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modestfox · 2 years
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May 3, 2022 - I’ve decided to hack the day by waking up and doing my chores early instead of late in the evening. I always wait until after work to walk Abbey, take the trash out, shower, wash the kitchen… but the problem was that I am always so tired in the evening. That, and often we encounter other dogs on *their* walks and Abbey … oh Abbey. She thinks every dog is her friend and isn’t well trained enough to know not to approach. We have to stay leashed all the time because no one else will. She has been attacked so many times by loose chihuahuas an unfortunate human refuses to contain. The man who owned the chihuahuas is named Dill, and lives in a big pickle-green house. I’ve confronted him before, while his dogs were attacking us, asking him to contain his dogs. As I write this, 5:35 p.m. PST, Mr. Dill is walking down Pico Trail with his Piranhas, unleashed and ready to nip. He’s an old man, smaller in stature than me, who wears the same blue overalls and walks with a hunch, or on other days, a cane. He claims his dogs just “follow him”, that he doesn’t them to come along on his walks but they don’t listen and escape the gate. So I offered him some free chicken wire. They’re basically chickens. Piranha chihuahua chickens. He declined my offer and despite promising to leash his dogs, he walks that trail every damn day at this same time, 4 to 5 chihuahua’s unrestrained roaming behind him. Other people have reported this behavior to animal control, even filed reports with our sheriff department, but to no avail. In fact rumor has it (thank you Ms. Darling) that the Mr. Dill makes quite a big ‘dill’ out of getting reported - supposedly retaliating by throwing one of his piranhas over the fence of a complainer, allowing it to kill one of her -actual- chickens before it was stopped. Another neighbor made a complaint and woke in the night to a carbon monoxide detector. Someone had shoved old t-shirts into the exhaust of their trailer. I don’t know if trailers even work like that but I had enough and confronted the man no less. He seemed stunned I knew his name, stunned I would shout out to him. I shook his hand at the end of our confrontation, believing he respected my request that he would contain and restrain his dogs. This is now his 4th lap along Pico Trail this afternoon alone, and the biggest reason why I now wake up early and walk Abbey in the morning instead. You really can’t teach old dogs new tricks, especially if those old dogs are assholes.
Anyway, I’m super pleased with the new ritual …wake up, kiss my animals, give them food and water, wash the kitchen, take the trash out, walk the dog, take a shower, get ready for work… And while I’m walking abbey in the morning I can capture all my favorite flowers in a new light! THAT was the point of this post. Not Dill, or chihuahuas, but these GORGEOUS flowers I see along the walk. I saw western wallflower, jewelweed, and scarlet bugler. Their colors are so much more intense in some areas than others, which has probably something to do with available resources in the area. Or maybe more pigment in sunnier areas to protect the plant from damage. Who knows! But the wallflower is usually flat cadmium yellow and these two blooms I saw were purple, magenta, orange, goldenrod and yellow. Then the scarlet bugler showed the same variances between locations: The stems are usually a lime apple green, maybe a pale blue green, but the scarlet bugler in this location had wonderfully lilac and lavender stems. It’s like technicolor displays. I color my field sketches this way, with colors I feel like only i can see, because everyone I ask just sees “blue” or “green”. I see the purple in the wallflower. They would say it is simply “yellow”. In these images however the color differences are indisputable. So I had to share. I also included some primrose I found growing along the side of the road on the way out of town for a burger. They’re starting to wilt (it was high noon) but they’re still stunning. They remind me of the voluminous pink and white skirts and petticoats women of the Victorian era would wear. So while they weren’t part of my morning walk, I still felt they should be included in this prismatic display of color I was served today. I’ll try and get photos of the tulips, roses, hollyhock and snapdragon that grows around the office at work. We have really great displays of life and color there, too.
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modestfox · 2 years
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Last post for now… I have a lot to do today and I’m stalling and making myself cry. This weekend I have a few assignments for an Environmental Sociology course to complete, I need to vacuum the entire cabin, I need to clean Abbey’s nose-bonks off the back windows of the Xterra… I need to go grocery shopping and I need to shower, in no particular order but all must be done today. And it’s a BEAUTIFUL day. I would rather lay out in the sun and eat all day than manage all of these house chores. I’d rather write about my pets, the best friends I have, and make myself cry with grief than clean the damn house. But alas, I was abused enough as a child to have anxiety about mismanaged responsibilities so I will sign off for now and let my brain zone off to the mindless drone of the vacuum.
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modestfox · 2 years
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Lastly, this is Bubo. Boo, Boobs, Boobie, Boo-Bird, Bologna, Brain, Brown cow, Baby Girl. I named her after the Great Horned Owl, Bubo Virginianus, and you better believe thats how her paperwork read. I adopted her from a shelter in Texas and she explored life for 7 years with me. I still cry. We were bonded. We saved each other. She felt like an extension of me. My soul’s lifesaving transfusion. I don’t have relationships as pure as these with people. I’m sure other animal lovers will agree, especially those who’ve experienced what I’m trying to describe. There’s a great book series by Philip Pullman called His Dark Materials that I read a child. I had gotten it from my mother who gave it as a gift but later threw the books out when she was told someone’s interpretation of it’s premise (specifically the accusations of atheism - is IS a fantasy novel). Similarly to those who banned Harry Potter because of the context of witchcraft, His Dark Materials suffered a similar witch hunt. My gosh sorry for the tangent… Anyway this author describes a parallel universe where humans’ souls are bonded to animorphous creatures called Daemons. As children, these creatures morph into different species to suit moods or situations relating to their human counterpart. As humans mature, the daemon settles into a consistent form. SPOILER ALERT: One of the main archs of the story is that daemons are being ‘severed’ from their humans. Souls are being split in two, the connection is killed, and the daemon dies. The human is left in permanent anguish, physically debilitating grief and suffering. It’s a terrible atrocity. There is no greater pain. That is the closest description I’ve encountered that could describe the way it felt when Bubo was dying. What killed her is a mystery that has increased my paranoia exponentially. I tried everything we could to save her. What overcame her submitted us both so quickly. No dollar amount could change the outcome, and when I realized that I did what any compassionate human would. I helped her go. I sang to her, I held her in my arms. She pawed my cheek. And she purred herself to sleep. My sweet girl. My soulmate. My everything. She was so special. She was present in every moment. We spoke a language only we knew. She loved ME, and I knew it. Now my grief is never ending. I have never felt a greater pain. I have never heard such thunderous silence. Her eyes were the same color as the trees of these mountains. The color I chose to paint our walls. My favorite color breaks my heart and helps me never ever forget her. For Bubo, my owl kitty, there are too many words for tumblr.
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modestfox · 2 years
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This handsome man is Mischa. He is from Russia (supposedly). A few years ago he showed up at our back door. He was very friendly, clearly socialized and not feral. He wasn’t sure about us but chose to live under our back deck for a few months. Throughout the fall he hunted for his meals and got a cup of food from us every now and then. In return he left lizards, the wings and snout of a bat, and rats at the back door. Once I saw him dive under the deck to chase a striped racer. He thumped and scuffled so quickly from one end to the other of the deck and when he popped out the other side he had the damn 3 ft snake in his mouth and under his paw. His claws were massive and his white chest was neon pink with the snake’s blood, but he caught him. I liked him a lot and started calling him Ace, for the white spade on his face. He has an excellent tuxedo and always kept himself clean, but I was nervous about this stranger coming around the house. I had another cat and didn’t want a fight if she accidentally got out. I also didn’t want them to interact in case he may have some communicable disease… but then it got cold. Winter was coming and he was getting thin. This is where shit gets crazy… So a neighbor stopped by for a chat on one of the seasonably warmer days in early winter and we sat out in the sun drinking coffee together. This dashing devil pops out from under the deck, chatty as hell. My neighbor says “Oh my god that’s Mischa!” And he immediately responds. My neighbor was astonished to see this cat, and I was baffled that he was recognized. I asked if he belonged to them and learned this wild story about how her roommate from Russia had two cats they brought along to the U.S. More unusual, this roommate was found dead over half a year prior and when the coroners arrived the door was left open and the cats escaped. My neighbor said they searched for a few days and put food out but assumed the cats ran off or were eaten by coyotes or mountain lions. Fast forward over six months later and here’s one of them, hanging out under my deck. The other, whose name was Michael Angelo, I had seen several times but after a while he seemed to have disappeared. Michael Angelo was a black and white cat too but patterned more like a cow than in Armani like Mischa. Once we learned his story we HAD to take him in. The neighbor didn’t want him and he was quite attached at this point. I felt better knowing he was a house cat prior to our introduction. I hoped that meant he had been cared for and had some vaccinations to protect my other cat’s wellbeing. We confirmed all as well after taking him to our local vet here in the mountains. He had recent enough vaccinations and showed no signs of disease, nothing bad in his bloodwork. So, this is Ace, The Russian Spy, the Russian Orphan, KGB Special Agent Ace, Kosmonaut Kitty, Kitty Kommander, Kommander in Chief, Chief, Mischief, Mischa, Meesh, My Handsome Man, The Man of the House… He’s the only male and he is completely totally submissive. Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance against Nina and AbbeykaDabbey.
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modestfox · 2 years
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This is Nina, Nina Bo Bina, Bananafanna… well. Nina. Also, Mina, Lena, Beana, Bean, Beanie Baby, Beelzebub… I know, that got dark fast. I call her ‘A Creature of the Night’, Dark Kitty, Bat Cat, and so on… She is a little terror. A Terror in the Night. The Monster Under the Bed. She’s a nightmare. Honestly. She doesn’t owe anyone a gottdam thing. This Little Lilith followed my soul home from a Petco one day and she’s been the house poltergeist ever since. I wake up at night at times with her above me, clinging with all fours upside-down on my padded headboard, her yellow eyes bright and demonic. She pulls the bookmarks out of my books, and the sticky notes out of my references. She TRIES HER HARDEST to drink my watercolor water. This window is where she hunts moths at night. She once sat on my cookie. Fully butt-smooched it. She only wants to snuggle and be pet when your dead asleep, and will be courteous enough to let you know by standing cautiously on your boobs with her stiletto paws, politely clawing your face and pulling the blankets back herself. Otherwise the best time for a snuggle, in her shit-demon mind, is when you’re using the bathroom. So no, do not believe the false halo in this photo - she is a Hell Cat and I love every bit of her.
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modestfox · 2 years
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This is AbbeykaDabbey. She was named by my niece for a Sesame Street character. Abbey, Dabbey, Dabbs.. Abigail, Abidale, Dale, she has many nicknames now. Abbey is my best hiking buddy and protector. She is sweet like southern tea and copper like a penny. I also call her my shiny copper dog. I think there’s a whiskey called Copper Dog - maybe I’ll try it one day. Abbey gets many compliments when we’re out in public. She is alert and friendly, and BIG. We were told she was a mutt - she was adopted as a puppy from the pound in Texas - but to us she looks an awful lot like a Chesapeake Bay Lab. She acts very much like a Lab too. Her coat pattern is so unusual that she gets lots of attention. She stands head-high at my hip. She is a very good girl. She even gets along with the cats! So here she is trying on one of my disguises, a bit confused and pretty sure she’s not going to fool anyone. Abbey is a manifestation of my subconscious. I am fooling myself trying to believe that I can participate in the world anonymously. Anyone can follow me home, trace my IP, check my photo data… I give away details myself by sharing photos of plants and landscapes and the name of the damn forest I’m in. How can I share without over sharing? Is it possible? Could someone let me in on the secret? One of the reasons I left other social platforms was because I felt too accessible - too available for manipulation. This platform seems to provide a bit more distance - LESS interconnectivity. It was more appealing to write…to expel this dumping of words and thoughts like a journal that maybe someone will care to read. Maybe even interact with. I don’t need my mother’s coworker’s opinion, and I definitely don’t want to annoy my entire graduating class with photos of my lunch… but a photo journal is appealing. If someone comes across all this and decides to give it a read, cool. I probably don’t need to fear overexposure though… What am I so afraid of anyway when I have Abbey???
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modestfox · 2 years
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4/29/22 - This photo was taken April 18, 2022. I tweaked it to pull out the corona. I love taking photos of flares and coronas and sun-dogs. I love color, and light. I have no education in either, but both are abundant here. This is Los Padres National Forest, along the San Andreas fault. Physically, I could throw a stone and hit the fault. This area *feels* energetic. Every morning I wake up, I’m grateful… but I’m also sad. These experiences should be shared! In my physical life and existence, I try to stay under the radar… I run errands in disguise, I work in disguise. I don’t make friends and I don’t let anyone follow me home. I worry that notoriety brings trouble, so I keep my head down and my identity … muffled. For a long time I used tools of social media as a way to stay connected to other humans, but when certain platforms stopped serving my interests I removed myself from those forms of media… and then it was suddenly quiet. My mother doesn’t even call. It is so quiet, and I am so disconnected that I’m feeling like I’m failing to exist in space. Like I have no mouth & I must scream. I don’t have anyone to share these things with that I would feel comfortable bringing close, and I don’t want to… yet. When life evolves for me - then maybe I can start reaching out more. For now, Call me a turtle because I’m staying in this shell for a bit. Until then I will use filters and editing to disguise my face. I will never tell you exactly where I am. And I will keep writing without the expectation of readership, because I need to communicate just to feel like I exist. The Humanity in me is calling out into the inky darkness of space, more than metaphorically. These are my Letters to the Universe.
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