Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

the Old Man's dying

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

I've hadMugwart since the early '90s. He was born in my apartment in New Albany,
IN, right across the river from Louisville, KY. He had three moms: his
own, my cocker/basset mix Tica and me.

He used to be able to leap five feet in the air, to catch a plastic
tarantula on fishing line. He, his sister and mom and dad used to walk
all over the farm we lived on in Pekin, IN. Through the woods, in the
meadows.

Mugwart was the first to discover that, when I pulled in my line from
the water, there'd be a bluegill on it. He took to wading out into the
cat tails to catch fish as I reeled them in.

He could climb the barn's poles to the top rafters. He loved riding in
my Winnebago camper and would spend hours sleeping on the dash board.

He adored dogs.

He's nothing but bones now. He weighs nothing. His eyes are dull and his
fur's matted. He's so week, he can only walk a foot or two before
collapsing.

I put him out in the front yard, near the animal water. I had him in a
cardboard box lined with towels. But he crawled out and is resting in
the shade of a planter, by the water dish.

It's the first time he's been out front in a long time. I try to keep
the cats in the chicken yard, so Grace, my nasty neighbor next door,
won't throw rocks at them.

But he's not able to climb the wall into her yard. He'll be fine out
there. He needs to sleep in the sun.

I'm pretty sad. It's hard, watching a personality being stripped down to
a struggling organism.

Taz has killed two chickens in as many weeks. That was hard, too.

She has a muzzle now, as does Porkchop. She'll wear hers any time she's
near the chickens from now on. They both wear them for walks.

I need to get Porky his rabies vaccine soon, so I can submit the
paperwork to animal control.

The judge dismissed the warrant I had. I have to return to court on Mar.
1, for the original citations. But, since the animal control officer no
longer works for the city, I'm expecting the charges to be dismissed.

My radio program came off pretty well, I think. Ma's very proud and is
being very affectionate.

I'm editing it to burn to CDs to give to the participants and to submit
for a broadcasting award.

They say I'm getting paid for it, too, soon as the paper work clears at
the university (which could take a month.)

I'm planning to concentrate on gardening and writing now. I owe Paul
Ingles some "Your Top Stories" interviews for his program.I

've just been resting, yesterday and today. Ma & I got the flu last
week and are still pretty weak and coughing.

I keep going out front to check on Mugwart. I expect he'll be dead
before nightfall. Ma said she'd help me dig his grave. I expect I'll
bury him right where he dies: in the sun, in the front yard, near the
water dish, with chickens around.

I've ordered some hatching eggs: mixed barnyard. BUt I have my eyes on
some Muskovie ducks: giant, quackless ducks. I'm also watching Japanese
silkies eggs. They're my favorites.

Life goes on.

Ma and I are discussing the possibilities of moving to California in the
next, few years, if we can find suitable employment and a town with less
than outrageous rents. good luck, huh?

Well, that ought to keep my readers from emailing and callign,
complaining they never heard the outcome of my legal troubles.

I have LOTS to write about the Kicked Out Queers broadcast. It'll be in
the rriverstone radio blog. I didn't DARE write any of it before the
broadcast; I was afraid they'd pull the program, honest to gawd! sheesh.

But I'll catch u up on the behind the scenes stuff soon.

It was a wonderful experience, finally.

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