Green's power snow blower, and pulled your house back across the street. The house is now hovering over your lot. We have lines on it but we can't get it down. We even went to the Reservation, and brought back 12 of the biggest males we could find, but even they weren’t enough. There is simply too much hot air in that house.
I had to leave, but the last story I heard was in the Falkland Islands, where the seas were 60 meters high and the winds were over 200 knots.
Tomorrow, we must get the house down some way.
Your faithful caretaker.
P.S. Your CAT weighs 62 pounds now, and we had to buy some clearance lights for his belly sides to keep him legal.
March 28, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
You will recall that your house was floating around over your lot, probably 50' up, tethered to anything we could find. Even 12 of the biggest Indians I have ever seen, pulling for all their worth, couldn't get it down. At least the ropes held and we didn't lose the house, as it could have easily floated clear to Samish Island or something.
Meanwhile, Gertrude the Giraffe was eating away at the tall grass in the back yard, which isn't so tall anymore.
However, there were still over 40 Shelter Bay Yacht Club members telling boating stories, and the house is tugging at its lines from all the hot air. I was worried that they would run out of stories and the whole house would come crashing down, and maybe break something.
So I went down to the Reservation and rounded up my 12 buddies, and asked them to each bring a friend. I figured that 24 big Indians, plus some local tonnage could do it.
So we were about to pull on the lines when one Indian said Halt! Waidaminnitdammit! He said, "I feel ancestors’ presence"... The other 23 stopped pulling and listened. Sounds were coming up from the earth. Definite communication had been established with the Spirit. All 24 chanted ha-ii-aa-ii-haaa-aa together, then listened for a response. I couldn't hear it, but they did. They responded HaaaHaiii'oooo'iillliiia'ha.
Apparently this was formerly Sacred Ground that your house was built on. Your lot was one of the last to be built upon, and we all wondered why.
We had to get the house down before it fell down. So the 24 Indians and all the rest of us pulled and pulled, but couldn't quite do it. Gertrude the Giraffe thought we all looked funny, and offered assistance. She picked up Sailor CAT by the scruff of his neck, and lifted him up into the house. She plopped him in your dining room, and wouldn't you know with all his weight, down came the house just perfectly.
Meanwhile, the Indians were not about to cover up their newfound ancestors, so they got some fence sections from Len's fence, and propped up your house on them so they could get underneath to talk to the Ancestors,
The Shelter Bay Yacht Club departed, and left a request for a much better class of “refreshments” next time. You will want to do that.
Now the tribe comes by twice a day for spiritual communion. The current schedule is 9AM and 8PM. They come in school buses, and bring drums and the elders go under your house and pound the drums as they communicate with the ancestors. I told them it was OK, as you are always up by 4AM, so 9AM won't bother you as your day is practically over by then. However, I said, you are usually sound asleep in your chair by 8PM, and they should thump quietly.
They said the Ancestors preferred violin music in the evening, so the Indians now bring their violins. There is not one of them that can play the violin, but that doesn't bother them. They know the ancestors can hear them. They sit in a circle under your house and look at the ground, and talk to it and chant and play their violins independently.
I'll tell you, this is one noisy place around here in the evening. I don't think a more discordant sound is possible than the one those violinists collectively managed to create.
Your faithful, somewhat wobbly caretaker.
March 29, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
Well, this was exciting. The Indians made contact with the Ancestors today. Just before Noon, a message from the ancestors came through. I happened to be over there and heard it. There was this sound, sorta like ummmm, UMMMM, UMMMM.
Then this message came through. We all heard it. It was for Billy “Fluffy Eagle” Bob. You could plainly hear “Fluffy Eagle, listen to your ancestors.” Then there was silence.
Fluffy Eagle listened intently, and ultimately heard “Fluffy Eagle, don’t forget to renew your license plate tabs this month.” Billy Fluffy Eagle Bob was grateful, because he does tend to forget these things.
Your dazzled caretaker.
March 30, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
I don't know what the Indians were saying to their Ancestors today, but there was quite a hullabaloo under your house. They were there from the crack of dawn to nearly Noon. They pounded their drums, and whooped and chanted and really carried on.
Meanwhile, Gertrude the Giraffe seems to have slowed down, and during these incredible performances by the Indians, she slept at the foot of the stairs in the back yard. I have no idea how anybody could sleep through all that racket, but she did. It was OK though, as she has gotten the grass under control. Your CAT, too, slept through most of it, as he was pretty full from cleaning out neighbor cat Bert’s food. Then, about Noon, Gertrude got up and wandered down toward the marina. I went to check on things.
The Indians were looking at the ground under your house, and were strangely silent. They had lost contact with their Ancestors. I said to beat the drums harder and maybe they would hear it. They let loose with the most deafening drum beating you ever heard. It wasn't long before Whidbey NAS mustered some surveillance planes, as they heard the noise too and thought the worst. Now we have jet fighter planes circling around, and the Indians beating louder and louder to be heard over the planes. Ancestors are not responding.
Meanwhile, Gertrude came back on her own, as she had sampled most other people's lawns, and found your back yard to be the best. She ate awhile, and then laid down to take a nap. About that time, the Indians regained contact with the ancestors, and waved off the Whidbey planes. Now that communications were restored, the drumbeats were slow and rhythmic, and basically peace was restored to the neighborhood.
Then, Gertrude woke up, and remembered one lawn up on Shelter Bay drive, where a poopy-poodle lived. That yard was laced with Liver and Onions for dogs, and that would be just fine. So off Gertrude went for dessert.
Well, wouldn't you know, no sooner had Gertrude left when the Indians again lost contact with the Ancestors. Hmmmm, I said. All the time the Indians were communicating with the Ancestors, Gertrude was lying in the back yard. I further noted that for all the grass Gertrude had eaten, there was no giraffe poop anywhere. Then it dawned on me.
The Indians were listening to Gertrude's digestive system! It was telegraphing through the ground!
Well, I thought I'd better find Gertrude right away, and get her back to the Rental place before something awful happened, like it did at the guard facility at the entrance.
I jumped in your Aerostar van, and went up on Shelter Bay Drive. There she was chomping on somebody's front lawn, with a big smile on her face. Her rear half was looking ominous, and I was worried. I shoved her in the back of the Aerostar with her head looking aft, and sticking up way over the top of the vehicle. I took off for College Way. The scene in my rear-view mirror was something to behold.
I was very nervous, as I remember the Kerfloof that occurred at the Entrance. I was most eager to get back to College Way and return her before something awful happened, so I sorta picked up speed, which attracted La Conner's finest. I didn't stop, but kept going across McLean Rd., over the bridge, along the River, and across College Way. I had 12 police cars chasing me by the time I got there, all of which screeched in behind me at Consumer Rentals with sirens blaring and lights flashing.
This attracted attention in the office, and they came running. Gertrude was so glad to see her old friends that she stood up in the Aerostar, which peeled off the roof. Well, in all her excitement, there was a mighty kerfloof right in the Aerostar, and the vehicle became completely filled with your back yard. I had parked along the roto-tillers, and the overflow covered that whole row of machines. Gertrude, relieved, bounded off to see her friends. The cops seized the van. I caught the bus home.
I wonder what the cops are going to do with the van. The Indians left highly annoyed when they realized they were communicating with a giraffe's digestive system.
Consumer Rentals was mad about the roto-tillers, since it is spring and people were coming to rent them.
Your CAT now weighs 77 lbs, and Bert weighs 2.6 lbs., as he can never get anything to eat. Green’s are happy, as they think Bert is enjoying his food. They keep buying better and better food all the time for Bert. Please send money ASAP so I can buy high-quality food to keep Sailor eating at home before Bert starves to death.
Also, I wouldn't go into Consumer Rentals anytime soon.
Your faithful caretaker.
April 2, 2003
Dear Neighbors,
Things have settled down since we got Gertrude back to Consumer Rentals, the Indians out from under your house, and the Shelter Bay Yacht Club out of your booze locker. Your house seems to be straight on the lot, much as it was. You can hardly tell it went anywhere.
Consumer Rentals called and said that Gertrude the Giraffe was the healthiest she has been in years. Apparently, Ocean Whitefish with Tuna agreed with her, and they were sending her back to eat some more grass. You will probably see Gertrude in your back yard when you get home.
They were still miffed about the rototillers, as they have been digging in the huge pile of giraffe poop, and to this day can't find one of the rototillers. It was reserved, too.
The police brought back your Aerostar, still full of poop, and missing the roof. They decided you had suffered enough, and weren't pressing charges. I put the Aerostar in the garage, so the house smells a little bad. I turned on the radio to a right wing commentator on KVI, and the poop felt right at home.
Your CAT, meanwhile, won't touch Ocean Whitefish with Tuna, and has taken to his bed. He had consumed 26 cases of 48 cans each, and drew the line. Now all he'll eat is biscuits, and expects me to stand there and feed them to him one by one. I spend about two hours a day feeding your CAT.
The Shelter Bay Yacht Club has moved and seconded the motion to hold their annual cruising meeting at your house the last week in March. You will want to replenish and upgrade the refreshment locker before then. They had never had so much fun as they did this year. They are now off sailing in uncharted waters to see who can come up with the best sea stories for next year. I would chain down your house before the meeting, as it could float far away. You could be living in Dewey Beach next year, or Anacortes, or Vancouver Island.
The best part of all was UPS. They promoted Bernie now that she has found her granny gear and she can be assigned the hilly parts of Shelter Bay without wrecking a clutch a week.
I think it is safe for you to come home, now.
Your erstwhile, exhausted caretaker. v
|
|
|
|
