Mary Wants to Have My Kittens

If you think (as a man) understanding women is difficult, try understanding women of a different species. In addition to my beloved and wonderful wife of nearly 50 years, I also must deal with a female cat of 12 years, and over 100 birds of unknown ages.

The problems are the same. When I was single, I never really had any difficulty getting a date on a Friday night. Unfortunately, at 20 years old, that goes right to your head. As it should. 50+ years later I am more than a little mystified about girl cats and girl pigeons.

It may sound odd to mention two species that cannot coexist unless one of them is lunch – but this is the life I have chosen. After the loss of two of our precious cats in two years, our remaining three no longer go outside. That is probably why I have created a bird sanctuary in the backyard.

I’m not trying to toot my own horn here, but when you have anywhere from 50-120 pigeons performing for you like we were in the center ring at Barnum & Bailey’s Circus, try as you may, a little of it does go to your head. Seven years ago when I began my journey into a totally different area of photography than I had known from the previous 50, I was amazed when I saw the pigeons on Avenue 42 perk up when they saw me with my camera. They would fly lazy figure eights for me over and over till I got my pics. I had no real way to thank them. Now I do…

There are no coincidences in life. Everything happens for a reason and a purpose. If you have even the faintest belief in God, you should know by your middle years that part of His plan includes gobs and gobs of humility. Until you have scaled that mountain and have prostrated yourself exhausted and bone weary to a blue sky and a mild breeze in a green meadow with air so pure it should be canned and sold on the streets of Manhattan – or even better yet given away free to the poor workers trudging to another day of do-this-and-do-that, you have not seen or felt the essence and simplicity of the undefinable and highly elusive concept of happiness.

Happiness is a lie. It is the biggest lie any us of can subscribe to. It is sold anywhere from 59 cents for a can of “Rockstar Energy Drink” to $39.95 for a copy of “12 Steps to Success”. A passion for the day in front of us, regardless of the consequences outside our control, coupled with a deep, spiritual love for everyone you are close to, regardless of the cliff they are inching towards at a precariously fast pace, should be your motivation in life -- every day.

Humility will tap you on the shoulder and wink at you as you turn around to have a look see.

Unfortunately, none of this means anything to our cat Mary, who has mothered 2 litters from God knows how many fathers, and even though she's been neutered for at least the last 11 years, still sees me as a potential father for her next batch of kittens. When she climbs on my chest at 2:00 in the morning, purring so loudly that the neighbors call security, forcing me to rub her chin without rest or even a brief respite for a sip of water, I must yield. If I accidentally stroke her from head to tail she immediately raises her back end in the air, hoping I am ready to produce the seeds that will bring forth 5 or 6 new kittens. Hope never dies. Shouldn’t Mary be an example for all of us?

While we may plunge into deep depression now and then, do we not climb out of it? The consequences are horrific, and to a faithful Catholic like myself, the ramifications of taking the so called easy way out conjure thoughts so bone rattling terrifying that I personally dive deeply into prayer for the souls of the three friends of mine who opted for suicide when these moments roll by my window.

When life ceases to have value, evil has momentarily triumphed, pushing ALL of us into the same treacherous cavern where all light has been extinguished. We are ALL responsible for making life worth living. We ALL have a duty to stand tall and speak the truth with that little packet of humility we have been given, or have earned.

The 50 odd pigeons that come for breakfast and dinner every day fly patterns in the sky frequently. While they certainly connect me to the seed that graces our yard for them every day, we do not have the relationship that New York City pigeons have with the patrons who put fifty cents into a box that spits out a handful of seed for them. Those pigeons don’t care who you are or what you do when no one else is looking – they are your friend if there is even the remotest chance that you have seed in your pocket. That, is faith!

My pigeons are far more disciplined – since this bunch doesn’t receive treats by too many other wackos like myself. I do have two who sit on the low wire (about 4 feet above my head) as I walk by and drop their seed. These two pigeons have developed a level of trust that really warms my heart. So when one of them swooped by me the other day, rubbing my leg with her body, it certainly aroused some thoughts that I never imagined having with a pigeon.

I certainly can’t let Mary find out about this.