August 2006 – Page 2 – jack's cairochronicles

Usually, one hears that from a toddler. It is usually met with great fanfare on behalf of the parents.

In this case, it is an occasion for some angst.

For the last 9 years, we have had a cat. Roscoe P. Coltrain is his name. He had many quirks. So many that we used to say “He’s retarded, but he is ours…”

One quirk was he likes to drag socks, sweaters, t-shirts, uhh, unmentionables, out of the laundry basket. He liked to drag them into various parts of the house and curl up in them, purrrring loudly.

Another quirk:

When we first got him, his food and water lived in the bathroom. Whenever someone went into the bathroom, he would run in and eat and PURRRRR really loudly.

Houses change, things get moved. His food and water are now in the downstairs bathroom, that doesn’t get a lot of use. At least not by humans.

But he still always followed people into the bathroom. It didn’t matter where he was in the house. He would hear you and come trotting in.

He would do it in the middle of the night, middle of the day. It didn’t matter.

When he had been outside, and we let him back in, I would swear he would look at me as if to say “I hope you didn’t go to the bathroom without me…”

He liked to roll around on the rug and have his head rubbed. His purrring was audible in the bedroom next door on a quiet night.

He and our other cat, Maia, went to a new home yesterday. (It would have been impractical to take them to Cairo).

While we know that they are going to a good home, and we know that they may not have even survived the quarantine and travel stress and we know that this is for the best….

Still.

This morning I went to the bathroom all by myself….

Race for the Plums

We have in our front yard these two, rather entwined, plum trees.

We planted them as itty bitty little sticks 6 years ago when we bought the house. They were a gift from one of Kaddee’s co-workers.

Last year, much to our surprise we got many beautiful plums. They are small “italian plums”. Two bite, free-stone. Very juicy.

I say “to our surprise” because we didn’t really pay any attention to the tree, because we weren’t expecting fruit.

This fall, we pruned it back.

This spring, we noticed that we had HUNDREDS of plums, not counting the dozens that have fallen before they were ripe, or those countless that were eaten by the birds and squirrels.

As I look out at the tree, the plums are almost ripe. They are very very close. We can almost taste them. They are almost the right shade of purple. They are almost soft enough to eat.

They sit on the tree, tantalizingly close. They are a light shade of purple. They smell wonderful. They are perfiectly shaped. The skins are unbruised. They taunt me.

I see them every morning on my way to work. I examine the tree to see if any are ready. I talk to the tree and the fruit, offering encouragement. “Time to rise and shine! Grow strong. We want just one plum each before we go.”

Every night when I come home, I examine the tree and the fruit. I whisper to it “time to rest for the night so that you can grow strong tomorrow. Sleep well.”
I refer to this as “the race for the plums.” We hope to win the race, insh’allah.

If not, the tree will be standing 2 years hence.

If we time our return just right, I hope to open the gate and pluck a plum from the tree, close my eyes and taste the flavors of home.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must go whisper to my tree..

Update: We have plums. Dozens! They drop from the tree, ripe and delicious.

We have eaten our fill. Feel free to come by and take a handful and taste what we call home.